He heard Midshipman Breen sniffing loudly, and when he glanced along the boat he saw he was perched on a cask, the Swedish seaman, Larssen, cradled against his lap.
Plowman climbed across the other men and asked, "What is it?"
The boy stared aft at Bolitho and murmured, "He's dead, sir. "
Allday said, "Poor fellow." He sighed. "Put him over, lads. "
But the midshipman clung to the man's body, his eyes still on Bolitho. "B-but, sir, couldn"t, shouldn"t we say something for him?" His freckled face was streaming with tears, and in the boat he alone seemed totally unaware of the sinking ship nearby, of anything but the man who just died beside him.
Bolitho nodded slowly. "You do it, Mr. Breen."
He turned to watch Veitch, hearing Breen's high-pitched, wavering words as he stumbled through a prayer he had learned, probably from his mother. Nearby, he noticed that one of the seamen, a tough, experienced gun captain, had removed his neckerchief which he had been wearing over his head in readiness for the sun.
He said quietly, "It is a hard lesson, Mr. Veitch."
"Aye." The lieutenant touched his arm, but gently, as if afraid of disturbing Breen's words. "There she goes!"
The corvette was slipping beneath the water, and already some of the survivors still afloat were swimming purposefully towards Segura's longboat.
There was a splash, and Bolitho saw Larssen" s face, very pale and misty below the surface as his body drifted clear of the side.
"Out oars! Stand by!"
A man in the bow yelled, "God damn them! Here comes another!"
Out of the land's shadow and morning mist, a small rectangle of pale canvas showed itself with sudden brightness in the sunlight. Some of the Frenchmen who were clinging to pieces of wreckage and broken spars raised a cheer, while in the longboat there was no sound at all. Bolitho snatched the brass telescope from the bottom boards and trained it on the other vessel. She might stop to pick up survivors. A wind might rise in time to save them.
He felt his mouth go dry. Then he said, "Rest easy, lads!
She's the Harebell!"
With what wind remained held firmly under his coat tails, Inch brought the sloop steadily towards them, his boats already swayed out ready for launching.
The corvette had practically gone now, and only her stem section, complete with its tricolour, was still visible.
Bolitho watched Harebell turning into the wind, the boats dropping alongside as she idled close to the nearest cluster of swimmers. A jolly boat was speeding towards them now, and a young lieutenant stood up to hail, his face red with anger.
"God damn you for a coward, M'sieie Leaving your people to drown while you have a boat!"
The boat surged closer, and Allday cupped his hands, barely able to restrain his huge grin.
"Is that the way you always greet your commodore? Attention in that boat, I say!"
While hands reached out to draw the two hulls together, and Bolitho clambered across to join the blushing lieutenant, he said calmly, "A few moments ago, I had a ship, too, Mr. McLean." He patted his arm. "But I can understand how it looked. "
By the time they had reached the sloop's side, Bolitho could see what excitement his appearance had caused. The embarrassed Lieutenant McLean had already explained that Harebell was on her way to Gibraltar with despatches for the admiral. Commander Inch, it appeared, was making a longer passage than he should have done, just in case he might have sighted the Segura. McLean left Bolitho in no doubt that it was just a brave gesture, and that hope had long since been given up.
Bolitho hauled himself up the side and was greeted by a beaming Inch, whose voice was completely drowned by cheering sailors. He wrung Bolitho's hand, his long horse-face shining with pleasure and relief, while others pushed forward to pound their returned commodore on the shoulders.
Veitch said harshly,"The commodore was near dead with fever. I fear he’ll die of bruises in a minute, sir!"
Inch led Bolitho aft, bobbing with excitement. Bolitho realised with surprise that there was a woman in the small cabin, and she, too, seemed as overcome as Inch.
Inch said, "This is Mrs. Boswell, sir. On passage for England. I am to take her to Gibraltar with me."
Bolitho nodded to her. "I must apologise for all this, Ma"am." He looked meaningly at Inch. "We will return to Syracuse with all speed."
"Yes, of course I understand." She dabbed at her eyes. Bolitho asked, "Well, Commander Inch, tell me every- thing. Is all the squadron still at anchor then?"
Some of Inch's pleasure seemed to fade. "All but Lysander and Buzzard, sir. Javal is away on his own mission, but Lysander had gone, I am told, to Corfu."
Bolitho sat down and plucked at his frilled Spanish shirt. 'so Captain Farquhar intends to use his own initiative, eh?"
Inch looked uncomfortable, even wretched. "No, sir. Captain Herrick has been given Lysander. Sir Charles Farquhar, as he now is, commands the squadron in Syracuse. He intends to wait there." He wavered under Bolitho's grim stare. "Until a fleet comes under the flag of Sir Horatio Nelson. "
Bolitho stood up, ducking beneath the beams, until he had reached the open stem windows.
Herrick had gone. Alone. The rest was as clear as the water below the transom.
He heard the woman say, "He is a good man, I met him before he sailed."
Bolitho turned towards her. "He is, Ma"am."
Inch said, "When we heard the explosion we thought some great vessel had blown up."
'segura's cargo. We had to rejoin the squadron. That corvette thought otherwise."
He recalled the midshipman's face, the Swede's cheerful acceptance of orders he sometimes did not even understand. Allday's scarred back.
He added harshly, 'so rejoin it we will, and as fast as you can manage!"
The Harebell s first lieutenant appeared in the doorway, his eyes avoiding Bolitho as he reported, "We have picked up thirty Frenchmen, sir. The captain was not one of them." He said as an afterthought, "The master says that the wind is a piece stronger and has backed further to the sou"-west." Inch nodded, his long face set in a frown. To Bolitho he said, "I believe you have met Mr. McLean, my senior, sir?"
Bolitho smiled gravely. "Indeed. I had met him before when he came aboard Lysander with you on one occasion. It seems that the Navy is unchanged. Whereas lieutenants never remember their superiors, even commodores can recognise their lieutenants!"
Inch glared at the lieutenant. "Call all hands and make sail.
It will be hard work, but I want Harebell at her anchor by mid-afternoon! "
Bolitho sat down again, his limbs suddenly weak.
Inch said, "I will go on deck, if I may." He hesitated. "I am indeed glad to be the one to find you, sir. Captain Herrick would have been pleased if-" He hurried from the cabin.
The woman said quietly, "We spoke for a long time. I found Captain Herrick's story, his life, quite fascinating."
Bolitho studied her for the first time. She was a pleasant looking woman, probably in her early thirties, She had a nice skin, and dark brown eyes to match her hair. It was all there in the way she had spoken of Herrick. Love denied. Love still to offer, perhaps.