Lefroy said, 'I had occasion to meet a young colleague who once served under you. You sponsored him, I believe, to the College of Surgeons in London.'
Bolitho stared at the light until his vision blurred. 'Philip Beauclerk. Yes, he was in Indomitable with me. A fine and promising surgeon.' But all he could remember was Beauclerk's eyes, the palest he had ever seen.
Lefroy wiped his hands on a cloth. 'We spoke of you, Sir Richard, as doctors will.' He beamed, the parson again. 'Must, if we are to improve the lot of our people. He spoke, too, of the great man, Sir Piers Blachford.'
Another memory. Blachford and the rum-sodden Minchin, working as one while Hyperion gave up the fight and was starting to sink under them.
Bolitho said, quietly, 'He thinks nothing more can be done.'
Lefroy nodded slowly, his round figure tilted, untroubled by the angle of the deck.
'For someone in a position of retirement, free of the demands, to say nothing of the risks which beset every sailor, this damage might be contained for years.' He gazed around the cabin, the heavy guns straining at their breeching ropes while the ship heeled over. 'This is no such position, Sir Richard, and I think you know it well.'
Ozzard had appeared and murmured, 'Captain Tyacke is here. Sir Richard.' He shot a wary glance at the surgeon.
Tell the captain I am ready.'
Lefroy was closing his battered bag. 'I am sorry, Sir Richard. You could attend another surgeon, much better qualified, were you not at sea.'
As he reached the door he paused and said, The drops you are using are excellent in their way, but……' He bowed himself out, his baldness shining in the swinging lanterns.
His last word lingered like an echo in the air. As if someone had just slammed a great door. Like something final.
Tyacke strode in, his head bent to avoid the curving deck head beams. He had seen the surgeon, but they had not spoken.
He did not ask Bolitho about it. He had seen enough of pain to read it now in the grey eyes watching him.
He recalled the words. Now we are truly of one company.
He said. 'Now, concerning tomorrow, Sir Richard……'
Bolitho leaned over the chart. The lifeline. The rest could wait.
Allday stood quite still, his razor reflecting the lantern light. Bolitho was leaning forward in the chair, his head on one side as if he had heard some new sound. But there was nothing, only a few muffled noises, and a sense of heavy stillness.
The wind?'
Allday nodded. 'Aye, it's left us. Like the last time, an' the times afore that.'
He was talking to give himself time; he had no need to remind Bolitho of the moods and the madness of the weather. He knew them all, as he could feel the ship around him, her strength and her weakness. It was his life.
It was none of those things now. Bolitho had suddenly gripped the arms of the chair and dragged himself upright, his mind wholly intent upon the ship, and the wind which had deserted them.
Allday glanced at the razor; he had been moving it downwards for the first stroke of the morning shave. He had barely a second to twist it away from Bolitho's face before its well-stropped edge laid open his cheek to the bone. Bolitho had not seen it.
Allday tried to relax the relentless grip of dread in his stomach. He had not been able to see it.
Bolitho was looking keenly into his face, his eyes clear in the light from the lantern.
'What is it, old friend? The pain?'
Allday waited for him to lie back again, unable to look at him.
'It comes an' goes, Sir Richard.'
He began to shave him with great care. A close thing.
There were voices now, loud and angry. Bolitho recognised Tyacke's, the other was Pennington, the second lieutenant. Then there was silence again, the ship holding her breath, creaking and clattering as she began to drift, her sails flat against the stays.
Tyacke hesitated by the door. 'I am sorry to disturb you, Sir Richard.'
Allday was mopping the shaved skin, relieved at the captain's interruption.
'The wind, James is that it? We were warned we might expect it.'
Tyacke moved into the light. His shirt was torn, and streaked with tar.
He said, 'No, sir. We've lost Black Swan.' He was unable to contain his anger. 'I should have known! I ought to have picked the morning watch lookouts myself.'
Bolitho said, 'You command, James. You cannot carry every man's burden all of the time.'
Tyacke stared down at him. 'Black Swan knows full well that she must be in company with the Flag at first light. A lookout with half an eye should have seen that she had gone from her station at the first hint of dawn it should have been clear enough.' He waved curtly toward the stern windows, now grey- blue in the strengthening light. 'Gone! And the fool only just reported it!'
Bolitho stood up, and felt the listless movement of the deck. Tyacke must have gone aloft himself to be certain, and vented his anger on Pennington when he had found the horizon empty, just as he was now blaming himself for another's carelessness.
He said, 'The wind will return, perhaps sooner than we think. Closer inshore, there could still be enough for the brig.'
He knew what Tyacke believed. That Black Swan's eager commander had used the darkness to tack nearer to the land, to be the first to discover any shipping there and still return in time to resume his position for making and receiving signals. The dying wind had changed that dramatically. Black Swan was now without support, and Frobisher would be unable to see her, even if she required help.
The sentry's voice broke into their thoughts.
'First lieutenant, sir]'
Kellett stepped into the cabin, his face composed, probably prepared for this by the humiliated Pennington.
'Sir?'
Tyacke spoke instead to his admiral. 'I thought we should put down the boats and take the ship in tow, keep her head round, and cut the drift as much as possible.'
Bolitho said, 'I agree. God knows I've done it often enough myself.'
He saw Kellett relax slightly as Tyacke said, 'Detail the boats' crews yourself, Mr. Kellett. Two-hour spells at the oars, more than enough when the sun finds them. Put the spare hands aloft to dampen the sails. I don't want to lose a cupful of wind.' As Kellett turned away, he added, 'It was not your fault. Sometimes we all expect too much.'
Kellett's mild eyes widened very slightly. 'I shall inform the second lieutenant, sir.'
Bolitho waved Ozzard aside and loosened his shirt. 'Not yet.'
He heard the trill of calls and the boatswain's harsh voice as he urged more men to the boat-hoisting tackles. Sam Gilpin was a boatswain of the old school, quick with an oath or one of his fists, but he rarely took a man aft for punishment if either of the options would suffice.
'Visibility?'
Tyacke dragged his mind back to the present. 'Heavy mist inshore, sir. We are no more than ten miles out, but we're useless like this.' He glared around, as if the cabin were restricting him like a cage. 'I just hope young Sackville keeps his lust for glory on the leash!' Then he seemed to relent. 'That was unfair. I scarce know the fellow.'
Avery had arrived, stifling a huge yawn as he listened to what was being said, and to the urgent noises overhead.
He glanced quickly at Allday. Trouble?'
Allday shrugged. 'The wind's gone, so has Black Swan.' He wondered if he should tell him what had nearly happened with the razor, and decided against it.
Tyacke left the cabin and was heard calling out instructions to his lieutenants, and there was a responding
