Honour This Day

It was not until the next day that Herrick's three ships were close enough to exchange signals.

Bolitho watched the flags soaring aloft, Jenour's unusual sharpness with the signals midshipmen, as if he understood the mood which was gripping his vice-admiral.

Bolitho held on to a stay and studied the new arrivals, the way they and his own seventy-fours lay about haphazardly under reduced canvas, as if they and not their captains were awaiting instructions.

The weather had not improved, and overnight had built the sea into a parade of steep swells. Bolitho covered his damaged eye with one hand. His skin was wet and hot, indeed like the fever which had brought him and Catherine together.

Keen crossed the slippery planking and stood beside him, his telescope tilted beneath his arm to keep the lens free of salt spray.

The wind holds steady from the nor'-east, Sir Richard.'

'I know.' Bolitho tried not to listen to the clank of pumps. The old ship was working badly, and the pumps had continued all through the night watches. Thank God Keen knew his profession and the extent of his complete authority. Haven would have been flogging his luckless sailors by now, he thought bitterly. Hardly an hour had passed without the hands being piped aloft to make or shorten sail. Manning the pumps, lashing loose gear in the uncomfortable motion – it took patience as well as discipline to keep men from flying at each other's throats. The officers were not immune to it. Tempers flared out of all proportion if a lieutenant was just minutes late relieving his opposite number; he had heard Keen telling one of them to try and act up to the coat he wore. It was not easy for any of them.

Bolitho said, 'If it gets any worse we'll not be able to put down. any boats.' He studied his scattered ships. Waiting for his lead. He saw Benbow swaying steeply as she hove-to, her sails billowing and cracking, shining in the filtered glare like buckled breastplates.

Herrick was coming to see him. Face-to-face. It was typical of him.

Herrick's barge had to make three attempts before the bowman could hook on to the main chains.

In the cabin the sounds faded, and only the sloping horizon, blurred by the thick glass of the stern windows, appeared to be swaying, as if to tip the weatherbeaten ships into a void.

Herrick got straight to the point.

'I wish to know what you intend.' He shook his head as Ozzard hovered nearby with a tray in his hand. 'No, but thank you.' To Bolitho he added, 'I'd not want to be marooned here, away from my flagship.' He glanced at the spray running down the glass. 'I don't like this at all.'

Bolitho said, 'No sign of La Mouette, Thomas?' He saw Herrick shake his head. 'I sent Phaedra to hunt for her.'

Herrick leaned forward in his chair. 'Captain Sinclair knows what he is about. He will find the squadron.'

Bolitho said, 'I will use every vessel which can scout for us. It was not a criticism.'

Herrick settled back again. 'I think we should stand towards Toulon. Then we shall know, one way or the other.'

Bolitho rested his hands on the table. He could feel the whole ship shivering through it, the rudder jerking against helm and wind.

'If the enemy intend to re-enter the Mediterranean, Thomas, we could lose them just as easily as Nelson lost contact when they ran to the west.' He made up his mind. 'I intend to head for Gibraltar. If we still have no news we shall proceed through the Strait and join the fleet. I see no other choice.'

Herrick eyed him stubbornly. 'Or we can stay here and wait. No one can blame us. We shall certainly be damned if we miss the enemy when they break through to Toulon.'

'I would blame myself, Thomas. My head tells me one thing, instinct directs me otherwise.'

Herrick cocked his head to listen to the pumps. 'Is it that bad?'

'She will stand more of it.'

'I sent Absolute into harbour because she was too rotten.'

Bolitho retorted, 'I could use her too, rotten or not.'

Herrick stood up and walked to the stern windows. 'I should leave. I mean no disrespect, but my barge will have a hard pull as it is.'

Bolitho faced him. 'Listen to me, Thomas. I don't care what you think about my private life, for private it is not apparently. I need your support, for fight we shall.' He clapped his hand to his heart. 'I know it.'

Herrick watched him as if seeking a trap. 'As your second-in-command I will be ready if we are called to battle. But I still believe you are misguided.'

Bolitho said despairingly, 'You are not listening, man! I am not commanding you, I am asking for your help!' He saw Herrick's astonishment as he exclaimed, 'In God's name, Thomas, must I plead? I am going blind, or did that piece of gossip rouse no interest amongst you?'

Herrick gasped, 'I had no idea -'

Bolitho looked away and shrugged. 'I will trouble you to keep it to yourself.' He swung round, his voice harsh. 'But if I fall, you must lead these men, you will make them perform miracles if need be – are you listening now?'

There was a tap at the door, and Bolitho shouted, 'Yes?' His anguish tore the word from his throat.

Keen entered and glanced between them. 'Signal from Phaedra, sir, repeated by Tybalt.'

Herrick asked quickly, 'What of La Mouette?

Keen was looking only at Bolitho. He guessed what had happened, and wanted to share it with him.

He answered abruptly, 'She is down.'

Bolitho met his gaze, grateful for the interruption. He had almost broken that time.

'News, Val?'

'There is an enemy squadron on the move, Sir Richard. Heading west.'

Herrick asked, 'How many?'

Still Keen avoided his eyes. 'Phaedra has not yet reported. She is damaged after a stern-chase.' He took a step towards him, then let his arms fall to his sides. 'They are Spanish, Sir Richard. Sail of the line, that we do know.'

Bolitho ran his fingers through his hair and asked, 'How many ships does Nelson have?'

Keen looked at him, and then his eyes cleared with understanding.

'It was last reported as two dozen of the line, Sir Richard. The French and their Spanish ally are said to have over thirty, which will include some of the largest first-rates afloat.'

Bolitho listened to the moan of the wind. Divide and conquer. How well Villeneuve had planned it. And now with this new formation of ships, discovered only accidentally by Phaedra, Nelson's fleet would be overwhelmed and hopelessly outnumbered.

He said simply, 'If they slip through the Strait we may never catch them in time.' He looked at Keen. 'Signal Phaedra to close on the Flag.' He caught his arm as he made to leave. 'When that brave little ship draws close enough, spell out well done.''

When Keen left Herrick said with sudden determination, 'I am ready. Tell me what to do.'

Bolitho stared through the stained windows. 'Minimum signals, Thomas. As we discussed.'

'But your eyesight?' Herrick sounded wretched.

'Oh no, not any more, Thomas. Little Phaedra has lifted my blindness. But hear me. If my flag comes down, Benbow will take the van.'

Herrick nodded. 'Understood.'

Bolitho said, 'So hold back your conscience, my friend, and together we may yet win the day!'

He turned to look at the breaking wave-crests, and did not move until he heard the door shut.

Bolitho put his signature to his final letter and stared at it for several minutes.

The swell was as steep as before, but the wind had lessened, so that the hull seemed to rise and fall with a kind of ponderous majesty. He glanced at the quarter windows as a pale shaft of sunlight penetrated the sea-mist and showed up the salt stains on the glass like ice-rime. He hoped the sun would break through completely before the day ended. The air was heavy with damp; hammocks, clothing, everything.