Alexander Kent - The Only Victor

"That was more than welcome, old friend." He handed him the cup and thought of Inskip. "I am over it now."

But when he looked at the burning city again, the mist was still there.

WITH HER great yards braced so hard round that to a landsman they might appear to lie fore-and-aft, Black Prince steered as closehauled to the wind as was possible. For most of the previous night they had clawed their way up the narrow Sound from Copenhagen, pursued all the while by the continuous thunder of the bombardment.

Somehow Nicator had held station on the flagship, but for Black Prince, a powerful three-decker, it had been a trial of nerves as well as skill. Urgent voices had passed each sounding aft from the leadsmen in the forechains, and at one time Bolitho had sensed that only a few feet lay between the ship's great keel and disaster.

Dawn had found them heading out into the Kattegat, still comparatively shallow, but after the Sound it felt like the WesternOcean. Later, when Bolitho watched the pink glow on the choppy water, he knew that darkness would be upon them early that night. A glance at the masthead pendant assured him that the wind was holding steady, north-east. It would help them tomorrow, but had he waited until daylight as Gambier had suggested, the wind's sudden veer would have bottled them up in harbour. He thought of Herrick for the hundredth time. Lady Luck.

Keen crossed the deck and touched his hat, his handsome features raw from a full day on deck in chill wind.

"Any further orders before nightfall, sir?"

They looked at one another, like friends across a common garden wall at the close of an ordinary day.

"It will be tomorrow, Val. Or not at all. You know what these supply convoys are like, the speed of the slowest vessel in it, necessary for mutual protection. RearAdmiral Herrick's convoy apparently numbers some twenty ships, so if there was a battle, some of the fastest must surely have reached the Skagerrak at least by now?"

He forced a smile. "I realise you think me morbid, even mad. Herrick will probably doff his hat to us at first light tomorrow, and sail past full of noble contentment! "

Keen watched him, the man he had come to know so well.

"May I ask something, sir?" He glanced round as the calls twittered in the endless daily life of a man-of-war: Last dogwatchmen to supper!

"Ask away." He saw the gulls pausing to rest on the pink water like flower petals and thought of the dead Captain Poland, who had seen nothing but the path to duty.

"If you were in RearAdmiral Herrick's position, what would you do, if an enemy second-or even first-rate as it now appears-and other vessels hove in sight?"

Bolitho looked away. "I would scatter the convoy." He looked at him again, his eyes dark in the strange glare. "Then I would engage the enemy. A waste of time… who knows? But some might survive."

Keen hesitated. "But you do not think he would order them to break formation, sir?"

Bolitho took his arm and guided him a few paces past the big double-wheel, where Julyan the tall sailing-master was speaking to his mates in his deep rumbling tones. Worth his weight in gold, Keen had claimed several times; he had certainly proved his skin with wind, tide and rudder when they had struggled up the Sound.

"I am concerned, Val. If the enemy is searching for his ships, he will see it as something…" He groped for the word but saw only Herrick's stubborn eyes.

"A personal thing, sir?"

"Aye, that's about the strength of it."

A sickly smell of pork came from the galley funnel and Bolitho said, "After both watches have eaten, have the ship cleared for action. But keep the galley in use until the last. More warm bellies than steel have won battles in the past, Val! "

Keen gazed along the broad length of his command, seeing it probably already enmeshed in the chaos and destruction of close-action.

"I agree." He added suddenly, "Your Mr Tyacke could be right about the largest Frenchman, but then precious few know about Black Prince as yet-she is far too new."

The officer-of-the-watch glanced at Keen and cleared his throat impressively.

"A chill, Mr Sedgemore?" Keen grinned with easy humour. "You wish to have the watch relieved?"

They both turned, startled, as Bolitho interrupted sharply, "What did you say?"

He stared at Keen's bewilderment. "About Black Prince's unknown strength?"

"Well, I simply thought-"

"And I did not." Bolitho glanced up at the ensign curling above his head. "You have a good sailmaker?"

The watch was changing, but they stood quite alone in the midst of its quiet disorder.

"Aye, sir."

"Then please ask him to lay aft." He watched the soft light of a northern dusk. "This needs to be quick. I must pass word to Captain Huxley before we adopt night-stations! "

Keen sent a midshipman off at the double. Bolitho would explain. Perhaps when he had decided for himself what he intended.

Black Prince's sailmaker's name was Fudge. He was so like the many of his profession that he might have been cut from the same bolt of canvas. Bushy grey hair and sprouting eyebrows, and the familiar leather jerkin which was hung about with tools, thread, needles and, of course, a palm or two.

"This is he, sir."

They all looked at him in silence. Keen, the officer-of-the-watch, midshipmen and master's mates.

Fudge blinked his watery eyes.

"Aye, sir?"

Bolitho asked, "Can you make me a Danish ensign, Fudge-full-scale, not some trifling boat-pendant?"

The man nodded slowly, visualising his stocks, neatly stored in one of the holds.

He answered, "Foreign, then, Sir Richard?"

Lieutenant Sedgemore opened his mouth to add a sharp comment of his own, but Keen's glance left it unspoken.

Bolitho said, "Foreign. White cross on red ground, with two tails like a commodore's broad-pendant."

Fudge said, "I was in Elephant with Nelson at Copenhagen, Sir Richard." The bent back and stiffness of his trade seemed to fall away as he glanced around at the silent watchkeepers. "I knows what a Danish flag look like, sir! "

Bolitho smiled. "So be it. When can you provide it for me?"

Fudge showed his uneven teeth, surprised at being asked.

"No more'n a couple o' days, Sir Richard! "

"This is very important, Fudge. Can I have it by dawn?"

Fudge studied him feature by feature, as if to find an answer to something.

"I'll begin now, Sir Richard." He looked around at the seamen and Royal Marines, as if they were of some inferior race. "Leave it to me! "

As Fudge bustled away Keen asked quietly, "Some deception, sir?"

"Aye, mebbee." He rubbed his hands together as if they were cold. "A favour, Val." He glanced at the shimmering reflection on the water, the first hint of sunset. He held his hand over his left eye and said, "I would like to walk through your ship with you, if I may?"

It was like sighting a signal from a far-off frigate. An end to speculation. It was tomorrow.

Keen said, "Of course, sir."

"But first, please signal Larne to close on us. I shall have a written instruction for your old ship, Val-there will be no time later on. Larne can then haul up to windward. If the French do come, they will surely recognise Tyacke's brig and may decide to stand away. Whatever that French ship is, I want her."

"I see, sir." He beckoned to Jenour. "A signal for you! "

It was a short note, which Bolitho wrote in his own hand while Yovell waited in the pink glow, ready to apply the seal before putting it into an oilskin bag for Nicator's captain.

Then he said to Keen, "It is fair that you should know a part of what I wrote. Should I fall, you will assume command; and if Black Prince is overwhelmed, Captain Huxley is to take Nicator out of the fight and return to Admiral Gambier." He watched Keen gravely. "Did I forget anything?"