But Bolitho's voice was calm as he answered, 'We will take up our station fifty miles to the west'rd of Guadeloupe and keep contact with our''-he waved his hand towards the open sea-'with our squadron!'
Herrick digested this information slowly. The excitement and frantic preparations at Antigua had left him in little doubt of an impending battle, and he knew that even now most of those proud ships he had watched with an undiminished fascination would have weighed and set sail to complete Rodney's plan to seek out and confront the Comte de Grasse.
Bolitho continued absently, 'There is a chain of ships up and down the Caribbean. One good sighting and the chase will be on.' But there was no excitement in his voice. 'Unfortunately, Martinique is another hundred miles to the south of our patrol area, Mr. Herrick. De Grasse will be there with the bulk of his ships. He will bide his time and then make a dash for Jamaica.' He turned swiftly and stared at Herrick's frowning face. 'And when Rodney's frigates report that the French have sailed, the fleet will attack him!' He shrugged, the gesture both angry and despairing. 'And we shall still be on our station, as useless as a signpost in a desert!'
'But the French may come this way, sir.' Herrick felt Bolitho's bitterness changing his own eagerness to gloom. As he spoke he realised the reason for Bolitho's earlier scorn of the elderly Cassius. It was obvious that Rodney was using Admiral Napier's small squadron for the least important part of his overall plan.
'And pigs may lay eggs, Mr. Herrick!' said Bolitho evenly. 'But not in our day!'
'I see, sir.' Herrick was at a loss for words.
Bolitho studied him gravely and then touched his arm. 'Cheer up, Mr. Herrick. I am bad company this morning.' He winced and fingered his side. 'I am thankful that ball missed anything vital. But I could well do without its reminder.'
Herrick watched him thoughtfully. 'You should take more rest, sir.'
'I find it hard even to sit down, Mr. Herrick.' Bolitho shaded his eyes to watch the set of the sails. 'There is so much happening. History is being made all around us!' He suddenly began to pace, so that Herrick had to fall in step to keep up with him. 'De Grasse will come out, I'm sure of it!' He was speaking quickly in time with his steps. 'You saw that freak gale which gave you your chance to take the Andiron? Well, it was rare indeed for this time of year. But later,' he smiled grimly at some hidden memory, 'later in the year the hurricanes
hit the West Indies in profusion. From August to September they follow one another like messengers from hell itself!' He shook his head firmly. `No, Mr. Herrick, de Grasse will come out soon. He has much to accomplish before that time.'
Herrick said, `But which way will he go?
`Maybe through the Martinique Passage. But either way he will head straight for the central Caribbean. There are a thousand miles between him and Jamaica. You could lose a whole fleet in such an area. If we fail to make contact when he sails we will never catch him again until it is too late!'
Herrick nodded, at last understanding the full reason for Bolitho's apprehension. 'He has troops and guns. He can oc cupy any territory he chooses to .take.'
`Quite so. The men and stores we dealt with at Mola Island were just a part of his strength. He had hoped to tie down the fleet while he drove on to Jamaica unimpeded. Now he knows we are alerted. His urgency will be all the keener.'
He stopped in his tracks and stared fixedly at the naked horizon. 'If only we knew! If only we could go and find out for ourselves!' Then he seemed to realise that he was showing his own despair and he added briefly, `You may return to your watch, Mr. Herrick. I have some thinking to do.'
Herrick walked back to the rail, but as the sun beat down on the tinder-dry decks, he was constantly aware of Bolitho's shadow. Back and forth, up and down.
When Herrick had been a midshipman he had dreamed of the time when he might attain the impossible heights of a lieutenant. From then on he had watched the slow path to promotion, gauging his own progress by the experience or the incompetence of his superiors. And all the time, nursed in the back of his mind like some precious jewel, was the idea that one day he might at last hold a command of his own.
But now, as he watched Bolitho's restless shadow and imagined the fretting thoughts which kept it company, he was not so sure.
Halfway through the forenoon the pipes shrilled, `Stand easy!' With varying degrees of relief the frigate's seamen threw themselves into patches of shade to make the most of the short break in routine.
