Alexander Kent - The Flag Captain

“In this small squadron we have some three thousand officers and men to provision every day we are at sea. And that does not include the two bombs. Fresh water will become a real problem in this climate. And unless we can foresee some contact with a new source of supply it will be necessary to withdraw to Gibraltar before we have completed our mission.”

Draffen nodded. “I am sorry, Captain. You make good sense. A landsman tends to see ships as ships and not as people, mouths to be fed like luckier souls ashore.”

Broughton stared at him. “But that is exactly what I have just been telling you!”

“It was not what you told me, Sir Lucius, but the way you told it!”

He stood up and eyed each of them in turn. “However, I must ask you to signal the Restless to close with the flagship. Your master assures me this wind will hold for a while.” He looked at Bolitho. “That is also your opinion, I believe?”

Bolitho nodded. “It seems likely, sir. But you cannot be certain.”

“It will have to suffice. I will transfer to the sloop and go with her to sweep closer inshore. If I cannot make contact with my agent before dusk I will rejoin the squadron.”

Broughton rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “In which case we will carry on to Djafou as arranged?”

Draffen hesitated and then said, “It would seem so.”

The admiral gave a thin smile. “So be it.” He snapped his fingers at Calvert who had been hovering on the far side of the cabin. “Make a signal to Restless to close the flagship immediately.” He moved briskly up and down across the black and white squared deck covering. “You will then make a further signal to Valorous. ”

Bolitho darted a glance at the flag-lieutenant as he wrote hurriedly in his book. It was to be hoped he was getting it all down correctly.

“Er, Valorous will take over command of the squadron and continue on present course. Euryalus will head down and make contact with Restless. ” He shot Draffen a brief smile. “That will save time and allow you some extra hours for your, er, search.”

He swung round towards Calvert again. “Well, what in hell’s name are you gaping at? Go and attend to those signals at once! ”

As the door closed behind Calvert’s back he added, “Young fool! He may be a fine jack-a-dandy in St James’s, but he is as much use as a blind seamstress to me!”

Draffen stood up and walked towards the adjoining cabin which stood opposite the larger one used by the admiral.

“I will change out of these clothes before I leave.” He eyed Broughton calmly. “I would not wish to be placed in Calvert’s category by the sloop’s commander.”

Broughton waited until he had gone and then said vehemently, “My God, my patience is wearing thin.”

“I will go and attend to the new course, sir.”

“Yes.” Broughton watched him distantly. “I shall be glad when we are at Djafou. I am heartily sick of interference.”

Bolitho hurried back to the quarterdeck, feeling the heat striking his shoulders like embers from a fire.

As he glanced quickly aloft at the masthead pendant and then at the compass he said sharply, “Call all hands, Mr Keverne. We

will wear ship directly. Then you may get the t’gallants on her.”

He heard the squeal of pipes, the immediate rush of feet as the seamen poured up into the sunlight, pausing only to peer aft to see the cause for the sudden excitement.

Astern, the Valorous was already making more sail, her acknowledgement to Broughton’s signal vanishing from her yard as her forecourse billowed free and then filled to the wind. The signal would please her captain, Bolitho thought. Furneaux had never really appreciated his station astern of the line. This sudden order would show the others exactly where he stood in Broughton’s eyes.

He forgot them as Midshipman Tothill called, “ Restless has acknowledged, sir.” He glanced despairingly at Calvert’s back, who was peering at the signal book as if it was in Arabic.

Bolitho smiled. “Very well. Mr Partridge, we will see how she likes the feel of the wind again.”

He looked at the men below the gangways and mustered at the foot of each mast. “Carry on, Mr Keverne.”

“Hands aloft! Loose t’gallants!”

Keverne waited until the rush of barebacked seamen had reached the upper yards, their bodies black against the sky, like monkeys.

“Man the braces!”

He glanced round as Partridge dropped his hand and the helmsmen threw themselves on their spokes and began to heave the wheel over.

“Let go and haul!” Keverne’s voice was metallic and unreal through his trumpet. “Heave, you idle lot of old women!”

Creaking and groaning the great yards began to swing round, the hull plunging deeply in the swell as it swayed ponderously out of the line. Overhead the sails flapped about in momentary confusion, whilst above the noise Bolitho could hear the captains of the tops urging their men on with threats and curses. The top-

gallant sails were already whipping out from their yards, hardening into firm, tanned rectangles as the canvas took the strain, tugging at blocks and rigging alike and trying always to pluck an unwary topman from his perch and hurl him to the deck far below.

“Steer sou’ east by south.”

Bolitho braced his legs, feeling the deck vibrate through his shoes as the sails pushed the ship forward and down across the lip of another deep trough. Spray burst jubilantly above the figurehead and pattered across the men working busily at the headsail sheets. He watched the topmen racing each other to the deck, their bare feet thudding on the planking as once more they awaited orders.

Standing almost before the wind, the ship was already gathering way, the deck swaying easily from side to side instead of fixed at one set angle when close hauled.

Bolitho looked aloft, thinking of how she would appear to the Restless. The sloop was being made to beat into the teeth of the wind, and Broughton’s change of heart would save her and everyone else a good deal of time. Bolitho knew that Broughton’s reasons were probably different, that he really wished to get rid of Draffen, if only for a short while.

But, for a few moments he could feel content. The Euryalus was behaving magnificently, and he toyed with the idea of having Keverne set the royals as well. But that one extra layer of canvas might just be visible to some hostile craft as yet unseen below the horizon.

He turned as Draffen came on deck and said, “You wished to see her sail, sir.” He watched Draffen’s eyes hurrying about the taut, drumming shrouds, the hardbellied sails, appreciating everything he saw, if not understanding all of it.

He said, “She’s a lady, Bolitho. It makes all this trouble worthwhile.”

Bolitho noticed he was wearing a plain green coat and loose breeches. Under his coat he also saw the glint of metal. Draffen was obviously used to carrying a pistol, and seemed the sort of man who would be well able to take care of himself.

He was shading his eyes as he tried to understand what the Restless was trying to do as she reeled once again across the wind, her sails flapping and almost aback before she swung away on her new tack.

Bolitho crossed to the starboard side and looked for the squadron. Euryalus ’s sudden increase of speed had left them bunched together and seemingly entangled, their silhouettes overlapping so that they looked like a single, ill-designed monster.

He called, “Mr Keverne, we’ll shorten sail in thirty minutes. Restless can lie under our lee until Sir Hugo is aboard.”

Later, while the Euryalus lay hove-to, her hull rolling sicken-ingly in a beam swell and her sails banging and useless in noisy torment, Broughton came on deck to watch as Draffen was rowed across in the sloop’s jolly boat.