Alexander Kent - The Flag Captain

The other ship was coming up very fast, especially for a two-decker. It was easy to see her great spread of canvas as she plunged in pursuit. Her captain had even set her studding sails, so that the hull seemed weighed down by the towering pyramid of hard-bellied canvas.

Ashton yelled excitedly, “She’s signalling, sir!”

“For God’s sake!” Broughton was gnawing at his lip as he stared up at the midshipman on the crosstrees.

Tothill had swarmed aloft to join Ashton, and together they were already peering at their signal book, seemingly indifferent to the deck so far below their dangling legs.

Bolitho said, “A friend, sir. A reinforcement perhaps. But at least we might glean some news.”

He stared up at the masthead, unable to believe his ears as Tothill yelled, “She’s Impulsive, sir, sixty-four! Cap’n Herrick!”

Broughton turned sharply and looked at Bolitho. “Know him?”

He did not know how to answer. Thomas Herrick. How often he had thought of him and Adam, had wondered at their destinations and experiences. Now he was here. Here.

He replied, “For years, sir. He was my first lieutenant. He is my friend also.”

Broughton eyed him warily and then snapped, “Signal the

squadron to heave to. Make to Impulsive. Captain, repair on board.” He watched the flags breaking into the wind and added, “I hope he’ll be of some use.”

Bolitho smiled and said simply, “Without him, sir, this ship would still be under French colours!”

The admiral grunted. “Well, we shall see. I will be aft when he comes aboard!”

Keverne waited until Broughton had gone and then asked, “Did he really help take this ship, sir? In a small fourth-rate like that?”

Bolitho eyed him pensively. “My own ship was almost done for. Captain Herrick in his little sixty-four, which is a good deal older than you are, came to grips without hesitation!” He waved his hand across the busy quarterdeck. “Just there it was, by Mr Partridge. The French admiral surrendered.”

Keverne smiled. “I never knew.” He stared at the orderly deck as if expecting to see some sign of the bloody battle which had swayed back and forth across it.

Tothill slid down a backstay shouting, “All acknowledgements hoisted, sir! Close up!”

Bolitho looked at Keverne. “Execute. And have the side manned to receive our guest.”

Bolitho guided his friend below the poop, out of the glare and the din of flapping canvas, and then faced him by the compan-ionway.

“Oh, Thomas, it is good to see you!”

Herrick’s face, which had been tight with concern at seeing Bolitho’s wounded arm, split into a wide grin.

“I don’t have to say how I felt when I heard my orders to join your squadron.”

Bolitho steadied himself against the sickening motion as Euryalus floundered in a beam sea and studied him eagerly.

Rounder in the face, with a few grey hairs showing beneath his gold-laced hat, but still the same. The same eyes, of the brightest blue Bolitho had ever seen.

“Tell me about Adam. Is he with you?”

“Aye.” Herrick looked at the marines below the ladder which led to Broughton’s quarters. “Burning himself to ashes in eagerness to see you again.”

Bolitho smiled. “After you have spoken with Sir Lucius we will talk.”

Herrick gripped his good arm. “We will that!”

As he stood aside to allow Herrick on to the ladder he saw the twin gold epaulettes on his shoulders. A post-captain now. In spite of everything, Herrick, like himself, had endured.

Broughton half rose from his desk as they entered the spacious cabin. “You have despatches for me, Captain?” He was very formal. “I was not expecting another ship.”

Herrick laid a sealed envelope on the desk. “From Sir John Jervis, sir.” He grimaced. “I beg pardon, I meant Lord St Vincent, as he is now titled.”

Broughton tossed the envelope to Calvert who was hovering nearby and snapped, “Tell me the news. What of the damned mutiny?”

Herrick watched him guardedly. “There was some bloodshed, and more than a few tears, but after Their Lordships made certain concessions the people agreed to return to duty.”

“Agreed?” Broughton glared at him. “Is that all that happened?”

Herrick looked past him, his eyes suddenly sad. “They hanged the ringleaders, sir, but not before some of the officers were removed from the ships as unsuitable to hold authority!”

Broughton stood up violently. “How did you hear all this?”

“My ship was in the mutiny at the Nore, sir.”

The admiral stared at him as if he had misheard. “ Your ship? Do you mean you just stood by and let them seize her from you?”

Herrick replied evenly, “There was no choice, sir.” Bolitho saw

a gleam of the same old stubbornness in his eyes as he continued, “Anyway, I agreed with most of their demands. I was allowed to remain aboard because they knew I understood, like many other captains!”

Bolitho interrupted swiftly, “That is interesting, Captain Herrick.” He hoped Herrick would feel the warning in his voice. “Sir Lucius too had much the same experience at Spithead.” He smiled at Broughton. “Is that not so, sir?”

Broughton opened his mouth and then said, “Ah. Up to a point.”

Herrick stepped forward. “But, sir, I have not yet told you my own news.” He glanced at Bolitho. “I met with St Vincent at Cadiz and was ordered to find your squadron. He requires the bomb vessels for an attack on Teneriffe, I believe. Rear-Admiral Nelson is to lead it.”

Broughton commented harshly, “ Rear-Admiral now, is he?”

Herrick hid a smile. “But two days back we sighted a strange sail off Malaga. I laid my ship between it and the shore and gave chase. It was a frigate, sir, and although my sixty-four is fast, she’s no match for that. But I kept up the pursuit, and only lost her this very morning. I imagined it was her when I sighted your rearmost ship.”

Broughton said dryly, “ Ve r y exciting. Well, you lost her, so where’s the cause for glee?”

Herrick watched him calmly. “I heard of what happened, sir. I’d know that ship anywhere. She was Auriga. ”

Bolitho said, “Are you certain, Thomas?”

He nodded firmly. “No doubt about it. Served with her for some months. Auriga, quite certain.”

Calvert laid the opened despatches on the desk but Broughton swept them aside as he groped for his chart.

“Here! Show me, Herrick. Mark it on the chart!”

Herrick glanced enquiringly at Bolitho and then stooped over the desk.

“She was heading almost due east, sir.”

“And you nearly overhauled her? In a two-decker?” Broughton sounded desperate.

“Aye, sir. Impulsive may be old, and her hull is so ripe that I fear it would fall apart but for the copper, but she’s the fastest ship in the fleet.” There was real pride in his voice. “ Auriga might have gone into Cartagena, sir. In which case…”

Broughton shook his head. “Never. My patrols would have seen and engaged her.” He rubbed his chin vigorously. “Due east, you say? By heaven, we might still run her to earth!” He looked at Herrick. “And by God I’d not have hung a few miserable mutineers! I would have hanged the lot of them!”

Herrick said respectfully, “I can well believe it, Sir Lucius.”

Broughton did not seem to hear, “Signal Gillmor to give chase at once. He can do anything he likes to hold or delay Auriga. Restless can maintain watch to the windward of us.” He glanced at Herrick. “You will close to visual distance with Restless, ” he gave a short smile, “as your ship is so swift, and relay my instructions to her without delay.” He nodded curtly. “Carry on.”