Alexander Kent - The Flag Captain

Inch stepped forward, bobbing awkwardly. “It’s me, sir! Inch! ”

Bolitho took his hands in his, not realising until now just how much he had missed him, and the past he represented.

“I always told you that I should see you get a command of your own.” He did not know what to say, and was very conscious of Draffen’s grinning face, and Inch peering at him that familiar, eager way which had once nearly driven him mad with exasperation.

Inch beamed. “It was either a bomb or first lieutenant of a seventy-four again, sir.” He looked suddenly sad. “After the old Hyperion I didn’t want another…” He allowed his grin to break through. “Now I have this.” He looked around his small command. “And this.” He touched the epaulette.

“And you have a wife now?” Bolitho guessed that Inch would have refrained from mentioning her. He would not wish to remind him of his own loss.

Inch nodded. “Aye, sir. With some of the prize money you got for us I have purchased a modest house at Weymouth. I hope you will do us the honour…” He became his old self again, unsure and bumbling. “But then, I am sure you will be too busy for that, sir…”

Bolitho gripped his arm. “I will be delighted, Inch. It is good to see you again.”

Draffen remarked dryly, “So there is warm blood in a sea officer after all.”

Inch shuffled his feet. “I shall write to Hannah tonight. She will be pleased to hear about our meeting.”

Bolitho eyed Draffen thoughtfully. “You certainly kept this as a surprise, sir.”

“The Navy has its ways of doing things.” He looked at the towering Rock. “And I have mine.”

He turned to Inch. “Now, Commander, if you will leave us alone, I have some matters to discuss.”

Bolitho said, “Dine with me tonight, Inch, aboard the flagship.” He grinned to cover the sudden emotion brought on by Inch’s appearance. “Your next promotion may be speeded that way.”

He saw Inch’s pleasure as he scurried over to his lieutenant, and guessed he would soon be retelling some of the old stories for his benefit.

Draffen remarked, “Not much of an officer, I suspect, ’til you got your hands on him.”

Bolitho replied quietly, “He had to learn the hard way. I never met a man more loyal nor one so lucky in many ways. If we meet the enemy, I suggest you stay close by Commander Inch, sir. He has the knack of remaining alive when all about him are falling and the ship herself is in pieces.”

Draffen nodded. “I will bear it in mind.” He changed to a brisker tone. “All being well, your squadron is sailing tomorrow evening. The bombs will follow later, but your admiral can give you fuller details than I.” He seemed to come to a decision. “I have made it my business to study your record, Bolitho. This venture we are undertaking will call for much resource and initiative. You may have to twist the Admiralty rules to suit the occasion. I happen to know that such methods are not unknown to you.” He smiled dryly. “In my experience I have found that war needs special men with their own ideas. Hard and fast rules are not for this game.”

Bolitho had a sudden mental picture of Broughton’s face when he had requested him to give Zeus permission to chase the Frenchman. Of his plan of battle, his apparent mistrust of anything untried or smelling of unorthodox methods.

He said, “I only hope we are not too late and that the French have not enlarged the defences at Djafou.”

Draffen looked round quickly and then said, “I have certain influence, connections if you like, and I do not intend you should have to rely entirely on luck and personal bravery. I know the Algerian coast well, and its people, who for the most part are both murderous and completely untrustworthy.” The smile returned. “But we will use what we can, and make the best of it. As John Paul Jones said under very similar circumstances, ‘If we cannot have what we like, we must learn to like what we have!’”

He thrust out his hand. “I must go and see some people ashore now. No doubt we will be meeting again very shortly.”

Bolitho watched him climb down into his boat and then joined Inch by the bulwark.

Inch said, “A strange man, sir. Very deep.”

“I believe so. He wields a good deal of power, nevertheless.”

Inch sighed. “He was telling me earlier about the place where we are going. He seems well versed in details.” He shook his head. “Yet I can find hardly anything about it.”

Bolitho nodded thoughtfully. Trade, but what sort of trade would anyone find in a place like Djafou? And where was the connection with the Caribbean and his meeting with Hugh?

He said, “I must return to my ship. We will talk more at dinner, although there are no familiar faces for you to see, I am afraid.”

Inch grinned, “Except Allday, sir. I cannot imagine you without him! ”

Bolitho clapped his bony shoulder. “And neither can I!”

Later, as he stood alone in his cabin, Bolitho opened his shirt and toyed with the small locket, his eyes unseeing, as he stared through the stern windows. Inch would never guess how much his arrival had meant to him. Like the locket, something to hold on to, something familiar. One of his old Hyperions.

There was a tap at the door and Calvert entered nervously, holding some papers before him as if for protection.

Bolitho smiled. “Be seated. I will sign them, and you may distribute them to the squadron before dusk.”

Calvert did not hide his relief as Bolitho sat at the desk and reached for a pen. Bolitho’s action saved him from having to face Broughton when he came offshore. His eyes fell on Bolitho’s sword lying on the bench seat where he had put it when he returned from seeing the Hekla.

In spite of all his caution he said, “Oh I say, sir, may I look at it?”

Bolitho stared at him. It was unlike Calvert to say much, other than mutter excuses for his mistakes. His eyes were positively shining with sudden interest.

“Certainly, Mr Calvert.” He sat back to watch as the lieutenant drew the old blade from the scabbard and held it in line with his chin. “Are you a swordsman like Sir Lucius?”

Calvert did not reply directly. He ran his fingers around the old and tarnished hilt and then said, “A beautiful balance, sir. Beautiful.” He looked at Bolitho guardedly. “I have an eye for it, sir.”

“Then see that you restrain your eye, Mr Calvert. It can cause you much trouble.”

Calvert replaced the blade and became his old self again. “Thank you, sir. For allowing me to hold it.”

Bolitho pushed the papers towards him and added slowly, “And try to be more definite in your affairs. Many officers would give their arms for your appointment, so make good use of it.”

Calvert withdrew, stammering and smiling.

Bolitho sighed and stood up as Allday entered the cabin, his eyes immediately falling on the sword, which he replaced on its rack against the bulkhead.

He said, “Mr Calvert was here then, Captain?”

Bolitho smiled at Allday’s curiosity. “He was. He seemed very interested in the sword.”

Allday eyed it thoughtfully. “And so he might. Yesterday I saw him showing off to some of the midshipmen. They lit a candle, and Drury, the youngest of ’em, held it in the air for Mr Calvert to strike at.”

Bolitho swung round. “That was a damned stupid thing to do.”

Allday shrugged. “Need have no worry, Captain. The flag-lieutenant’s blade parted the wick and flame without even touching the candle.” He cleared his throat noisily. “You’ll have to watch that one, Captain.”

Bolitho looked at him. “As you say, Allday. I will.”

Jed Partridge, the master, tugged at his battered hat as Bolitho strode from beneath the poop and reported, “Steady, sir. Sou’ east by east.”