He said, `I shall go over to the Cassius and speak to the admiral.' He glanced at the neat pile of reports on the desk. `There is much that Sir Robert will wish to know.' How trite it sounded, he thought bitterly. Like items in the ship's log, bald of feeling or humanity. How could he describe the atmosphere on the maindeck when he had spoken a prayer before the shrouded corpses had slid over the side?
Lieutenant Vibart's body, alongside those of the dead mutineers. The rest of the crew had gathered round in silence.
Not just a silence of respect or sadness, but something much deeper. It was like an air of shanle, a combined feeling of guilt.
He stared at the watching officers beside him. Okes and Rennie. Farquhar and Proby.
Bolitho continued in the same curt tone, `You all showed great resource and courage. I have made a full report and I trust it will receive proper attention.' He did not add that without such a report from the ship's captain the story of the brief, savage mutiny would overshadow all else with the admiral and his superiors. As it was it might still be insufficient to save the ship's name from further harm.
He looked hard at Okes. `You will take over as first lieutenant of course, and Mr. Herrick will assume your duties forthwith.' He switched his gaze to Farquhar. `I do not have to add to what I have put in my report about you. You are appointed acting lieutenant immediately. I have no doubt whatever that it will be confirmed with equal speed.'
Farquhar said, `Thank you, sir.' He looked round as if expecting to see an immediate change in his surroundings. `I am very grateful.'
Okes said nervously, `I still can't believe that Mr. Vibart is dead.'
Bolitho eyed him impassively. `Death is the only thing which is inevitable, Mr. Okes. Yet it is the one thing we can never take for granted!'
There was a tap at the door and Stockdale peered in. `Flagship is signalling, Captain. For you to report on board as soon as possible.'
`Very well, Stockdale. Call away my boat's crew.' He added to the others, `Remember this, gentlemen. The Phalarope was nearly lost by mutiny.' He allowed his tongue to linger on the word. `What we have to decide now is. whether we have gained anything by a reprieve.' He saw their quick exchange of glances and continued, `The ship is either cleansed of evil or smeared by shame. The choice is ours. Yours and mine!' He looked around their grave faces. `That is all. You may go.'
Stockdale reappeared as the officers filed out, and busied himself getting Bolitho's hat and sword. He said, `Allday is waiting to see you, Captain.' He sounded disapproving.
`Yes, I sent for him.' He listened to the squeal of blocks as the gig was hoisted out, and remembered Stockdale's stricken face as he had returned with the rest of the shore party. He had stared round the stained deck at the corpses and then at his captain. He had said brokenly, `I should never have left you, Captain! Not for an instant!' It was as if he believed he had failed Bolitho. He seemed to think that if he had stayed aboard the mutiny could never have happened.
Bolitho said quietly, 'Send him in. He is a good seaman, Stockdale. I wronged him, not the other way about!'
Stockdale shook his head, but shambled away to fetch the man who had broken the mutiny.
And what a risk he had taken, Bolitho thought. He had walked back towards the searching marines, knowing full well that they were unaware of his innocence, and that any man might shoot him down without waiting for an explanation. Allday had found Okess and Farquhar, and together it seemed they had decided it best for Allday to try to reach the ship unsupported by anyone but Ferguson. It was a right decision, and a brave one. If Onslow had seen a boatload of men approaching the ship the balance would have tipped in his favour.
There was a tap at the door and Allday stepped into the cabin. Dressed in white trousers and checked shirt, his long hair tied back with a length of codline, he looked every inch the landsman's idea of a sailor. On his cheek and neck there were two diagnonal scars where Brock had struck with his cane.
Bolitho faced him for several seconds. Then he said, 'I called you here to thank you properly for what you did, Allday. I wish I could say something which would help clean away the wrong which was done you.' He shrugged. 'But I know of no such reward.'
Allday relaxed slightly. 'I understand, sir. As it was, it all turned out for the best.' He grinned self-consciously. 'I was a bit scared, I can tell you, sir.' His eyes hardened. 'But when I saw Onslow, that was enough! I'm glad I was able to kill him!'
