Alexander Kent - Signal-Close Action!

Bolitho watched him impassively. "Why? Because of Captain. Probyn? The influence he has used on you to unsettle the flagship's affairs?" He saw the astonishment on his face and continued, "I knew that something was wrong. No man who wished to better his position in the Navy, and wanted to marry his captain's sister, would have acted so foolishly, unless he was affeared of something."

"Yes, sir. It was from a long while back. My father was sent to prison for debt. He was a sick man, and I knew he could not endure it. He was. weak in many ways and had no one to sustain him." He spoke fiercely, reliving his despair. "I borrowed money from the wardroom funds which we had built up to pay for extra wine and fresh food whenever possible. I intended to return it when I could. The first lieutenant found out about it. Made me write a confession which he threatened to use if I ever failed in my duty again. "

"He did wrong, Mr. Gilchrist. As did you."

Gilchrist did not seem to hear. "When I came to Lysander, and eventually became senior lieutenant," I thought I was going to be safe. I admired Captain Herrick, and I found his sister, crippled though she is, a most gracious person. Then we joined the squadron under your flag, sir. And with it came the Nicator and Captain Probyn."

"Your old first lieutenant from the past. "

"Aye, sir."

So that was it. All the years since his capture by the enemy, Probyn had nursed his hatred for Bolitho, the one face in his memory which he could reach and hurt. And when he had found Gilchrist again, he had been prepared to use threats to make him force a breach between himself and Herrick.

The effect on Herrick had been for the good. But it had cost others dearly, and had indirectly put Farquhar to an early death.

Gilchrist said desperately, "After your kindness, sir, I’d not allow myself to profit further at your expense." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "And my father died anyway. For nothing. "

Bolitho watched the other ships through the salt-caked windows. Buzzard would be safe now, he thought. Lighter without her guns, strong in the knowledge that she could avoid any sort of fight or manoeuvre beyond survival. She would survive.

He said quietly, "I am giving you Osiris's surgeon. They say he is a sound doctor. Take good care of our wounded. They have suffered enough. Do not allow them to be left stranded at Gibraltar." He turned, seeing the surprise and gratitude on Gilchrist's face. "I am counting on your vigilance, on their behalf."

Gilchrist nodded dazedly. "You have my word, sir." "Then get about your business." Bolitho could not bear to watch his emotion. Like a man released from a great weight of worry. From the shadow of the gallows itself. "You’ve a lot to do."

Gilchrist walked towards the screen door, his long legs ungainly, his steps without their usual bounce. He turned aft, his face in shadow.

"I’ll tell them when I get home, sir. About what we did… "

"Just tell them we tried, Mr. Gilchrist."

He heard him walking very slowly towards the quarter- deck.

Allday came out of the sleeping cabin, his face grave. "Let me pour you a glass of wine." He glanced meaningly at the closed door. "You were too easy on that one, sir, if you"l1 pardon the liberty."

"He learned a hard lesson, Allday. I think others will profit from it one day."

Allday watched him sipping the wine. "What about Cap"n Probyn, sir?"

Bolitho smiled sadly. "A good question. But he’ll fight when he has to. " He looked at Allday. "Three captains. It is all "we have. Personal differences must wait their turn." Allday grinned. "We do have a commodore, sir. And with all respect, he's not a bad one at that."

Bolitho smiled at him. "Go to hell, Allday."

"Aye, sir. I don’tdoubt I will." He made for the door. "If there's any deck space with so many flag officers in residence!"

Bolitho walked to the windows and leaned against the warm timbers. All the weeks and delays, the hopes raised and dashed, and now he saw a point in it all.

He thought of Gilchrist. Tell them we tried. It sounded like an epitaph.

He stirred himself and put down the glass.

It would be dusk in five or six hours. He needed to be under way by then. The wind aiding instead of hampering, and this" time the objective would be far too big to miss.

In the following days while the three ships sailed east and south, each watch passed much like the one before. Bolitho deployed his small force in line abreast, with Lysander to the north and the Immortalite to the south.

The wind became sluggish and uncertain but maintained its south-westerly direction, so that after losing station during each night, Bolitho worked through the longer hours of daylight to regain his extended line. In the centre, Probyn's Nicator was a constant reminder of what Gilchrist had admit- ted. The weak link, but still the only man with experience enough to handle his two-decker in battle. Nearly three miles separated each ship, and with carefully chosen lookouts, he hoped the area covered would betray some sign, or an out- flung patrol of the enemy's strength.

He had sent Inch away ahead of the squadron, to use his agility and speed to reach Alexandria well ahead of his heavier consorts. Only after he had received Inch's report could he release him to carry his final information to the fleet.

Day by day, with the sun getting hotter, and the first sweeping wave of excitement giving way to a more realistic attitude of resignation. Gun drill was carried out whenever possible, as much to keep the hands occupied as to incorporate the newly-joined men into their team. Herrick had told him that the purser was opening some of the lower tiers of salt beef and pork. And there was no fruit, and barely enough water to drink, let alone use for personal comfort.

In Lysander, Herrick did his best to keep his men busy on watch, and involved in their own entertainment once the sun had departed at the end of each long day. Hornpipes, and" wrestling, a prize of a double rum ration for the most original piece of ropework. In many ways it was harder to think of new ideas than to keep the hands at work and drills.

Bolitho hoped that Javal and Probyn were acting with equal vigour to sustain their own companies. For if they failed to find the enemy this time, there would still be no relief. Just a long, relentless haul back to Syracuse, or to some other mark on the chart which their commodore thought profitable.

Several times Bolitho received signals from Javal that he had sighted the northernmost coast of Africa, but otherwise it seemed as if they had the sea to themselves.

Arguments began to break out, and a knife fight ended in a man being badly gashed, and the other flogged senseless as a grim reminder of discipline.

Then, when Bolitho was starting to worry for Harebell" s safety, the masthead sighted the sloop beating up from the south-east. It took another full day for Inch to draw near, and when he eventually arrived on board, his news was like a slap in the face.

He had sighted the Pharos and had sailed as near as he could to Alexandria. As before, it was empty but for the elderly Turkish men-of-war. Perplexed as to what to do, Inch had gone about, and almost by accident had fallen on a small Genoese trading vessel. Her master had confirmed what Bolitho had believed from the start. After leaving Naples, Nelson had sailed direct to Alexandria, but finding it empty, had led his fleet back to the west again. How far, and to what purpose, Bolitho could only guess, but he could imagine the little admiral searching out information from Syracuse or Naples, and trying to determine what action to take.

The Genoese trader also told Inch's boarding party that he had heard of heavy French ships of war off the Cretan coast.

That had been,many days ago. Despite all the questions, comparing of charts, even threats, the trader could not be more definite.