Bolitho opened his eyes very slowly and stared for a full minute at the deckhead above his cot. For once the dull roaring in his ears seemed to have faded, and he was suddenly conscious o€ the intrusion of shipboard noises and once more he could hear the steady sluice of water against the hull and the far-off sounds of voices.
Almost timidly he tried to move his arms and legs, but the layers of blankets held him so tightly that he lay still and tried to assemble his thoughts into some sort of order. He could remember leaving the Erebus in his barge, even to the •extent that he could still feel the agony of waiting to reach the safety of his cabin. It had seemed as if the Hyperion would never draw any closer, and all the while he had fought to stay upright in the tossing boat, aware vaguely of the sweating oarsmen and Allday's arm around his shoulders.
But the actual moment of climbing aboard had gone completely. The memories were all jumbled together in crude half-pictures of swaying figures and distorted, meaningless voices around him. The fever bad raged like a tormenting nightmare, with faces sweeping occasionally above him and hands holding or moving him, over which he had no control. Some of the time he must have been dreaming, only to awake shivering and retching uncontrollably with a throat so dry that he felt his tongue swollen to such a degree that he imagined himself choking to death.
Either awake or in an exhausted sleep he had also been aware of a white triangle that bore no relation or meaning to anything he had ever known before. It seemed to come and go like a tiny sail, never close enough to identify, yet in his reeling mind it appeared to hold a magic quality of comfort.
He turned his head slowly, feeling the sweat on his pillow and the clammy embrace of the sheets, Beside the cot, round-shouldered with concentration, Gimlett was watching him, his body appearing to sway back and forth like a human pendulum.
Bolitho asked, 'How long have I been here?' He hardly recognised his own voice. Gimlett reached out and plucked at the pillow in an effort to make it more comfortable. 'Three days, zur.' He gave a yelp of alarm as Bolitho tried to push the blankets aside.
'Three days!' Bolitho stared around the small compartment with disbelief. 'In God's name get me up!'
Allday's figure moved across his vision, his face set in a grim smile of satisfaction. 'Easy, Captain! You've had a bad time.' Then he reached down and tucked the blankets even tighter.
Bolitho felt his eyes clouding with helpless anger. 'Damn you, Allday! Help me up! I am ordering you, d'you hear?'
But Aliday only stared at him with complete calm. 'I'm sorry, Captain. But the surgeon said that you were to stay until he...
Bolitho suddenly realised that the cot was swinging steadily and both Gimlett and Allday were really swaying. As he twisted his head round he saw the red sunlight darting across the deckhead as the ship lifted and plunged in a steady swell.
He murmured thickly, 'My God, we are at sea!' He saw Allday dart a quick glance at Gimtett and added desperately, 'How did Rooke manage to get her out of the harbour?'
Allday stepped closer, his face near enough for Bolitho to see the shadows of strain beneath his eyes. 'It is all right, Captain, believe me!' He gestured towards the open window. 'We are anchored to the east'rd of Cozar, below the Moorish fort. We came out this forenoon as smooth as a young girl's belly!'
But Bolitho would not be consoled. For three days while he had lain useless and incapable in his cot the small invasion fleet had been preparing to get under way. Signals must have poured from the flagship to every captain in the harbour, and what Pomfret must be thinking was past consideration.
He said, 'What time is it?
"Three bells of the First Dog, Captain.' Allday sat down on a stool and stretched his legs. `The squadron will sail in company tomorrow morning.'
Bolitho said, `Are there despatches for me?' He tensed, not knowing what to expect.
Allday's reply was even more surprising. `All taken care of, Captain.' Now that Bolitho was pulling out of the fever's grip he seemed almost cheerful. 'The admiral has sent his orders across, but nobody outside o' this ship knows a thing about your illness, that I can promise!'
Bolitho closed his eyes. It was not difficult to picture Allday and Gimlett watching over him. The weariness on their faces, and obvious pleasure at his recovery spoke volumes. But to keep his wretched fever a secret from the assembled squadron called for much more than the efforts of a coxswain and a buck-toothed steward. He felt his eyes pricking with sudden emotion at the realisation that his whole ship's company must have made it possible.
