Darkening Sea (31 page)

Trevenen took a grip on himself, his massive figure swaying about as if he had forgotten where he was.

“
Orcadia
's lost! Yellow Jack!”

Bolitho caught his breath. Without asking he knew what must have happened. In the time available Adam had not been able to report to Keen, which probably meant that Keen's ships had already sailed.

“I shall come up directly.”

As the door slammed shut Allday came in by the other entrance.

Bolitho said quietly, “Poor Stephen Jenour. He did not want a command, you know. I forced it on him. I might as well have shot him.”

Avery was disconcerted, uncertain what to say. “I'm sure it's what any officer would want, sir.”

“I doubt that.” He reached out for Avery's arm but missed it in the shadows.

“We have a war to fight, Mr Avery. Put other thoughts from your mind. You did it for me and you acted rightly. Every commander must know his weakness as well as his strength.”

Allday placed a glass by his hand, “Wet, Sir Richard.” He could not say more.

“We shall wait on deck, sir.” Avery followed the burly coxswain into the filtered sunlight. It seemed incredible that
Anemone
had already changed tack and run down under their lee. Avery could even make out individual figures, men dashing past the guns to haul on the boat-hoisting tackles.

Then he turned and was astonished to see the intensity of Allday's stare.

“What is it?”

Allday said steadily, “I've not known you that long, sir, but I happen to believe you've come to belong to Sir Richard's little crew as he calls us.” He did not smile. “Otherwise I'd not be saying a word, see?”

“I was sorry to hear about Jenour, though I scarcely knew him.”

Allday brushed it aside. “He was a good man. We all trusted him, I mean.” Then he made up his mind. “I think you should know, sir, because I've seen the way he's taken to you . . .” He hesitated and then blurted out, “If you speaks of it to anybody but us, I shall know.”

Avery waited, knowing that it was not merely important, but vital.

“He's going blind, sir. Left eye. He was badly wounded. We have to watch him, like.”

“I thank you for your trust. I mean that most sincerely.”

Allday did not seem to hear. “Sir Richard used to have a flag lieutenant, the Honourable Oliver Browne, he was. A real gentleman, an' I means that in the only true way. Always spoke of
We Happy Few,
he did. Then he got himself killed.” His eyes hardened. “Not in any sea-fight, neither.”

He moved away as
Anemone
's sails were backed and the gig dropped smartly alongside. Over his shoulder he said, “Now you're one of the
few,
sir!”

Valkyrie
came up into the wind, her sails like thunder in the fresh breeze. Avery stood by the hammock nettings while the side party prepared to receive
Anemone
's captain.

“So there you are!” Bolitho strode from the companion hatch and glanced at the compass before acknowledging the officer-ofthe-watch.

Avery watched him, and was moved by the easy way he could bridge the distance from quarterdeck to forecastle, from naval hero to ordinary pressed seaman; and something of his admiration and his sadness must have revealed itself on his face. Bolitho looked first at
Anemone
and then toward Allday, who was standing by one of the guns.

Then he said quietly, “He told you, didn't he?”

“A little, sir. You can trust me.” He hesitated. “Can nothing be done?”

“I believe not.” He smiled. “Let us receive my nephew and find out what he knows!”

It was astonishing.
I believe not,
he had said. But his tone implied the opposite.

Avery looked at Allday and saw him give the briefest of nods. He was accepted.

Bolitho stood just outside the door of the sickbay. Beyond the hull the sea would be in total darkness, with only the occasional glow of phosphorescence or a breaking crest to betray movement. The ship felt even quieter than usual, but for reasons other than fear of punishment.

Just before darkness had closed in to conceal one ship from another,
Larne
had made one last signal. Tyacke had sighted several sail to the north-east. They could only be the enemy.

Bolitho thought of Adam's brief visit to receive his orders and to describe the horror he had seen in the drifting
Orcadia.
He had the strongest feeling that, bad though it was, Adam had spared him the worst part. He had described how he felt about leaving his patrol area to join them, and how he had announced his approach by the single broadside the lookout had heard. He had sighted an Arab topsail-schooner, which must have been tracking the
Anemone
after she had left the
Orcadia:
one of Baratte's scouts, or a slaver who was still willing to risk capture. Either way there had been too little time to give chase with the added risk of losing her in an approaching rain squall. Adam had fired a broadside at extreme range and had left the vessel dis-masted and adrift to fend for herself.

The enemy's strength was unknown, but their own numbers were probably already listed in Baratte's mind like a plan of action.

Whatever they were, they would not proceed further in the darkness. They would hold as close together as possible until first light.

Bolitho could picture the
Valkyrie
's watch below, brooding over what they would perceive as inevitable, the landmen and the youngsters asking the old Jacks what to expect.
What is it like?

He heard Avery walking very softly behind him. Leaving him to his thoughts, instantly ready if he was needed.

How did he know Trevenen was a coward? There had certainly been no doubt in his voice. Something Sillitoe had told him, or had it been his father, who had died in battle?

Trevenen's reward for lying under oath to save his captain from disgrace was no small thing. Just to be
Valkyrie
's captain now was privilege enough to ensure his promotion to flag rank, if he could stand clear of trouble or causing offence to Hamett-Parker. It was not cowardice in that case, but just as dangerous.

Minchin loomed out of the shadows. “Yes, Sir Richard?”

“How is he?”

Minchin scratched his head. “Sleeping now. Been fretting a mite, but that's usual enough.”

