Alexander Kent - Signal-Close Action!

"Game?"

Probyn tapped the side of his nose. "Y'see? You didn"t even suspect. The first lieutenant was always on at me. The captain's lickspittle. And that other lieutenant, the one who got killed, he was a crawler."

Bolitho stood up and walked to the wine cabinet, seeing Kate's face and hearing her infectious laugh when she had given it to him. She would laugh at him now, if she were here. How she despised the ways of true authority.

He said sharply, "Apart from the very junior lieutenants then, that only left you and me." He poured himself a glass of claret, waving Ozzard away as he continued. "I remember that ship in many ways, but one of the things which I recall most clearly, and which has come back to me during this last week, was the way you drank." He swung round, seeing the sudden alarm on Probyn" s face. 'several times that I knew of, men were flogged because of things which you had done wrong. Do you remember the night watches which others had to perform because you were too much in your cups to get on deck? That lickspittle you just mentioned saw to it that the captain knew nothing about it. But by God, Probyn, if I’d been your captain, I’d have made certain you never did it twice!"

Probyn lurched to his feet, his great shadow reaching towards Bolitho like a curtain.

"Indeed you would! Like the time we took two prizes! I was put in charge of the first. A rotten, worm-infested hulk, that's all she was! I never stood a chance when the enemy ship came after me!" He was squinting with fierce concentration, his face and throat wet with sweat. "It was deliberate, to get rid of me!"

"You were senior to me. The prize was yours by right.

What about a previous one? A little schooner? You were supposed to take her into New York, but a master's mate went in your place. "

He watched his words slamming home, the fuddled way which Probyn" s eyes were swivelling around the cabin as if to discover answers.

Bolitho said harshly, "You were drunk then. Admit it, man."

Probyn sat down very slowly, his hands shaking as he supported himself on the arms of the chair.

"I’ll admit nothing." He looked up, his reddened eyes filled with hate. 'sir."

'so you’ve nothing more to tell me about Nicator's grounding?"

The question seemed to take him momentarily off guard.

Then Probyn said, "I have made a full and proper report." He thrust his hands under the table. "And I have taken sworn statements from those of the watch who were involved." He leaned forward, his drink-sodden face crafty as he added, "If there is a court of enquiry, I will produce those statements. One of which may incriminate the officer of the watch, an admiral's nephew, by the way. And it may be thought that you were not unbiased, sir. That you were levelling old scores by having my reputation tarnished."

He fell back, startled, as Bolitho stood up, his eyes blazing with contempt.

"Don’t you bargain with me! A week back we struck a blow against the enemy, but the harm which was done to our people was more deeply felt! But for Lysander's arrival, and Buzzard's support, yours would be the only ship afloat today! Think on these things the next time you dare to talk of bias or honour!"

He called for Ozzard and added, "You may return to your ship now. But remember, what cannot be proved is nevertheless between us. The squadron is undermanned, and officered for the most part by inexperienced youngsters. For that reason alone, I am not holding an official court of enquiry. "

Herrick appeared in the door with Ozzard, but stayed very still as Bolitho said, "But hear me, Captain Probyn. If I ever discover that your failure to give support was deliberate, or that at any time in the future you act against the interests of this squadron, I will see you hanged for it!"

Probyn snatched his hat from Ozzard and lurched blindly from the cabin.

When Herrick returned he found Bolitho as before, staring at Probyn" s empty chair with an expression of disgust.

He said, "That was an ugly side of me, Thomas. But by God, I meant every word of it!"

It was nearer to two weeks before Bolitho could hoist his signal to up anchor and leave their sheltering islet. Even then, the ships were plagued by fierce gusts of gale force, and. it soon became apparent that Buzzard's damage was worse than Javal had realised. His men worked through every watch on the pumps without a break, and with the limited resources he had aboard, he used all spare timber and canvas for the most severe hull damage.

After the savagery of battle, the elation at seeing Lysander thrusting her bows through smoke and falling spray, this renewed effort by the weather to delay their every move was all the more disheartening.

As the ships became scattered, and worked back and forth on varying tacks to gain headway into equally determined south-westerly winds, Bolitho was thankful they had not sighted an enemy squadron across their path. His. crews were worn out by constant work, and with each ship left underhanded because of dead and wounded, he knew that any sort of a victory would fall to the opposing side.

Perle, the captured French corvette, had made off with his despatches, and he knew that Herrick was still worrying about Lieutenant Fitz-Clarence" s ability to make the right landfall and pass his information to the admiral at Gibraltar.

Perhaps he should have directed Perle to sail directly to Gibraltar. But if his news was to reach all available sources of communication, he knew that Fitz-Clarence must first call at Syracuse.

He was pacing his cabin, his chin on his chest, his body angled to the ship's tilt, when he heard the cry, "Deck there! Sail to the nor"-west!"

For once he was unable to restrain himself, and without waiting for a message from the quarterdeck, he hurried from the cabin to join Herrick and the other officers at the rail.

Herrick touched his hat. "You heard then, sir?"

"Aye, Thomas."

Bolitho ran his eyes quickly along the upper gun deck. Due to the weather and the necessary delays while repairs were carried out, it was a month since they had watched the French supply vessels sinking and burning under their bombardment. Since Farquhar had died with so many of his men. And Nicator had gone aground.

The men who were by the bulwarks and gangways, or standing in the shrouds in the hopes of sighting the new- comer, looked tougher, he thought. Herrick had done well. It was not easy for common seamen to understand what was happening beyond their own ship. Some captains did not bother to tell them, but Herrick, as always, had tried to explain whenever he could the reasons and the rewards.

Had Farquhar remained in Lysander, he would have benefited from Herrick's example. These men, Bolitho knew, would have given that bit extra as the ship had drifted towards the sandbars, her master dead, and the helm shot away.

He looked up sharply as a lookout yelled, " "Tis the Harebell, sir!"

Herrick grinned, his face shedding some of the strain as he said, "Good old Inch! I was beginning to wonder what had happened to him!"

They watched the sloop's sails growing out of the horizon, the steep angle of her masts as she crammed on more canvas to run down on the squadron.

Bolitho saw the changing shadows on the sloop's topsails, and found himself pleading that the wind would not choose this moment to desert them. The thought of being becalmed, with Inch and his news too far away to contact, was almost unbearable. And the wind had acted in that fashion several times since they had sailed from the Greek islands. Strong to gale force, and then breathing away to nothing, the sodden decks and sails steaming in fierce sunlight, the ships motion- less, like men beaten senseless in a brawl.

Herrick asked softly, "What d"you think, sir? Good or bad news?"