Darkening Sea (33 page)

He stopped and looked down again, at the yellow shoulder of the figurehead and the flapping jib and staysails, pure white against the undulating water below. He turned slightly and was in time to see the sun's rim rise slowly from the sea itself, saw it spill over the horizon and reach out in either direction to sharpen its edge with pale gold. He unslung the telescope and entwined his leg around a stay.
You are my eyes this morning.
The words still lingered like something written.

For an instant he felt stiffness in his shoulder, the wound which had struck him down on that terrible day. He had often probed it with his fingers, but had never actually seen it until he had used a looking-glass. The French surgeon had probably made it worse, but the wound had left a deep gouge in his body, as if someone had done it with a huge spoon. He was ashamed of it. It made him feel unclean.

He peered at the mainmast as the lookout yelled, “Deck there! Ships on the lee bow!”

Below on the quarterdeck Bolitho thrust his hands under his coat to contain and hide his impatience.

Trevenen bawled, “What are they, man?”

There was no hesitation this time. “Ship of the line, sir! And smaller ones!”

Trevenen's nostrils seemed to flare. “Even my ship cannot match guns with a liner, Sir Richard!”

Bolitho watched him and heard the triumph in his voice, as if he were addressing the whole ship. Baratte had saved this unknown card for today. Trevenen was right about one thing: a frigate could not survive close action against a ship used to the line of battle and built to withstand its massive broadsides.

He thought of Adam and the other frigate, Baratte's own flag-ship when he had been taken prisoner. It was over before it had begun.

He looked around: at the guns, their crews staring aft to discover what was happening, the scarlet-coated marines with their muskets by the protective nettings. Even they could do nothing if the ship's company refused to fight or, as they would see it, to be killed for nothing.

There were footsteps across the deck and Bolitho saw Avery walking unhurriedly towards him.

“I did not order you down, Mr Avery!” Something on the lieutenant's face steadied him. “What is it?”

Avery glanced briefly at Trevenen, but barely saw him. “She's no ship of the line, sir. She is the U.S.S.
Unity,
exactly as your nephew described her, spar by spar.”

He had heard Trevenen's words as he had climbed to the deck, the relief in his tone as the bright sunlight which was opening up the ocean all around them had shown him a possibility of escape.

All that had changed. Trevenen seemed unable to close his jaws, and was staring at him as if he were an apparition from hell.

“I did not wish to call out from up there, sir.” He pointed although the eastern horizon was still curtained by sun-filled haze. “There are several small vessels with her, ahead and astern, merchantmen by the cut of them.”

Bolitho said quietly, “A convoy then?”

Avery looked at the captain, but it was as if he had been turned to stone.

“Far up to the nor'-east there are other sails—they are clearly visible from the mizzen topmast. You were right, sir. They are Baratte's frigates, I feel certain of it.”

Bolitho reached out and touched his shoulder. “So now we know how the game is set. The American ships will do nothing but sail between us and our own two frigates. Divide and weaken us while the ‘convoy' is allowed to proceed in peace.”

He turned to Trevenen. “Well, Captain, here is the ship you doubted. The most powerful frigate in the world.”

“We must discontinue, Sir Richard. Before it is too late!”

“It was already too late when Baratte was released from prison.” He moved to the chart, feeling men step aside to let him pass. “Hoist the signal,
Prepare for Battle.
”

“Already bent on, sir.”

Bolitho heard the halliards sing through the blocks as the flags broke out to the breeze.

“Signal
Larne
to repeat the signal if neither
Anemone
nor
Laertes
is yet in sight. They know what to do.”

Trevenen stared at him angrily. “They cannot engage without support, Sir Richard!” He looked around as if to convince those nearest to him.

“At last we agree, Captain.” Bolitho took a telescope and scanned the brightening horizon. The enemy were only a few pale flaws like tiny leaves drifting on glass. “We shall pass through the convoy. Continue on the same tack. In the meantime, have the boats put overboard.” He was going to add,
for the victors,
but refrained. Most of the officers and all the older hands would know what the order implied. It was to protect the men on deck from flying splinters if shots smashed through a boat tier; but to the landmen and other new men it was the last chance to escape or be saved if the worst happened.

Lieutenant Urquhart called, “I can see the Yankee, sir!”

Avery said, “
Larne
has acknowledged, sir.”

Bolitho said, “The ships are close-hauled as tight as they'll come.
Unity
's captain will not wish to fall off downwind and seem to be running away.”

He considered Captain Nathan Beer. Strong, determined and a veteran of frigate warfare. His ship was so well-armed she could probably outshoot a
74.
No wonder the lookout had been confused.

He would hold to his course, steadily converging with
Valkyrie.

Avery asked, “Will they not attempt to prevent us, sir?” There was no anxiety in his voice. It was merely a technical detail, a part of the inevitable.

Bolitho felt his skin becoming damp with sweat under his heavy coat.

“Captain Beer will have little choice but to warn us off. He is no fool—Baratte's unwilling and unofficial ally perhaps, but too concerned with his duty to tolerate interference.”

Trevenen said, “I must note this in my log, Sir Richard.”

“Please do, Captain. But I intend to break through the convoy at its weakest part while we still have the wind on our side.” He saw some of the seamen staring astern as the ship's boats drifted away, held together by loose lines so that they would not smash into one another.

Trevenen said, “The weakest part, Sir Richard?”

