'If you say so, sir. 'But it had been done. He had seen Jago's expression, and was glad.
The servant had padded in again and was speaking softly to his master.
The commodore was outwardly relaxed, even casual, his lean, bony features composed. Only the hard blue- grey eyes gave a hint of the man within.
Even the matter of the gig's crew had occasioned a cool jibe.
'Hope they appreciate it, Bolitho. Most Jacks would only take advantage, from my experience!'
He must have sensed a corresponding chill in Adam, and changed the subject.
'Now, in your own time, Bolitho, tell me what happened during your passage to Aboubakr. I will give full attention to your report, but I need to hear it from you in person. I have already gleaned some of the sorry detailsЦ even here on the Rock, we are not without news of the real world. 'He smiled.
'As they say in our home county, bad news rides a fast horse!'
Then he swivelled round on his chair as if watching for passing vessels or inquisitive harbour craft, and waited.
Adam found himself listening to his own voice, flat and unemotional. The reports from the lookout. The midshipman, almost fainting with pain, managing to describe what he and the seaman had seen and interpreted. And the grim outcome, no heroics, no flags, except the ensign dipping in salute after the smoke had cleared.
Carrick spoke at last.
'Nautilus owes her survival to your prompt action. Your gun crews had good fortune.'
Adam recognized the challenge, and felt the iron-cold eyes on him as he pulled a packet from his coat. He could still hear Lieutenant Squire's voice when he had handed it to him: 'A prayer would have helped, but I couldn't think of one fast enough!'
He put it on the table.
'Part of the schooner, sir. Fell on our foc'sle deck. We were as close as that.'
Carrick unwrapped the charred wood and held it to the sunlight.
'Indeed. 'He nodded. 'Too close for comfort.'
The servant had returned, and placed a pair of goblets discreetly near the papers and Adam's rough map.
Carrick was saying, 'Some local resistance, or a full-scale rebellion… I can understand why the French authorities will be concerned, and, it is to be hoped, grateful for your initiative.
There I trust it will end, at least while I still command the Strait Squadron. 'He saw Adam's expression and laughed. 'Rear Admiral Aylmer is still unwell, although I am informed that he expects a complete recovery, damn his eyes! 'The laugh became a cold smile. 'You did not hear that, Bolitho. So, now let us drink to you and your fine ship.'
They touched glasses, although Adam had not seen them filled. If he slept when he went back to Onward, he thought, he might never wake up.
'When we last met, Bolitho, you reported that one of your company had been murdered. 'He studied his goblet. 'Some petty dispute, maybe? I take it there were no developments.'
He did not seem to expect an answer. 'No matter. If I shouldered the blame for every soul who's gone aloft under my command, I would be as sick as my admiral!'
He stood up. Abruptly, like most of his gestures and words.
'I will read your full report, and discuss it with the governor.
The next move will be…' He frowned as the flag lieutenant appeared at the door. 'What is it now?'
'You have a meeting withЦ'
Carrick waved him into silence. 'Slipped me mind, dammit!'
He turned toward Adam just as easily.
'We will meet again soon. You will be informed. 'He held out his hand. 'Now, I am certain you have a great deal to do.'
It was a dismissal, and Adam was glad of it. Carrick called after him, 'Your boat's crew should be well rested by now for their pull back to Onward, don't you think?'
He strode from the cabin, the flag lieutenant hard put to keep up with him.
'I sometimes wonder why I worry myself sick, when…'
He broke off. It was not the lieutenant's fault.
Two seamen seemed to be waiting for them. One of them, a bosun's call hanging around his neck, blurted, 'Cap'n Bolitho, sir? You won't remember me, but…'
Adam reached out impetuously and gripped his arm.
'Logan. Spike Logan. You were with me in Unrivalled. Maintop.'
The man and his companion were both grinning and nodding, and some others were loitering nearby, listening.
They walked on toward the entry port, where the side-party was waiting. The flag lieutenant spoke at last, in an undertone, touching his hat.
'Now you know why, sir.'
Adam climbed down the side and stepped into the gig, which was already in position, as if it had never moved. He looked around at the crew, sitting smartly upright, arms folded, as if the flagship, towering over them like a cliff, did not exist.
His eyes met Jago's and he smiled, surprised that it came so easily.
'No squalls, Luke. 'He sat down facing the stroke oarsman.
'Not yet, anyway.'
Jago tilted his hat slightly against the reflected glare.
'After what we done? 'He said no more. There was a faint smell of rum on his breath.
Then, 'Shove off, forrard! 'He could see faces watching from the high poop with the gilded gingerbread he remembered so well from their arrival here. The flagship's officers. What the hell do they care? 'Out oars!'
He counted the seconds, standing with his fingers just touching the tiller bar, as if unconcerned. He contained a grin. If only they knew. 'Give way together!'
He waited until he could see Onward's masts, almost delicate against a big two-decker nearby, and eased the tiller until they had moved into line. Then he sat down and watched the stroke, the captain's gold epaulette near enough to touch.
He tasted the grog on his lips. It was good to have mates.
He looked away. Even in a flagship.
Lieutenant James Squire walked aft from the companion ladder, his eyes still dazzled by the sun and the vivid panorama of the harbour. He had visited Gibraltar several times in different ships, but he never grew tired of its life and colour.
Within minutes, or so it seemed, of dropping anchor and the captain's departure in response to the usual impatient signal, Onward had been hemmed in by boats ready to sell, buy or steal anything available. The master- at-arms and a full squad of marines had their work cut out to keep the decks clear of invaders, however friendly they might appear.
He had heard the boatswain telling some of the youngsters, 'If you gets to step ashore, keep yer 'ands on yer money belt, or it'll go. They can take a tattoo off a man's skin and 'e wouldn't feel it! 'From what he had heard, old Josh Guthrie would be one of the first ashore. He could take care of himself.
Morgan the cabin servant stood facing him by an open gunport. Even that was guarded by a spread of netting.
'Do you wish to see the captain, sir? 'Self-possessed as always, but sweating slightly. 'He is very hard-pressed just now, only returned aboard a moment ago.'
Squire said patiently, 'It's my watch. received him on board, remember?'
Morgan let out a sign. 'My apologies, sir. We are busy, too.'
Squire stared through the open doors, and beyond the sentry who was peering past the companion ladder, as if he expected to see some intruder trying to reach the lower deck without being seized.
'Guardboat just brought some mail. Mostly official, had to be signed for. 'He looked again at the cabin. 'So I must…'
The purser and one of his assistants were there, unrolling a mass of documents, and Prior the clerk, with a ledger almost as big as himself, was edging his way toward the captain. Even the surgeon was present. But it was
