Alexander Kent - THE INSHORE SQUADRON

It was always a strange feeling when ships met each other. Those which had been at sea for a long period were always craving for news from home. The new arrivals had the additional anxiety of ignorance about what might be waiting for them.

His flag lieutenant strode across the quarterdeck, his face pinched with the keen air.

Bolitho said, `There is the admiral's flagship. The secondrate.'

Browne nodded. 'The Tantalus, sir. Captain Walton.' He sounded as if he did not much care.

'You will come across with me.' He smiled grimly. 'To ensure that I do not do something indiscreet.'

Herrick said, 'It might all blow over, sir. And we'll be back at Spithead for orders before you know it.'

Bolitho was in his cabin collecting his despatches from the strongbox when a clatter of blocks and the stiff crack of canvas told him that Beenbow, was coming about under shortened sail so that the barge could be lowered safely alongside.

When he went on deck again the scene had changed once more. The admiral's ships, moving very slowly under fully braced topsails, were like an enemy fleet, with Benbow about to break through their line of battle. It was only too easy to picture, and although many of,Benbow's people had never heard a shot fired in anger, Bolitho, like Herrick and some of the others, had seen it many times.

'Barge alongside, sir.' Herrick hurried towards him, -his face lined with the responsibility of controlling his ship and the rest of the squadron in Bolitho's absence.

'I will be as quick as I can, Thomas.' He tugged his hat firmly across his head, seeing the marines at the entry port, the boatswain's mates moistening their silver calls on their lips in readiness to speed him on his way. 'The admiral will not wish me to be an enforced guest if the sea gets up again, eh?'

A midshipman, unusually neat and tidy, was standing in the pitching barge, and beside him Allday was at the tiller, his rightful place. He must have impressed upon somebody that the rear-admiral would prefer his coxswain to a ship's lieutenant. If Allday got his way, the next time there would be no midshipman either, he thought. Browne, too, was in the boat, somehow managing to appear elegant.

`Attention in the boat!'

The calls shrilled, and Bolitho jumped the last few feet into the sternsheets as the barge rose sluggishly against Benbow's rounded flank.

'Bear off forrard! Give way all!'

Once clear of the two-decker's lee, the barge dipped and staggered through the waves like a dolphin. When Bolitho glanced at the midshipman he saw that his face was already ashen. His name was Graham, and he was seventeen, one of the senior 'young gentlemen'. His chances of promotion to lieutenant might be marred if he was sick in the barge carrying his admiral to meet another.

'Sit down, Mr Graham.' He saw the youth staring at him, startled at being addressed by one so senior. 'It will be a lively pull yet.' r

'Th-thank you, sir.' He sank down gratefully. 'I shall be all right, sir.'

Across his shoulders Allday grinned broadly at the stroke oarsman. Only Bolitho would bother about a mere midshipman. The funny part was, that Allday knew the luckless Graham had been eating some pie he had brought from England. It had doubtless been going mouldy when he had. stepped aboard. After days at sea in a damp, cheerless midshipman's berth, it must be as near poison as made no difference.

Bolitho's arrival aboard Damerum's flagship was no less noisy than his departure from his own.

He got a hasty impression of glittering bayonets and red coats, of stiff-faced lieutenants, and then the admiral himself, thrusting forward to meet him.

'Come aft, Bolitho. God's teeth, this chill is enough to pierce your marrow!'

The Tantalus was a good deal larger than the Benbow, and Damerum's quarters more lavish than Bolitho had ever seen in a King's ship. Apart from the movement, and the muffled shipboard noises, it could have been part of a rich chamber. If the ship ever had to clear for action in a hurry, the fine drapes and expensive French furniture would suffer badly.

Damerum gestured towards a chair while a servant took Bolitho's hat and boat-cloak.

'Sit you down, sir, and let's have a good look at you, eh?'

Bolitho sat. Sir Samuel Damerum, Knight of the Bath, Admiral of the Red, was, at a guess, in his early fifties. He had a brisk, lively way of moving and speaking, but his greying hair, and an obvious thickening about his middle which even an immaculately tailored waistcoat could not conceal, made him seem older.

He said, `So you're Richard Bolitho.' His gaze fell briefly on the gold medal which Bolitho wore around his neck for this formal visit. 'The Nile medal, no less.' He shook his head. 'Some people have all the luck.' In the same quick manner he changed tack again. 'How's the squadron?' He did not wait but added, 'You took longer to reach me than I'd hoped, but can't be helped, what?'

Bolitho said, 'I'm sorry about that, sir. Bad weather, raw landsmen. The usual.'

Damerum rubbed his hands, and as if by sorcery a servant appeared.

'Brandy, man. And not that muck we keep for captains!' He chuckled. 'God, what a war, Bolitho. On and on. No damn end to it.'

Bolitho waited, not yet at ease with this erratic man. He spoke a lot, but so far had said nothing.

Bolitho said, 'My flag captain is sending some stores across for you, sir.'

'Stores?' The admiral's eyes were on the brandy and the two glasses which his servant had carried to a table. 'Oh, yes. Mr Fortnum, my grocer in London, does his best to keep me supplied, y'know. Not easy these days.'

Bolitho did not know who Mr Fortnum was, but felt he should have done.

The brandy was mellow and warming. Much of it and Bolitho knew he would be asleep if he was not careful. 'Well, Bolitho, you will know that you are to assume the duties of the inshore squadron. The Danish affair seems to have cooled down for the present, but my information is that the Tsar of Russia is eager to join with the French against us. You know about the pact he has been trying to make with Sweden?' Again he did not wait for an answer but hurried on. 'Well, he is still set on that idea. In addition, he has the backing of Prussia. Together they may force the Danes against us also. It is never easy to live in peace next to a raging lion!'

Bolitho pictured his small squadron trying to stem the advance of the combined Baltic fleets. Beauchamp had said that his task would not be an easy one.

'Will we enter the Baltic, sir?'

Damerum signalled to his servant for the glasses to be refilled.

'Yes and no. A great show of strength would be wrongly interpreted. Tsar Paul would use it to fan the flames. We'd be at war in a week, But a smaller force, yours, can go with peaceful intent. My ships are known to all the spies who flit past my frigates. It will soon be common knowledge that a new squadron is here. Smaller, and so a lessening of tension and suspicion all round.' He smiled, showing very even teeth. 'Besides which, Bolitho, if there was real trouble we are helpless until next year. March at the earliest. We could not get to grips with the Tsar's ships while they are in harbour, so we must wait for the winter ice to melt. Until then,' he fixed Bolitho with a calm stare, `you will keep an eye on things at close quarters.' He chuckled. `At very close quarters to begin with. You are instructed to enter Copenhagen and meet with a British official there.'

Bolitho stared at him. 'Surely you, as senior officer, would be a better choice, sir?'

'Your concern does you credit. But we have to tread warily. Too junior an officer and the Danes will feel slighted. Too senior and they will see this for something sinister, a threat perhaps.' He wagged a finger. 'No, a young rear-admiral would be about right. The Admiralty believes so, and I have confirmed my support.'