Bolitho came out of the sleeping compartment, pulling on a clean shirt while Ozzard trotted impatiently behind him to make adjustments to his belt.
"Good morning, Mr. Avery." Bolitho sat down to look at his chart while Ozzard struggled to arrange his stock. "Wind's steady enough, but not much strength in it." He moved away to look in his desk and Avery saw him tuck a letter into his waistcoat. One of hers. To have with him, like the locket which would be resting against his skin.
Bolitho said, "We will clear for action presently. I am told that the people have been fed, watch by watch." He seemed to think that amusing too. Perhaps he had had to overrule Trevenen once again. The captain might have wanted to feed his company after the battle: less food to waste, fewer mouths to fill.
He jabbed at the chart. "We shall continue to steer north'rd. If the wind holds we should be on a converging tack with the enemy. If so, he will have to remain very much close-hauled, while we shall have the wind-gage. For a while."
Yovell yawned hugely and continued to write in his folio. He looked so out of place here, Avery thought. An educated man who apparently preferred the dangers of the sea and the risk of sudden death to the easier life more appropriate to someone of his profession ashore.
Allday came back into the cabin and strode to the bulkhead where Bolitho's swords were usually displayed. Avery noted that the beautiful presentation blade from the people of Falmouth had already gone below. He watched Allday pull out the other blade, the old one he had seen in the portraits at Falmouth.
Bolitho looked fresh and calm, and gave no sign of doubt or anxiety. Avery tried to take comfort from the fact.
Heavy feet sounded across the deck. The captain.
Bolitho merely glanced up and commented, "I have yet to convince that one."
The footsteps faded and then moved on to the ladder. Trevenen looked surprised when he entered the cabin. Perhaps he had expected to find them all in a desperate conference, Avery thought coldly, or finding courage in a bottle of cognac?
"Galley fire is doused, Sir Richard. Both watches standing-to."
His eyes were sunken, and his normally aggressive confidence was lacking. Bolitho looked away. It was a bad sign.
"You may beat to quarters, Captain Trevenen, then clear for action. In ten minutes, do you propose?"
Trevenen retorted angrily, "In eight, Sir Richard!"
Bolitho nodded slowly. "This will be quite a day for many of your people. Do not drive them too far. They are not the enemy." He let his words sink in, then added softly, "Not yet."
Trevenen turned by the door. "May I speak, Sir Richard?"
"Of course."
"I think we are making a mistake. We lack the ships for any running battle..."
Bolitho met his gaze steadily. "We will not run, Captain, while my flag flies from the foremast truck."
After Trevenen left he looked at the closed door, feeling the other man's defiance and anger hanging in the air.
He said to Avery, "If anything happens..." He lifted one hand to silence Avery's protests. "Do what I asked you to do."
Calls shrilled through the ship, and from overhead came the insistent rattle of drums.
"All hands! All hands! Beat to quarters an' clear for action!"
The decks seemed to tremble as the seamen and marines ran to their stations. Screens were already being pulled down. There was not much more time.
Avery watched as Allday fastened the old sword around his admiral's waist, and saw Ozzard carrying the dress uniform coat with the gleaming epaulettes, not the faded sea-going coat Bolitho usually wore. It made a chill fasten to his spine like ice. The same uniform that had drawn the French marksmen's fire to Nelson. To provoke Baratte even at such a terrible risk, or was it to show the people he was amongst them, to give all that he had for them?
Yovell had picked up his satchel, and said, "I shall be giving a hand on the orlop, Sir Richard." He offered a shy smile. "Death to the French!"
Allday muttered, "An' that's no error!"
Ozzard spoke nervously as the crash and scrape of furniture being taken below moved swiftly towards the cabin.
"Shall you need me, Sir Richard?"
"Go below. Keep Rear-Admiral Herrick company if you wish." But Ozzard had already gone.
Bolitho adjusted his coat and said, "Well, old friend, it gets no easier, does it?"
Allday grinned. "I sometimes wonders what it's all for."
Bolitho heard men running above and beneath him. "I expect they do also." He looked at Avery and said firmly, "So they must be told, eh?"
Then the three of them left the cabin, while another party of men hurried past to remove the last obstacles.
Lieutenant Urquhart called, "Cleared for action, sir!"
Trevenen glanced at his watch. "Nine minutes. I expected better, Mr. Urquhart!"
Allday saw Bolitho's face. It was easy to read his thoughts.
Trevenen never praised anyone, even in the face of danger. The only thing he could inspire was fear.
It was dark and remarkably cool on deck after the heat of the day preceding. But dawn came quickly out here, and sunset would arrive with haste to cover the pain and disperse the fury of battle.
Bolitho glanced around. The master and his mates were near the wheel where extra men stood by the spokes. Chain-slings had been rigged to hold the great yards in place if all the rigging was shot away. And nets, although Bolitho could not yet see them, to protect the gun-crews from falling spars and blocks. It was something he knew so well, had known all his life from the age of twelve when he had first gone to sea in the forbidding and unfamiliar world of the old eighty-gun Manxman.