Allday said quietly, 'There is nothing to fear, Captain. You must be strong and well again so that you can keep us out o' trouble.' He grinned. 'All this harbour routine is good training for the young gentlemen.' He watched as Bolitho opened his eyes and added, 'The officer from Snipe has taken charge and has been acting first lieutenant the whole time. The flagship has approved, Captain.' He controlled the smile on his lips. 'It just awaits your confirmation.'
Bolitho allowed his limbs to fall limp. That explained it. Rooke could never have coped on his own.
Quietly he said, 'He must be a good officer.'
'Oh, he is!' The grin could no longer be held in check.
Bolitho stared from one to the other with mounting exasperation. 'Well? What are you so damn happy about?' The effort of shouting made his head fall back to the pillow, and he did not even resist as Gimlett wiped his forehead with a damp cloth.
There was a movement beyond the screen door and Allday said calmly, 'That'll be him, Captain.' He did not wait for Bolitho to speak further but stood up and opened the door.
The Hyperion had swung slightly at her cable, so that the small cabin was thrown momentarily into deep shadow. But as Bolitho craned his head to stare at the figure framed in the door he imagined for a few seconds that he was still gripped in a feverish dream. For there was the white triangle. But as he strained his eyes and blinked away the mist he realised that it was no figment of imagination or part of any nightmare. The lieutenant had one arm across his body in a white sling, so that against his shadowed figure it indeed gleamed like a small sail.
But Bolitho forgot his fever and his apprehension as the ship swung slowly back again and the filtered sunlight fell full across the man's face. He still could not find the words, and he knew that the other man was gripped by the same emotion.
Then he said, 'For God's sake tell me I am not dreaming!'
Allday laughed with sudden excitement. 'It's him, Captain, Lieutenant Thomas Herrick as ever was!'
Bolitho tugged his hand from the blankets and seized Herrick's across the side of the cot. 'It's good to see you, Thomas.' He felt the pressure returned, firm and hard, as he remembered it from the past.
Herrick watched him gravely. 'And I can't tell you how I feel, sir.' He shook his head. `You've had a bad passage, but things will soon be all right again.'
Bolitho could not release his hand. 'Things will get better now, Thomas!'
The excitement and shock of seeing Herrick again had left him suddenly exhausted, but he said, 'Where have you been? What have you been doing?'
Allday interrupted, 'I think you should rest a while, Captain. Later on I can . , .'
Bolitho croaked, 'Shut up, damn you! Or I'll have you flogged!'
But Herrick said, 'He is right, sir. You rest and I will tell you all my news, what there is of it.'
Bolitho relaxed and closed his eyes as Herrick continued in
the same level tones he remembered so well. Without effort he could see him as the stubborn, idealistic lieutenant aboard the Phalarope in the West Indies, and again in the frigate
Tempest in the vast wilderness of the Great South Sea. Above all else he could see him as what he was, a loyal, trusted friend.
Herrick had changed a little'sincc he bad last seen him. His body was more stocky now, and there were streaks of grey in his hair. But his face was still round and competent, and the eyes which watched him over the cot were as bright and blue as on t
heir first meeting.
Herrick was saying quietly, 'When we paid off the Tempest in '91 I had every intention of sticking out for another ship with you, sir. I think you knew that.' He sighed. 'But when I got home to Rochester I found my father dead and money too short for anything beyond staying alive. My father had been a clerk and did not even own the house we grew up in. And I was on half pay, so I had no choice but to take what I could get. I shipped out in an East Indiaman, something I swore never to do, and was lucky to get it with the best part of the Navy paid off and kicking their heels on the beach. I thought maybe when I got back to England you'd be fit and well again, but by that time we were at war again.'
Bolitho said slowly, 'I tried to find you, Thomas.' He did' not open his eyes but felt Herrick tense beside him.
'You did, sir?'
'I went to Rochester. I met your mother and the sister you have supported all these years. I never knew she was a cripple'
Herrick sounded stunned. 'She never said you'd been there!'
'I told her to say nothing. You were away at sea, and knowing you of old I guessed you would leave that security if you thought I had a ship to offer. And I did not at that time.'
Herrick sighed again. 'They were difficult days, sir. But I picked up a berth in the Snipe and sailed with the convict convoy from Torbay. At Gibraltar we got new orders, and the rest you know.'
