Signal Close Action (22 page)

Bolitho saw his glance fall on the pages of the report and felt something like guilt. As if Herrick had read his mind. His nagging doubt.

'Yes. What is our estimated position?'

Herrick frowned. 'At eight bells we fixed it as approximately forty miles north of the island of Majorca. With the poor progress and damage to canvas and helm, even the master will not make a stronger estimate.'

Bolitho looked at Moffitt. 'You can go.' He heard Ozzard letting himself out of the sleeping cabin.

Flerrick asked, 'What are your orders, sir ?'

'When we can rejoin our other ships I intend to call a captains' conference.' He walked to the windows again, seeing Herrick's reflection in the thick glass. 'After I have heard Captain Farquhar's explanation for waiting until this second rendezvous, I will say what I think we should do. As flag captain, you must ensure that each ship, from
Lysander
to
Harebell,
understands my standing orders exactly. To me, initiative is a worthwhile substitute for blind obedience. But I'll have no selfish manoeuvres, nor will I tolerate rank disobedience.'

Herrick said, 'I understand, sir.'

Bolitho turned to face him. 'What do you think, Thomas ?' He waited, willing him to speak out.
'Really
think ?'

Herrick shrugged. 'I believe that Farquhar is petty-minded, and eager enough for advancement, that he will act as he thinks fit whenever possible.'

'I see.'

Bolitho crossed to his wine cabinet and touched it with his fingertips. He could see her smiling at him, hear her infectious laugh as she had watched his pleasure with the gift. So warm, so generous with her love. Reckless, too, with her hostility for anyone who had dared to show criticism of their brief affair.

'Is that all, sir?' Herrick was studying him, his face tired and grim.

'No, Thomas.' He turned, hating the strain on Herrick's features. He had probably not slept more than an hour or two at a time since the battle. 'It is
not
all.'

He gestured to a chair, but Herrick remained standing, as he had known he would. He cursed inwardly. That was the trouble. They knew each other too well for any sort of conflict.

He said, 'I must complete my report for the admiral. Sooner or later I will have to send a despatch to him, my personal understanding of the situation here. Upon it might well depend a whole new strategy. If I am wrong, there is far more than my head at stake. If St. Vincent sends a great fleet to the Mediterranean, and we discover too late that the French have sailed west instead of east, maybe to join their squadrons from the Biscay ports, England, and not merely a battle, will be lost.'

'I realise that, sir. A heavy responsibility.'

Bolitho stared at him. 'Are you deliberately being evasive ? You know damned well what I mean! This is an important mission, with no risk too great to complete it. When I send my first despatch to the admiral, I must also tell him the state of my squadron.'

Herrick faced him stubbornly. 'While the rest of the squadron took itself elsewhere, sir, our people fought and acted better than I'd have believed possible. I've said as much in my own report.'

Bolitho shook his head sadly. 'And w
hat of you, Thomas ? What must I
write of your part in it ?'

He watched the strain growing on Herrick's face.
‘I
am not speaking of your seamanship, your bearing under fire, nor would I dare to.'

Herrick looked past him. 'I did my best.'

Bolitho hesitated, but knew that this, and only this, was the moment. He said flatly, 'It was not good enough. And you know it.'

Overhead, a faint cry came from a lookout. 'Deck there! Sail on the lee bow!' So Farquhar's ships, if they were such, were in sight from
Lysander.

Herrick replied, 'If that is what you believe, sir, I suggest you say as much in your report.'

Bolitho stared at him. 'Don't be such a
damned
fool
!’
He could feel the blood churning in his head, the wildness from the battle returning. 'You were
slow,
Thomas! You waited too long before each decision. You know as well as I that in a broadside battle you've no time for reflections!'

Herrick watched his rising anger with apparent calm. 'Do you think I don't realise that ?' He shrugged, the movement helpless or despairing. 'When I lost
Impulsive
last year I began to feel doubts. About my strength, my nerve, if you like.' He looked away.
‘I
sailed
Lysander
into that bay because I had to, something drew me there, like times in the past when I just
knew
it must be done. You sent no signal, but deep inside me I felt you were there, waiting,
expecting
me to come. Perhaps I felt as you did about Adam Pascoe. It went deeper than logic'

Bolitho asked quietly, 'And four days ago ?'

Herrick faced him again.
‘I
watched those two ships. Hour by hour I watched them drawing nearer. Imagined their people at quarters, peering along their gun muzzles at
me.
And when you decided to attack them single-handed, and we had the second one right across our bows, I could barely speak or move. I heard my voice passing orders. But beyond it I was like stone. Something dead.' He wiped his forehead with one hand. The skin was damp with sweat.
‘I
can't do it. That battle last year decided it for me.'

Bolitho stood up and walked slowly to the windows. He recalled Herrick's excitement at the Admiralty when he had been appointed flag captain. A pleasure rising to match his own. They had not questioned the dangers or pitfalls of their mission. And neither of them had once considered his own ability to manage it.

He said, 'You are too tired to think properly.'