He grinned as Herrick called, “Who is that?”

Bolitho stepped into the light of a solitary lantern. “I am here, Thomas.”

Herrick gasped with pain as he tried to drag himself into a sitting position. Between his clenched teeth he exclaimed, “Hell's teeth! One arm is more trouble than two!” Then he lay still again, his eyes glowing in the flickering light.

“We're to fight then?”

“We have to
win,
Thomas.”

Herrick sipped from a mug which Lovelace held for him. “Always the same. Not enough ships where you need 'em. We've known it a few times, eh? They never learn, because they don't have to see it. To do it!”

“Easy, Thomas.”

“I know, I know.” He moved his head from side to side. “And I'm no use to you either!”

Herrick saw Avery for the first time. “I abused you at Freetown, Mr Avery.” He looked away. “I heard about Jenour as well. No age to go.”

Bolitho paused by the door again. “Try to sleep. I shall see that you are looked after if . . .”

Herrick raised his left arm. “
If.
That has a chilling ring too.”

Outside the sickbay the ship seemed at peace. Some midshipmen were crouched in a tight circle, their expressions revealed only by the light of their glims. Like some strict religious sect; but Bolitho knew they were asking one another questions on seamanship and navigation. Preparing like all “young gentlemen” throughout the fleet for that magic day when they would be examined for lieutenant. To midshipmen it was the first, impossible rung on the ladder, and few could see any further beyond it.

Lovelace left the sickbay carrying two books, and Bolitho recalled what the surgeon had told him.

He asked, “Have you ever thought of taking the big step, Lovelace? To the College of Surgeons? Mr Minchin speaks very highly of you.”

It was the first time he had seen him smile.

“I too would like to own a carriage and pair, Sir Richard!” The smile vanished. “I beg your pardon, sir. I meant no offence.”

Avery watched, leaning against the curved timbers at his back. He saw Bolitho reach out for the young man's arm, heard him say quietly, “If we can break the enemy tomorrow, I will sponsor you.”

Avery almost held his breath, unwilling to miss any of it.

Bolitho said, “My late flag lieutenant should have studied medicine, not war, like his father and uncle before him. Instead . . .” He turned aside. “But Fate decided otherwise, God bless him!”

Lovelace was still staring after them as they climbed the companion ladder together.

“That was a generous thing to have done, sir.”

“You reap only what you sow.” He gripped a rope hand rail as the hull dipped heavily in a cross-swell. Then he said, “Sup with me tonight. I wish to discuss the signals for tomorrow. There may be little enough time later on.”

The meal was a simple one, washed down with some of Catherine's claret from St James's Street. In Ozzard's capable hands it made a fitting end to the day.

Even as, encouraged by the flag lieutenant, he reminisced, and spoke of men and campaigns he had known, Avery was aware that Bolitho was speaking of others like Jenour, who would be remembered only by the few who had shared those experiences.

He saw Bolitho touch the locket beneath his shirt, his gaze faraway as he said, “I shall add a little more to my letter to Lady Catherine before I sleep. She was very fond of Stephen. He used to sketch her, like the daily scenes he saw around him.”

He would not have to tell her what to do when she received the news. She would go to Southampton herself and see Jenour's parents, to spare them at least the brutal formality of an Admiralty letter.

The Secretary of the Admiralty regrets to inform you
. . .

Nobody should have to suffer that.

He said almost abruptly, “If anything should happen . . .” He looked at Avery directly. “There is a letter in my strongbox which you may deliver to . . .”

“I would prefer that it never need be read, Sir Richard.”

Bolitho smiled. “That was well said.” Without realising what he was doing he touched his eye with his fingertips, so he did not see the concern on the lieutenant's face. “Baratte is a devious man, a trickster who will use every ruse to overthrow us. Whoever loses will be a scapegoat, something too well known to you already. His father was denounced as a hated
aristo
during the Terror and was beheaded before those howling murderers. He was an honourable officer, and France has had cause to regret his death and the blood on their hands of so many others like him. Baratte has done all in his power to prove his skill and his worth to his country, perhaps to protect himself. It is a weakness that may make him reckless enough to play one trick too often.”

“And what of the Englishman, Hannay, sir?”

“He will fight as never before.”

“No weakness then?” Avery was fascinated as he watched the inner power of this man, the grey eyes full of intensity and emotions as he spoke of his enemies so lucidly that Avery could almost see them. It was impossible to know from his appearance that the vice-admiral was almost blind in one eye. Another secret.

“Only that he is unused to taking orders.” Bolitho shrugged. “Especially from a Frenchman!” It seemed to amuse him.

He looked at Avery's serious face. “Mr Yovell thought well of you from the start, that day in Falmouth. He was particularly impressed with your knowledge of Latin, although at the time I had no idea it would prove so useful!”

“A good deal will depend on your nephew tomorrow, sir.”

“Yes. I am very proud of him. He is like a son to me.”

Avery did not press the point. “Mr Yovell tells me that he met Nelson, who spoke warmly of him.” He hesitated. “Did you never meet him, sir?”

Bolitho shook his head, suddenly depressed. The same people who now sang the little admiral's praises had been the same ones who had tried to destroy him before he had fallen aboard
Victory.
And what of his dear Emma? What had become of her? How did those who had made promises to Nelson even as he lay dying manage to face themselves, he wondered?

And Catherine. Who would care for her if the worst happened?