Signal Close Action (47 page)

Bolitho said quietly, 'Some claret for the captain, Ozzard.' He added, 'Or brandy, perhaps ?'

Probyn nodded. 'Brandy. Better for a man in these damned waters.' He almost snatched the goblet from Ozzard and downed the drink in one huge swallow. 'If I may, sir ?' He thrust the glass to Ozzard for refilling.

Despite the persistent wind which swept across the little bay and sent countless white-horses amongst the anchored ships, the air in the sealed cabin was warm and humid. Bolitho had put on his coat to receive Probyn, but was wishing that he was still in his shirt. He watched the brandy moving into Probyn's eyes and voice, blurring and distorting as he repeated, almost word for word, how his sailing master and the officer of the watch,
a
young
booby
if
ever
I
saw
one,
the leadsman in the chains,
I
had
him
seized
up
and
flogged
double
quick,
I
can tell
you,
and several others had made the grounding inevitable.

Bolitho waited until there was a pause while Ozzard filled the goblet again. The servant's eyes were lowered, but he could not hide his interest. His experience as a lawyer's clerk was probably too much for his normal reserve.

Then Bolitho said calmly, 'So you were not actually there when it happened ?'

'There?'
The red-rimmed eyes fixed on him with obvious effort. 'Of course I was there!'

'I'll trouble you to keep a civil tongue in your head, Captain.' Bolitho kept his tone level, even gentle, but saw a warning show itself on Probyn's reddened features.

'Yes. Yes, I apologise. It's been troubling me, thinking you might blame me in some way for what -'

'Well, Captain, where
were
you in
Nicator
when she struck ?'

'Let me see now.' He pouted heavily. 'Must be exact, eh? Like we used to be in the old
Trojan
when we were lieutenants together.'

Bolitho remained very still, watching the emotions and blurred memories on Probyn's heavy features.

He said, 'That was a long time ago.'

Probyn leaned forward, his sleeve knocking over the empty goblet. 'Not so long, surely? It's like a dog watch ago to me. She was a fine old ship.'

'Trojan}'
Bolitho nodded to Ozzard who brought a full goblet for the captain. 'She was hard and demanding, as I remember. A good school for those who wanted to learn, but hell on earth for the laggard. Captain Pears was never a one to tolerate fools.'

Probyn looked at him, his eyes glazed. 'Of course, I was that bit senior to you. Knew a bit more, so to speak. Saw through their little game.'

'Game?'

Probyn tapped the side of his nose. 'Y'see ? You didn't even suspect. The first lieutenant was always on at me. The captain's lickspittle. And that other lieutenant, the one who got killed, he was a crawler.'

Bolitho stood up and walked to the wine cabinet, seeing Kate's face and hearing her infectious laugh when she had given it to him. She would laugh at him now, if she were here. How she despised the ways of true authority.

He said sharply, 'Apart from the very junior lieutenants then, that only left you and me.' He poured himself a glass of claret, waving Ozzard away as he continued, 'I remember that ship in many ways, but one of the things which I recall most clearly, and which has come back to me during this last week, was the way you drank.' He swung round, seeing the sudden alarm on Probyn's face. 'Several times that I knew of, men were flogged because of things which
you
had done wrong. Do you remember the night watches which others had to perform because you were too much in your cups to get on deck? That
lickspittle
you just mentioned saw to it that the captain knew nothing about it. But by God, Probyn, if I'd been your captain, I'd have made certain you never did it twice!'

Probyn lurched to his feet, his great shadow reaching towards Bolitho like a curtain.

'Indeed you would I L
ike the time we took two prizes.
I
was put in charge of the first. A rotten, worm-infested hulk, that's all
she
was! I never stood a chance when the enemy ship came after me!' He was squinting with fierce concentration, his face and throat wet with sweat. 'It was deliberate, to get rid of me!'

'You were senior to me. The prize was yours by right. What about a previous one? A little schooner? You were supposed to take her into New York, but a master's mate went in your place.'

He watched his words slamming home, the fuddled way which Probyn's eyes were swivelling around the cabin as if to discover answers.

Bolitho said harshly, 'You were drunk then.
Admit
it,
man.'

Probyn sat down very slowly, his hands shaking as he supported himself on the arms of the chair.

'I'll admit nothing.' He looked up, his reddened eyes filled with hate.
'Sir.'

'So you've nothing more to tell me about
Nicator's
grounding ?'

The question seemed to take him momentarily off guard. Then Probyn said, 'I have made a full and proper report.' He thrust his hands under the table. 'And I have taken sworn statements from those of the watch who were involved.' He leaned forward, his drink-sodden face crafty as he added,
'If
there is a court of enquiry, I will produce those statements. One of which may incriminate the officer of the watch, an admiral's nephew, by the way. And it may be thought that you were not unbiased, sir. That you were levelling old scores by having my reputation tarnished.'

He fell back, startled, as Bolitho stood up, his eyes blazing with contempt.

'Don't you bargain with me! A week back we struck a blow against the enemy, but the harm which was done to our people was more deeply felt! But for
Ly
s
ander
's
arrival, and
Buzzard
's
support, yours would be the only ship afloat today! Think on these things the next time you dare to talk of bias or honour!'