'Please,
sir.' Herrick's voice was hoarse. 'Don't show pity, or humiliate me with understanding! You know what this is costing me, in God's name spare me further shame!'

Feet clattered in the passageway and Bolitho said, 'Leave me, I'd like to think.' He tried to find the words, despising himself for causing him such pain. 'Your value is too great for me to abuse it.'

The door opened slightly and Midshipman Saxby poked his head into the cabin.

'Captain, sir?' He smiled nervously as he saw Bolitho and showed the gap in his front teeth. 'Mr. Gilchrist's respects, and could you come on deck ?'

When Herrick remained silent, Bolitho asked, 'Is something wrong ?'

Saxby swallowed. 'N-no, sir. The first lieutenant wishes to turn up the hands to witness punishment.'

Herrick came out of his thoughts and said harshly, 'I am coming, Mr. Saxby.' He glanced at Bolitho. 'I am sorry, sir.'

Bolitho looked for a long while at the closed door. It had been like watching Herrick's eyes peering from a strange mask. A prisoner. What had he said ?
Something
dead.

He turned as Ozzard padded silently into the cabin from the other door. Overhead and beyond the bulkhead he heard the stamp of booted feet as Leroux's men tramped aft, the more subdued movements of the company assembling to witness punishment.

Ozzard asked mildly, 'Can I do anything, sir?'

Bolitho looked up at the skylight, hearing a dull thud as the grating was rigged for the man to be seized up and flogged.

'Yes.
Close
that
skylight!'
He frowned. 'I did not mean to shout at you.'

He strode to the opposite side.
Damn
Gilchrist
and
his punishments.
What was he trying or prove, and to whom ? Ozzard said warily, 'Your clerk's outside, sir.'

'Fetch him.'

Moffitt re-entered the cabin and blinked in the reflected sunlight.

He said, 'I've finished the first part, sir, and I thought - ' 'Wait.' Bolitho had raised his voice, as if to drown the sound

of the lash across a man's naked back.
‘I
wish you to write a

letter.'

Overhead, the drum rolled and stopped, and the flat crack of the cat on bare skin intruded once again. 'Ready, sir?'

Moffitt, like Ozzard who was humming quietly in the sleeping cabin, was unmoved by the slow, drawn-out ritual of punishment. While he . . .

Bolitho snapped, 'Address it to Captain Charles Farquhar, of His Brittanic Majesty's Ship
Osiris'

He rested his forehead against the sun-warmed glass and looked down at the frothing water below the counter. How inviting it was. Cool. Cleansing.

Behind him he heard Moffitt's nib scratching across the paper. It never faltered to the roll of the drum, the crack of the lash.

Farquhar would have a good reason for being off station. Of that he was certain. 'Sir?'

He bunched his fists tight against his thighs until the pain steadied him.

'Upon
receipt
of
this
order
you
will
make
all
arrangements
to proceed
on
board
Lysander,
flagship,
the
transfer
to
be
effected immediately,'
He hesitated again, fighting his will.
'And
there take
on
the
duties
and
appointments
of
flag
captain.'

This time the nib did falter.

He continued,
'Your
present
post
will
be
assumed
by
Captain Thomas
Herrick.'

He walked to the table and looked over Moffitt's narrow shoulder. 'I will want two copies directly.' He reached out and took the pen. He felt Moffitt staring at it, as if defying it to move. Almost savagely he wrote,
'Given
under
my
hand,
aboard His
Majesty's
Ship
Lysander.
Signed,
Richard
Bolitho,
Commodore'

It was
done,

*

With the hands dismissed from witnessing punishment, and the approaching ships confirmed as
Osiris
and
Nicator,
Thomas Herrick returned to the cabin to make his report.

Bolitho sat below the great span of windows, watching
Osiris's
yards swinging smartly, her sails retaking the wind as she assumed station astern of
Lysander.

He said quietly, 'I want both captains aboard directly.'

'Yes, sir.' Herrick looked tired. 'I have already made the signal. I will heave-to when all ships are on proper station.
Osiris
wishes to communicate immediately.'

Bolitho nodded. Farquhar would have news for him. News important enough to explain his absence from the original rendezvous. Bolitho did not look at the sealed envelope on his desk. The
news
he in turn would give Farquhar would make even him take notice.

He said, 'I have made no note in the official log, or my own report about what you told me earlier.' He saw Herrick's shoulders sag. 'But I accept your word, naturally.' He heard the clatter of blocks and the groan of cordage as the ship rolled heavily under reduced canvas, knowing that at any minute he would have to face the others. To begin again. He continued, 'I could shift my pendant to another ship, Thomas. But I recall only too clearly what happened when that was done when
1
held a similar command. The whole company took it as a personal slight, a lack of faith by the admiral in their ability and trust. I thought it unfair then, as I do now.'

Herrick's voice was husky. 'I understand. I don't relish the prospect of failure, and what it will mean. Equally, I'll not protest against something which I have begun.' He shrugged helplessly. 'Because of my feelings for the Navy, and
for y
ou,
I'd kill myself rather than risk lives and a cause, to cover my faults.'