Alexander Kent - THE INSHORE SQUADRON

Herrick could not contain his impatience. 'Don't keep us in suspense, man!'

Browne merely glanced at him. 'The French forces in Malta have surrendered to the British blockading squadron, sir. It happened last month.'

Herrick sounded perplexed. 'Well, surely that's good news? With Malta in our hands the Frenchies will have to tread warily in the Mediterranean in future!'

Browne did not smile. 'It should be known, sir, Tsar Paul of Russia had become the so-called head of the Grand Knights of Malta. When the French captured the island he was furious. This letter explains that the French government had offered to transfer the rule of Malta to the Tsar, knowing full well, of course, that the island would fall to the British anyway.'

Herrick spread his hands. 'I still don't see where we come in?'

Bolitho said quietly, 'The British will not leave Malta, Thomas. It will be too valuable to us, as you just remarked. The French have made a clever move. What better way of turning the Tsar and his friends finally against us? We and not the French are now between him and his precious Knights of Malta.'

Browne said, `That sums it up, sir.'

'Obviously, Sir Samuel Damerum knew nothing of this.

Because of bad weather the news has moved slowly.'

Veitch cleared his throat. 'But you have the letter, sir.' Bolitho smiled gravely. 'I have indeed, thanks to you.' 'Will you act on it, sir?' Browne watched him impassively. Bolitho walked to the windows and stared at the anchored

ships.

`There is no one else here. I think the sooner we act the better.'

Herrick said, 'It's all getting beyond me, sir.'

Bolitho came to a series of decisions. It would all probably be too late, couriers could have reached Copenhagen overland if necessary. But if not, he would get no thanks from the Admiralty for dragging his feet.

'Send for my clerk. I'll make out orders for the brig. Commander Veitch, you may select a prize-crew for her. I want her to go with all speed to Great Yarmouth. Choose an intelligent prize-master, for I'll need him to take my despatches by the fastest means to London.' He looked at Herrick. 'I will shift my flag to Styx. Signal her accordingly.' He saw all the arguments, the protests building up on Herrick's round face and added quietly, 'I'd not ask you to take Benbow under the batteries of Elsinore, Thomas, if we are already at war! And if we are still at peace, a frigate will present a less threatening image.'

His clerk, Yovell, was already in the cabin, opening up his little writing desk which he kept available for such occasions.

Bolitho looked at Veitch. 'You will take over Styx 's duties for the present.'

From a corner of his eye he saw Yovell preparing his pens and ink ready to write new orders for the brig, a report for the Admiralty, a sentence of death, too, if that was asked of him.

To Herrick he said, 'You will command the squadron until I return, If I am longer than a week without sending word, you will act accordingly.'

Herrick saw he was beaten. 'And when will you leave?'

'I hope to be aboard Styx and under way before we lose the light.

After Herrick and Veitch had left to carry out his instructions, Bolitho asked the lieutenant, 'Do you think I am acting unwisely?' He saw Browne's rare uncertainty and added, `Come on, man, you should know me better after more than a week at sea together. I'll not bite off your head if I disagree with what you say. But I may not heed it either.'

Browne shrugged. 'In a way I share the flag captain's apprehension, sir. I know your background, and I have read of many of your past exploits with admiration.' He looked Bolitho straight in the eyes. `Like Captain Herrick, I see you as a fighting sailor, not as a diplomat.'

Bolitho recalled his visit to Damerum's flagship. He had thought it strange then that Damerum had not taken the initiative himself. He was a senior flag officer and well respected. Most such men would have expected it, demanded it in many cases.

Browne added quietly, 'But you are left with little room for manoeuvre now, sir. I would merely suggest, from my own experience with Admiral Sir George Beauchamp, that you tread warily. A victor is one thing, but a scapegoat is often more easily discovered.'

Herrick came back rubbing his hands. He looked cold.

` Styx has acknowledged our signal, sir. May I suggest you take some extra hands with you?' He grinned ruefully. 'I know there's no point in me protesting any more, so I took the liberty of telling Mr Wolfe to detail thirty seamen and a couple of junior officers. One lieutenant, and I thought a midshipman for messages and so forth.'

Bolitho nodded. 'That was thoughtful, Thomas. I think Captain Neale will appreciate it, too.'

Herrick sighed. 'Captain Neale.' He shook his head. 'I still think of him as that greasy cherub we pushed through the venthole!'

Bolitho steadied his thoughts again. They were too often racing ahead like halliards gone mad and fouling their blocks.

What Browne had said made sense.

'Well, Yovell, write what I shall tell you.'

Herrick was about to leave again and asked, 'Which

lieutenant, sir?'

Mr Pascoe.' He smiled. 'But I expect you already thought of that, too!'

Allday and Ozzard carried a small chest of Bolitho's clothing and personal effects and laid it in the Styx 's stern cabin. Captain John Neale watched Bolitho's reactions as he looked around and said, 'I hope you will be comfortable, sir.'

– Neale had not changed all that much. He was just a larger edition of the chubby midshipman whom Herrick had described. But he wore his rank and command well, and had used his early experience to good effect.

Bolitho replied, 'It brings back memories, Captain Neale. Some bad, but many good ones.'

He saw Neale shifting his feet, eager to be off.

'You carry on, Captain. Get your ship under way again and make as much progress as you can. Benboui s sailing master assures me there will be fog about.'

Neale grimaced. That could be dangerous in the narrows, sir. But if old Grubb says fog, then fog there will be!'

He left the cabin with a nod to Allday, who murmured admiringly, 'He's not spoiled, sir. Always liked him.'

Bolitho hid a smile. 'Spoiled? He's a King's officer, Allday, not a piece of salt pork!'

From the quarterdeck they heard Neale shouting lustily, 'Get_ under way, Mr Pickthorn! Hands to the braces, roundly, if you please! And I'll want the t'gan's'ls on her once we clear the anchorage!'

Feet pounded along the decks, and Bolitho felt the cabin dip as Styx responded willingly to the sudden press of canvas. He sat down; on the bench seat and surveyed the cabin slowly. He had commanded three frigates during his service. The last one, the thirty-six-gun Tempest, had been down in the Great South Sea. That was when they had first heard about the bloody revolution in France. The war had started soon afterwards, and had gone on ever since.

He wondered if Pascoe was exploring the ship, mulling over his uncle's promise to help him get an early transfer. It would be painful to lose him so quickly again. Anything else would be selfishness, Bolitho knew.

Allday murmured, `We're passing abeam of Benbow, sir:' He smiled. `She looks big from down here!'

Bolitho watched her as she slid away across the frigate's quarter. Black and buff, shining with spray and damp air. Her upper yards and loosely furled canvas did look hazy, so Grubb's prediction was coming true already. That would give Herrick something else to worry about.

Eventually, Browne came aft to report that Styx was standing well clear of the anchorage, and that Pascoe had arranged for the additional seamen to be quartered throughout the ship.

He said, almost as an afterthought, `The captain seems to think we can make good time around the point, but after that he believes the fog will come down.'