Alexander Kent - Signal-Close Action!

Bolitho nodded. "Be seated, gentlemen. I will be as brief as I can."

He waited impassively as they scrambled for chairs and sea chests, the most comfortable places going to the most senior, until a mere handful of midshipmen were left nothing but the hard deck to sit upon.

Bolitho said, "The flag captain will have told you what we are about. The bones of the plan are that we shall close the land on the day after tomorrow at first light and destroy what enemy shipping we cannot take as prizes. "

He saw two of the midshipmen nudging each other cheer- fully. One he recognised as Saxby, his wide, gap-toothed grin as broad as if he had just been promised a month's leave on full pay.

"If the wind goes against us we will stand off and act accordingly." He glanced at Grubb's battered face. "But the master has promised full co-operation from a higher authority than mine."

There was laughter" and a good deal of humour at Grubb's expense. He remained immovable in their midst, but Bolitho could see the pleasure his comment had given him. He knew Herrick was watching him all the time. He of all people would see through his mask, his efforts to show the assembled officers that their commodore was a man beyond and above inner despair.

Bolitho had lost many good friends at sea. There was no friendship stronger than one born in the demanding hardship of a man 0" war. Sea and disease, the sword or a cannon's harvest had pared away many such faces. It was no wonder that these men could accept Pascoe's absence. Hardly any of them had been together long enough to know the pain of such a loss.

He realised they had fallen silent, that he must have been standing for several seconds without speaking.

Almost harshly he continued, "To create as much confusion as possible, we will land Lysander's marines under cover of darkness."

He sought out Major Leroux who was sitting, arms folded and stiff-backed, beside his lieutenant. He had met Leroux only formally, but he had been impressed. It was always difficult to break the inbuilt contempt for the marines, the "bullocks", which was common amongst most ships" companies. Their rigid ideas of drill and organised discipline in the worst of situations were at odds with the more casual and boisterous behaviour of the average seaman. Bolitho had come up against many marine officers, and although he had soon grown to respect their loyalty and prowess in battle, he had rarely discovered one who had displayed much initiative. Nepean, the marine lieutenant, for instance, was fairly typical. Impeccably dressed and ready to answer the call to duty at any hour, his eyes had the empty glassiness of one quite happy to obey rather than to lead.

But Major Jermyn Leroux was totally different. Tall and square-shouldered, he had the outward appearance of a scholar, despite his military bearing. Bolitho had spoken with him on the quarterdeck about the training and recruitment of his marines, but never once had Leroux made an idle boast, or suggested he could offer something beyond his means.

He said, "I will discuss the final details with you tomorrow, Major."

Leroux nodded. He had still, rather sad eyes, and an expression of a man who felt strangely out of place.

He replied, "Allowing for marines who are sick and otherwise unfit for duty, sir, I can muster ninety men."

"That will be sufficient." Bolitho turned to Herrick. 'swivels in the boats, and grapnels in case we need to scale any defences." He did not wait for any comment but added, "When Captain Javal took the schooner there was a need for stealth. This time I want our force to seem far greater than it really is."

One of the eighteen-pounders which shared the wardroom with its occupants squeaked slightly against its lashings as Lysander dipped her massive bulk into a trough. Bolitho. heard faint shouts from the watch on deck, the groan of the rudder beneath the counter as the helm was corrected.

He said, "We have rare freedom to act as we choose on this mission. We must lose no opportunity to discover what the enemy is planning. Neither can we turn from the chance to damage his security." He looked at Herrick. "If there are any questions?"

Gilchrist stood up, his forehead partly hidden by a deck beam. "Will there be no seamen in the landing party, sir?"

"A minimum." Bolitho kept his voice calm. "The bay which Lysander will have to enter and cross may be well defended. There will certainly be a battery of sorts, even if it is only light artillery. Captain Herrick will need every available hand on brace and gun tackle, I can assure you. "

The hint of action ran round the wardroom like wind through ripe com. But Gilchrist stood his ground, his bony figure angled slightly to the deck's tilt..

He asked, "Major Leroux will be in overall charge then?" "No, Mr. Gilchrist." He felt Herrick stiffen at his side. "I will."

Gilchrist gave what could have been a shrug. "A risk surely, sir." He glanced at the other officers like someone sure of an audience. "We were all grieved to hear of Mr.

Pascoe's er-disappearance. To invite another disaster in your own family…"

Bolitho looked down at his hands. It was strange that he could hold them so still when he felt like seizing the man and beating him senseless.

He replied calmly, "If Captain Herrick has no objection I am taking you ashore with me, Mr. Gilchrist. You will be able to see for yourself where the value of risk may lie." Gilchrist stared at him then at Herrick. He stammered, "Thank you, sir, it is an honour. "He sat down without another word.

Herrick said, "If nobody else has anything to offer?" Lieutenant Fitz-Clarence stood up and gave Bolitho a determined stare. "We will show them, sir! God help me, we’ll pistol the vermin!" He was almost glowing with excitement. In his mind's eye he probably saw Gilchrist already dead and himself as first lieutenant.

Bolitho gave him a nod. "Well said, Mr. Fitz-Clarence.

But mark this. "He looked around the wardroom. "All of you. Whatever you may think of the Dons, do not imagine they are like the French. When this war began the French fleet was almost in irons for want of good senior officers. Far too many were senselessly butchered in the Terror, merely to placate a mob. But that is over and done with. New men with fresh ideas are alive in their fleet. The handful of older officers who survived the guillotine are respected again, and their zeal will be all the sharper now that they know the price of failure. Armies can fight bravely under almost any conditions known to man. But without power over the sea lanes, without the life-blood of supplies and replacements they are like marooned sailors, halfway to a living death."

Fitz-Clarence was still on his feet, but his face had lost some of its assurance.

He said lamely, "Well, sir, I am still confident of our success. "

Herrick waited for him to be seated. His blue eyes were fixed on Bolitho. "Perhaps you would care to join me in my cabin?"

"Thank you. "Bolitho picked up his hat. "My throat is dry." He walked between the silent officers, knowing the air would explode into supposition and general excitement once the door was shut behind him.

Outside the wardroom Herrick said quietly, "Let me go sir. I asked before. Now I’m pleading."

They walked in silence to the ladder and up again to the next group of cabins.

Herrick threw open the door of his quarters and gestured to his servant to leave. As Bolitho seated himself by the table he opened his cabinet and produced a bottle of claret.

Bolitho watched him, seeing all the arguments building up in his friend's mind as he busied himself with the glasses. If, some other seventy-four was wearing the commodore's broad pendant Herrick would have the great stern cabin to himself. Strangely enough, it was hard to see him there.