Keen hurried away, and soon the deck quivered to the thud of bare feet and then the clatter of blocks and rigging.
But it was halfway through the forenoon watch before Rapid was able to beat up to the rest of the squadron. The first air of excitement gave way to silent resignation as the gratings were rigged and the hands piped aft to witness punishment. Two dozen lashes a man while the drums rolled and the spray pattered across the prisoners and onlookers alike.
Paget touched his hat. 'Punishment carried out, sir.'
Keen nodded and watched the hands dismissed, the gratings removed for scrubbing, while the flogged men were taken below to the sickbay. He handed the Articles of War to Paget and said, 'God damn this waiting!'
When eventually Quarrell climbed aboard from his gig he could barely control his excitement and pleasure.
At dawn Rapid had ordered the vessel to heave-to and await a boarding party. The lieutenant who had gone across in the boat had been thorough. The brigantine was a Greek trader, and her master had been able to speak English and had been more than willing to cooperate. The vessel had been loaded with olive oil and figs, but Quarrell described her as being so filthy that it was a marvel she obtained any cargoes at all.
Quarrell took a deep breath. 'The master was carrying several bottles of wine and brandy, sir. My first lieutenant saw them at once.' He turned and beamed at Keen. 'All French, sir.'
They glanced at Bolitho. He said nothing so Keen remarked, 'Your lieutenant had his wits about him, eh?'
Bolitho unrolled a chart across the table, his mouth suddenly dry. 'Continue.' It was Quarrell's moment-to prod him into haste would only fluster him.
The young commander said, 'When questioned about the bottles, sir, the fellow admitted they had been given to him in exchange for oil three days ago.' He watched Bolitho's grave features. 'It was Rear-Admiral Jobert's squadron, sir, no doubt about it. The Greek was able to describe them, even the Leopard figurehead on the flagship.'
'Show me.' Bolitho held down the chart with a ruler and dividers. He could feel Quarrell's eagerness, sense the pride his discovery had given him.
Quarrell peered at the chart, at the marks and lines which showed the squadron's position and progress.
'They were steering due east, sir.' He placed one finger on it. 'That would put them about there.'
Keen leaned over the table beside him. 'Corsica.' He gave a sigh. 'I should have guessed.'
Quarrell glanced from him to Bolitho. 'The Greek master said that a French officer came aboard. He told him they were going to take on fresh water.'
Keen frowned, 'Another long passage maybe?'
Bolitho stood up, his mind working busily. Fresh water. Why did the mention of it always provoke such painful memories?
'What have you done about the brigantine?' Quarrell looked blank. There was no warmth in Bolitho's voice.
'I-I knew how much you needed information, sir, so I considered it my duty to-'
'You let him go? You put no guard aboard?'
'Well, no, sir.' Quarrell looked helplessly at Keen for support.
Keen said, 'It could be the truth, sir.'
Bolitho walked aft to the windows and pushed his hand through his hair. He felt the deep scar on his temple, a ready reminder of that other time when collecting water had seemed such a simple mission.
Quarrell said, 'I could chase after him, sir.' He sounded lost.
'Too late.' Bolitho watched some fish jump from Argonautes shadow. 'He would give you the slip after nightfall. Heading for Corsica, you think? To take on water for three sail of the line, and the two fifth-rates, what do you estimate?' He turned and looked at Keen, his eye throbbing painfully. 'Three, four days?'
Keen nodded slowly. 'We could still run him to earth, sir!'
Bolitho sat on the bench seat and clasped his hands together. He did not need a chart; he could see it clearly in his mind. Jobert's ships-if the wind stayed fair, they could be pinned on a lee shore or trapped until they came out to fight.
Keen said, 'So it was neither Egypt nor Gibraltar after all, sir.'
'Fetch my flag-lieutenant, Ozzard.' It was strange how he had managed to converse with Stayt without touching on the court of inquiry. Stayt was wary, withdrawn to such a point that they barely spoke except on matters of orders and signals.
When Stayt arrived his eyes moved swiftly across the group by the table. He asked, 'May I get something, Sir Richard?'
'The reports from the flag-officer in Malta. Bring them.'
Quarrell said, 'My first lieutenant was satisfied that the Greek told him the truth, sir.'
Bolitho said, 'Or maybe what the French wanted him to believe.'
Stayt laid down a folder on the table and Bolitho strained his eyes to look through it. Convoy arrival, escorts and departure times, passengers and equipment to be disembarked or carried elsewhere.
Bolitho pulled one paper towards him, the name Benbow standing out from the unknown clerk's writing.
Ignoring the others he snatched up the brass dividers and moved them quickly across his chart. It was all he could do to stop himself from cursing aloud as his good eye watered with the strain he was putting on it.
Three days, four at the most. It had to be. Had to be.
He looked up. 'Benbow sailed from Malta in company with two homebound ships. There is one frigate as additional escort.'
Keen exclaimed, 'All that for just two ships? And we are expected to manage with-'
Bolitho held up his hand. 'I should have seen it, Val. Something that Inch's first lieutenant said after the battle.' In his mind he could picture the weary lieutenant with the bandaged head. Pity I've not got that Frenchies extra boom. He could almost hear Savill's voice. The man who had seen it, yet had not realized what he had discovered.
Bolitho said, 'The ships are carrying a cargo of gold and precious stones. A king's, or should I say a sultan's, ransom.' He wanted to shout at them, to bang the table and make them realize the enormity of the discovery, and of Jobert's confidence. 'Jobert intends to attack that convoy and lift off the gold at sea. Corsica, Val? I think not. I believe this is what was intended from the start. Jobert and I got in the way. But now that way is clear.'
Bolitho looked at Quarrell. 'Return to your command and await orders.'
Quarrell backed away. 'I-I am sorry, Sir Richard.'
Bolitho eyed him calmly. 'Your lieutenant was convinced, so why not the rest of us?'
As the door closed Keen said, 'We have nothing definite, sir!'
Stayt added, 'If the French are really in Corsican waters, and we fail to seek them out or inform Lord Nelson-'
Bolitho looked past him. 'I know, gentlemen. I shall be held responsible.' He smiled shortly. 'And this time I shall have no defence.'
Once more he crossed to the chart. Keen was trying to warn and protect him. If they carried on as they were nobody would be able to blame him. He lowered his head to study the neat calculations. But if he went against everything but instinct, and a new, strange sense of destiny, he might still be wrong.
'In my estimation, we have two days. No more.' He touched the chart with the points of the dividers. 'Allowing for the weather, we should make a rendezvous with the convoy about there.' He turned away so that they should not see his expression. While they hunted fruitlessly along the rugged Corsican coast, the gold would be seized and Herrick overwhelmed. He would die fighting alongside his men. But he would certainly die.
Bolitho raised his voice, 'Mr Yovell! Come out, you quill-pusher, and I shall dictate my fighting instructions!'
Yovell padded across the cabin, smiling happily, as if he had just been awarded a title.
Bolitho looked at Stayt. 'Warn the signals midshipman to be ready.' He thought of Sheaffe and wondered how he got along with his father.
Alone with Keen he said, 'It's a chance I must take.' He added with a wry smile, 'It was the wine and the brandy which alerted me. I could never imagine Jobert giving anything to a poor Greek trader unless he wanted us to know about it. Perhaps this time he has been too clever and overconfident.'
Keen doubted if Quarrell's information was enough to be certain of anything. Jobert may have laid some more
