He walked to the gangway and ran his eyes along the upper deck, The worst part. The waiting. It was a pity only half the company had found time to eat before the call to quarters.
He asked. "Do we have any beer left, Thomas?" Herrick nodded. "I believe so. Though I doubt that the purser will be pleased to broach it at this moment."
"But he will not be fighting." Bolitho saw his remark rippling along the nearest group of gun crews. "Pass the word for it to he issued directly."
He turned away. It was a cheap way of raising their morale. But it was all he had.
He returned to the quarterdeck and stood with one foot balanced on a nine-pounder. Its captain peered up at him and knuckled his forehead. Bolitho smiled at him. The man was old, or looked it. His hard hands covered with tar, his arms entwined with fierce, blue-coloured tattoos.
He asked, "And who are you?"
The man showed his uneven teeth. "Mariot, sir." He hesitated, doubtful at prolonging a conversation with his commodore. Then he said, 'served with your father, sir, in the old Scylla."
Bolitho stared at him. He wondered if Mariot would ever have told him had he been on another gun in some other part of the ship.
He asked, "Were you there when they took off his arm?" Mariot nodded, his faded eyes far away. "Aye, sir. He were a fine man, I served none better. "He grinned awkwardly 'savin" your presence, sir."
Herrick stopped beside him, his face questioning. Bolitho said, "This man served with my father, Thomas." He shaded his eyes to look for the enemy. "What a small world is bound up in a navy."
Herrick nodded and asked Mariot, "How old are you?" The man shook his head. "I can"t rightly recall, sir." He patted the gun's breech. "But young enough for this little lady!"
Bolitho walked slowly back and forth across the deck, his "ears deaf to the cheerful shouts which were welcoming the first of the beer. All in one company. A man who had been with his father in India. Allday, his trusted coxswain and friend who had first been brought to him by a press-gang. Herrick, once a junior lieutenant under him, and Adam Pascoe. His brother's only son, perhaps the link between all of them.
Herrick was saying, "They may be handled poorly, sir, but I’d be happier if we had had some support. Even a frigate to snap at their damned backsides!"
Bolitho paused at the nettings, realising that he was soaked in sweat. "Lysander fought and defeated the Athenian fleet nearly four hundred years before our Lord was born. He captured Athens a year later, if my old tutor was to be believed." He smiled at Herrick. 'surely he will not let us down today?" He added in a quieter tone, "Be easy, Thomas. Your people are watching you. Show one sign of doubt and we may well be done for."
Herrick linked his hands behind him, his chin on his neckcloth. "Aye. I’m sorry. It is strange how you never get used to the one thing you’ve worked and trained for, The sight of an enemy's sail, the sound of his broadside. Keep going until he's struck or gone under." He added with unusual bitterness, "Those fancy people in England who go all weepy at the sight of a King's ship working out of harbour never spare a thought for the "poor devils who have to man "em. Who die every day just to keep them in comfort and safety. "
Bolitho watched him impassively. It was easier to see the old Herrick now. Quick to speak out for the underdog, no matter how much wrath he incurred from his superiors. Which was probably why he was still a junior post-captain.
He asked, "And your sister, Thomas, how is she keeping?" Herrick brought his thoughts under control. "Emily?" He looked away. 'she is missing our mother, no doubt, although she took some looking-after towards the end."
Bolitho nodded. "And you have hired someone to take care of Emily while you are at sea?"
Herrick faced him, his eyes staring into the sun. "May I ask, sir, are you coming to the matter of Mr. Gilchrist?"
"I had heard something, Thomas." He was surprised at Herrick's tone. His readiness to defend an understanding.
Herrick's eyes were almost colourless in the glare. "Emily is taken with him. He is a reliable officer, if hasty-tempered at times." He lowered his head. "And what he has, he has earned, sir."
"Like you, Thomas."
"Indeed." Herrick sighed. "And I care very much for what Emily wants. God knows, she has had precious little in this world!"
"Deck there!"
Gilchrist was striding across the deck, his hands cupped. "What is it?"
"Leadin" ship is makin" more sail!"
Herrick snatched a telescope and hurried to the rail. "Damn their eyes! They will try to divide our defences."
Bolitho watched "him, seeing his mind at work with how best to present his ship to the enemy, yet still holding on to what they had been saying.
Gilchrist said sharply, "They’ll not get too near, sir. They’ll more likely use chain-shot or langridge to try and cripple us. Then rake our stern at leisure and at little risk." Bolitho said, "Make a signal to Harebell. We will alter course. Steer sou"-east. "
Herrick asked huskily, "Is it wise, sir? There's less than a league between us. If we hold on as we are, we might be able to out sail them. With the wind in our favour it"d be hours before the Frogs could beat round and come after us."
Bolitho took the glass from him and trained it on the two ships. They were moving, wide apart, towards Lysander's larboard bow. They were having a hard time to stay so closehauled, and turning any more towards the wind would put them all aback. Less than three miles. Herrick had always been good at estimating distance. Lysander would touch the leading two-decker bow to bow almost at right angles and then the second Frenchman would act as he saw fit. Go to larboard and present a broadside as Lysander fought herself free from the first embrace, or luff and work round under their stem while they were actually engaging the other one.
Herrick's plan gave them and the prize an excellent chance of escaping both. It also meant running away, with a real possibility of a long stern-chase until they met up with another enemy force. He cursed Farquhar silently. With three ships facing them the enemy would soon change their tactics.
He walked aft, feeling Grubb's eyes on him as he checked the compass. North-east by north, with the friendly west wind holding across the quarter.He looked at Grubb's ruined features.
"Well? Will it hold, d"vou think?"
"The wind, sir?" He wiped his watery eye. "Aye." He nodded his head towards the nearest gun crews and beyond to the upper deck. "It's them I ain"t so sure of."
Gilchrist was striding past and halted on the other side of the wheel, his voice scornful. "Really, Mr. Grubb! If we are to weep before we fight, I see no hope for anyone!"
Grubb stared at him stubbornly. "You was in this ship at St. Vincent, sir. Like me an" some of the others."
"Yes." Gilchrist had a way of speaking to Grubb but projecting his words to Bolitho. "I’m proud of it."
Grubb shrugged. "They was a trained company. Cap"n Dyke" ad " ad this ship in more scrapes than I can shake a stick at." He turned to Bolitho. "You knows, sir." He did not actually look at Gilchrist. "Better"n anyone, if I’m a judge."