Behind Bolitho a man screamed. The sound seemed to scrape at the walls of his mind, but he leaned forward trying to hear what Dalby was saying. The blood was running more freely from his mouth, and with sudden despair Bolitho turned and peered beyond the nearest lantern to where a midshipman was stooping over another stripped and bandaged seaman. 'You, lad, bring me a dressing!'
The midshipman turned and -hurried towards him, a clean bandage held out ready.
But Bolitho stared up in shocked surprise. 'In the name of God, Miss Seton, what are you doing here?'
The girl did not answer immediately, but dropped beside Dalby and began to dab the blood and spittle from his face and chest. Even in the lantern's yellow glare Bolitho's mistake was not very obvious. In the midshipman's coat and white breeches, and with her thick auburn hair pulled back to the nape of her neck she passed easily as a young boy.
Dalby stared at her and tried to smile. He said, 'Never a boat, miss! We call her a ship in th' ...'His head lolled to one side and he was dead.
Bolitho said, 'I ordered that you should stay in the midshipmen's berth until I said otherwsie!' His sick despair. was giving way to something akin to anger. 'This is no place at all for you!' He could see the bloodstains on her coat and across the front of her open-necked shirt.
She faced him gravely, her eyes studying him with sudden concern. 'You do not have to worry on my account. I saw enough of death in Jamaica.' She pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. `When the guns started to fire I wanted to help.' She looked down at Dalby. 'I needed to help.' When she raised her eyes again they were almost pleading. 'Don't you see that?' She reached out and gripped his sleeve. 'Please do not be angry!'
Bolitho looked slowly around the littered deck. The naked bodies, dead and wounded alike, lay like macabre statuary, and at his table Rowlstone worked on as if nothing else mattered beyond the swaying circle of lanterns.
Then he replied quietly, 'I am not angry. I suppose. I was afraid for you. Now I feel ashamed.' He wanted to get to his feet but was unable to move.
She said, 'I listened to the noise and felt the ship shaking about me as if it would tear apart. And all the time I thought of you, out in the open. Unprotected'
Bolitho did not speak but watched the quick movements of her hands, the rise and fall of her breasts as she relived each terrible moment.
She continued, 'Then I came here to help these men. I thought they would curse me, or abuse me for being alive and unmarked.' She dropped her eyes and Bolitho saw her mouth tremble. 'They cursed and swore well enough, but they never complained, not once!' She met his eyes again, her expression almost proud. 'And when they heard you were coming down they actually tried to cheer!'
Bolitho stood up and helped the girl to her feet. She was crying now, but without tears, and she did not resist as he piloted her through the lanterns towards the companionway.
On deck it seemed unfair that the sun was still so bright, that the ships sailed on without a thought for what lay astern or those whom they carried. Across the quarterdeck with its great red stains and splintered planks. Past the helmsmen who watched the swinging compass and stared up at the set of each pockmarked sail.
At the cabin door Bolitho said quietly, 'Promise me you will lie down.'
She turned and looked up at him her eyes searching. 'Must you go now? Then she gave a small shrug, or it may have been a shudder. 'That was a foolish thing to say! I know what you must do. It is all out there waiting for you.' The swing of her hand seemed to indicate the whole ship and every man aboard. She touched his arm unsurely and added, 'I saw the look in your eyes and I think I understand you better now.'
A voice called urgently, 'Captain, sir! Harvester requests permission to heave to and carry out burials!'
'Very well.' Bolitho still looked down at the girl's face, his mind rebelling against the thousand and one things which awaited his attention.
He said at length, 'You did well today. I will not forget.'
As he turned towards the sunlight he heard her reply softly, 'And neither will I, Captain!'
10
A GOOD OFFICER
Sir Edmund Pomfret stood at one side of the great stem windows in his day cabin, being careful to avoid the rectangle of hard sunlight thrown back from the harbour beyond. He had maintained the same stance throughout Bolitho's report, with his feet apart, arms folded across his chest and his back turned so that it was impossible to see his face or gauge his mood.
