Alexander Kent - Signal-Close Action!

Pascoe looked at him questioningly, his eyes flashing in the sunlight. Then he nodded. "I will, sir."

"By heaven you will indeed!" Gilchrist's voice made several seamen pause to stare. "I’ll have no favourites in my ship!"

Pascoe glanced briefly at Bolitho on the poop and then turned on his heel, his seamen closing around him like a protective barrier. Bolitho looked at Herrick. But he was on the weather side, withdrawn from all of them.

He relaxed very slowly. Gilchrist had made his play openly but too soon. He had displayed to his commodore that he would expect to be upheld by him even against his own nephew. Gilchrist was a remarkable man. There was a lot more to him than Herrick recognised or understood. No mere lieutenant would dare to speak as he had done at such short acquaintance. No amount of personal influence could save a lieutenant from a flag officer, even a mere commodore, should the latter choose to use his authority to his own ends. He had never sailed with Gilchrist before, nor had he even met him. But Lysander's first lieutenant knew a great deal about him, nonetheless. Knew enough to understand that Bolitho would never use personal ties to show favouritism. But for what purpose?

He walked to the opposite side of the deck, feeling the sudden heat on his face as the great main course was brailed up to the yard, allowing the glare to enfold the deck like a dying fire.

And from whom was Gilchrist drawing such confidence?

He turned to watch the other two-deckers, overhauling steadily, and moving into a short, uneven line. Farquhar? Was he so eager for promotion that he had gained an ally for just that reason? He certainly had both influence and the funds to tempt a man. Or was it Probyn? From what he had seen of that one it seemed unlikely. He was lucky to hold a command in this squadron at all, let alone risk his good name for spite. He thought of Herrick. Impossible.

Allday appeared on the poop deck and touched his forehead.

"It’ll be an hour or so afore Buzzard's up to the squadron, sir. "He looked meaningly at the open skylight. "Your servant has cooled some wine in the bilge for you."

Bolitho hardly heard him.

"I hope Javal brings us good news."

Allday studied him, momentarily taken aback. It was not like Bolitho to speak so openly about his thoughts. He must be worried about something. To Allday it seemed impossible that Bolitho should be troubled about the squadron's affairs, for in his eyes he could do almost anything. Nor about the dark-eyed Catherine Pareja back there in London. There had been talk in plenty, but that had probably been born of envy, he thought. God knows she was a fine looking woman and did not give a damn for what people might say about such "goings-on". One thing was certain, she was responsible for Bolitho's recovery from his wound after their last visit to this sea. But that was over and past. It was unlikely they would meet again.

So what then? Lieutenant Pascoe? He grinned. He was a lively young devil. Very like his uncle, and the same as some of the faces in the portraits Allday had seen at the old house in Falmouth.

He started as Bolitho said sharply, "The wine will be red-hot by the time you have decided to stand clear of the companion way!"

Allday stood aside feeling slightly better. He waited until he heard Bolitho speaking with Ozzard, the cabin. servant, through the open skylight, and then sauntered down to the quarterdeck where the afterguard were still busily making up halliards and securing the braces after trimming the sails.

Pascoe shook his head. "Advantage of you? When that day comes Bonaparte will be crowned King of England!" Allday grinned. "Now then, Mr. Pascoe, it's not fair to take advantage of a poor sailorman!"

Pascoe shook his head. "Advantage of you? When that day comes Bonaparte will be crowned King of England!" Gilchrist's shadow fell between them.

"I believe that you have been given extra duties, Mr. Pascoe?" He stared at him flatly. "By the captain?"

"Yes, sir." Pascoe regarded him without expression.

"Then be so good as to get on with your tasks, Mr. Pascoe." He glanced at Allday. "And not waste time with the commodore's coxswain." He tapped one foot gently on the deck. "A good seaman no doubt, but hardly fitting company for a King's officer, eh?"

Allday saw the sudden flash of anger in the youth's eyes and said hastily, "My fault, sir."

Gilchrist's mouth twisted very slightly. "Really. I do not recall asking for the opinion of a common seaman. I am not accustomed to passing the time with-"

They all turned as Bolitho appeared beside the wheel. He said harshly, "In that case, Mr. Gilchrist, I would be obliged if you would take a glance at the weather forebrace and attend to it, instead of, what was it you said? Passing the time in idle gossip!"

Gilchrist opened and shut his mouth like a landed fish… Then he said, "At once, sir."

Herrick appeared by the rail. "Is something wrong, sir?" Bolitho looked past them, his eyes angry. "Very, Captain. And when I discover what it is I will be glad to let you know. " He" glared at the others. "All of you!"

'show me again on the chart."

Bolitho stood beside the cabin table as Javal leaned across it. The other captains waited in silence, their bodies swaying while Lysander lifted and dipped heavily in irregular troughs.

Javal explained, 'sighted her at first light, sir." His tanned fingers cradled the Spanish coastline as if to trap what he had seen. 'small vessel. Schooner most like." He glanced calmly at Bolitho, his greasy hair still showing droplets of spray as.evidence of the haste with which he had been pulled to the flagship by his boat's crew. "I expect her master took sight of Buzzard and thought prudence to be more use than valour."

Farquhar did not try to hide his disappointment. "A schooner, you say? God damn it, Javal, I’d hardly think it proper to run for the squadron because of a mere toy!"

Javal ignored him, his dark eyes still on Bolitho. "I have good men for lookouts. I reward "em from my pocket if they do their work to my satisfaction. I find that more profitable than flogging "em for failing in their vigilance." His eyes seemed to flicker towards Osiris's captain. "Unlike some."

Herrick stepped nearer, as if to stop a flare-up of tempers.

"Then tell us, Javal. My sailing master assures me that a wind is close by, and I’ve little room for passengers. Especially the squadron's captains."

Javal showed his teeth. Like the man, they were jagged.

She was running with the wind and had all canvas spread. Yet she was making precious little headway. " He looked at Bolitho. 'strange for a Mediterranean schooner, I’d have thought, sir?"

Bolitho leaned above the chart, his mind.going back and forth over Javal's report. With Buzzard and Harebell sweeping ahead and to windward of the squadron it was unlikely they would have failed to sight the schooner had she over- reached them along the coast.

He saw Javal's strong fingers touch a point on the chart. Almost to himself he said, "Out of Malaga, you think?"

Javal nodded. "Almost certain, sir. And heading to the east"rd. In my opinion she’ll remain at anchor here," he tapped the chart again, "until nightfall, or such time as she believes her way is safe."

Bolitho walked quickly to the stern windows and watched the slow caress of wind over the blue water. Here and there, just the merest dab of white foam. Grubb was right. The wind was returning as he had prophesied.

Captain Probyn said thickly, "This damn schooner might be anything at all. Or nothing. I agree with Farquhar, there's no.point in-"

He turned as Farquhar strode to Bolitho's side, his hand- some features suddenly eager.

"I think there is a point after all." Farquhar watched Bolitho's profile. "The Dons have an arsenal at Malaga, I believe? A great foundry for artillery?"