Keen said, 'Their lordships would not release a frigate like Anemone to no purpose.' He sounded bitter, as Adam had been.
Bolitho said, 'Make to Relentless and Valkyrie. Form line abreast of the Flag. While there is good light, keep the distance five miles apart. That will give us a broader span of vision.' He listened to the wind through the rigging. It was still fresh, so they should make a few knots more before it eased off again. He waited for Jenour to scribble on his pad and hurry away to find his signals party.
He went on, 'They are both experienced captains-that is something, Val. I do not know Kirby of the Relentless, she had Captain Tabart at Copenhagen. But he has a good reputation. Flippance I have known for years.' He gave a distant smile. 'Governs his ship with the Bible and the Admiralty Fighting Instructions. The mixture seems to work well in his case.'
Keen made for the door. 'I shall shorten sail to allow the others time to work into position. Also, I must tell the first lieutenant to select his very best lookouts.'
Bolitho had returned to his chart; he was rubbing his eyelid again.
He said, 'Our master lookout from the jolly-boat, William Owen-what of him?'
Keen was surprised. How could he even find a moment to recall an ordinary sailor amongst so many?
He replied, 'I cannot speak too highly of him. I intend to rate him up to petty officer shortly…' He stopped as he saw Bolitho watching him, as if someone had just called his name.
'Do it now, Val. There may not be time later, and we shall need every experienced hand.'
Keen closed the door very quietly and hurried up the companion ladder.
'Shorten sail, Mr Sedgemore!' He shaded his eyes against the fierce light to look at Jenour's flags streaming from the yards, the signals midshipman with his raised glass calling out as each of the ships acknowledged.
Julyan the sailing-master shouted, 'As before, sir!'
Keen nodded, his mind busy. 'When we get under full canvas again we shall continue to the nor-'west. Your noon sights will have to be your best today, Mr Julyan, for afterwards we will change tack and steer for the islands, Bird Island in particular.'
Their eyes met and then Julyan said, 'Tomorrow, then?'
Keen turned away as the calls shrilled to muster the watch on deck for shortening sail. 'Master's Mate, find the seaman named William Owen for me.' Do it now, Val, Bolitho had said. Was it the same instinct which Keen had cause to respect? How did he know? But he did know, as Julyan accepted it without question.
He saw Owen striding along the lee gangway, completely at ease, as he had appeared even after the Golden Plover's loss.
He stepped on to the quarterdeck and knuckled his forehead. 'Aye, sir?'
'Everyone spoke well of you, Owen, although I already knew your abilities.' He tried to smile. 'It shall be logged immediately that you are to be promoted, with pay and victuals accordingly.'
Owen stared at him. He had an open, homely face which reminded Keen of Allday, when he had first met him aboard the frigate Undine under Bolitho's command. All those dangerous years ago, when he himself had been a young midshipman, like the one on watch nearby: De Courcy, who was pretending not to listen.
'Well, thank 'ee, sir!' Owen seemed genuinely pleased. 'I've been at sea in one ship or t'other for fifteen years. Never thought this would happen!' He repeated with a grin, 'Thank 'ee, sir.'
Keen thought of the man in the great cabin below his feet. How did he know?
'Mr Sedgemore will explain your duties, at his leisure, but for the moment I am putting you with my cox'n. Together you will assist Mr Gilpin the bosun, should I need the boats to be lowered.'
Just for the briefest moment Keen saw his eyes flicker. 'But keep it to yourself.' He turned as Sedgemore hurried towards him. 'Something wrong?'
'I heard a mention of boats, sir.'
'And you will know why.'
Sedgemore stared round as Masterman, the sergeant of marines, exclaimed, 'Gawd, look at the old Relentless! She's gettin' a bustle on, an' no mistake!'
Sedgemore persisted quietly, 'But the sea is empty, sir.'
'We are informed that our combined attack on Martinique by Vice-Admiral Cochrane's ships and the army under General Beckwith is due to begin at any time. Weather permitting, in a matter of days. If I were the French commander of the ships and men at his disposal, I would move against vital bases-Antigua, for instance. If taken, it would leave our fleet like a headless chicken.'
Sedgemore found himself looking at the place on the quarterdeck where his predecessor Cazalet had died. Smart cordage, spotless decks, the men at the helm watching the compass and sails as they had always done. It was hard to imagine the hell it had been.
He said tentatively, 'But what if we came against them, sir, I-I mean without support?' It was rare to see him at such a loss for words.
'Then the people will fight, as they have never done before. Hereabouts the sea is a bottomless cavern, a place of total darkness, I believe. It is not much of an alternative, do you think?'
Sedgemore hurried away, needing something to do to stay his mind.
'Relentless on station, sir!'
Keen walked to the weather side and watched Valkyrie, under every stitch of canvas, clawing away towards the horizon to complete their line abreast, then he saw the vice-admiral's coxswain making his way aft and called, 'Memories, Allday?'
Allday squinted up at him and gave his lop-sided grin. 'Few more o' them shortly, I shouldn't wonder, sir!'
He vanished beneath the deck, going to the great cabin, knowing in his own private way that he was needed there.
Keen turned to the officer-of-the-watch, the third lieutenant. 'I am going to my quarters, Mr Joyce. Call me at noon so that we may compare sun-sights.' He paused. 'Earlier if you need me.'
Joyce smiled. He had served captains he would never dare to call, even if the ship seemed to be falling apart; afterwards they would blame an uncertain lieutenant with equal passion. To his midshipman he said, 'Remember all that you see and hear, Mr De Courcy. It might stand you in good stead, in the unlikely event that you stay alive long enough to be given a command!'
The midshipman, who was fifteen, was not too troubled by Joyce's manner. His father was a rearadmiral, and his grandfather before him.
'Aye, aye, sir! I will take heed of everything!'
Joyce turned away, hiding a smile. Cheeky little bugger, he thought.
Shortly after the ritual of shooting the sun with their sextants, and the murmured comparisons around the chart table, Black Prince and her two consorts crossed the eighteenth parallel, and came around towards the western horizon.
Lieutenant Stephen Jenour noted Ozzard's dour expression as he passed him at the cabin screen doors; the little man was carrying away Bolitho's breakfast, the one he had come to know was his favourite at sea. A slice of fat pork, fried pale brown with biscuit crumbs, and black treacle on a separate ship's biscuit. It was untouched, and only the coffee had vanished.
He saw Allday running a cloth up and down Bolitho's old sword as he must have done a thousand times, while his gaze rested on the broad panorama through the stern windows. Even allowing for the salt stains on the thick glass and the hazy dawn light, the view was breathtaking. The eastern horizon coming to life, the sea choppy and milky under the steady pressure of wind. Birds too, gliding back and forth below the ship's counter waiting for scraps, screaming away occasionally as some fish or other rose too close to the surface.
Jenour saw Bolitho on the bench seat, one foot on the checkered deck covering, his other knee drawn up to his chin; he saw too that his heavy uniform coat and hat lay on a chair, like the garb of some actor waiting in the wings.
He rather wished he could try his hand with his sketch book, but there was no time, and he told himself he could never capture the tension and the curious intimacy of this private moment.
Bolitho turned his head. 'Look at the birds, Stephen. If only we knew what they had seen in their flights amongst the islands. Perhaps nothing.' He glanced at a line of serried wave crests as the wind sped amongst them. 'If I am wrong this time, and with the wind still pressing, it may take days to beat back again and search elsewhere.'