John Allday stayed where he had been working, with his legs astride the larboard cathead, his bronzed body sheltered from the sun by the jibsail. In the foremost part of the ship he had been engaged in cleaning and scraping one of the great anchors, and as he squatted comfortably above the small bow wave he rested one foot on the anchor's massive stock, feeling its warmth against the bare skin. At his back the other members of the working party lounged in various stages of abandon, while above their heads the air was tinged with a slow-moving vapour of smoke from their long pipes.
Old Ben Strachan picked up a new rope and examined the eye-splice which one of the ship's boys had just completed.
`Not bad, youngster. Not bad at all.' He sucked noisily at his pipe and peered aft the length of the Phalarope's deck. `Is that the cap'n pacin' up an' down?'
Pochin, who was lying with his head cradled on his thick arms, muttered, `Course it is! Must be mad to be in this 'eat when 'e could be down in 'is cabin!'
Allday swung one leg and stared thoughtfully at the clear water below him. Pochin was still worried about Onslow's words in the cutter. He was edgy, as if he realised his own guilt. Just listening to such talk made a man liable to be labelled a conspirator.
He turned slightly to look aft, and across the length of the ship he saw Herrick, watching him from the quarterdeck. The lieutenant gave him a brief nod of recognition before returning to his own contemplation, and Allday suddenly remembered that moment on the crumbling cliff when he had stopped Herrick from falling to the rocks below. In spite of his original intention to stay apart from internal affairs in the Phalarope, and to keep clear of loyalty to either faction, Allday was beginning to realise that such neutrality was impossible, even dangerous.
Allday liked Herrick, and recognised what he was trying to do. He was always ready to listen to complaints from his division, and was never quick to award punishment. But he was no fool, and few took advantage of his humane manner a second time.
Allday could see the captain still pacing the quarterdeck at the weather rail, coatless with his shirt open to his chest and his dark hair pulled back to the nape of his neck. He was a harder man to know, Allday thought, but it was strangely reassuring to see him back at his familiar place on the poop. Allday, perhaps better than most, knew the reputation of the Bolitho family. On his visits to Falmouth he had often heard them discussed in the taverns, and had even seen the house which was the captain's home. It was strange to realise that he had a brother fighting on the other side. Allday wondered how he would have felt. Not only that,- but Bolitho's brother was said to have deserted from the Navy, a crime which could only be wiped out at the end of a rope.
He came back from his thoughts as Ferguson climbed up from the maindeck and walked across to the rail. He looked strained and self-conscious in his clean clothes, a marked contrast to the tired and sweating seamen who had once been his companions.
Ferguson fidgeted for a few moments and then said, 'Do you think we will see any more fighting?'
Pochin turned his head and growled, `You should know! Aren't you in the captain's pocket?'
Allday grinned. `Don't pay any attention to Nick.' He dropped his voice. `Has Onslow been after you again?' He saw Ferguson's pale eyes flicker.
'Not much. He just passes the time with me sometimes.'
'Well, remember my warning, Bryan!' Allday studied him 'closely. 'I've not told a living soul aboard, but I believe he had a lot to do with Mathias's death.' He saw the disbelief on Ferguson's face and added sharply, 'In fact, I'm
sure he had!'
'Why should he do a thing like that?' Ferguson tried to smile, but his mouth remained slack.
'He's a bad one. He knows no other life but this. He came to the Beet as a child. His world is bounded by the sides of a wooden hull.' He ran his hands along the carved cathead. 'I've met a few of his kind before, Bryan. They're as dangerous as wolves!'
Ferguson said, 'He'll not make trouble. He wouldn't dare!'
'No? And why do you think he keeps asking about the cabin? He's biding his time. His sort have a lot of patience.'
'The captain'd not stand for any more trouble!' Ferguson showed his agitation in the quick movements of his hands. 'I've heard him telling Mr. Vibart about taking care of the men. About how he wants them treated.'
Allday sighed. 'You see? You're even telling me what you've heard. If you want to stay safe you'd better keep what you know to yourself.'