Hyperion had dropped anchor below the hill fortress in the darly morning after waiting until the transports and the battle-scarred Harvester had preceded her into the sheltering arms of the natural harbour. Bolitho had half-expected to be summoned aboard the Tenacious immediately, but for reasons best known to himself Pomfret had waited until seven bells of the forenoon watch before issuing his curt signal, 'Captain repair on board forthwith.'
Now as he concluded his description of the battle to defend the convoy Bolitho could feel the tiredness sapping his strength like a drug, and was able to listen to his own words with something like disinterest, as if. they concerned someone else entirely.
Pomfret had not asked him to sit down, and he was conscious the whole time of the cabin's other occupant, a floridfaced army colonel whom Pomfret had briefly introduced as Sir Torquil Cobban, the officer commanding the soldiers encamped on Cozar. But Pomfret had remained standing also, and in spite of his straddled legs and unmoving shoulders he seemed edgy and irritable.
The admiral said suddenly, 'So you lost the Snipe, did you?'
It sounded like an accusation, but Bolitho replied wearily, 'If I had had another escort things might have been different, - sir.'
Pomfret's head bobbed impatiently. 'If, if! That's all I hear these days!' In a calmer tone he added, 'And your own losses?'
'A total of sixteen dead and twenty-six wounded, sir. Most of the latter seem to beholding their own.'
'Hmm.' Pomfret turned slowly and walked to his table where lay a huge coloured chart. He said offhandedly, 'I would have waited a few more days for you, but after that I intended to sail with or without these supplies.' He shot Bolitho a searching glance. 'I have received news from Lord Hood. His forces have landed at Toulon, and my orders are to proceed with the capture of St. Clar.'
'Yes, sir.' Bolitho had been waiting for this news, but now that it had come it seemed like an anticlimax. He knew Pomfret and the colonel were studying him and made an effort to control his thoughts. He asked, 'Do you wish me to make another parley with the town, sir?'
Pomfret frowned. 'Certainly not. I have not been' idle while you have been away. Everything is in hand, I can assure you.' He smiled quickly at the soldier. 'The Frogs will have to watch their manners now, eh?'
Colonel Cobban spoke for the first time. He had a thick, resonant voice, and had a habit of tapping his fingers on his impeccable scarlet tunic with each word.
'God, yesl With General Carteau marching on Toulon, our new "allies" in St. Clar had no choice but to support us.' He seemed to be enjoying the idea.
Pomfret nodded. 'Now, Bolitho, I want you to get your ship ready for sea without delay.'
'The repairs are well in hand, sir. In the four days following the battle we have set all the damage to sails and cordage to rights, and most of the internal repairs are almost completed.'
Pomfret was peering at his chart and did not see the sudden change in Bolitho's expression. Four days. In spite of a constant guard it was all coming back to him. He had hoped that the safe return with his transports, the sudden prospect of action, even the efforts to ensure that his ship was ready and able to fight again, all these things would push the memory of those four short days to the back of his mind until time and distance made them too blurred to hurt him. Without effort he could recall the girl's face as she had listened to him talking about his ship, while together at the quarterdeck rail they had watched the seamen and carpenters working to put right the damage and to clean away the scars and stains of battl
e.
On the second evening just before sunset Bolitho had walked with her along the weather gangway, pointing out something of the complex maze of rigging and halyards, the very sinews of the ship's strength.
Once she had said quietly, `Thank you for explaining it to me. You have made the ship live with your words.'
She had not been bored or amused. She had been really interested, even though he had spoken as he had simply because it was the only thing he knew, the only life he understood.
He had realised at that moment that she had unwittingly touched on the truth. He had replied, 'I am glad you see her like that.' He had gestured to the shadowy guns below the gangway. `People see a ship like this pass far out to sea, but they rarely think of those who serve and live in her.' He had stared at the deserted forecastle and had found himself wondering about all those other men who had gone before him, and those who might follow. 'Here a man died. There another wrote poetry maybe. Men join ships like these as boys, as wide-eyed infants, and grow to be men beneath the same suits of sails.' He had touched the rail at his side. 'You are right, she is not just wood!'