He called for Ozzard and added, 'You may return to your ship now. But remember, what cannot be proved is nevertheless between us. The squadron is undermanned, and o
fficered
for the most part by inexperienced youngsters. For that reason alone,
I
am not holding an official court of enquiry.'

Herrick appeared in the door with Ozzard, but stayed very still as Bolitho said, 'But hear me, Captain Probyn. If I ever discover that your failure to give support was deliberate, or that at any time in the future you act against the interests of this squadron, I will see you
hanged
for it!
'

Probyn snatched his hat from Ozzard and lurched blindly from the cabin.

When Herrick returned he found Bolitho as before, staring at Probyn's empty chair with an expression of disgust.

He said, 'That was an ugly side of me, Thomas. But by
God, I meant every word of it!
'

17
Storm Clouds

I
t
was nearer to two weeks before Bolitho could hoist his signal to up anchor and leave their sheltering islet. Even then, the ships were plagued by fierce gusts of gale force, and it soon became apparent that
Buzzard
's
damage was worse than Javal had realised. His men worked through every watch on the pumps without a break, and with the limited resources he had aboard, he used all spare timber and canvas for the most severe hull damage.

After the savagery of battle, the elation at seeing
Lysander
thrusting her bows through smoke and falling spray, this renewed effort by the weather to delay their every move was all the more disheartening.

As the ships became scattered, and worked back and forth on varying tacks to gain headway into equally determined south-westerly winds, Bolitho was thankful they had not sighted an enemy squadron across their path. His crews were worn out by constant work, and with each ship left underhanded because of dead and wounded, he knew that any sort of a victory would fall to the opposing side.

Perle
,
the captured French corvette, had made off with his despatches, and he knew that Herrick was still worrying about Lieutenant Fitz-Clarence's ability to make the right landfall and pass his information to the admiral at Gibraltar.

Perhaps he should have directed
Perle
to sail directly to Gibraltar. But if his news was to reach all available sources of communication, he knew that Fitz-Clarence must first call at Syracuse.

He was pacing his cabin, his chin on his chest, his body angled to the ship's tilt, whe
n he heard the cry, 'Deck there!
Sail to the nor'-west!'

For once he was unable t
o restrain himself, and without
waiting for a message from the quarterdeck, he hurried from the cabin to join Herrick and the other officers at the rail.

Herrick touched his hat. 'You heard then, sir?'

'Aye, Thomas.'

Bolitho ran his eyes quickly along the upper gun deck. Due to the weather and the necessary delays while repairs were carried out, it was a month since they had watched the French supply vessels sinking and burning under their bombardment. Since Farquhar had died with so many of his men. And
Nicator
had gone aground.

The men who were by the bulwarks and gangways, or standing in the shrouds in the hopes of sighting the newcomer, looked tougher, he thought. Herrick had done well. It was not easy for common seamen to understand what was happening beyond their own ship. Some captains did not bother to tell them, but Herrick, as always, had tried to explain whenever he could the reasons and the rewards.

Had Farquhar remained in
Lysander,
he would have benefited from Herrick's example. These men, Bolitho knew, would have given that bit extra as the ship had drifted towards the sandbars, her master dead, and the helm shot away.

He looked up sharply as a lookout yelled,' 'Tis the
Harebell,
sir!
'

Herrick grinned, his face shedding some of the strain as he said, 'Good old Inch! I was beginning to
wonder what had happened to him
'

They watched the sloop's sails growing out of the horizon, the steep angle of her masts as she crammed on more canvas to run down on the squadron.

Bolitho saw the changing shadows on the sloop's topsails, and found himself pleading that the wind would not choose this moment to desert them. The thought of being becalmed, with Inch and his news too far away to contact, was almost unbearable. And the wind had acted in that fashion several times since they had sailed from the Greek islands. Strong to gale force, and then breathing away to nothing, the sodden decks and sails steaming in fierce sunlight, the ships motionless, like men beaten senseless in a brawl.

Herrick asked softly, 'What d'you think, sir ? Good or bad news ?'

Bolitho bit his lip. Inch had
been away a long while. As his
little squadron had sifted information and news of the enemy's whereabouts and strength, almost anything might have happened.

He replied, 'My guess is that a blockade will now be built up around the French ports. Once de Brueys knows his supply fleet and siege artillery are destroyed at Corfu, he may think differently about invasion. Our people have worked hard, Thomas. I hope their efforts will have given the fleet
time.'

The air was heavy with greasy smoke from the galley before
Harebell
had tacked close enough to lower a boat. Bolitho noticed that most of the off-watch seamen remained on deck, instead of going for their midday meal. To see Inch come aboard, to try and learn something of what was happening.

In the great cabin, Bolitho made Inch take a glass of wine, to give him a moment to regain his breath.

It was strange, he thought, that after all the battles and the pain, it often fell to men like Inch to carry really important news. You would hardly notice him in a street. Gangling, with his long horseface and excited manner, he did not seem the stuff of heroes as their public liked to imagine. But Bolitho knew differently, and would not have traded him for a dozen others.

Inch explained,
‘I
delivered the despatches, and,' he shot Herrick a quick glance,
'and
my passenger, sir. Then I was caught up in tremendous activity.' He frowned to gather his thoughts. 'Rear-Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson in his flagship
Vanguard
passed through Gibraltar Strait at the beginning of May and headed for Toulon.'