'Pipe the hands to the braces! We will steer nor'-east by east.'
Lines and halliards came alive, snaking through blocks as more men ran to their stations, their fatigue momentarily gone.
'Put up your helm! Now steady, lads! Handsomely does it!'
'Be ready to make our number!' That was Midshipman Cousens, very conscious of his position in charge of the signals party.
And just as quickly, 'Belay that, Mr Cousens! Everyone will know this ship!' Lieutenant Bellairs, who such a short time ago had been a midshipman, doing Cousens's work.
Adam saw the swift exchange, and felt it for himself. Pride. It never left you. Like Galbraith and young Napier, or the scarred and mutilated seaman who had come to see him at Penzance. Pride for Anemone, the ship which had done that to him, but had left him no less a man.
'Nor'-east by east, sir! Steady as she goes!'
Adam saw Cristie making some notes in his personal log. The lines meeting on a chart somewhere. It would probably amount to nothing. A few words on a page, soon forgotten.
A captain's responsibility was total. He saw Cristie pause to look at him. The date, perhaps: had he remembered?
Adam resumed his pacing. All he could do was wait, then decide.
On this day, his beloved uncle had died.
lie nodded to a seaman who was expertly coiling a halliard, although he did not notice his surprise.
He could still reach out. The hand was still there.
Luke Jago watched the jollyboat being warped alongside, then turned to stare at the topsail schooner which lay hove-to downwind of the frigate. The signal Captain repair on board had been hauled down in time with Unrivalled's acknowledgment, and Jago was still fuming about it. The commodore's broadpendant shone like silk from Paradox's masthead, and as Cristie remarked, 'They could shout a message from there, damn them!'
Jago heard Galbraith calling to a boatswain's mate, and knew the captain was coming up. Bloody Turnbull. Who the hell does he think he is? lie had been surprised that the captain had shown neither surprise nor resentment at the signal. Jago looked at him now and was partly satisfied; he was wearing his old seagoing coat and had tied a neckcloth loosely into place. Jago smiled to himself. The commodore could think what he liked.
He said, 'I could have the gig swayed out, sir.'
Adam smiled. 'Take too long. Ceremonial can go too far!' He touched his hat to the side party and looked directly at Galbraith. 'Maybe the waiting is over?'
The jollyboat seemed to plunge into a deep trough as they cast off from the chains and the oars dipped for the first pull.
Adam twisted round to look at his ship. How large she appeared from the boat, the yards and flapping canvas blotting out the land completely. She never seemed so big when you shared her hull with some 250 seamen and marines.
He shifted on the thwart to study the other vessel. Smart, lowlying, rakish. A fine command for a young officer with one foot on the ladder. For one more senior, like Hastilow, it might appear very different.
'Bows.' Then Jago said under his breath, 'I'll be ready, sir.'
Their eyes met.
'Never doubted it.'
Hastilow was waiting to receive him as he clambered up and across the bulwark.
'Welcome aboard, Captain Bolitho.'
Hastilow's eyes said the opposite. Tall and lean, even thin, with his lank brown hair tied back in the style still followed by some older sailors. But the eyes were very different, dark, almost black in the glaring sunshine, deepset and wary, as if on guard for something.
He added, 'The commodore is below.' The slightest hesitation. 'Sir.'
Each commanding one of His Majesty's ships, and yet miles apart. The lieutenant and the post-captain. Schooner and fifth rate. Usually it did not matter when men met like this. Here, it obviously did.
Adam followed the other officer aft, but glanced at the sailors working on deck, or waiting to trim the sails for getting under way again. All were so burned by the sun and wind that they could have been Africans. A large company for so small a vessel; for prize crews. And he could sense hostility, as if he was from another world which they had all rejected. They were probably remembering the men who had been butchered.
He could almost hear Finlay's words. Where were you?
Below deck it was very dark, and Adam was reminded of the meeting with Herrick. The thick shutters, the narrow strips of sunlight, the remaining hand drumming on the table beside the tray of ginger beer.
The cabin was small, the deckhead low enough to make him stoop. There was one skylight, so that Commodore Turnbull appeared to be on display in the shaft of dusty sunlight. He was, Adam saw, as immaculately dressed as if he were in a ship of the line.
'A fortunate rendezvous, Bolitho.' He gestured to a bench seat; he even did that elegantly. 'You came with all haste.' The eyes moved only slightly, but seemed to take in Adam's threadbare coat and soiled shirt. 'Captain Tyacke is in position by now.' Without seeming to move he dragged a chart from another seat and laid it flat on the table. 'Here, and here. As planned. Unrivalled will remain on station at the south-west approaches.' He tapped the chart to emphasise each point. 'The slavers are there, in the delta as reported. Three vessels, maybe more. It's a maze of channels and sandbars, safe for them, dangerous for a ship of any size.' He smiled gently. 'But then, you're aware of that?' He hurried on. 'I intend to catch them before they can reach open water. They might try to withdraw upriver, of course. In which case it will take longer.' 1 le looked around the dark cabin as if seeing it for the first time. 'Hastilow's fellows know their work well. They can outsail most slavers, and can use carronades to settle the majority of arguments.'
Adam bent across the chart, and studied the location where Unrivalled would mount guard, almost precisely as Cristie had described. A perilous place on a lee shore. Worse if you ran on to one of the sandbars.
Turnbull said, 'You will anchor.'
Adam studied the chart again, wondering why Hastilow had not been asked to join them, in his own command.
Turnbull might have taken his silence for doubt.
He said, 'Slavers know these inlets and beaches far better than we do. But once at sea, it is a different story. My latest information is that these vessels are to transport slaves to St Thomas, as I anticipated. There they will be transferred to a larger ship. But we will take them before that. None will escape, no matter which way they run.'
Adam leaned back, and felt the schooner moving around him. Eager to go.
He said, 'They may sail at night.' Why had he stated the obvious? Giving himself time. Turnbull's plan made sense. If the worst happened and they only seized one of the slavers, it would show others that the navy could and would take action on the doorstep, as Jago had put it.
Turnbull reached down and opened a cupboard. 'I hope they do, but I doubt it. Hastilow thinks it will be at first light.' He lifted a bottle and two goblets from somewhere and looked questioningly across the table.
'Not Madeira, I promise you!'
Adam watched him pour two large measures. Cognac. So what was wrong? Confident, pleasant enough. He saw the beautiful cuffs, the glittering lace on the coat. The new navy emerging? He was younger even than Hastilow.
'Provided nothing changes before we can act, I intend to make an attack as close to dawn as possible.' He sipped his cognac. 'At least we'll not have to depend on this damnable wind!'
For a second or two Adam thought he had misheard.
'Landing parties, sir?'
Turnbull poured himself another drink. 'You surprise me in some ways, Bolitho. A fellow with your recordI'd have thought you would he fully aware of such tactics.' Ile shook his head. 'Direct action, that's my belief?' Ile pushed the chart aside. 'Hastilow understands. I IC's cut out for the work, and he wants revenge.'
'A boat action, sir?' It was like hearing someone else's voice.
Turnbull regarded him curiously. 'You were hoping for something different, a sea-fight or a chase. A true frigate captain to the end!' Iie gave the soft chuckle again. 'I shall need Unrivalled right enough, but the first blow will be
