Alexander Kent - Signal-Close Action!

He turned to look for Harebells lithe shape, but she was stem-on, her braced topsails very pale against the sky.

He said, "We must deploy our ships to best advantage, Thomas. Alter course directly and steer due north on the larboard tack."

Across the heaving water he heard the staccato beat of drums, and pictured Nicator" s seamen and marines hurrying to quarters.

Herrick nodded. "Aye, sir. It’ll be more prudent. I’ll have the signal bent on, once Nicator has acknowledged. "

'she has, sir!" Glasson's normally sharp voice was hushed..

Veitch snapped, "Then say it, Mr. Glasson! Or your rank will never rise above "acting"!"

Bolitho did not even hear the exchange. He was thinking. Imagining the breadth of an enemy fleet. The control from one or several flagships.

He said, 'send away the quarter boat, Captain Herrick. Have the despatch bag sent over to Harebell." He hesitated. "And any letters there may be for England. "

Shouts echoed along the deck and the boat's crew dashed aft, Yeo, the boatswain, urging them with his powerful voice.

Bolitho looked once more at his pendant. Brighter yet again, but there was not much of a wind. His new course and tack would aid their speed a little, but it would still feel like an age before they got to grips with the enemy.

Pascoe hurried towards him, the heavy bag under his arm. "Boat's ready, sir!"

"Off you go, Adam. Don’t delay, and tell Commander Inch to make all speed to rejoin the fleet."

Herrick asked, "Will we take the wind-gage, d"you think?" "J am not certain." He felt his stomach contract. Hunger? Fear? It was hard to tell. "But if it is the force I imagine, it will be large enough to see."

Veitch came aft again. "Boat's away, sir. Pulling like the devil. "

"Thank you." He pulled out his watch. "You may clear for action in fifteen minutes, Mr. Veitch. In the meantime, make to the squadron, Steer north. When that is completed, make one other. To Form line of battle. "

He walked away as the calls started to shrill and men ran to their stations for altering course. He could leave all that and more to Herrick. Now.

He ducked his head automatically beneath the poop as Grubb yelled, 'stand by at th" braces there!" The wheel was going over, the sails flapping and banging and spattering the men beneath with great droplets of moisture.

In the cabin it seemed very cool, and he sat almost unmoving while Allday gave him a speedy shave and Ozzard plied him with black coffee.

Ozzard said dolefully, "That was the last of it, sir."

He heard Allday mutter, "Never mind. We’ll take some off a Frenchie, eh?"

More stamping feet overhead, and the shriek of blocks and rigging.

Veitch's voice, hollow in his trumpet. "Make fast there!

Belay that brace, Bosun!"

With the lantern giving only a feeble light, the cabin became extra dark, and he imagined the ship heading due north, the others following _in a line astern. Soon now.

There was sudden stillness, broken within seconds by the rattle of drums, sharp and nerve-racking, so that he knew Leroux's little drummer boys were just above the skylight.

The hull trembled, each deck giving its own sound and reaction as screens were tom down, chests and unwanted gear stowed below, and every gun captain bustled around his crew like a mother hen.

Allday stood back and wiped the razor. "Eight minutes, sir. Mr. Veitch is learning your ways."

Bolitho stood up and waited for Ozzard to bring his best coat.

He said, "Captain Farquhar did the honours last time." Their eyes met "I think that is all." He smiled. "But for the sword."

Ozzard watched the pair of them and then darted forward to adjust the bow around Bolitho's black queue.

Bolitho recalled his feelings about Farquhar. Like an actor.

He heard more yells from the upper deck, a clatter of oars as the boat returned alongside.

He looked at Allday, wondering if he was thinking the same. All together. Herrick and Pascoe, Allday and himself.

Bolitho said, "It's time. "

They walked through the screen door, where instead of a dining table and polished chairs there was only open deck, the dark shapes of the waiting guns and their crews stretching away beneath the poop and towards the strengthening day- light.

He strode past the mizzen mast's great trunk and tried not to recall the broadside which had ripped through Osiris's" stem like a bloody avalanche.

Some of the gun crews turned to watch him, their eyes glittering white in the gloom behind the sealed ports.

One man called, "Yew"m a fair zight today, zur!" He was finding courage in the darkness and ignored the harsh threats of a petty officer. "Bet there's no better lookin" sailor in the "ole fleet!"

Bolitho smiled. He knew the accent well. A Cornishman like himself. Perhaps even a face he had seen as a youth, now brought close for this encounter.

He walked past the double wheel and the imperturbable helmsmen. The master and his mates, the midshipman of the watch, little Saxby. And further, to the centre of the quarter deck.

He saw Pascoe, his head and shoulders soaked in spray, speaking in a fierce whisper to Glasson, who had taken charge of the ship's signals.

Pascoe touched his hat to Bolitho and said, "I will go below, sir."

Bolitho nodded, knowing that some of the seamen nearby were watching them curiously. Pascoe's new station was down on the lower gun deck with the great thirty-two- pounders. He had Lieutenant Steere as his superior, and a midshipman to fetch and carry messages. Youth indeed for Lysander's main batteries.

"God be with you, Adam."

"And you," he hesitated, "Uncle." He shot a smile towards Herrick and then hurried down the companion.

"Deck there! Sails in sight on the larboard bow!" Bolitho snapped, "Aloft with you, Mr. Veitch. I’d like a firm opinion this morning."

He stared at the sky, now pale blue and devoid of cloud.

The red blobs of the marine marksmen and swivel gunners in the tops, the great yards and black tarred rigging. A living, vital weapon of war. The most complex and harshly demanding creation of man. Yet in the weak sunlight Lysander had a true beauty, which even her bulk and tonnage could not spoil.

He crossed to the larboard side and clung to the neatly stacked hammock nettings. Harebell was already fighting round in a steep tack, her topsails flapping, her topgallants and maincourse being set even as he watched.

Astern he could see the black lines of Nicator's weather shrouds and tumblehome, but her outline, and Immortalite's, too, were hidden beyond the sloping poop.

Major Leroux ran lightly down a ladder and raised his drawn sword to his hat with a flourish.

"I have arranged my men as you ordered, sir. The best marksmen where they will be unhampered by those less accurate." He smiled, his eyes far-away. "Maybe the French will expect to meet with Nelson?"

Herrick heard him and laughed. "Our gallant admiral must take his turn!"

Veitch returned to the deck by way of a backstay with as much ease as a twelve-year-old midshipman.

He wiped his hands on his coat and said, "It is the enemy fleet, sir. They seem to be steering south-east, and the bulk of it lies well to windward. " He hesitated and then said, "There is a second squadron directly across our bows on a converging Jack, sir. I had a good look at it, and I am certain that one or more of the ships were at Corfu. One of "em was painted in red and black. I saw her just now, as plain as day." Bolitho looked at Herrick and drove one fist into his palm. "De Brueys is holding his main squadron to the west of us, Thomas! He must still expect a chance to meet with our fleet!"

Herrick nodded and said bitterly, "If he only knew that they had already gone from here!"

Bolitho seized his arm. "Mr. Veitch is not mistaken!" He looked at both of them, willing them to understand. "De Brueys has kept his other supply ships to the east"rd, protected by his lines of battle!"