He had been thinking deeply about the future, and what he might do when Bolitho's flag came down. Promotion,
and perhaps a small command of his own? He could sense a hundred arguments before he could even consider it. He served Sir Richard; to be appointed aide to some other flag officer was out of the question. His powerful uncle, Baron Sillitoe of Chiswick, then? He admired Sillitoe for having offered him a future, one of substance and prosperity, partly because he sensed what it had cost him to bend so far. He smiled, and tasted the raw salt on his lips. The prospect would certainly attract the beautiful Susanna. But even poor luffs had pride, and pride pulled in both directions.
With a sigh, he walked aft, tossing a casual wave to the dark group of figures around the compass box, and pausing as the poop's black outline loomed over him to glance again at the sky. No moon, and only an occasional star. It was a fine night after all, even during the hated middle watch. He was about to feel his way to the companion ladder when something caused him to hesitate, and to turn, as if someone had called his name.
But there was nothing. It was an intrusion into thoughts which had been quiet, meditative, and for some reason he was troubled by it.
When he climbed into his swaying cot the disquiet remained with him, and sleep was denied him.
As in all men-of-war, shorthanded or not, Frobishefs company were turned-to when there was barely enough light to mark sea from sky. It was always a time of bustle and purpose, and on this day there was not a man jack aboard who did not know that the ship, which was their home, their way of life, their reason for being, would soon be turning her jib boom towards the west, and eventually to England.
Kellett, the first lieutenant, was in charge of the morning watch, as the decks were washed down and the water casks filled with some of their last supply. The lazy breeze was heavy with greasy smells from the galley funnel.
Kellett saw the signals midshipman watching him, and said, "Aloft with you, Mr. Singleton, and see if you can be the first to sight the wretched Huntress] And cling to the thought while you climb: after this, you may be the one giving orders to some snotty midshipman, if your wits serve you well in your examination!"
The midshipman ran to the shrouds and began the long climb up the ratlines.
Someone whispered, "Cap'n, sir."
Tyacke strode to the compass and glanced at the topsails, then his eyes found Singleton clawing his way past the maintop.
"He'll see nothing, I daresay."
Kellett was watching the working parties being dismissed, and thought of the tasks he had detailed for the day.
Tyacke was saying, "If the wind holds steady, we should make a fair passage."
Kellett listened with some curiosity. The captain rarely made idle observations, any more than he ever showed uncertainty in the presence of his officers. He had been in awe of Tyacke when he had suddenly accepted this command, and resentful also. Now he could not imagine Frobisher without him.
Tyacke was observing Singleton's progress, remembering how Bolitho had once confided in him, and told him how the fear of heights had disturbed him as a 'young gentleman'. He had heard Kellett's remarks to the youth concerning promotion, and. reluctantly, he had concluded that Singleton might make a good officer, provided he had a captain to drive him.
Oblivious to all of them, the midshipman had reached the cross trees where a tanned and scarred seaman was already on duty. Singleton had seen him fumbling with a packet when he had appeared beside him, and guessed that the man had been chewing tobacco, a punishable offence while on watch.
Singleton unslung his telescope, pleased that he was not out of breath. He would not report the offender, and he knew that the seaman, an old hand, would remember him for it. He trained the glass with great care, recalling the admiral's words to him. My eyes.
There was an horizon at last, very thin and hard, like polished silver.
It would be strange to leave this ship, he thought, to take that once unimaginable step from midshipman's berth to wardroom. To be able to speak openly with fellow lieutenants, who, up until now, had seemed bent on making every midshipman's life a perfect misery.
The old seaman was studying him, the seriousness on his young features.
With one or two of the others, he would have remained silent, but the signals midshipman had always seemed fair enough.
He said calmly, There's a ship out yonder, Mr. Singleton."
Singleton lowered the heavy glass and stared at him. "If I can't see it with this, then I……" He grinned, and raised it again. "Where away?"
"Larboard bow, very fine."
Singleton tried again. Nothing. He knew about some of the older lookouts; it was a second sense, someone had told him.
He held his breath and waited for Frobisher to lift again. And there it was. How could he not have seen it?
He screwed his eye closer and saw the image strengthen. Catching the light from somewhere. A sail, touched with yellow gold, standing up from the hard horizon; like a feather, he thought.
He looked at his companion. "I see her." He smiled. "My thanks."
On the quarterdeck, every face was raised as Singleton's voice echoed down from the mainmast.
"Deck there! Sail, fine on the larboard bow!"
Tyacke exclaimed, "Well, I'll be damned!"
Kellett said, "Shall I inform the admiral, sir?"
Tyacke looked at him. "When we know a bit more." As Kellett hurried away, he added, "He won't need telling."
It was another hour before the masthead could recognise the newcomer. Tyacke watched Bolitho's face keenly as he told him.
"Tireless, James? Not Huntress after all?" He smiled, but the mood seemed to elude him. "Well, she may have news for us, although from that direction I doubt it."
When admiral and flag lieutenant joined the others on the quarterdeck, Tyacke noticed that Bolitho was dressed in a clean shirt and breeches. He looked rested and alert now, even though there had been a light burning in his cabin throughout the night watches.
Avery said, "May Tireless not have seen Huntress, Sir Richard?"
Bolitho did not answer, trying to gauge the depth of his feelings. He could feel nothing but a sense of inevitability, of destiny. As if his reluctance to return to Malta had been justified. He saw Allday watching him; even Yovell was here on this bright morning.
Singleton yelled down, "Tireless has hoisted a signal, sir!"
Lieutenant Pennington murmured, "We are all agog, sir." Nobody laughed.
Singleton must have been very aware of the signal and its importance, even though he would not understand it. But his voice did not break or quiver.
"From Tireless. Enemy in Sight!"
Bolitho looked at Tyacke, ignoring or detached from the babble of disbelief and astonishment which separated them.
"So now we know. James. The trap is sprung. All else was delusion."
He turned away, one hand on his shirt, and Tyacke thought he murmured, "Don't leave me."
Then he smiled, as if he had heard her voice.
18. Final Embrace
Bolitho pressed his face against the thick glass of the quarter-gallery, and watched the little schooner's distorted shape as she clawed her way across the wind.
When he turned he saw the stains of salt water on the deck covering, where Tireless's captain had stood after a hasty pull to the flagship.
So young, so earnest, perhaps not able to grasp the magnitude of these events. He had almost pleaded, "I can stay in company, Sir Richard. We're no match for close action, but surely we could do something?"
Bolitho had said, "You have done enough. The signal, for instance."
Penrose had forced a smile. "I heard it said that you used the same ruse to deceive a more powerful enemy, so that he should believe you had sighted friendly ships."
How could Penrose have known? It was beyond trickery now.
Bolitho had said, "They will not run. They dare not. There is too much at stake." He had taken his hand. "Go to Malta with all haste. Tell the senior officer. I shall rely on it."