Bolitho opened his eyes and studied Herrick's face intently. 'But your captain, Tudor, came aboard at Gibraltar. He knew I wanted a seasoned first lieutenant, and must have told you.'
Herrick looked away. 'He told me. But I deserted you after the Tempest paid off. I was not going to use an old friendship to gain me fresh favours.'
Bolitho smiled sadly. 'You've not changed, Thomas! Still the proud onel' He continued, 'The Snipe's loss was a hard blow for you. With the war expanding as it is you would have got command in no time. Post rank would have followed, and you would have what you richly deserve.' He saw the sudden embarrassment on Herrick's face and said, 'When we capture St. Clar they will be wanting a senior lieutenant to command the sloop Fairfax, if she's still there!'. He tried to struggle up on to his elbows but Herrick forced him back to the pillow. 'You must go to Sir Edmund, Thomas! If you stay in this ship you'll never get the chance of commanding that sloop!'
Herrick stood up and fidgeted with his sling. 'I missed my way once, sir. I'd rather stay with you, if you'll have me.' He saw Bolitho twist his face away and added firmly, That is how I want it, sir.'
B' litho turned and studied him, not knowing what to say.
Then Herrick smiled, so that in the half-light he looked almost boyish. 'Besides which, I know I'll stand a better chance of prize-money if I keep with you, sir. And don't forget I was Pomfret's third lieutenant when he commanded Phalarope. If there are any favours in the offing he might well be disposed towards me!'
Bolitho said quietly, 'You can joke about it, Thomas. I think you have made the wrong decision.' He reached out and gripped his hand again. 'But by God it's good to have you aboard!'
As Herrick moved out of his vision Gimlett said, 'I think you had better take some soup, zur.'
Bolitho answered firmly, 'Take it away! I am getting up directly, if only to get away from your clumsy hands!'
Allday looked across at the steward and winked. Under his breath he said, 'I think the captain is feeling better!'
The following day dawned bright and clear, and when Bolitho walked out on to the quarterdeck the salt wind in his face was better -than any tonic. Also it had freshened during the night, and when he glanced up at the masthead pendant he saw that it was whipping out to its full length.
Herrick watched him walk to the quarterdeck rail and then touched his hat. 'Anchor's hove short, sir. Ready to get under way.' His tone was formal, but as their eyes met Bolitho felt something like the excitement of sharing a secret.
'Very good, Mr. Herrick.' He took a telescope and moved it across the other anchored ships. It was a small force, but none the less impressive, and to Bolitho, who was more used to the independence granted a frigate captain, it seemed almost like a fleet.
Tugging at their cables at carefully spaced intervals were the other two line-of-battle ships. The Spanish Princesa was less gaily festooned with bunting than before, and Bolitho guessed that Pomfret must have had something to say about the matter for her to present such a sober appearance. The Tenacious was closest inshore, and as he watched he saw fresh flags breaking from her yards and a sudden burst of activity on her upper deck.
Midshipman Piper squeaked, `From Flag! Up anchor, sir!'
From the lee side of the quarterdeck Caswell growled, 'You should have seen that signal earlier, Mr. Piper!'
Bolitho hid a smile as the humbled Piper murmured a suitable apology. As an acting lieutenant Caswell was apparently well able to forget that only four days ago he had been doing Piper's work and taking all the kicks, justified or otherwise.
Bolitho said, 'Get the ship under way, if you please. Lay a course to weather the headland.'
Herrick raised his speaking trumpet, his voice and move-' ments unhurried. 'Stand by the capstan! Loose heads'ls!'
Bolitho crossed to the nettings and watched the troopship Welland and the two supply vessels he had escorted from Gibraltar going through the orderly confusion of making sail.
Piper said loudly, 'Signal from Flag, sir. Make haste!'
Herrick half turned and then yelled, 'Loose tops'ls! He was shading his eyes as he followed the desperate activity above the deck, as first one then a second sail billowed out to thunder impatiently against the fresh wind.
'Anchor's aweigh, sir!'
That was Rooke's voice, and Bolitho wondered how he felt about Herrick's arrival as his superior.
Herrick snapped, 'Braces therel You, Mr. Tomlin, drive those idlers aft! Get 'em on the mi7Jen braces!'
