Poland let out a sigh as Bolitho disappeared down the companion hatch. He called sharply, "Mr Williams! Change the lookouts, if you please. When they sight land I want to know about it! "
The first lieutenant touched his dripping hat. No matter how worried the captain was he usually managed to find time for a little stab of sharp encouragement.
Below the quarterdeck it seemed suddenly quiet after the beat and bluster of the biting wind and spray. Bolitho made his way aft, past the sentry and into the cabin. Everything was damp and cold, and the bench seats below the stern windows were bloomed with moisture as if they had been left out on deck.
Sir Charles Inskip was sitting at the table, his head resting on one hand while his secretary, a Mr Patrick Agnew, turned over papers for him to examine by the light of a lantern which he held above them.
Inskip looked up as Bolitho seated himself, and waited for Allday to appear with his razor and hot water from the galley.
"Will this ship never be still?"
Bolitho stretched his arms to relieve the ache of clinging to one handhold or another, while trying to keep away from the watchkeepers bustling around him.
He said, "Look at the chart. We are entering the narrows where I made my mark yesterday. We should sight Helsingor presently-"
"Hmmm. We are being met by a Danish escort at that point-" Inskip did not sound too certain. "After that, we are in their hands." He glanced at his reedy secretary. "Not for too long I trust, Mr Agnew?"
They both looked up as a shout probed thinly through the sealed skylight before being lost in the wind.
"What was that?" Inskip turned as usual to Bolitho. "Did you hear?"
Bolitho smiled. "Land."
Allday padded through the door of the sleeping cabin and wedged his steaming bowl on a chair before stropping his deadly-looking razor.
Inskip was calling for his servant and searching for a heavy coat. "We had better go on deck."
Allday tucked a cloth around Bolitho's neck and could almost have winked. Poland would make damn certain that it was the right landfall before he reported as much to his admiral.
Bolitho closed his eyes while Allday prepared to shave him. Like the first strong coffee of each new day, it was a moment to think and contemplate.
Allday poised the razor and waited for the deck to steady again. He was still unused to seeing Bolitho's hair cut in the modern fashion. What her ladyship apparently admired. He smiled to himself as he remembered her pleasure when he had fumbled with the package he had brought home to Falmouth. He heard himself muttering, "Sorry about the smell of baccy, m'lady. 'Twas all I had fit to carry it in without him seeing it, so to speak! "
He had been astonished by her reaction, the poignant pleasure in those dark eyes, which Allday knew had said it all.
He had saved most of Bolitho's queue after his sudden insistence on having it cut off. After seeing her face he was glad.
Captain Poland entered the cabin just as Allday stood back and folded his razor.
"We are in sight of Helsingor, Sir Richard." He waited, a puddle forming around his boots.
"I shall come up directly, Captain." He smiled at him. "Well done."
The door closed and Bolitho allowed Allday to help him into his coat. Simple words of praise, yet Poland still frowned. When invited through the gates of Heaven he would likely seek out a reason before entering, he thought. Another hail floated down.
Bolitho looked up at the salt-stained skylight. "That poor wretch must be frozen to the masthead! "
"Shouldn't wonder." Allday grimaced. Not many captains would care about a lowly seaman, never mind a viceadmiral.
The door banged open and Inskip and his secretary rushed into the cabin. It was all confusion as they tore open their chests and called for the servant, while trying to find what they needed to wear.
Inskip gasped, "A ship, Sir Richard! It will be the Danish escort."
Bolitho heard the sullen rumble of gun trucks as some of the main armament was freed from the breechings and loaded. Poland again. Just in case.
"Then we had best attend to our business." He gave a wry smile. "Whatever it proves to be! "
"A moment, Sir Richard." Allday plucked a shred of spun-yarn from Bolitho's fine coat. What little Ozzard would have seen to. Then he stood back and nodded with approval. The bright gold lace, the Nile medal which he always wore with such pride, and the old sword. Like one of the portraits, he thought. No wonder she loved him like she did. How could you not?
He said roughly, "None better, Sir Richard, an' that's no error! "
Bolitho eyed him gravely. "Then we are well matched, old friend." He stepped aside as Inskip's servant dashed past with a crumpled shirt.
"So let us be about it, eh?"
12. Storm Warning
SIR CHARLES INSKIP peered gloomily from a narrow window and shivered as a sudden squall rattled the thick glass.
"This is hardly the treatment I had been expecting! "
Bolitho put down his empty coffee cup and joined him to look across the harbour at some of the vessels which lay at anchor. He had not failed to notice the thick bars across the window, nor the way they had been kept in semi-isolation since they had stepped ashore. Their quarters in what appeared to be a part of a fortress were comfortable enough, but the door was locked at night all the same. He saw Truculent tugging at her cable, her furled canvas quivering as the wind ruffled up the surface of the anchorage and pounded against her hull and rigging. She, too, appeared isolated and vulnerable. The big Danish frigate Dryaden, which had met and then escorted them into Copenhagen, lay some two cables clear. Bolitho gave a grim smile. That was not a sign of trust, but to make sure she would suffer no damage if Captain Poland tried to cut and run. Truculent was lying directly beneath the guns of one of the main batteries. It would be an unhealthy place to be if it was forced to open fire.
Seven days. Bolitho tried not to let his mind linger on it. Inskip had told him repeatedly that they were here at the suggestion of a senior Danish minister named Christian Haarder. A man dedicated to keeping Denmark out of the war and safe from attack either by Franceor England.
Bolitho looked towards the array of anchored men-of-war, their scarlet flags with the distinctive white crosses taut and bright in the stiff wind. It amounted to quite a fleet despite the savage losses in this very harbour some five years back. The Danes had probably mustered all their available warships from the mainland to place them under a single command. It made good sense, no matter what happened.
Inskip said irritably, "I have sent two messages with no effect. Out of courtesy the palace was informed, and my own letters should have made further delays totally unnecessary."
"People must be wondering about the presence of one of His Majesty's frigates in the harbour." Bolitho watched a long-oared galley pulling slowly past the Truculent, the red blades rising and failing gracefully like a relic of ancient Greece. But Bolitho knew from hard experience that they were not simply for decoration. They could outmanoeuvre almost any ship under sail, and for armament they carried a solitary heavy cannon with which they could maul a vessel's stern and pound her into submission while her prey was unable to bring a single gun to bear. To be attacked by several at once, as the flagship had been, was like being a beast torn apart by fleet-footed wolves.
Inskip said, "They'll soon find out if they keep us waiting much longer."
Bolitho saw Allday gathering up the cups although Inskip's own servant was in an adjoining room. He glanced at his watch. Jenour should have returned long ago. Inskip had sent him with another letter which he had written himself. Bolitho bit his lip. Too many secrets. Like trying to carry sand in a fishing-net. "Do you think the