And another evening they had dined together for the first time in the cabin, and again she had drawnhim out, had listened to him speaking of his home in Cornwall, of his voyages and the ships he had seen and served.
But as the miles rolled away under the Hyperion's keel they seemed both to sense that the strange feeling of comfort and understanding was becoming something more. Neither spoke of it, yet during the last two days they appeared to draw apart, even to avoid meeting other than in company.
Within minutes of the anchor splashing down a boat had come alongside, and with it Lieutenant Fanshawe, Pomfret's aide, to collect her. She had come on to the quarterdeck wearing that same green dress as when he bad first seen her, and had stared across at the grim fortress and the barren hills beyond.
Bolitho had seen many of his men standing on the gangways or watching from aloft, and had sensed the feeling of sadness which hung over the ship. Even the petty officers seemed unable or unwilling to drive the hands back to work, and had watched with the rest as the girl had gravely shaken hands with the assembled officers and had kissed her brother on the cheek.
Bolitho had kept his voice as formal as he knew how. 'We shall miss you. We all will.' He bad seen Gossett nodding in agreement. 'I am sorry that you were made to suffer as you did ..' Then his words had run out.
She had looked at him with something like bewilderment in her eyes, as if the sight of Cozar had at last made her realise that the voyage was at an end. Then she had said, `Thank you, Captain. You made me very comfortable.' She had looked around the silent faces. 'It is something I will never forget.' Then without another glance she had gone down to the boat.
With a start he realised that Pomfret was saying, '... and I trust you will make good the depletions in your company from Snipe's survivors, and any spare hands you can obtain from the transports.'
`Yes, sir.' He forcibly made himself concentrate on the many details yet to be settled. Dalby was dead, and he had promoted Caswell to acting lieutenant to fill the gap in his officers. That was how it went. A man died. Another moved up the ladder.
Some of the more badly wounded must be taken ashore or to one of the transports where they could be properly looked after. There was fresh shot and powder to take on board, and countless other matters as well.
Cobban stood up, his high polished boots squeaking noisily. He was a tall man and on his feet seemed to dwarf Pomfret. He said, 'Well,. I'll be off. I must instruct my officers to make final preparations. If we are to take St. Clot on the fifth we must make sure of everything.' He readjusted his sword and frowned. 'But then, September will be a mite cooler. for marching, eh? Either way my troops will do as they are told.'
Bolitho, watching the colonel's tight mouth, knew it was unlikely that he would show much concern for his officers, let alone his private soldiers.
Pomfret waited until Cobban had departed and then said irritably, 'Very tiresome having to deal with the military, but I suppose under the circumstances . . .' He touched the chart vaguely and then asked, 'I trust that Miss Seton was in a place of safety during the, er, battle?'
Perhaps it had been uppermost on Bolitho's mind, or maybe his tiredness was playing tricks, but Pomfret sounded on edge, even suspicious.
He replied, 'She was, sir.' He dropped his eyes as the picture of the naked, screaming figures on the orlop, the swinging lanterns, and the girl in her blood-spattered jacket and breeches moved back into his thoughts.
'Good.' Pomfret nodded. 'Very good, I am glad to hear it. I have had her taken to quarters in the fortress. They will suffice until.. . .'He did not finish the sentence. He did not have to.
Bolitho said flatly, 'My carpenters have made a few pieces of furniture. I thought that they might help to make the fortress a little more comfortable for Miss Seton.'
Pomfret eyed him far several seconds. 'Considerate. Most considerate. Yes, you can send them over if you wish.' He walked to the windows and, added quickly, 'We sail on the first of the month. Just have your ship ready by that time.' He was staring at the black hulled convict ship which was anchored at the head of the transports. 'Scum! The sweepings of Newgate, I imagine. But they will suffice for what remains to be done here.' Then without turning he said, 'Carry on, Bolitho.'
