A freak breeze fanned the stench aft from the galley, and he realised just how empty his stomach was. But the thought of oatmeal gruel and greasy lumps of boiled meat, left-overs from the midday meal, were enough to revolt him against eating anything.
Herrick appeared through the cabin hatch and crossed the deck.
"I’ve told Mr. Gilchrist to muster all officers and senior warrants in the wardroom after eight bells, sir. "He hesitated, seeking out Bolitho's mood in the gloom. "They"re looking forward to meeting you very much. "
"Thank you, Thomas."
He turned slightly as a bosun's mate ran along the starboard gangway, followed by various other members of his watch.
A ship's boy was inspecting the flickering compass light, another the hour-glass nearby. Two stiff marines swayed gently at attention as they suffered a close scrutiny by their corporal. How black their red coats looked in the darkness, Bolitho thought. Made more so by their gleaming crossbelts and breeches. They were the sentries. One for* Herrick's quarters. One for his own.
The master was rumbling away to a midshipman. The latter seemed bent almost double to write something on his slate, the pencil very loud in the clammy stillness…
The newly arrived lieutenant straightened himself away from the rail and touched his hat formally.
"The watch is aft, Mr. Fitz-Clarence."
Fitz-Clarence nodded. "Relieve the wheel, if you please, Mr. Kipling."
More grunts and shuffles, and then a helmsman called, "Course east-be-north, sir! Steady as she goes!"
Grubb sniffed noisily. "And so it should be! I’ll be back on deck afore the glass is turned!" It sounded like a threat.
Bolitho shivered. "I’m ready, Thomas."
He heard the bell chime out from forward, a gust of laughter as a topman slithered down a backstay nearly knocking another to the deck.
They walked to the cabin hatch and Herrick said, "The fact that the wind has backed to the west"rd makes me think Mr. Grubb is right. We will have an easier task to drive inshore than I’d thought possible."
Down the ladder and past a seaman carrying a biscuit sack from the wardroom. He pressed his shoulders against a cabin door as if afraid he might hinder or touch either commodore or captain.
Bolitho saw the lantern light playing across the breeches of the nearest guns. Some of the ship's twenty-eight eighteen-pounders, yet they managed to look at peace. It was hard to picture them enveloped in smoke and powder, bursting in- board on their tackles as their cheering, noise-crazed crews sponged-out for another broadside.
Further aft he saw the bright rectangle of the wardroom door, and beyond it the movement of Lysander's officers, and every available man of warrant rank, too, who could be spared from duty on deck.
Herrick paused and said uncertainly, "It seems a long time since a wardroom was my home."
Bolitho looked at him. "And mine. When I was twenty I thought that life became easy when you were promoted captain. I soon learned differently. And now I know that each span of authority has its snares, as well as its privilege."
Herrick nodded. "More the former than the latter, in my opinion."
Bolitho tugged his coat into place, the movement involuntary and unnoticed. Herrick had not mentioned Adam or any part of the cutting-out since his return aboard. But he guessed it was rarely absent from his thoughts. He remembered when Pascoe had served with Herrick as a midshipman aboard his little two-decker, Impulsive. It was strange how he had felt about it. Jealous perhaps? Afraid that the boy's trust in Herrick might change to something closer than he himself could offer?
It all came surging up again, like a demon which had been biding its time.
Like the moment when he had arrived at Gibraltar, which should have been the proudest time in his service. Hearing about Adam's gesture on his behalf, risking disgrace or maiming in a forbidden duel.
There must be something deep in our family, he thought bitterly. With little training or effort, so many of them had proved unnaturally skilful with the sword. He could recall exactly standing face to face with a French lieutenant aboard a privateer in the East Indies. Face to face, both almost spent, but each holding on to that madness which only battle can sustain. He had felt something like pity for the man. Willing him to give in. Knowing, even as he parried the other's blade aside for that last fatal blow, that he could not help himself.
He said sharply, "Well, Thomas, let us be about it then." The Lysander's wardroom was packed with men. As Herrick led the way aft Bolitho was again reminded of his own youthful days as a junior lieutenant in a ship of the line such as this. Then, he had wondered about the men who lived and dreamed in the cabins above the wardroom. Admiral or captain, it had made little difference then.
He glanced at the expectant faces as they stood back to make a passage for him. Some he vaguely recognised from their duties about the upper deck. Others he did not know at all.
The immature expressions of the lieutenants set against the more controlled scrutiny of the warrant officers. Grubb's great shape beside Yeo, the boatswain, and against the stenmost eighteen-pounder a severe looking man who he guessed was Corbyn, the gunner.
The scarlet coats of the marines seemed to overshadow the untidy clump of midshipmen, there were about eight or nine of them present, while managing to stay slightly apart from all the rest, Edgar Mewse, the purser, and Shacklock, the surgeon, completed the gathering.
Gilchrist reported, "All present, sir, but for the fourth lieutenant, Mr. Kipling, who has the watch. And Mr. Midshipman Blenkame who shares it with him."
Herrick cleared his throat and then laid his hat on a table. "Thank you. "
Bolitho nodded. "Be seated, gentlemen. I will be as brief as I can."
He waited impassively as they scrambled for chairs and sea chests, the most comfortable places going to the most senior, until a mere handful of midshipmen were left nothing but the hard deck to sit upon.
Bolitho said, "The flag captain will have told you what we are about. The bones of the plan are that we shall close the land on the day after tomorrow at first light and destroy what enemy shipping we cannot take as prizes. "
He saw two of the midshipmen nudging each other cheer- fully. One he recognised as Saxby, his wide, gap-toothed grin as broad as if he had just been promised a month's leave on full pay.
"If the wind goes against us we will stand off and act accordingly." He glanced at Grubb's battered face. "But the master has promised full co-operation from a higher authority than mine."
There was laughter" and a good deal of humour at Grubb's expense. He remained immovable in their midst, but Bolitho could see the pleasure his comment had given him. He knew Herrick was watching him all the time. He of all people would see through his mask, his efforts to show the assembled officers that their commodore was a man beyond and above inner despair.
Bolitho had lost many good friends at sea. There was no friendship stronger than one born in the demanding hardship of a man 0" war. Sea and disease, the sword or a cannon's harvest had pared away many such faces. It was no wonder that these men could accept Pascoe's absence. Hardly any of them had been together long enough to know the pain of such a loss.
He realised they had fallen silent, that he must have been standing for several seconds without speaking.