Bolitho studied Allday with new interest. He had a cleancut, intelligent face, and but for his total lack of education might have gone far and done well by himself.
'Onslow should be a lesson to all of us, Allday.' Bolitho walked to the stern windows, his mind going back over the thought which had nagged him most since the mutiny. 'He was doomed by his life and circumstances. It is up to us not to make any' more Onslows through cruelty or. lack of understanding.' He swung round. 'No, Allday, I faied with Onslow. He was just a man like the rest of us. He never stood a real chance from the day he was born!'
Allday stared at him with surprise. 'There was nothing you could have done for him, if you'll excuse me saying so.' He spread his hands. 'He was a bad one, and I've seen a few in my time!'
Maynard peered in the door. 'Closing the flagship now, sir. Ready to lower the gig.'
'Very good.' Bolitho looked at Allday. 'Is there anything I can do for you?'
Allday shifted uncomfortably. 'There is one thing, sir.' Then he lifted his chin, his eyes suddenly clear and determined. 'It's about Ferguson, your clerk, sir. Are you sending him over with the other mutineers?'
Bolitho spread his arms to allow Stockdale to buckle on his sword. 'That was the intention, Allday.' He frowned. 'I know he came back with you, and did much to repair the damage he had done by his complicity with Onslow. But,' he shrugged, 'there are several charges against him. He aided the mutineers with confidential information, without which any sort of uprising might have been impossible. He attacked a sentry and released a prisoner, the guilt or innocence of whom had not been decided.' He picked up his hat and stared at it. 'Do you think he should warrant complete pardon?'
Allday said quietly, 'Remember what you said about Onslow, sir? Ferguson's no real sailor, and never will be.' He smiled sadly: 'I've looked after him since we were pressed together. If you do this to him I shall feel I've let him down.
I shall feel as you do now over Onslow!'
Bolitho nodded. 'I will have to think about it.' He walked to the ladder, ducking below the beams. Then he said, 'Thank you, Allday. You put a forceful argument.'
He ran up into the sunlight and looked quickly across at the Cassius. She looked big and reliable against the blue water, and he could see the other frigate hove to beyond her.
Herrick touched his hat. 'Gig ready, sir.' He glanced ques tioningly at the silent group of manacled men by the entry port. 'Shall I send 'em over while you're with the admiral?'
'If you please, Mr. Herrick.' Bolitho caught sight of Allday's tall figure beside the cabin hatch and added sharply, 'But have Ferguson kept aboard. I will deal with him myself.'
Herrick looked mystified. 'Ferguson, sir?'
Bolitho eyed him coldly. 'He is my clerk, Mr. Herrick! Have you forgotten so soon that you chose him for me?' He gave a brief smile and saw the relief flooding across the other man's face.
'Aye, aye, sir!' Herrick strode to the rail. 'Man the side there! Stand by for the captain!'
The pipes trilled and Bolitho vanished down into the boat.
Herrick looked round as old Proby mumbled, `How old is he? Twenty-five or six?' He gave a deep sigh. `I'm twice his age and more beside, and there others like me aboard the Phalarope.' He watched the little gig skimming through the whitecaps towards the swaying ship of the line. `Yet he's like a father to all of us!' He shook his head. `Have you seen the way the crew look at him now, Mr. Herrick? Like children caught out doing wrong. They know how he feels what has happened, how their shame is more'n doubled for him!'
Proby pouted his pendulous lower lip. 'I'm too old for admiration, Mr. Herrick. It's deeper'n that. Our captain is a special sort of man.' He frowned and then added, 'I'd die for him, and willingly. I can't say more'n that!' He turned with sudden anger. `Blast me, Mr. Herrick! How can you let' me go on like that?' He shuffled noisily across the quarterdeck like an untidy spider.
Herrick crossed to the rail, his mind still dwelling on Proby's words. Below, watched by armed marines, the remnants of Onslow's conspirators stood awaiting passage to the Cassius. Herrick did not share Bolitho's shame on their behalf. He would willingly have hanged each one of them singlehanded, if only to lift the despair from Bolitho's shoulders.
