He tried to picture the ship as she headed south-west, the wind following her from dead astern so that she seemed to bound over the water. Somewhere, about forty miles across the starboard quarter, were the bleak shores and fjords of Norway beyond which lay only the Arctic. Part of the Danish coast was still abeam, and according to the sailing master's rough calculations some thirty miles distant. Far enough to be out of sight but still within the range of Zest's patrol area. He thought of Poland 's dislike for Zest's captain. If he had had more time in London he might have discovered some reason for it. But he doubted it. It was like some secret held closely by each captain as if for protection, or threat.
He shaded his eyes to stare astern but their pursuer was not in sight from the deck. A lance of silver sunlight touched his eye, and he winced before pressing his hand over it while he took another look.
Inskip had appeared at his side. "Your eye bothering you?"
Bolitho snatched his hand away "No." He added in a calmer voice, "You are feeling more the thing now that we are in open water again?" He must try not to be taken by surprise by such an innocent comment. Inskip had no way of knowing. And besides, there was every hope that his eye would recover completely Grasping at straws? Perhaps, but it barely troubled him.
Inskip smiled. "I suspect your man Allday can take more credit than the damned sea."
Bolitho noticed for the first time that there was an unusually strong smell of rum, and that Inskip's normally pallid features were glowing.
Inskip cleared his throat noisily. "Damme if he didn't produce a potion he had concocted himself. Hot gruel, rum and brandy seem to be the main ingredients! "
Bolitho glanced at Poland who was deep in conversation with his first lieutenant. They both looked to the mastheads, and after a further discussion a warrant officer was sent aloft to join the lookout, a heavy telescope bouncing from one hip.
Inskip asked worriedly, "What does it mean?" He gestured vaguely towards the taffrail. "That Frenchman can't do us any harm, surely?"
Bolitho saw Poland gazing at him across the deck. It was almost like defiance.
"I'd tell the captain to come about and go for that corvette, if I didn't think it would waste valuable time." He rubbed his chin while he pictured his chart again. "He's hanging on to the scent. A scavenger-like a wild dog on a battlefield, waiting to pick off the bones." He heard Poland call, "Prepare to set the maincourse, Mr
Williams! I'll not lose this soldier's wind! "
The deck shuddered and the taut rigging seemed to whine as the ship plunged forward under a growing pyramid of canvas.
Bolitho saw Jenour by the compass, and wondered if he had guessed why Poland was piling on more sail.
Inskip said vaguely "Funny thing about eyes, though." He did not see Bolitho glance at him warily "When I was honoured by the King, for instance-" His words were becoming slurred; Allday's cure must be working well-"His Majesty wore a green eye shield all the while, and they say he cannot recognise a single soul without a strong glass."
Bolitho recalled the general's dry comment about guiding the King's hand. Truer than he had realised perhaps.
Inskip said abruptly, "You think we're running into a trap, don't you?" The combined power of rum and brandy had put an aggressive edge to his tone. "How could that possibly be-and where would be the point?"
Bolitho replied quietly, "We were delayed a full week. Where would be the point of that?"
Inskip brooded on it. "It was all a secret, and anyway, what could the enemy hope to achieve in a week?"
Bolitho said, "When the schooner Pickle arrived at Falmouth on November fourth last year, her commanding officer, a Lieutenant Lapenotiere, was the first man to bring the news of Trafalgar and Nelson's death to England." He let each word sink in; it was important that Inskip should understand. "Lapenotiere posted all the way from Falmouth to London to carry the word to the Admiralty."
"And?" Inskip was sweating despite the bitter air.
"He reached London on the morning of the sixth. All that way, in just two days. Imagine what French intelligence could make of a full week! "
He looked at the sky, a thinning here and there in the clouds revealing slivers of glacier blue.
The senior helmsman called, "Steady she be, zur! Sou'-west! "
Bolitho added, "South-west, Sir Charles, but over four hundred miles to make good, unless-" He saw Poland moving towards him. "What is it?"
Poland turned as if to keep his comments from Inskip's ears. "May I suggest we alter course and run further to the south'rd, Sir Richard?" He looked towards the misty horizon, the drifting spray like steam over the beakhead. "It would add to the distance, but-"
Bolitho faced him impassively. "We should also lose any chance of a rendezvous on Zest's station. But you already knew that?"
It was rare for Poland to offer such a definite suggestion, one which might later lay him open to criticism or worse.
Bolitho persisted, "Do you have any cause to doubt Captain Varian's intentions?" He watched the emotions, the anxieties troubling Poland 's features. "It is your duty to tell me. The responsibility of command which you have earned, and which you obviously cherish, makes that duty unavoidable! "
Poland looked trapped. Alone with his command he was second only to God. Faced by a viceadmiral whose name was known throughout most of the country, he was suddenly stripped of power, endangered by his one, unexpected outburst.
He answered wretchedly "I served with Varian some years ago. I was his first lieutenant, and I must admit that out there in the Indies I saw small chance of promotion, let alone a ship to command. We were ordered to Jamaica at the urgent request of the Governor… there was a slave uprising with some danger to the residents and the Plantations."
Bolitho could see it. That would have been during the uneasy Peace of Amiens when many had thought the war had ended, that France and her allies, like England, had exhausted themselves in constant battle at sea and on land. As first lieutenant, Poland would have grasped at the chance of action like a drowning man clutching a piece of cork.
"I recall it. There were a lot of killings and some savage reprisals, to all accounts."
Poland did not seem to have heard him. "We had word from a trader that a plantation was under siege by a mob of slaves. It was too far inland to quell it with gunfire, so Captain Varian ordered me to take an armed party to rout the slaves." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, oblivious to Jenour and the watchful eyes of
Lieutenant Williams by the quarterdeck rail. "Mob? By God, when we reached the place it was more like a blood-crazed army! " He shuddered. "The owners and their people had been hacked to death like ribbons, their wives-well, they must have welcomed death when it came! "
"And Varian weighed anchor, am I right?"
Poland gaped at him. "Aye, Sir Richard. He thought we would share the same fate as those poor butchered creatures. Varian could not stand the prospect of failure, or being associated with one. He sailed away and reported to the admiral that he had lost contact with us and had been unable to help." He added with sudden anger, "But for the arrival of some local militia, he would have been right too! "
"Deck there! Corvette's makin' more sail! "
Bolitho saw the emptiness in Poland 's stare and thought he may not even have heard.
Poland continued in the same flat voice. "Varian's never been in a big action. Hunting smugglers and chasing privateers were more to his taste." He seemed to draw himself up as he faced Bolitho with some of his old stiffness. "I should have denounced him. I am not proud of what I did. He recommended me for command." He looked along his ship. "I got Truculent, so I said naught."