Signal Close Action (54 page)

It had been a coincidence, and yet it was hard to accept that miracles had played no part.

Lieutenant Gilchrist in the badly damaged frigate
Buzzard
had not sailed directly to Gibraltar as ordered. Instead, and for no reason which had yet come to light, he had broken his passage at Syracuse. And there, resting and disillusioned after its fruitless sweep to Alexandria, was the fleet, with Nelson's flagship
Vanguard
in its centre.

Nelson had apparently needed no more than a hazy report to set him going once again. To Alexandria, where he had discovered the remaining French transports sheltering in the harbour. But to the north-east, anchored with rigid and formidable precision, much as Herrick had predicted, lay the French fleet.

With half of her company dead or wounded,
L
ysander
had remained on the fringe of the fight. The Battle of the Nile, as everyone was calling it. It began in the evening and raged all night, and when dawn came up there were so many wrecks, so many corpses, that Bolitho could only marvel at man's ferocity.

Undeterred by the French line, and the fact that many of the ships were held together with cables to prevent a breakthrough, Nelson sailed around the end of the French defences and attacked them from the shoreside. For there was no heavy siege guns on the land to prevent him, and he was able to concentrate his skill and his energy against an equally determined enemy.

Although the French fleet was the larger, by dawn all but two of de Brueys's ships had struck or been destroyed. The remaining two had slipped away in the night after witnessing the most horrific sight of the whole battle.
L’
Orient,
de Brueys's great flagship of one hundred and twenty guns, had exploded, damaging several vessels nearby, and having such an effect on both sides that momentarily the firing ceased.

De Brueys went with her, but the memory of his courage and endurance were as proudly remembered in the British ships as anywhere. With both legs shot off, the stumps bound with tourniquets, de Brueys had ordered that he be propped upright in a chair, facing his old enemy, and commanding his defences until the end.

Bonaparte's dream was ended. He had lost his entire fleet and over five thousand men, six times as many as the British. And his army stood at the mouth of the Nile, undefended and marooned.

It had been a great victory, and as he had watched the closing stages of the battle, the angry red flashes across the sea and sky, Bolitho had felt justly proud of
Lysander's
part in it.

Later, when he had sent his own report to the flagship, Bolitho had waited to discover the rear-admiral's reactions.

With his usual vigour, Nelson was preparing to put his fleet to sea again, but sent an officer by boat to
Lysander
with a short but warm reply.

You
are
a
man
after
my
own
heart,
Bolitho.
The
risk
justifies
the deed.

He had instructed Bolitho to escort the handful of prizes to Gibraltar and there take passage to England and report once more to the Admiralty. At no time did Nelson mention Captain Probyn's death. Which was just as well, as Herrick had pointed out.

He turned and looked at Herrick. 'It is a strange thing, Thomas, but Francis Inch is still the only one among us to have met "Our Nel".'

Herrick nodded. 'But his influence is here, nonetheless, sir. That letter from him and the fact that a broad pendant still flies above this ship, is far better than any handshake.'

Bolitho said, 'After all we've been through, I shall miss
Lysander,
Thomas.'

'Aye.' His round face saddened. 'Once at anchor, I will get the more serious work done. Although I fear she may never again stand in the line of battle.'

'When you arrive in En
gland, Thomas.' He smiled. 'But
then,
I
don't have to remind you, do I ?
I
will always need a loyal friend.'

'Never fear.' Herrick turned to watch a yawl surging past the quarter windows, its crew waving and cheering the battered seventy-four, their voices lost beyond the thick glass. 'If I can come, I'll come.'

Bolitho saw Ozzard locking his two large sea chests in readiness to be taken to a boat.

He said, 'I've made a lot of bad mistakes, Thomas. Too many.'

'But you found the answers, sir. That's all that matters.'

'Is it ?' He smiled.
'I
wonder. I've certainly learned that it's no easier to decide who lives or dies just because you fly your flag above the end result.'

He glanced at the polished wine cabinet as two seamen started to wrap it around with sailcloth. Would he see her in London? Would there be anything more between them?

Some hours later, after the drawn-out crash of the salutes, the anchoring, and the necessary business of signing documents, Bolitho went on deck for the last time.

In the sunset, Gibraltar looked like a vast slab of coral, and the ship's yards and furled sails had a similar tint.

He walked slowly along the line of assembled faces, trying to stay impassive as he shook a hand here, spoke a name there.

Major Leroux, his arm in a sling. Old Ben Grubb, as fierce as ever as he mumbled, 'Good luck to 'e, sir.' Mewse, the purser, Lieutenant Steere, the midshipmen, no longer so nervous, but tanned and somehow aged in the months at sea.

He paused by the entry port and glanced down. Allday was already in the barge, very upright in his blue coat and nankeen breeches, as he watched over the oarsmen. They, too, looked different. In neat checked shirts and tarred hats, they were making a special effort for him.

Also in the boat was Ozzard, a small bundle of belongings in his thin arms, his eyes upturned to the ship. When Bolitho had asked him if he would like to be his permanent servant, he had been unable to answer. He had merely nodded, unable to accept that his life of hiding in one ship after another was over.

He turned and looked at Pascoe. 'Goodbye, Adam. I hope to see you again soon.' He gave the youth a quick handshake and to Herrick added, 'Take care of each other, eh ?'

Then he raised his hat to the side party and climbed down into the barge. As it pulled strongly beneath
Lysander's
great shadow he turned to look at her again.

Allday watched him, saw his expression as he listened to the cheering which burst from
Lysander's
deck and shrouds.

Bolitho said, 'There were a lot of faces missing back there.'

Allday replied, 'Never you fret on it, sir. We
showed
'em, and that's no error!'

As the barge wended its way around another anchored man of war, Herrick, who had watched it until it was hidden from view, walked slowly aft to the poop deck, his shoes catching on the many splinter holes yet to be repaired. He turned as Pascoe came after him, the stained and torn broad pendant draped over his shoulder.

Pascoe smiled, but the sadness remained in his dark eyes.

'I thought you would want it, sir ?'

Herrick looked around his ship. Remembering.

'I've got all this, Adam.' He took the pendant. 'I'll send it to Captain Farquhar's mother. She has nothing left now.'

Pascoe left him by the broken nettings and crossed to the other side. But there was no sign of the barge and the Rock was already in deep shadow.