“Astern of the
Unity, directly!
”

He saw no understanding on Trevenen's heavy features, and said curtly, “I shall wish to speak with the gunner and your lieutenants.” He raised his glass again. Perhaps Baratte had even foreseen this move. Surely he would not expect the English ships to retreat?

The white marks on the horizon seemed as before, but the embrace would begin within two hours. He heard himself say, “Plenty of time before we load and run out.”

He studied Trevenen as the captain snapped out his orders. Unwilling to see his ship badly mauled and perhaps his own future in ruins? Or was he as Avery had described, a coward?

“Will you have the people lay aft, Captain? You will wish to speak with them before . . .”

Trevenen shook his fist violently, “They will have to learn, Sir Richard, learn and obey!”

“I see. Then have them piped aft, Mr Urquhart. I will demand much of them this day. I owe them an explanation at least.”

The calls shrilled and the hands came stampeding aft. Those from forward who had seen and heard nothing of the exchanges on the quarterdeck peered almost fearfully at the larboard gang-way as if expecting to see a grating rigged for a flogging, even in the face of an enemy they did not know.

They looked first to Trevenen and then, when it was apparent that he was not to speak to them, they fixed their attention on the vice-admiral who had taken their lives into his hands, and could just as easily dispose of them.

There was silence but for the sea and shipboard noises, and even those seemed muted.

Bolitho rested his palms on the quarterdeck rail and looked over and amongst them.

“Valkyries, I thought I should tell you something of what we are about on this fine morning. My cox'n remarked just before we cleared for action that he sometimes wonders what it is all for.” He saw several heads turn towards Allday's powerful figure. “Many of you were taken from your homes and villages and some from honest merchant ships, against your will, to face a life which has never been an easy one. But we must never give in to tyranny no matter how difficult it is to see any value in our sacrifice, even though it be in the name of King and country.” He had all their attention now. Some of the warrant officers and older seamen were probably thinking that had such comments been made on the messdeck or in a barrack room they would be branded as treasonable.

“England must seem far away to many of you.” He looked at them steadily, wanting them to understand, needing them to do so. “Because I stand here with my two bright stars and a flag at the masthead it does not mean that I feel this any less. I miss my home and the woman I love. But without us, our dear ones, our homes and our countryside will be as nothing if the enemy is allowed to win!”

Avery saw his hands holding the rail until the tanned skin was pale from the force of his grip. Whatever happened, he knew he would never forget this moment. He thought of Stephen Jenour, and understood now more than ever why he had loved this man.

Bolitho said quietly, so that many men further forward pressed into their companions to hear his words:

“This ship that blocks our way is not at war with us, but any flag which is raised to help an enemy is our enemy too! When we fight, do not think of causes and the justice of things, which is the way of my cox'n.” He guessed Allday was grinning behind him, and saw several of the assembled sailors smile at his words. “Think of one another, and the ship around us! Will you do that for me, lads?”

He turned away, his hat in the air as the cheering swept across the ship as loudly as any rainfall.

Allday saw the pain in his eyes, the emotion at what he had just done, but when he reached Trevenen his voice was without mercy.

“Do you see, Captain? Leadership is all they ask, not bloody backs simply to satisfy you!”

He turned again, and looked out at the cheering seamen until in groups they went back to their stations and the guns.

Lieutenant Urquhart, his eyes blazing with excitement, said, “They'll follow you now, Sir Richard!”

Bolitho said nothing. Urquhart did not understand. None of them did. He had betrayed these same men as he had Jenour when he had forced him to take a command.

When he spoke once more he was surprised at the normality of his own voice.

“Very well, Captain, you may load, but do not run out.” Trevenen touched his hat, his eyes red-rimmed with strain and despair. “And have other flags bent on, Mr Avery. The Colours must be kept flying, no matter what!” Then he spoke again, although whether to himself or to Avery the flag lieutenant was never certain.

“To think that Captain Beer once knew my brother. I sometimes think I never knew him at all.”

Bolitho stood loosely near the wheel and looked around at the lieutenants and senior warrant officers he had sent for. Young faces, tense expressions, and pathetic determination. The warrant officers, the professionals, had all seen action in one ship or another, but apart from Urquhart and of course Avery, the lieutenants had not.

He recalled all the wild, reckless times he had sailed into battle: sometimes with the drums and fifes playing a lively jig to ease the strain of waiting. But not so on this morning.

The breeze had freshened very slightly, enough to harden each sail, but not so that it could break the great undulating expanse of ocean. A few gulls and other seabirds circled the topgallant masts, undisturbed by the sullen purpose of the ship below them.

If he turned his gaze very slightly Bolitho could see the other ships, brigs and brigantines for the most part, with the
Unity
sailing amongst them like a fortress.

He said, “We will remain on this converging tack.
Unity
's captain will believe we intend to pass through his charges ahead of him. If we can get close enough without taking a few of
Unity
's broadsides I intend that we should alter course at the last moment and pass astern of her. It will be a hard thing to do. It is the only course of action open to us if we are not to leave our ships unaided. All officers will ensure that topmen and all spare hands are ready to make more sail immediately. We have the wind across the quarter—when we turn we will have it astern of us.” He smiled. “A soldier's wind!”

He glanced along the crowded deck where men crouched by the guns or waited by each mast with their midshipmen and petty officers.

Every gun was loaded, but he had not ordered any of them to be double-shotted. Some of the new hands might lose their nerve, and there was every chance of a gun exploding and killing all the men around it if improperly handled. Worse, it could start a fire right inside the ship.