Herrick would be down there in the comparative safety of the orlop deck below the waterline: fretting over his lost arm and his helplessness, but most of all, remembering.
He moved towards the tightly-packed hammock nettings and almost slipped on a stretch of spray-soaked planking.
He said, "This part of the deck is not sanded, Captain." He kept his tone level but was inwardly angry at somebody's carelessness. A man or men could slip and fall in the heat of a sea-fight. Just one gun left unfired could make all the difference.
Trevenen's answer was even more surprising. "None of the deck is sanded, Sir Richard. If the enemy fails to appear, we would have used good sand to no effect."
Then do it now, if you please. I am sure that in an ocean of this vastness we could find some more sand!"
He heard a lieutenant passing the order and the immediate response of the ship's boys, who scuttled amongst the guns like terriers.
Allday had heard the sharp exchange and was glad Trevenen had felt the edge of Bolitho's tongue. He stared up at the rigging and said, "I can see the masthead pendant, Sir Richard."
Bolitho peered up at the dark sky, and imagined he could see the long red and white pendant curling out from the truck.
"As soon as the sun is up, they will see us."
Avery glanced at the shadows around him. Listening, trying to gauge their own chances of seeing another sunset.
It was uncanny not to see or know the enemy's strength. Bolitho said, Tell your signals party to be ready, Mr. Avery. As soon as it is light enough, make Take stations as ordered and tell Larne to Close on Flag."
Avery could now see the white patches on the collars of his two signals midshipmen, but some of the flags already strewn by the halliards were still colourless in the lingering gloom.
Bolitho spoke as though almost disinterested. "I feel certain that they will already have made it ready, Mr. Avery, but the next signal will be Prepare for battle."
He heard Trevenen ask, "Suppose the enemy is not there, Sir Richard?" And Avery could feel the presence of the man he served like a force.
Bolitho answered coldly, Then I have failed, and by tomorrow Baratte will have found Commodore Keen's convoy. The rest you can imagine for yourself."
Trevenen muttered thickly, "Nobody can blame ValkyrieV
"You an
d I both know where the blame will lie, Captain! So let us all be patient a moment longer!"
Angry with himself for being so easily drawn, Bolitho said, "I see the masthead."
He strained his eyes upwards through the taut rigging, the web of ratlines glistening in the darkness from moisture and spray alike. Men he had not seen earlier stood out against the pale hammock nettings, or crouching like athletes as they waited to run and seize hold of braces and halliards when the next order came.
Bolitho looked over the weather quarter: there was light, a mere hint of it. It would soon lift above the invisible horizon to lay them bare for all to see.
Trevenen rasped, "What is that masthead lookout about, Mr. Urquhart? Does he stand watch asleep?"
Urquhart was about to raise his speaking trumpet when Bolitho said, "You go aloft, Mr. Avery. You are my eyes this morning."
Avery lingered, his mind hanging on to the remark, and wondering if Bolitho had intended him to draw another meaning from it.
Bolitho smiled. "No head for heights?"
Avery was strangely moved. "Good enough, sir." He took a signals telescope from the rack and swung himself out on the shrouds while two seamen opened the protective net for him. Bolitho could see the sailors' eyes now very white in the gloom as they watched the flag lieutenant swarm up the ratlines, his sword slapping against his thigh.
Avery climbed steadily, feeling the shrouds vibrating beneath his shoes, the very strength of the ship as she opened up beneath him. The black guns, each with its crew, barebacked and waiting to load and run out, were clearly visible. He climbed out and around the mizzen-top where some marines stared at him with surprise and interest as they tended a swivel gun on the thick barricade.
He stopped and looked down again, at the yellow shoulder of the figurehead and the flapping jib and staysails, pure white against the undulating water below. He turned slightly and was in time to see the sun's rim rise slowly from the sea itself, saw it spill over the horizon and reach out in either direction to sharpen its edge with pale gold. He unslung the telescope and entwined his leg around a stay. You are my eyes this morning. The words still lingered like something written.
For an instant he felt stiffness in his shoulder, the wound which had struck him down on that terrible day. He had often probed it with his fingers, but had never actually seen it until he had used a looking-glass. The French surgeon had probably made it worse, but the wound had left a deep gouge in his body, as if someone had done it with a huge spoon. He was ashamed of it. It made him feel unclean.
He peered at the mainmast as the lookout yelled, "Deck there! Ships on the lee bow!"
Below on the quarterdeck Bolitho thrust his hands under his coat to contain and hide his impatience.
Trevenen bawled, "What are they, man?"
There was no hesitation this time. "Ship-of-the-line, sir! And smaller ones!"
Trevenen's nostrils seemed to flare. "Even my ship cannot match guns with a liner, Sir Richard!"