He remembered his own exultation when Okes and Rennie had boarded the frigate and he had realised that the mutiny's sudden fire had been quenched. It was then that he had seen through Bolitho's careful mask and had penetrated to the man within. Yes, Proby was right. He was a very special sort of man.
Midshipman Neale crossed to his side and trained his glass on the flagship. Herrick glanced down at the small midshipman and remembered his frantic struggles as they thrust his greased body through the vent hole. Neale's sudden appearance had made quite a sensation when he had flung open the doors of the cable tier. As Ellice, the surgeon, had said later, `There we all was, Mr. 'Errick, thinkin' of death or worse, an' suddenly the doors come flyin' open like the gates of 'eaven itself!' The surgeon's crimson face had crinkled into a grin. `When I saw this little naked cherub with the sun behind 'im I thought I was already dead without knowin' it 'ad 'appened!'
Herrick smiled to himself. Neale seemed to have grown in stature since that dreadful day. He said, `In a few years you'll be getting promoted like Mr. Farquhar if you go on like this,' Neale considered the suggestion and then replied, `I never doubted it, sir.' He flushed and added quickly, `Well, not often!'
Sir Robert Napier walked stiffly to a small gilt chair and sat down. For several seconds he stared at Bolitho's tense features and then said dryly, `You are a very erratic and unpredictable young man, Bolitho.' He tapped his fingertips together. `But there is one thing to be said in your favour. You are never dull!'
Bolitho did not trust himself to smile. It was still far too early to know exactly how his ideas had been received. With fretting impatience he had waited in an adjoining cabin while the admiral read his reports, and after what seemed like an hour he was ushered into the great man's presence. There were two other captains already present. Cope of the Cassius, and a thickset, unsmiling man Bolitho recognised as Fox of the frigate Volcano.
The admiral said, 'It seems to me that you are getting unnecessarily excited about the French frigates which one of your men sighted.' He waved one hand across his big coloured chart. `Look for yourself, Bolitho. The Leeward and Windward Islands are like a broken chain running from north to south. If the French fleet is out in force, and I say if, Sir George Rodney's frigates will have reported the fact, and both sides will have engaged already. That being so, what further can I do in the matter?' He leaned back, his eyes fixed on Bolitho's face.
Bolitho glanced quickly at the other officers. Cope, being Sir Robert's flag captain, would naturally stay non-committal until he knew his- master's intentions. Fox was the man to convince. He was said to be a hard man, and as he was somewhat old for his rank, inclined to be over-cautious.
Bolitho took his own chart and laid it carefully across the admiral's. He started quietly. `The whole plan to contain and engage the French fleet is based on one main theme, sir. We know that de Grasse has his strongest force at Martinique to the south. To meet with his Spanish ally and to reach Jamaica, his first necessity is to avoid any damaging action with us.'
The admiral said irritably, 'I know that, dammit!'
Bolitho continued, `I believe that the two frigates were part of a scouting force, ahead of the main fleet.' He ran his finger along the chart. 'I le could sail north from Martinique, and if necessary deploy his ships amongst the scattered islands en route. Then, at his most suitable moment he could swing west to Jamaica as planned.' He looked at Fox who met his eyes without expression. He added urgently, `Sir George Rodney is depending on a quick engagment, sir. But suppose de Grasse avoids that first contact, or, even worse, he makes a feint attack on our ships and then heads north?' He waited, watching the admiral's pale eyes moving across the chart.
Sir Robert said grudgingly, 'It could happen, I suppose. De Grasse could skirt any hostile land and then keep close inshore of more friendly territory, Guadeloupe for instance.' He puckered his lower lip. 'He would thereby avoid a running battle in open water, like the Martinique Passage.' He nodded, his face suddenly grave. `Yours is a dangerous supposition, Bolitho.'
Captain Cope said uneasily, 'If the French can get ahead of Rodney we're done for!'
Bolitho asked, `Could I suggest something, sir?' He tried to gauge the extent of his own forcefulness. 'If I am wrong, there can be no real harm in my idea.'
The admiral shrugged. 'I cannot find it in my heart to dampen such rare enthusiasm, Bolitho.' He wagged one finger. `But I do not promise to abide by it!'
