Cavendish's cold eyes gleamed. "Exactly! Also, if it fell into enemy hands it would be more use than ten regiments, as Lequiller must know better than most!"
Pelham-Martin said uneasily, "It might take months to find Lequiller and bring him to action, sir…"
He got no further. For once Cavendish seemed unable to contain his dislike in front of his subordinates.
"Don't you ever see beyond your quarterdeck? If Lequiller can cause havoc with the Spanish and Dutch trade and supply routes there will be many who will see it as a sign for the future. God knows we are stretched thinly enough now. How long do you think our naval supremacy will last with the whole world against us?"
The anger seemed to tire him and he added wearily, "Yours is the fastest ship available, Bolitho, that is until the others have returned from overhaul. I have told your Commodore to shift his pendant to Hyperion at once. Together with the two frigates you will sail for the Caribbean with all haste. Indomitable and Hermes with the sloops will follow you, but I want you there as soon as possible, is that clear?"
Pelham-Martin heaved himself to his feet. "I should like to return to my ship, sir. There are things I must attend to."
Cavendish remained seated. "The French fleet will be out soon, and I cannot spare another frigate for your use." He added in a sharper tone, "Nor can I go with you myself for the same reason. I want Lequiller found and his ships taken or destroyed. I will have my written orders sent to Hyperion within the hour, by which time I will expect you ready to proceed. You will sail first to the Dutch island of St. Kruis. It has a good harbour and is well placed for you to watch over, the neighbouring islands. It is less than a hundred miles from the mainland and Caracas where most of the plate and bullion is loaded for shipment to Spain."
He gave a curt nod of dismissal as the commodore left the cabin. Then almost to himself he said, "It is quite a task which I have given him, Bolitho. One which requires each captain to think for himself, yet work in a team. Blockade is only half an answer. It postpones rather than decides, just as it punishes the weak and the innocent along with the guilty. The only way to win this war is to meet the enemy ship to ship, gun to gun, and man to man!"
He sighed and seemed to relax slightly.
"Is your ship ready, Bolitho? God knows she should be after a six months' refit."
"I was fifty men under complement when I recommissioned, sir and I lost ten killed in battle with the frigate."
The vice-admiral's eyes clouded over. "Ah, yes, the frigate. I am glad you were able to avenge Ithuriel." His tone hardened. "Well, I can spare no men for you. You must obtain them as best you can." Then he heaved himself to his feet and stared at Bolitho searchingly. "I knew your father, and I am aware of your record. But for that, and the fact you dropped anchor before Lequiller's ultimatum, I might have found you guilty of cowardice." He shrugged heavily. "In any case, no matter what I might have believed, the Articles of War make small allowance for past achievements or private confidences. Forty years ago they shot Admiral Byng for making a mistake. They would think very little of hanging a mere captain if the example should serve to encourage others to greater efforts!"
Surprisingly, he smiled and held out his hand. "Go to your ship, and good luck. We are now in 1795. It could be a profitable year for our cause. Or it could be a disaster. You belong to a generation of sea officers who are the right age and in the right time to avert the latter."
Bolitho could find no answer than, "Thank you, sir."
Cavendish suddenly became grave and severe. "I hear you have married?" He glanced at the old sword on Bolitho's hip. "I recall your father wearing that. Maybe your son willl carry it one day." He followed him to the door, adding quietly, "See that it goes to him with the same honour it came to you, eh?"
Bolitho walked on to the quarterdeck, his mind in a whirl. It was the same scene as when he had come aboard, yet so very different. Even the air tasted cleaner, and it was all he could do to stop himself from running down to his barge.
The frigate's captain was waiting beside the entry port and glanced at him curiously. "Will you have any mail for me to take, sir?"
Bolitho stared at him. "Yes. I will send it across directly."
The sudden implication of the question brought him back to reality. He had worried about being so far from Cheney. Now he was going to the other side of the Atlantic. It was close on five thousand miles to that part of the Caribbean. It could be months, even years before he returned. If ever.
He touched his hat and climbed down to the barge.
Allday studied his grave features. "Back to the ship, sir?"
Bolitho looked at him and then smiled. "There's nowhere else to go."
As the boat pulled strongly towards the Hyperion he tried to, apply his mind to all the countless details and alterations he would have to make in his plans and daily routine. There were problems and shortages, and not least of his worries would be having Pelham-Martin as his constant companion.
But again and again his thoughts returned to the house in Falmouth, the feeling of distance mounting up and up, until it seemed like part of another world.
Allday rested his fingers on the tiller and kept an eye on the stroke oar. Buring Bolitho's stay with the vice-admiral Allday had not been idle. A frigate was too small and cramped to hold an important secret, and the lower deck always knew about a change of plans almost as soon as the wardroom.
The Caribbean again, he thought. And all because of that bloody-minded Frog admiral who had hanged helpless prisoners. It would mean sun and sweat, rancid water, and the constant threat of disease. It might mean a whole lot worse before they were done, he decided.
Then he studied the set of Bolitho's shoulders and smiled slightly. But at least they still had the captain with them. And to Allday, that was just about all that really mattered.
Lieutenant Inch sat awkwardly on the edge of a chair, his hat crushed between his knees as he listened intently to Bolitho's news.
Bolitho said, "So you see, it seems as if your marriage will have to be postponed for a while?"
Inch nodded, his face screwed into a mask of concentration as if to memorise every word.
"You may inform the officers of the destination and possible purpose, but I will tell our people as soon as I have a spare moment."
Bolitho heard the bellow of orders and scrape of feet on the gangway, and guessed that the last of the commodore's personal possessions were being hauled aboard.
He added, "Pelham-Martin is used to a smart ship, Mr. Inch. Even at short notice he will rightly expect the proper honours."
Inch came out of his thoughts with a jerk. "I have told Captain Dawson, sir. The guard and bandsmen are already assembled."
"Good." Bolitho glanced round the cabin. He had already had his own things removed to the chartroom, and Pelham-Martin would enjoy the comfort of these quarters. And the view from the stem windows, too, be thought sadly.
He continued, "As soon as we get under way I want to see the purser. A full and detailed account of fresh water and lime juice will also be required. It may be months before we can expect to replenish stores with fresh food and fruit, and some of our people will find it hard enough without being plagued with scurvy or worse."
Inch stood up, his thin body swaying loosely to the uncomfortable motion. "I am very sorry, sir, but I neglected to tell you. We have a new midshipman aboard."
Bolitho stopped leafing through his neatly written orders and stared at him. "Did he fall from heaven, Mr. Inch?"
The first lieutenant flushed. "Well, sir, when you were aboard the admiral's frigate I was so troubled that I forgot about it. He was sent across from the frigate with some mail and medical stores. He is straight out of Plymouth, and never before in a King's ship."
Bolitho leaned back at the desk. "Well, one more midshipman will be very useful later on, no matter what experience at his disposal."