Bolitho shivered, but not from fever. It was the old thrill and excitement coming back to him as strongly as ever. And he need have no fears on Herrick's part. After a clumsy, deep hulled Indiaman, probably crewed by semi-articulate seamen from a dozen countries, he would find the Hyperion's welldrilled company something of a relief.
Wheeling ponderously like armoured knights the three ships of the line tacked slowly around the island's crumbling headland. With Tenacious in the lead and Hyperion and Princesa following at quarter-mile intervals they made a formidable and splendid picture.
The three transports, their decks crammed with red-coated soldiers, tacked more carefully to leeward, whilst ahead and astern the sloops Chanticleer and Alisma acted like sheepdogs around a valuable flock.
The battered Harvester had remained in harbour to complete her repairs, and until more help arrived would be the island's only guardship.
Pom€ret's only other frigate, Bat, had sailed two days earlier, and with luck would be sniffing off the French coast in case of last-minute difficulties.
`Another signal from Flag, sir!' Piper was hoarse. 'Make all sail conformable with weather!'
Herrick rocked forward on his toes as the Hyperion butted into a steep, white-backed roller. 'Lively therel Set the t'gallants!' He leaned over the rail and pointed with his trumpet. 'You there, with the fancy knife, move yourself, my lad, you'll feel the bosun's displeasure!' Then he grinned as if he was enjoying a private joke.
Gossett intoned, 'Fleet course nor' by west, sir! Full and bye!'
The deck trembled as more and more canvas crept along the vibrating yards, whilst framed against the sunlight the nimble topmen ran heedless of their dizzy perches, racing each other in their efforts to obey the demanding voice from the deck.
Piper gulped. 'Here, Seton, give me a hand, will you? I'm puffed out!'
Bolitho turned, caught off guard as Midshipman Seton ran to help his, friend beside the snaking halyards. Then he lifted his glass and. trained it on the island, which as he watched was slipping back into the rolling bank of morning haze like a brown shadow. He could just make out the
small Moorish fort, and below it, scattered amongst the fallen stonework, he could also see a crowd of silent, watching figures. They were convicts, working already to repair some of the neglected defences. But now they were watching the ships, wondering no doubt if they would ever live to see England or anywhere else again.
But Bolitho was thinking of someone else. Just the mention of the girl's brother had started the nagging pain of uncertainty again, a pain only temporarily dulled by his fever.
Then he saw Herrick watching him, his face shadowed beneath his hat. He tried to ease the girl's memory to the back of his mind. He had at least got Herrick.
But in spite of this consolation he trained his glass again, and was still watching Cozar when the flagship made another signal and together the ships turned and headed towards France.
11
GESTURE OF FAITH
Lieutenant Thomas Herrick hunched his shoulders into his heavy tarpaulin coat and leaned towards the wind. His eyes were raw with salt and flying spray, and as he peered towards the plunging forecastle he found it hard to believe that the last dog watch had only just commenced, for already it was as dark as night. Grimly he turned his shoulders against the howling wind and allowed it to push him aft towards the wheel where four sodden seamen wrestled with the spokes and stared anxiously at the sparse array of thundering sails as the ship crashed and rolled almost into the teeth of the gale. Even stripped down to close-reefed topsails the strain was obvious, and the sounds of the sea were lost to the great pandemonium of banging canvas, the demoniac whine of rigging and shrouds and a melancholy clank of pumps.
Herrick peered briefly at the swaying compass and saw that the Hyperion was still holding her course, almost due north, and wondered just how much longer the weather would stay against them. It was four days since the squadron had sailed from Cozar, yet it seemed like a month at least. The first two days had gone quite well with a lively north-westerly and clear sky, while in response to Pomfret's steady. stream of signals the ships had driven north-east deep into the Golfe du Lion so that any prowling French ship might think they were making to join Lord Hood at Toulon rather than heading for some project of their own. Then as the wind veered and mounted and the sky became hidden by low, black-bellied clouds, Pomfret's signals had become more irate and demanding as the deep-laden transports fought with diminishing success to remain on station, and the two sloops were thrown about like oared boats in the rising procession of angry rollers.
Form Line Of Battle! Page 19