Alexander Kent - Honour This Day

A shadow passed over Bolitho's thoughts. Francis Inch had been given command of a bomb-vessel after he had left Hyperion.

He looked up and saw Allday watching him. It was uncanny.

Allday said quietly, The old Hekla, Sir Richard – remember her''

Bolitho nodded, not seeing Lieutenant Jenour's mystified stare. It was hard to accept that Inch was dead. Like so many now.

'Attention on deck'

Calls trilled and Bolitho seized a ladder with both hands to haul himself through the low entry port.

The vessels he had already visited in harbour had seemed startled by his arrival on board. Their commanders were young; all but one had been lieutenants just months ago.

There was no such nervousness about Thor’s captain, Bolitho thought as he doffed his hat to the small quarterdeck.

Commander Ludovic Imne was tall and narrow-shouldered, so that his solitary gold epaulette looked as if it might fall off at any moment. He stood over six feet, and when you considered

Thor's headroom, four feet six inches m some sections, it must have seemed like being caged.

'I bid you welcome, Sir Richard.' Imne's voice was surprisingly deep, with a Scottish burr which reminded Bolitho of his mother. Bolitho was introduced to two lieutenants and a few junior warrant officers. A small company. He had already noted their names, and sensed their reserve giving way to interest or curiosity.

Imne dismissed the side-party and after a brief hesitation ushered Bolitho below to his small stern-cabin. As they stooped beneath the massive deck beams, Bolitho recalled his first command, a sloop-of-war, how her first lieutenant had apologised for the lack of space for the new commander. Bolitho had been almost beside himself with glee. After a lieutenant's tiny berth in a ship-of-the-hne it had seemed like a palace.

Thor's was even smaller. They sat opposite one another while a wizened messman brought a bottle and some glasses. A far cry from SomervelPs table, Bolitho thought.

Imne spoke easily about his command, which he had held for two years. He was obviously very proud of Thor, and Bolitho sensed an immediate resentment when he suggested that bombs, for the most part, had achieved little so far in the various theatres of war.

'Given a chance, sir -' He grinned and shrugged his narrow shoulders. 'I beg your pardon, Sir Richard, I should have known.'

Bolitho sipped the wine; it was remarkably cool. 'Known what?'

Imne said, 'I'd heard you tested your captains with a question or two -'

Bolitho smiled. 'It worked this time.' He remembered some of the others he had met in Antigua. He had felt something akin to hostility, if not actual dislike. Because of Price, perhaps? After all, they had known him, had worked in company with his frigate. They might think that he had killed himself deliberately because Bolitho had refused to intervene. Bolitho could think of several occasions when he had felt much the same.

Imne stared through the skylight at the empty sky.

'If I could lie near a good target, sir, I'd put down such a barrage, the enemy'd think Hell had dropped amongst them. The Dons have never faced -' He faltered and added apologetically, 'I mean, that is, if we were against the Spaniards at any time -'

Bolitho eyed him steadily. Imne had worked it out all by himself. Why else would his vice-admiral bother to call on him? Price's exploits and disaster on the Spanish Mam linked with Tfcor's obvious advantages in the shallows where Consort had run aground had formed their own picture in his mind.

Bolitho said, 'That is well thought, Commander Imne. I will trust you to keep your suppositions to yourself.' It was odd that none of the others, not even Haven, had once questioned their motives for being here.

Bolitho rubbed his left eyelid and then withdrew his hand quickly. 'I have studied the reports, and have re-read the notes my aide took down when I spoke to Captain Price.'

Imne had a long face with a craggy jaw and looked as if he could be a formidable opponent in any circumstances. But his features softened as he listened to Bolitho. Perhaps because he had referred to the dead man by his full rank. It offered some small dignity, a far cry from the lonely grave below the East Battery.

Bolitho said, 'The approaches are too well protected for what I must keep in mind. Any well-sited artillery can destroy a slow-moving vessel with ease, and with heated shot the effect would be disastrous.'

Imne rubbed his chin, his eyes far away. As Bolitho had noticed, they were unmatched, one dark and the other pale blue.

He said, 'If we are both thinking of the same patch of coast, Sir Richard, and of course we can't be sure of that.'

Jenour watched, fascinated. These two officers, each a veteran in his own field, yet able to discuss something he still could not grasp, and chuckle over it like two conspiring schoolboys. It was unbelievable.

Bolitho nodded. 'But if-'

'Even Thor might have to lay-off too far to use the mortars, Sir Richard.' He scanned his face as if expecting an argument or disappointment. 'We don't draw much less than Consort did.'

A boat thudded alongside and Bolitho heard Allday barking at someone for interrupting their conference.

Then his face appeared in the skylight. He said, 'Beggin' your pardon, Sir Richard. Message from Hyperion. The Inspector General is come aboard.'

Bolitho concealed a tremor of excitement. Somervell had given in to curiosity at last. Or was he imagining that also? That there was already some kind of contest between them?

Bolitho stood up and winced as his head struck one of the beams.

Imne exclaimed, 'God damn it, Sir Richard, I should have warned you!'

Bolitho reached for his hat. 'It acted as a reminder. It was less painful than the memory.'

On deck, the side-party had assembled and Bolitho saw Hyperion's jolly-boat already pulling back to the ship. Allday clambered fuming down to the waiting barge. He had sent that pink-faced midshipman off with a flea in his ear. Young puppy. He glared at the bargemen. 'Stand by in the boat, damn you!'

Bolitho made a decision. 'Tell your senior to take over, Imne. I wish you to accompany me directly.'

Imne's jaw dropped open. 'But, Sir Richard -'

Bolitho saw his first lieutenant watching them. 'He is just aching to take command, albeit for a day – it is every first lieutenant's dream!' He was amazed at his own good humour. It was like a dam holding all the worries here and at home back and out of view.

He stooped over as if to examine one of the snout-nosed twenty-four pounder carronades. It gave him time to massage his eye again, to drive off the mist which the sharp sunlight had thrown at him as if to crack his confidence.

Imne whispered to Jenour, 'What a man, eh? I think I'd follow him to hell and back!'

Jenour watched Bolitho's shoulders. 'Aye, sir.' It was only a guess, but he saw more than anyone of Bolitho apart from Allday and the cabin staff. It was strange that they never mentioned it. But Jenour's uncle was a physician in Southampton. He had spoken of something like this. Jenour had seen Bolitho caught off balance, like the moment when the Viscount's beautiful wife had reached out to aid him, and other times at sea before that.

But nothing was ever said about it. He had to be mistaken.

All the way across the anchorage Bolitho pondered over his mission. If he had frigates, even one at his disposal, he could plan around the one, formidable obstacle.

La Guaira, the Spanish port on the Main and gateway to the capital Caracas, was impregnable. That was only because nobody had ever attempted it before. He could feel Imrie's curiosity and was glad he had visited the Thor before discussing the venture with Haven and the others.