Bolitho watched him and heard the triumph in his voice, as if he were addressing the whole ship. Baratte had saved this unknown card for today. Trevenen was right about one thing: a frigate could not survive close action against a ship used to the line of battle and built to withstand its massive broadsides.
He thought of Adam and the other frigate, Baratte's own flagship when he had been taken prisoner. It was over before it had begun.
He looked around: at the guns, their crews staring aft to discover what was happening, the scarlet-coated marines with their muskets by the protective nettings. Even they could do nothing if the ship's company refused to fight or, as they would see it, to be killed for nothing.
There were footsteps across the deck and Bolitho saw Avery walking unhurriedly towards him.
"I did not order you down, Mr. Avery!" Something on the lieutenant's face steadied him. "What is it?"
Avery glanced briefly at Trevenen, but barely saw him. "She's no ship-of-the-line, sir. She is the U.S.S. Unity, exactly as your nephew described her, spar by spar."
He had heard Trevenen's words as he had climbed to the deck, the relief in his tone as the bright sunlight which was opening up the ocean all around them had shown him a possibility of escape.
All that had changed. Trevenen seemed unable to close his jaws, and was staring at him as if he were an apparition from hell.
"I did not wish to call out from up there, sir." He pointed although the eastern horizon was still curtained by sun-filled haze. "There are several small vessels with her, ahead and astern, merchantmen by the cut of them."
Bolitho said quietly, "A convoy then?"
Avery looked at the captain, but it was as if he had been turned to stone.
"Far up to the nor'east there are other sails they are clearly visible from the mizzen topmast. You were right, sir. They are Baratte's frigates, I feel certain of it."
Bolitho reached out and touched his shoulder. "So now we know how the game is set. The American ships will do nothing but sail between us and our own two frigates. Divide and weaken us while the "convoy" is allowed to proceed in peace."
He turned to Trevenen. "Well, Captain, here is the ship you doubted. The most powerful frigate in the world."
"We must discontinue, Sir Richard. Before it is too late!"
"It was already too late when Baratte was released from prison." He moved to the chart, feeling men step aside to let him pass. "Hoist the signal, Prepare for Battle."
"Already bent on, sir."
Bolitho heard the halliards sing through the blocks as the flags broke out to the breeze.
"Signal Lame to repeat the signal if neither Anemone nor Laertes is yet in sight. They know what to do."
Trevenen stared at him angrily. "They cannot engage without support, Sir Richard!" He looked around as if to convince those nearest to him.
"At last we agree, Captain." Bolitho took a telescope and scanned the brightening horizon. The enemy were only a few pale flaws like tiny leaves drifting on glass. "We shall pass through the convoy. Continue on the same tack. In the meantime, have the boats put overboard." He was going to add, for the victors, but refrained. Most of the officers and all the older hands would know what the order implied. It was to protect the men on deck from flying splinters if shots smashed through a boat tier; but to the land men and other new men it was the last chance to escape or be saved if the worst happened.
Lieutenant Urquhart called, "I can see the Yankee, sir!"
Avery said, "Lame has acknowledged, sir."
Bolitho said, The ships are close-hauled as tight as they'll come. Unity'?" captain will not wish to fall off down wind and seem to be running away."
He considered Captain Nathan Beer. Strong, determined and a veteran of frigate warfare. His ship was so well-armed that she could probably outshoot a seventy-four. No wonder the lookout had been confused.
He would hold to his course, steadily converging with Valkyrie.
Avery asked, "Will they not attempt to prevent us, sir?" There was no anxiety in his voice. It was merely a technical detail, a part of the inevitable.
Bolitho felt his skin becoming damp with sweat under his heavy coat.
"Captain Beer will have little choice but to warn us off. He is no fool Baratte's unwilling and unofficial ally perhaps, but too concerned with his duty to tolerate interference."
Trevenen said, "I must note this in my log, Sir Richard."
"Please do, Captain. But I intend to break through the convoy at its weakest part while we still have the wind on our side." He saw some of the seamen staring astern as the ship's boats drifted away, held together by loose lines so that they would not smash into one another.
Trevenen said, "The weakest part, Sir Richard?"
"Astern of the Unity, directlyV
He saw no understanding on Trevenen's heavy features, and said curtly, "I shall wish to speak with the gunner and your lieutenants." He raised his glass again. Perhaps Baratte had even foreseen this move. Surely he
would not expect the English ships to retreat?
The white marks on the horizon seemed as before, but the embrace would begin within two hours. He heard himself say, "Plenty of time before we load and run out."
He studied Trevenen as the captain snapped out his orders. Unwilling to see his ship badly mauled and perhaps his own future in ruins? Or was he as Avery had described, a coward?
"Will you have the people lay aft, Captain? You will wish to speak with them before..."
Trevenen shook his fist violently, "They will have to learn, Sir Richard, learn and obey!"
Alexander Kent - Bolitho 20 Darkening Sea Page 32