Ferguson stared at him. 'You don't have to tell me!' He tightened his mouth with sudden anger. 'You're just like the others. You're jealous because of my job!'
A1lday turned away. 'Suit yourself.'
He waited until he heard Ferguson moving aft again. Then he turned to watch as Onslow stepped from beside the mainmast to stop his passing. He saw Onslow grinning and patting Ferguson on the shoulder.
Pochin's hard voice interrupted his thoughts. 'What d'you reckon? D'you think Onslow is right?' He sounded worried.
'If there is more trouble aboard this ship we'll all be in it. We'll have to take sides!'
Allday replied flatly, `You'd be a fool to pay heed to that one!' He tried to put some value to his words. `Anyway, the captain'll make short work of him if he tries anything!'
Pochin nodded doubtfully. `Maybe. Dyin' under a French broadside is one thing, but I'll not cough out blood for 'im or the buggers like Onslow!'
The pipes shrilled again, and the men stirred themselves back to work.
Allday kept his eyes down to his task as Quintal, the boatswain, and Josling, one of his mates, walked forward to inspect the forecastle. He heard Josling say, 'I see that the old Cassius was signalling just now, Mr. Quintal?
.Quintal replied in his deep voice, `Aye, lad. We'll be hauling off shortly to our own little patrol area. It'll be a long job, I wouldn't wonder, so see that you keep the hands busy. There's nothing worse for discipline than too much free time.' The rest of his comments were lost to Allday as the two men moved up towards the bowsprit, but he had heard enough.
Phalarope was to be alone again, and out of sight of the flagship. The boatswain was right. With the heat and the dull monotony of an empty patrol, Onslow would find a good breeding ground for more trouble if he could.
He looked sideways at his silent companions, each man apparently engrossed in his own task, yet each no doubt thinking of that green patch of land which they had just left behind.
No ordinary seaman had set foot ashore. Some of the crew had not left a deck for years. It was hardly surprising that men like Onslow could find a ready audience.
He shaded his eyes and stared towards the horizon. Already the distant two-decker seemed smaller, her hull lost in the heat haze below the clear sky. Her sails had merged into one shining pyramid, and as he watched she appeared to sink lower in the glittering sea. Another hour and she would have vanished altogether.
After that, he thought coldly, you could trust no man.
Deep below the forecastle deck where Allday sat immersed in his own thoughts was the Phalarope's cable tier. In harbour it was a spacious, empty place, but now, as the frigate moved listlessly on the calm water, it was packed to the deckhead with the massive anchor cables. Coil upon coil, the great, salthardened ropes added to the sour stench of the bilges and the richer smells of tar and hemp. Stout upright pillars on either side of the shelving hull held the cables clear of the timbers to alloww easy access to the ship's fabric at all times. These 'car. penter's walks' as. they were named ran the full length of the hull below the water-line to afford inspection and, if necessary, repairs in time of battle. Little wider than a man's body, they were usually in total darkness.
But now, as the bow wave swished dully against the timbers and furtive rats continued their endless search for food, a small, shaded lantern cast an eerie light against the piled cable and threw a distorted reflection back to the faces of the men squeezed in the narrow passageway.
Onslow held the lantern higher and peered at the waiting men. He only had to count them to be sure. He knew each man's face and name without need for further examination.
'We must be quick, lads! We'll be missed if we stay too long!'
Like an echo he heard Pook's voice. 'Just pay heed to wot 'e says!'
Onslow's teeth gleamed in the darkness. He could feel his legs shaking with wild excitement, like the effect of rum on an empty stomach. 'We're pulling away from the other ships. I think the time has almost come to carry out our plan.'
He heard a dull murmur of agreement and grinned even broader. Just by saying our instead of my acted on these men like the crack of a whip.
'From what Ferguson has told me Bolitho intends to run to the south'rd. The Phalarope'll be on the end of the patrol line. No chance of meeting any of the others, y'see?'
A voice asked from the darkness, 'Ow can we take the ship on our own?’ He broke off with a yelp as Pook drove his elbow into his ribs.