Bolitho leaned across the chart. 'My ship was down here in search of fresh water ...'
The admiral interrupted, `And well off her allotted station incidentally!'
`Yes, Sir.' Bolitho hurried on. `Allowing for perhaps a day without wind, and a further two days to regain contact with their admiral, the two French frigates would have had ample time to examine the full extent of this Channel.' He stood back slightly as the other two captains craned over to look. `There is a whole cluster of small islands to the north of the Dominica Passage.' He paused. `The Isles des Saintes. If I were de Grasse, that is where I would make for. From that point he could swing west to Jamaica, or run for safety at Guadeloupe if Rodney's fleet is too close on his heels.' He swallowed and added, 'If our squadron moved south-east we might be in a better position to observe, and if necessary to report to Sir George Rodney what is happening!'
Sir Robert rubbed his chin. `What do you think, Cope?' sidered the matter most carefully, then de Grasse will have chosen the most unlikely route to slip past our blockade.' He
The flag captain shifted uncomfortably on his feet. `It's hard to say, sir. If Bolitho is right, and I am sure he has conadded unhelpfully, 'But of course, if he is wrong, then we will have left our allotted station without good cause!'
The admiral glared at him. `You do not have to remind me!' He turned his gaze on Fox, who was still leaning over the chart. `Well?'
Fox straightened his back. 'I think I agree with Bolitho.' He paused. `However, there is one point which he seems to have overlooked.' He jabbed at the pencilled lines with his finger. 'If Sir George Rodney flushes de Grasse away from the Dominica Passage the Frogs will certainly have the advantage. The wind is too poor to allow our fleet time to reengage before de Grasse dashes for open water.' He drew his finger slowly across the chart in a straight line. `But our squadron might be right across their line of escape!'
The admiral stirred in his chair. 'Do you think I had not considered this?' He glared at Bolitho. `Well, what do you say?'
Bolitho answered stubbornly, 'I will say we shall be in a better position to report and, if necessary, shadow the enemy, sir.'
The admiral stood up and began to pace with sudden agitation. 'If only I could get some real news! I sent the brig Witch of Looe away days ago to try and gain intelligence, but with this "damn climate what can you expect?' He stared through the open stem windows. `Sometimes we are becalmed for days on end. The war could be over for all I know!'
Bolitho said, 'I could take the Phalarope to the south'rd, sir.'
'No!' The admiral's voice was like a whipcrack. 'I will have no captain of mine taking what should be my responsibility!'
He gave a frosty smile. 'Or was it your intention to force me
into this decision?' He did not wait for a reply. `Very well, gentlemen. We will make sail and proceed south-east immediately.' He stared at each of them in turn. `But I want nothing foolhardy! If we sight the enemy we will retire and report our findingss to Sir George Rodney.' , Bolitho masked his disappointment. He must be content. He had not even expected Sir Robert Napier to agree to leaving the present area, let alone to commit himself to what might well be a pointless and time-wasting venture.
As: he turned to follow Fox the admiral added sharply, `And as to that other matter, Bolitho.' He rested his hand on the open envelope. 'I will deal with that in my own way. I do not wish the reputation of my ships to be tarnished by mutiny. I intend that it should stay within the squadron.' He was looking impatient again. 'As for Lieutenant Vibart, well, I suppose it cannot be helped now. A dead officer is no use to me, no matter how he died!'
Bolitho tried to think of a suitable reply. 'He died bravely, sir.'
The admiral grunted. 'So did the Christians in Rome! And damn little good it did anybody!'
Bolitho backed from the cabin and then hurried on deck to summon his boat. The sea was still speckled with small whitecaps, and the admiral's flag was streaming bravely in the freshening breeze. It was good sailing weather, he thought. And that was too rare to waste at any time.
With the ponderous two-decker between them, the frigates spread their sails and hauled off on either beam. By nightfall the wind had fallen slightly, but was still sufficient to make the sails boom with unaccustomed vigour as the yards were braced round to keep all three ships on a slow starboard tack.
To Glory We Steer Page 30
