Honour This Day

Bolitho said, The wounded first, Major. Over to the Spaniard. After that -' He did not finish.

Instead he turned to watch as Benbow, accompanied by Capricious, passed down the opposite side. There were no cheers this time, and Bolitho could envision how Hyperion must look. Was it imagination, or were the figurehead's muscled shoulders already closer to the sea? He stared until his damaged eye throbbed.

He could think of nothing else. Hyperion was settling down. They could not even anchor, for here the sea had no bottom, so her exact position could never be marked.

Men moved briskly around him, but like the moment he had hoisted his flag aboard, the faces he saw were different ones.

He touched the fan in his pocket. Sharing tt with her.

He saw Rimer, the wizened master's mate who had accompanied him on the cutting-out of the treasure galleon. He was sitting against a bollard, his eyes fixed and unmoving, caught at the moment the shot had cut him down. Loggie the ship's corporal, sprawled headlong across another marine he had been trying to haul to safety when a marksman had found him too.

The first of the wounded were being swayed up through one of the hatchways. A few cried out as their wounds touched the coaming or the tackles, but most of them just stared like the dead Rimer; they had never expected to see daylight again.

Allday reappeared by his side; he had brought Ozzard with him.

He said, 'He was still in the hold, Sir Richard.' He forced a grin. 'Didn't know the fight was over, bless 'im!' He did not say that he had found Ozzard sitting on the hold's ladder, Bolitho's fine presentation sword clutched against his chest, staring at the last lantern's reflections on the black water which was creeping slowly towards him. He had not intended to leave.

Bolitho touched the little man's shoulder. 'I am very glad to see you.'

Ozzard said, 'But all that furniture, the wine cabinet from her ladyship -' He sighed. 'All gone.'

Keen limped over and said, 'I hate to trouble you, Sir Richard, but-'

Bolitho faced him. 'I know, Val. You continue your work. I shall attend the ship.' He saw the protest die on Keen's lips as he added, 'I know her somewhat better than you.'

Keen stood back. 'Aye, aye, Sir Richard.' He glanced at the tautening hawsers to the ship alongside. There may not be long.'

'I know. Single-up your lines.' Then almost to himself he added, 'I have never lost a ship before.'

He saw Mmchin coming on deck with one of his assistants, their clothing dark with blood, each carrying a bag.

Mmchin approached Bolitho and said, 'Permission to leave with the wounded, Sir Richard?'

'Yes, and thank you.'

Mmchin forced a grin to his ruined face. 'Even the rats have gone.'

Bolitho said to Ozzard, 'Leave with the others.'

Ozzard clutched the bright sword. 'No, Sir Richard, I'm staying-'

Bolitho nodded. 'Then remain here, on deck.'

He looked at Allday. 'Are you coming with me?'

Allday watched him despairingly. Must you go down there? Aloud he said, 'Have I ever left you?'

They walked beneath the poop and down the first com-pamonway to the lower gundeck. The ports were still sealed, but most of those on the larboard side had been blasted open, their guns hurled from their breechings. There were few dead here. Mercifully Keen had cleared the deck to storm the Spaniard alongside. But there were some. Lolling figures, eyes shtted as if because of the smoky sunlight, watching as they passed. Half a man, chopped neatly in two by a single ball even as he had run with his sponge to the nearest gun. Blood everywhere; no wonder the sides were painted red, but it still showed itself. Lieutenant Pnddie, second-in-command of the lower gundeck, lay face down, his back pierced with long splinters which had been blasted from the planking. He was still holding his sword.

Down another ladder, to the orlop, where Bolitho had to duck beneath each low beam. There were still one or two lanterns alight here. The dead lay in neat rows covered by sail-cloth. Others remained around the bloodied table, where they had died while they waited. Above their heads a heavy object fell to the deck, and then after a few seconds began to rumble along the scarred planking, like something alive.

Allday whispered, 'In the name of Christ!'

Bolitho looked at him. It must be a thirty-two pounder ball which had broken free of its garland and was now rolling purposefully down towards the bows.

They paused by the last hatchway and Allday dragged back the cover. It was one of the holds, where Ozzard always kept his vigil when the ship was in action.

Bolitho dropped to his knees and peered down while Allday lowered a lantern beside him.

He had expected to see water amongst the casks and crates, the chests and the furniture, but it was already awash from side to side. Barrels floated on the dark water, and lapped around a marine who had been clinging to a ladder when he had died. A sentry put to guard against terrified men running below in battle. He might have been killed by one of them, or like Ozzard had been trying to find refuge from the hell on deck.

The deck quivered again, and he heard heavy fragments booming against the carpenter's walk where more of his men had been trapped and drowned.

The orlop, and the holds and magazines beneath it, places which had remained in total darkness for all of Hyperion's thirty-three years. When they had returned the old ship to service after a hasty refit, it was more than likely the dockyard had missed something. Probably down there, where the first heavy broadside had smashed into the hull, there had still been some rot, unseen and undiscovered. Gnawing at the timbers and frames as far down as the keelson. San Mateo's last bombardment had dealt the mortal blow.

Bolitho watched Allday shut the hatch and made his way back to the ladder.

So many memories would go with this ship. Adam as a midshipman; Cheney whom he had loved in this same hull. So many names and faces. Some would be out there now in the battered squadron where they waited to secure the prizes after their victory. Bolitho thought of them watching Hyperion, remembering her perhaps as she had once been, while the younger ones like Midshipman Spnngett… He cursed and held his hand to his eyes. No, he was gone too, with so many others he could not even remember.

Allday murmured, 'I think we'd better get a move on, sir.'

The hull shook once more, and Bolitho thought he saw the gleam of water in the reflected light, creeping through the deck seams; soon it would cover the blood around Mmchm's table.

They climbed to the next deck, then threw themselves to one side as a great thirty-two pounder gun came to life and squealed down the deck, as if propelled by invisible hands. Load! Run out! Ftre» Bolitho could almost hear the orders being screamed above the roar of battle.

On the quarterdeck once more Bolitho found Keen and Jenour waiting for him.

Keen said quietly, The ship is cleared, Sir Richard.' His eyes moved up to the flag, so clean in the afternoon sunlight.

'Shall I have it hauled down?'

Bolitho walked to the quarterdeck rail and grasped it as he had so many times as captain and now as her admiral.

'No, if you please, Val. She fought under my flag. She will always wear it.'

He looked at the Spanish Asturtas. He could see much more of her damage, her side pitted by Hyperion's own broadsides. She appeared much higher in the water now.

Bolitho looked at the sprawled figures, Parns's outflung arm with the pistol he had chosen as his final escape.

They had succeeded in driving off and scattering the enemy. Looking at the drfting ships and abandoned corpses, it seemed like a hollow victory.

Bolitho said, 'You are my ship.'

The others stood near him but he seemed quite alone as he spoke.