Onslow said calmly, `Leave that part to me. I'll tell you how and when.' He looked at the crouching line of dark figures. All the ones who had come with him from the Cassius, and several more recruited in the Phalarope. It was far more than he had dared to hope.
'We must get rid of the bloody bullocks. Without their red coats athwart the quarterdeck it'll be easy.'
Pook asked, 'Wot about Allday an' the like?'
'Ah yes.' Onslow smiled crookedly. 'Master John Allday.'
Pook added gloomily, `The lads listen to 'imi,
'And if anything happened to Allday we'd got a lot more on our s, eh?’ Onslow's brain was moving ahead of his words. ,But it has to be clever. If it looks like our doing we might as well hang ourselves!'
They all froze as heavy footsteps sounded overhead. Then as they died away Onslow continued easily, 'I think Allday guesses what happened to Mathias. He's too clever to live, is that one!' He reached out and gripped Pook's arm. 'So we'll make him a bloody martyr, shall we?' He gave a rumbling laugh. 'Now we can't do fairer than that!'
The same uncertain voice tried again. 'We'll be cut down afore we can raise a finger, I say!'
'1'll cut you down, you bugger!' For a moment Onslow's good humour retreated. Then he added more calmly, 'Now listen to me, all of you! We must wait a bit longer to get the lads more worried. Then when the time's ripe I'll tell you what I want. That fool Ferguson can keep an eye on the captain's log for me, just so that I know where we are. When we get a bit nearer some land, I'll be ready.'
He snapped his fingers. 'Those weapons we brought off from Mola Island. Have you got 'em safely stowed?'
Pook nodded. 'Aye, they'll not be discovered!'
'Right then. Get back to your work now, lads. And stay out of trouble. You're all marked men anyway, so don't give the bastards a chance to nail you!'
He watched them creeping away into the darkness beyond the dim lantern and felt satisfied. Now, just as he had told those poor sheep, it was just a matter of time.
14
BLOOD AND FRESH WATER
Tobias Ellice, the Phalarope's surgeon, arose wheezing from his uncomfortable stooping position and threw the sweatstained bandage out of the open stern window. `Right, sir. You kin stand up now if you like.' He stepped away from the bench seat as Bolitho threw his legs over the side and lifted himself to his feet.
Ellice mopped his streaming face and peered closely at the rough scar across Bolitho's ribs. `Not a bad job of work, if I says so meself!' He beamed and licked his lips. `It's thirsty work, an' no mistake!'
Bolitho touched the scar with his fingertips and then stood
facing the open windows to allow the tiny breeze to play across his bare skin. It was good to be rid of the bandage, he thought. Its very embrace was a constant reminder of the Andiron and all that had gone before. It was well to leave it all in the past. There were troubles enough to deal with today and the next day after that.
It was a full fourteen days since they had sailed with the squadron from Antigua, and almost every one of them had been like this one. Hardly a lick of air which could seriously be called a breeze to fill the hungry sails or even to ventilate the ship. And all the time a broiling sun which seemed to bleach the colour from the sky itself. The nights brought little respite. Between decks the air remained humid and heavy with damp, and the seamen were further wearied by the constant calls to trim sails, only to be dismissed cursing and despairing as the wind died before a single sheet could be handled.
It was enough to break even the sturdiest heart, Bolitho thought heavily. And coupled with the fact that they had not sighted a single sail, and knew nothing of events beyond the mocking horizon, he found it was all he could do to restrain his own mounting impatience.
`How are the men?' He reached for a clean shirt and then relented. The old one would have to do. There was little point in badgering his servant to wash more clothes than necessary.
Ellice shrugged. `Not happy, sir. 'Tis bad enough as it is without hungering after a drink all the time.'
`Water is precious, Mr. Ellice.' It was now reduced to a pint a day per man, which was less than adequate. But there was no telling how long it would be before their senseless vigil was broken. He had increased the daily ration of Miss: Taylor, as the rough white wine from the victualling yard was named, but its satisfaction was only temporary. Within a few hours the drinker would be left as dry as before. He added as an afterthought, `They must get as much fresh fruit as we can spare. It is the only thing to keep down disease out here.'
To Glory We Steer Page 25
