Alexander Kent - COLOURS ALOFT!

The old woodcarver at Plymouth who had fashioned a new head must have a sense of humour, he thought. He had given the mermaid a sardonic grin, as if she was enjoying a secret.

He had asked Adam of his impressions of Nelson and had seen him putting them together in his mind.

"He was not at all as I expected. He seemed restless, and in some pain from his arm. And although I am taller than his lordship, he seemed to fill the cabin. I cannot explain it. And his contempt for authority is astounding. The name of Admiral Sheaffe was mentioned and Nelson laughed. He said that Sheaffe's oceans were made of paper and fine intentions, that he had forgotten that it took men to win wars."

"You liked him, despite his outspokenness to a subordinate?"

Adam had seemed uncertain. "I am not sure, Uncle. Once I thought him vain, even shallow, and the next instant I was struck by his total grasp of the war out here." He had grinned shyly. "I know now that I would follow him to hell and back if he required it of me. But I cannot say why. It is just something I know."

It was much as others had said. Hated by most of his superiors, but loved by the men he led, the majority of whom had never laid eyes on him. Bolitho wished he had been there.

Adam had said, "He asked of you, Uncle, and wished you well."

Now Firefly was gone, speeding to Gibraltar and then on to Spithead.

Without effort Bolitho could see Portsmouth as he had left it. Cold and wet, but so strong in his life.

He began pacing again. Nelson had left him in no doubt as to a suitable watering-place for his ships. Sardinia, and a small group of islands at the eastern end of the Straits of Bonifacio. The Madalena Islands as they were named lay less than two hundred miles from Toulon. Trust "Our Nel" to know such things. No wonder he could thumb his nose at men like Sheaffe. Until his luck ran out.

Pipes trilled like distant birds. Without seeing it Bolitho knew the hands were being dismissed, the flogged man cut down, the gratings unrigged and swabbed clean. Justice had been done.

Bolitho thought of his instructions. It made him smile to himself. As a captain you received orders. A flag-officer had to discover his own solutions.

The squadron had been given a two-hundred-mile sector, west of Toulon and the main blockade to the Spanish frontier. It was of course possible that if the French did break out in force they might try again for Egypt and the Nile. It had been a very close thing the last time. If they succeeded in a new attempt, Bonaparte would look further to India. It would be like opening a vast sack of booty, to say nothing of a tactical advantage. Bolitho thought it just as likely that the French fleet would head for the Strait of Gibraltar and force their way to Biscay and double the size of their squadrons there.

If he had read Nelson's mind correctly, no matter what Adam thought, Nelson would want the lion's share of the fight for himself.

The sea seemed empty without half his ships. He had sent Inch with Despatch in company with Lapish's frigate as scout and go-between. Icarus, her sails filling and then emptying in the weak breeze, followed astern, her gunports open as the sour-faced Captain Houston drilled his crews. The cutter was like a pale shark's fin far to windward, and Rapid was visible only from the masthead as she led her big consorts like beasts on a line.

Far to starboard the horizon looked deep purple. Corsica. He leaned on the rail and looked at the water as it bubbled from the rudder. In these light airs it would take longer than he had hoped to find anchorage and take on fresh water. The nearness of land would do wonders for the seamen and marines, he thought.

A door opened onto the gallery and Allday said apologetically, "Cap'n Keen's respects, sir, an' Rapid has sighted a sail to the east'rd. Masthead reports it's just in sight."

Bolitho nodded. "I'll wait down here." It was strange, he had heard nothing. Like his new chair, the gallery was private and personal.

He grinned at his reflection in the windows. Must be getting old.

Keen came down a few minutes later.

"A schooner, sir. Genoese according to Mr Paget-he went aloft with a glass."

Bolitho walked into the cabin and crossed to his chart.

"So long as she's not Spanish. The Dons may not be in the war, not yet at least, but they are still an enemy and will tell the French everything they can about us."

Keen suggested, "She'll be a trader hereabouts, sir. I'd like to speak with her myself when we're up to her."

Bolitho thought of Rapid's commander, Quarrell. A good officer, but, like Lapish, he lacked experience.

"Yes, you go. The trader may know something." He said with sudden anger, "Like groping in the dark. I wonder what he's up to?"

Keen watched him. Jobert was rarely mentioned by name but he was always on Bolitho's mind.

Bolitho was saying, "These islands, there are quite a few hiding places amongst them. It will be well to keep a sharp lookout until we know they are secure." He tapped the chart with some dividers. "On this hill for a beginning. A good man could see for miles from there."

Keen waited, knowing there was more to come.

Bolitho rubbed his chin. "I'd like to see for myself. Once you have investigated this schooner, signal Supreme to close on the flag. I intend to board her and go on ahead." He saw Keen's uneasiness and added, "Don't worry, Val, I have no intention of becoming a prisoner-of-war a second time!"

Keen should have been used to Bolitho's unorthodox methods but he always seemed to have something new up his sleeve. It would certainly keep the cutter's little company jumping with their admiral dropped amongst them.

Bolitho pulled his shirt away from his damp skin.

"How are things, Val?"

Keen replied, "She is well, sir. If only there was a way to reassure her." He shrugged, the gesture one of helplessness. "We do not even know ourselves-"

There was a rap at the door and after a small hesitation Midshipman Sheaffe looked into the cabin.

"Mr Paget's respects, sir. The schooner is hove-to."

Bolitho said, "We shall be up to her before dusk. We don't want to lose her."

Keen smiled in spite of his thoughts. What Bolitho really meant was he needed to get started now that he had decided on something.

Bolitho saw Sheaffe's eyes watching, perhaps comparing them, and wondered what he would say if he knew what Nelson had said of his father. Sheaffe was very like his father in one way. Keen said that he had made no friends and in fact avoided any close contact. Not an easy thing in an overcrowded ship of the line.

Bolitho said, "Mr Sheaffe will come with me. Good experience."

"Thank you, Sir Richard." Either Sheaffe did not care what he was being told to do or he had been listening at the screen door.

Allday protested as soon as the others had gone, "You can't go without me, sir!"

"Don't be such an old woman, Allday." He smiled. "I may go ashore, and I'll not have you undoing all the good the surgeon did by dragging you up a mountain." He saw the stubborn light in Allday's eyes and added, "Besides, I think my, er, second cox'n should be given the chance, eh?"

Allday nodded slowly but said mistrustfully, "If you says so, sir.

Bolitho had been right about timing. It was nearly dusk by the time they had the shabby schooner lying under their lee, and when Keen returned he had little to offer. "The master says he sighted a frigate four days ago, sir, could have been a Frenchie. He did not loiter to find out. He is making for Lisbon."

"In that?" Bolitho shook his head. Not only men-of-war had their problems.

But a solitary frigate must be assumed to be an enemy. Nelson had only two, otherwise there was just Barracouta. Spanish then? Unlikely to be sailing without company in these disputed waters. He marked the place on the chart which Keen had gleaned from the trader. Out of Toulon, or trying to get back into that port?