Alexander Kent - THE INSHORE SQUADRON

They stood back from each other, neither able to speak further.

Then Bolitho said, Take care, Adam. I'll be thinking of you.' Pascoe tossed some hair back from his forehead and jammed his hat on his head.

`And I'll be looking for your flag, Uncle.'

Then he turned blindly and almost blundered into Allday who was waiting outside the door.

Allday said bluntly, `He knows then, sir?' `Aye, he does.'

Allday padded past him to look for a dean goblet.

Then he said, `Bursting with it, he was, fair bursting!' He nodded with grim approval. 'Just as well, seeing it was you what looked after him. Otherwise, luff or not, I'd have put the young devil across my knee!'

Bolitho sipped the drink without even noticing what it was. In two days or so they would be fighting for their lives.

But the ghost was driven out, once and for all.

Lieutenant the Honourable Oliver Browne lowered his telescope and said, 'Signal repeated from Elephant, sir. The Inshore Squadron will anchor when ready.'

Bolitho, too, had a glass to his eye, but he was studying the long, overlapping folds of the land. It never seemed to get any nearer, but held a strange menace, as if the whole shore-line was waiting for their first move into the channel.

The burden on individual captains was severe in these enclosed waters, but with a commander like Nelson some of the strain was removed. There would be no unnecessary signals, no wasted time, and Bolitho guessed that the Hero of the Nile must have worked on Hyde Parker to get him to a point of attack so quickly.

All day, as the squadrons and distant patrols had headed south through the Kattegat, Bolitho had felt the finality of it. With the coasts of Sweden and Denmark on either beam, even when invisible, it was like leading his ships into a poacher's bag.

Even now, with brigs and ships' boats under sail darting through the ponderous lines of two-deckers, there would be unseen eyes watching their movements. Nelson had signalled the whole fleet to anchor, even though he knew Bolitho's squadron would get under way again as soon as it was dark. He rarely forgot anything. He had even shifted his flag from the big ninety-eight-gun St George to the Elephant because the latter was smaller and had a shallower draught so that she could get closer to the shore without grounding.

Bolitho lowered the glass and glanced around at the familiar faces of the watch on deck.

Old Grubb, squinting at his traverse-board with his master's mates. Wolfe, staring up at the maintop where some marines were exercising with a swivel-gun on the barricade. Browne, standing almost knee-deep in bright flags as his midshipman and assistants brought down another hoist of signals from the yards.

And Herrick, he seemed to be everywhere, as usual.

Bolitho said, 'Anchor when it suits you.' He glanced at the masthead pendant. `Wind's dropped a bit. It has to be perfect for our work.'

Herrick nodded and crossed to join the sailing master by the wheel.

'Be ready to box the ship off, Mr Grubb.' To Wolfe he called, `Shorten sail. Take in the t'gan's'ls and maincourse, if you please.'

Calls shrilled again and men dashed to their stations for reducing Benbow's display of canvas.

Bolitho watched them, the patterns they made as they scurried up the ratlines to the topgallant yards, or loosened belaying pins while they awaited the next order from aft. Hardly any hesitation now, even amongst the latest recruits or pressed hands. Men not ships. Herrick's comment of six months back seemed to be fixed in his mind.

He saw Midshipman Penels by the-mizzen shrouds, dwarfed by a boatswain's mate and a handful of seamen. He moved like a puppet and rarely showed interest in anything around him. Herrick had told Bolitho about Pascoe's visit, how he had tried to defend what Penels had done. The rights and wrongs seemed small in comparison with the next few days, and only Babbage's unfortunate death was indisputable fact.

Herrick had been unusually uncharitable about Penels. 'Not fit to receive a commission, sir. A mother's boy. I should never have accepted him.'

Bolitho thought he could understand Herrick's attitude, just as he could sympathize with Pascoe's rash attempt to recover the deserter.

Herrick had never had an easy time. From a poor family, he had been made to win each single advance without favour in high places. But he loved the Navy all the more because he had earned it, and seemed unshakable when it came to others less determined.

When Bolitho had tried to find some excuse for Penels' behaviour, Herrick had said scathingly, `See the Styx over yonder, sir? Her captain was Penels' age when we put down that 'bloody mutiny together! I didn't hear him moaning for his mother!'

But whatever the outcome, Penels would have to stand the

hardship and horror of battle with everyone else in the fleet. Bolitho made up his mind and beckoned to his flag lieutenant. 'Yes, sir?'

Browne more than anyone seemed to have thrived on the austere life at sea and monotonous food. The change from Admiralty to wardroom had been remarkable.

'Young Penels. Could you use him in your party?'

'Well, sir.' His face cleared of protest as quickly as it had appeared. 'If so ordered, I could.' He gave a gentle smile. 'Of course, sir, I could make the point that but for him Babbage would be alive, or at best still running for his life. Your nephew would not have been called out, and you, sir?'

'What about me?'

'I'll take him, sir. I have just remembered something. But for your nephew's challenge you would not have ridden me raw to Portsmouth. In which case your lady might not have come after you.'

Bolitho swung away. 'Damn you to hell for your impertinence! You are as bad as my coxswain. No wonder Sir George Beauchamp was glad to be rid of you!'

Browne smiled at his back. 'Sir George has an eye for the ladies, sir. Quite unfairly, of course, he may have seen me as a rival.'

'Of course.' Bolitho smiled. 'I did wonder.'

In plodding procession the four ships of the line headed into the wind to drop anchor while their smaller consorts stood further to windward before following suit. Even here, with so many ships in company, you could never drop the guard against attack, either singly or in strength.

Eventually, Herrick lowered his telescope, apparently satisfied.

'All anchored, sir.'

'Very well, Thomas.' They walked away from the nearest seamen and Bolitho added, 'At dusk you can put the people to work. Rig top-chains to the yards and have nets spread in good time. There will be little moving in the channel after dark, but there may be just one vessel to raise an alarm. We must be ready. If the worst happens and we touch ground, we must be lively and warp her off without delay.'

Herrick nodded, glad to share his own views and anxieties. 'Benbow is sheathed with the best Anglesey copper, but I'd not risk it on the bottom hereabouts!-'

He paused to watch some men hurrying past with buckets of grease and fat. Every loose bit of tackle, from driver-boom to capstan, had to be well covered with it.

From a deck of a ship at night the sounds of wind and sails seemed terrifyingly loud, but, in fact, it was the isolated metallic noise which carried best across the water.

Herrick said, 'The selected boats from the squadron will begin sounding as soon as we are under way. It will give them confidence and practice. When we are through, or if we are attacked, I have ordered the boats to return to their ships only if they do not impede progress. Styx can collect them later if need be.'

Bolitho looked at him searchingly. Even in the dying light Herrick's eyes were clear and blue.

'I think we have thought of everything, Thomas. Beyond that, your Lady Luck will have to give us some assistance.'