Bolitho walked out to the dazzling sunlight, realising suddenly that Pomfret had not once congratulated him or his men on saving the precious supply ships and even managing to cripple two of the attackers at the same time. It was typical of the man, he thought bitterly. Pomfret obviously took such efforts for granted. Only if they had failed would he have made any real comment, and he could imagine what that would have been.
In silence he climbed into his barge and settled himself in the sternsheets. As the oars rose and dipped like wings he thought of Dalby and the empty desperation of his last words. Gambling. It was the curse and the despair of many other officers. Confined to their ships for months at a time, thrust on one another's company and separated by rigid discipline from the men they controlled, it was common enough for such men as Dalby to lose everything on the flick of a card. What started out as a safe distraction became real and overwhelming as the losers fought to regain their dwindling money by betting with wealth they did not possess.
Bolitho knew the true dangers of such behaviour. His own brother had broken his father's heart by deserting from the Navy after killing a brother officer in a senseless duel over a gambling debt.
He shook himself from his brooding and said sharply, 'Pull for the transport yonder!'
Allday looked up at him. 'The Erebus, Captain?'
Bolitho nodded. 'The survivors of the Snipe are aboard her.'
Allday eased the tiller and said nothing. It was hardly a post-captain's task to go looking for a few casual recruits, and there could not be more than a handful who had survived, but he knew from experience that Bolitho was deeply troubled. When he was like that it was better to say nothing at all.
As it happened the captain of the Erebus was waiting to receive Bolitho, his tanned features split in a great grin of welcome.
'I wanted to thank you, Captain!' He pumped Bolitho's hand mercilessly. 'You saved my ship, an' I never saw the likel When your old Hyperion tacked round under the Frog's bowsprit I thought you were done for!'
Bolitho let him go on for several minutes then said, 'Thank you, Captain. Now I expect you have guessed why I am here?'
He nodded. 'Aye. But I'm afraid there are only six hands and an officer fit enough for you. There are three more besides, but I fear they'll die before the week is .out' He broke off and stared suddenly at Bolitho's face. 'Are you ill, sir?' He. took his arm and added, 'You have gone quite palel'
Bolitho shook himself free, cursing the man's kindness and his own unpreparedness as the old fever stirred like a raw wound, and he felt the deck slanting beneath his feet as if the ship was in a gale instead of a shelter
ed harbour.
He replied harshly, 'I will return to my ship, Captain. It is nothing . . .' He looked round, searching for Allday, suddenly fearful of collapsing here in front of the other captain and his men.
It was worse than usual. He did not remember it being so bad since he had left Kent to take passage for Gibraltar. His mind seemed to be revolving like his vision, so that even the Erebus's captain appeared to sway as if in a heat haze.
But Allday was here. He could feel his fingers gentle but firm on his arm and allowed himself to be guided to the ladder, his shoes catching on the deck planks like a blind man's.
The other captain called, 'The sloop's officer, sir! Shall I send him across?' It was a question merely to cover his own embarrassment. He knew that if he tried to help Bolitho it would only add to his pain.
Bolitho tried to speak, but he was shivering so badly that the words would not come.
He heard Allday snarl, 'Eyes in the boat there!' and he guessed his barge crew were all watching and probably laughing at him.
Allday looked up at the other captain and said gruffly, 'Send him across, sir. He'll be needed right enough.'
The Erebus's captain nodded. He did not even seem to notice that it was a mere coxswain who was giving him his orders.
Bolitho said faintly, 'Get me to the ship, Aliday! For the love of God get me to her quickly!'
Allday wrapped the boatcioak around Bolitho's shoulders and cradled him against his arm. But for it he knew Bolitho would fall down to the bottom of the boat like a corpse. He had seen it all before, and he was filled with pity and something like love. He was angry, too. Angry with the admiral who had kept Bolitho waiting when anyone but a blind fool could have seen what the battle had done to his reserves of inner strength.
He barked, 'Shove off! Give way together!' As the oars rose and fell he added coldly, `Roundly! Pull like you've never pulled before!' He looked down at Bolitho's strained features and said half to himself, 'That's the least you can do for him!'
Form Line Of Battle! Page 18