Alexander Kent - ENEMY IN SIGHT

Pelham-Martin stared at him in disbelief. "You what?"

"You have been wounded, sir, and as I have stated before, you should have the injury attended to without further delay." He watched the other man calmly. "Under the present circumstances, however, I see no alternative but to relieve you until such time as you are able to reassume overall command."

"Do you realise what you have said?" Pelham-Martin's breathing grew faster and faster. "If you take this step, you will place yourself open to arrest and trial." His eyes were watering with concentration. "And I will see to it that you suffer the exact penalty which you so richly deserve!"

Bolitho waited in silence. But Pelham-Martin seemed to have exhausted himself in the brief outburst and lay quite still but for the quick breathing beneath the sheet.

He turned on his heel and left the cabin. Framed against the stern windows the other captains were still waiting for him, their faces hidden in shadow.

Then Herrick asked quickly, "Is it done?"

"I have told the commodore of my intention." Bolitho picked up his hat and walked over to the bulkhead. "It is fair to tell you that he was entirely opposed to my plan." He saw Fitzmaurice turn away, his shoulders sagging with anxiety. Then he reached up and removed his sword from the rack and moved with it to the door. He paused and looked back at them.

"When you accepted my proposals this morning you were not then aware of the real difficulties which lay ahead. I intend to make sail within two hours. I would not blame any of you should you decide to remain at anchor." Then he left the cabin and walked out into the sunlight.

Inch touched his hat, his face set in a worried frown. "All hands laid aft sir!"

Bolitho nodded and crossed slowly to the quarterdeck rail. So many times he had made this short walk. To watch the seamen at drills or to supervise the making or furling of sails. To witness punishment or merely be alone with his thoughts.

He saw his officers lined against the opposite side, the paraded marines, the minute drummer boys, and Captain Dawson with Hicks beside him.

He removed his hat and placed it beneath his arm, and then looked along the length of his command. The gangways and main deck were covered with men and upturned faces, while others clung to the shrouds or stood on hatch covers so that they should see him.

In the silence, and as his eyes passed over the waiting men below him, individual faces stood out for the merest seconds before they merged once more into the mass. Some of those who had been pressed and had come aboard lost and terrified, and now stood shoulder to shoulder with the seasoned men, and were as tanned and confident as any. The grizzled tin miner who with nearly forty other Cornishmen had walked half across the county to volunteer for service in the Hyperion. Not because they had ever met Bolitho, but because of his name, one which was known and trusted, and as familiar to many of them as the port of Falmouth itself.

He saw his brother standing beside Tomlin, his greying hair moving lightly in the breeze, and wondered what he must be thinking and feeling at this moment of their lives.

Of his own future when once the ship returned to England and the constant threat of the, gibbet becoming stark reality? Or of his son, who now stood so grave-faced beside the other midshipmen, the living reminder of what might have been? Perhaps after all he was merely watching Bolitho with nothing but pity or indifference? Seeing him as the younger brother and reawakening the old contest between them?

Gossett cleared his throat uncomfortably and Bolitho realised he must have been standing in silence for over a minute.

He said, "When we came out here to seek the enemy and destroy him we had little but uncertainty, and more than enough to discourage any man. But not all the time has been wasted. Now you all know me, and I many of you." He paused, feeling the hopelessness crowding across his thoughts. "We are leaving this island today and giving chase once again." He saw several men exchanging glances. "Not westward this time, but to the east'rd, and to Spain! We will bring Lequiller to grips, fight him on open water in the manner which English seamen understand!" Someone raised a cheer but fell silent again as he added harshly, "It took six weeks to reach here from the Bay of Biscay. Six weeks, because we were groping and searching along the way. But we will drive east'rd and reach Spain in thirty days!" He heard some of the seamen gasp with astonishment. "Thirty days, if we have to tear the sticks out of her to do it!"

He gripped his hands behind him, feeling the sweat across his wrists.

"Our commodore is still too ill to manage our affairs..So, by the authority invested in me, I am assuming command." He ignored the flurry of excitement which ran across the main deck like wind over a cornfield. "Carry on, Mr. Tomlin!"

As the bosun loosened the halyards and the marines stamped to attention Bolitho heard feet moving across the deck at his back. When he turned he saw Herrick and the other captains forming into line and removing their hats as very slowly the big broad pendant was hauled down once more.

In the quick glance it was impossible to tell which captain had made the first move to join him on deck. But they were here, and in front of the ship's company as well as those of the nearest vessels. And by doing so had openly allied themselves to him, and had deprived themselves also of any defence should he be proved guilty for his actions.

Tomlin came aft, the pendant rolled beneath one massive arm. He handed it to Carlyon, who received it with equal gravity.

Bolitho leaned on the rail and added slowly, "When we run Lequiller to earth it will be a hard fight, but that you know. I cannot ask you, to give of your best, for you will know I am depending on it." He straightened his back and said, "You must not falter. England will be waiting to reward you…"

He broke off, unable to find any more words. To see them watching him, listening to his empty hopes and promises, visualising honour and glory when they should be thinking of the odds against such reward, pared away his determination like the blade of a knife.

A voice shattered the silence and made him turn, startled and off guard.

"A cheer for the cap'n, ladsl An' another for the old Hyperionl"

Bolitho could not hear what else the unknown man said, for at that moment the air seemed to quake from the force of the wild cheering which echoed across the dancing whitecaps to be held and taken up from the other ships close by…

He swung away from the rail and saw Herrick grinning at him, and even Fitzmaurice looked confident and strangely excited. It was all the madness of a moment, but as the cheers swept over him from every side and Herrick stepped from the assembled officers to pump his hand, he could not control his own emotion, even gratitude, to all of them. For their simple trust, and so many other things which he could feel but not explain.

Farguhar shouted above the noise, "Whatever the end to all this, it has been a fair beginning!"

But Herrick was more definite. "We'll show 'em, by God!" He was grinning so widely his eyes had almost disappeared. "With you in the van we'll give 'em a lesson to remember!"

Bolitho looked at each of them in turn. "Thank you, gentlemen." He tried again. "It will be a hard chase and little rest for any of us. I doubt that we will have time to meet again before we close with the enemy." He paused, very conscious of his last words. Some of them would never meet again if by achieving his demands they eventually met with Lequiller's powerful squadron. "But we know each other's ways now, and there is little else needed in a sea fight but to drive alongside an enemy and keep him there. Our people will do the rest. I only hope we are not too late."