Honour This Day

famous squadron, sailed when others slept.

Bolitho watched as Blachford's much-used chests and folios were carried on deck and said, 'You will meet my nephew. He is good company.'

But Firefly was no longer captained by Adam Bolitho; it was another young commander who hurried aboard the flagship to make his report.

Bolitho met him aft and asked, 'What of my nephew?'

The commander, who looked like a midshipman aping his betters, explained that Adam had received his promotion. It was all he knew, and was almost tongue-tied at meeting a vice-admiral face to face. Especially one who was now well known for reasons other than the sea, Bolitho thought bleakly.

He was glad for Adam. But he would have liked more than anything to see him.

Keen stood beside him as Firefly spread more sails, and tacked around m an effort to catch the feeble wind.

Keen said, 'It seems wrong without him in command.'

Bolitho looked up at Hyperion's braced yards, the masthead pendant lifting and curling in the glare.

'Aye, Val, I wish him all the luck -' he faltered and remembered Hernck's Lady Luck. 'With men like Sir Piers Blachford taking an interest at long last, maybe Adam's navy will be a safer one for those who serve the fleet.'

He watched the brig until she was stern-on and spreading more canvas, and her upper yards were touched with gold. In two weeks' time Firefly would be in England.

Keen moved away as Bolitho began to pace up and down the weather side of the quarterdeck.

In his loose, white shirt, his lock of hair blowing in the breeze, he did not look much like an admiral.

Keen smiled. He was a man.

A week later the schooner Lady Jane, sailing under Admiralty warrant, was sighted by the frigate Tybalt, whose captain immediately signalled his flagship.

The wind was fair but had veered considerably, so that the smart schooner had to beat back and forth for several hours before more signals could be exchanged.

On Hyperion's quarterdeck, Bolitho stood with Keen and watched the schooner's white sails fill to the opposite tack, while Jenour's signals party ran up another acknowledgement.

Jenour said excitedly, 'She is from Gibraltar with despatches, Sir Richard.'

Keen remarked, They must be urgent. The schooner is making heavy weather of it.' He gestured to Parns. 'Prepare to heave-to, if you please.'

Calls trilled between decks and men swarmed through hatchways and along the upperdeck to be mustered by their petty officers.

Bolitho touched his eyelid and pressed it gently. It had barely troubled him since Sir Piers Blachford had left the ship. Was it possible that it might improve, despite what he had said?

'Lady Jane's hove-to, Sir Richard. She's putting down a boat.'

Someone chuckled, 'Gawd, her captain looks about twelve years old¹'

Bolitho watched the small boat rising and dipping over the smooth-sided swell.

He had been in his cabin when the hail had come from the masthead about Tybalt's signal He had been composing fresh orders for Hernck and his captains. Divide the squadron. Delay no longer.

Bolitho glanced at the nearest gangway, the bare-backed seamen clinging to the nettings to watch as the boat pulled nearer Was it wrong to curse boredom when the alternative could be sudden death'

'Heave-to, if you please¹'

Parns raised his speaking trumpet. 'Main tops'l braces!' Even he seemed to have forgotten his wound.

Hyperion came slowly into the wind, while Bolitho kept his gaze on the approaching boat.

Suppose it was just one more despatch, which in the end meant nothing' He swung away to hide the anger he felt for himself. In God's name, he should be used to that by now.

Lady Jane's captain, a pink-cheeked lieutenant named Edwardes, clambered through the entry port and stared around like someone trapped.

Keen stepped forward. 'Come aft, sir. My admiral will speak with you.'

But Bolitho stared at the second figure who was being hauled unceremoniously on deck, accompanied by grins and nudges from the seamen.

Bolitho exclaimed, 'So you could not stay away!'

Sir Piers Blachford waved a warning hand as a sailor made to drop his case of instruments on the deck. Then he said simply, 'I had reached Gibraltar. There I was told that the French are massed at Cadiz with their Spanish allies. I could not see my way to joining the fleet, so I decided to return here in the schooner.' He smiled gently. 'I have the blessing of authority behind me, Sir Richard.'

Keen smiled wryly. 'You are more likely to get sunburn or dry rot if you stay with us, Sir Piers!' But his eyes were on Bolitho, seeing the change in him. It never failed to move him, just to watch his expression, the sudden glint in his dark grey eyes.

In the cabin Bolitho slit open the weighted canvas envelope himself. The shipboard sounds seemed to be muffled, as if Hyperion too was holding her breath.

The others stood around like unrehearsed players. Keen, feet astride, his fair hair and handsome features picked out in a bar of sunlight. Yovell by the table, a pen still gripped in his hand. Sir Piers Blachford, sitting down because of his height, but unusually subdued, as if he knew this was a moment he must share and remember. Jenour by the table, close enough for Bolitho to hear his rapid breathing. And Lieutenant Edwardes who had carried the despatches under all sail from the Rock, gulping gratefully from a tankard which Ozzard had put into his hand.

And of course, Allday. Was it by chance, or had he taken his stance by the rack with its two swords to mark the moment?

Bolitho said quietly, 'Last month Lord Nelson hauled down his flag and returned home after failing to bring the French to battle.' He glanced at Blachford. 'The French fleet is at Cadiz, so too the Spanish squadrons. Vice-Admiral Collingwood is blockading the enemy in Cadiz.'

Jenour whispered, 'And Lord Nelson?'

Bolitho looked at him. 'Nelson has rejoined Victory, and is now doubtless with the fleet.'

For a long moment nobody spoke. Then Keen asked, 'They will break out? They must.'

Bolitho gripped his hands behind him. 'I agree. Villeneuve is ready. He has no choice. Which way will he head? North to Biscay, or back here, Toulon perhaps?' He studied their intent faces. 'We shall be ready. We are ordered to prepare to join Lord Nelson, to blockade or to fight; only Villeneuve knows which.'

He felt every muscle relax, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He looked at the pink-cheeked lieutenant. 'So you are on your way?'

'Aye, Sir Richard.' He waved vaguely. 'First to Malta, and then…'

Bolitho watched the sparkle in his eyes; he was planning how he would relate to his friends, how he had carried the word to the rest of the fleet.

'I wish you Godspeed.'

Keen left to see the young man over the side and Bolitho said, 'Make a signal to Tybalt, repeated to Phaedra. Captain to close the Flag and repair on board without delay.'

Jenour wrote in his book and said, 'Immediately, Sir Richard.' He almost ran from the cabin.

Bolitho looked at Blachford. 'I shall send Phaedra to recall the rest of the squadron. When Herrick joins me, I intend to move to the west. If there is to be a fight, then we shall share it.' He smiled and added, 'You will be more than welcome here if that happens.'

Keen came back and asked, 'Will you send Phaedra, Sir Richard?'

'Yes.'

Bolitho thought, Val's mind matches my own. He is thinking it a pity it could not be Adam going to tell Herrick the news.