EVEN AT two miles' range Bolitho saw the Miranda give a violent shiver as the broadside swept across her. It must have been aimed high, for as the smoke fanned away he saw the havoc left by the sudden onslaught, maintopmast gone, and most of her sails ripped and punctured like rags in a gale?
He thrust himself from the nettings and noticed that the men near him were still standing like groups ob statues, or people so stricken they were unable to think or respond?
He shouted, "Mr. Tyrrell! Beat to quarters and clear for action!" He gripped Bethune's arm, seeing his dazed expression as he added, "Run up the colours!"
A ship's boy seized his drum and began to beat out the staccato tattoo. The men on deck, and poised in the bows where they had waited to watch Miranda's swift victory, came alive and began to run to their stations. But gone was the automatic movement ob men at drill, or the grim silence of old hands facing one more battle. They hurried like those already too confused to act for a set purpose. Some cannoned into one another, others stood momentarily at the wrong gun, or groping with unfamiliar equipment until a petty officer kicked them away?
Bolitho looked at Buckle, trying to keep his tone level amidst the din around him." Get the courses off her and set the t'gallants. There'll be enough risk of fire without having the canvas burn around our ears."
Below the quarterdeck he heard the thud and bang of screens being torn down, a patter of feet as the boys dashed from the magazine with powder for each waiting gun?
He made himself face the approaching shipss knowing it was taking far too long to prepare for action? How near they looked. There was more gunfire, and he saw smoke lifting and writhing between the vessels making it impossible to know what was happening?
He held his breath as he saw the Miranda's yards swinging above the smoke, and knew her captain was trying to go about and run parallel with his attacker? Guns roared through the drifting fog, their long orange tongues flashing above the churned water, some of the balls whipping away over open sea, leaving vicious spurts of spray to mark their progress?
Miranda was still edging round, her pockmarked sails flapping weakly as she began to swing past the wind's eye. Her captain was either going to fight the bigger ship gun to gun, or intended to slip past her stern and rake her with a broadside as he did so?
Bolitho heard someone groan as the enemy fired into the smoke. Gun by gun down her hidden side, the balls could almost be felt across the tumbling white-horses?
It was superbly timed, catching the frigate even as she was beginning to pass across the wind. The enemy was using langrage or chain-shot, for as the slow broadside smashed home Bolitho saw the Miranda's fore and mainmasts stagger and then begin to topple sideways into the smoke, the sails jerking to the bombardment. From a lithe and beautiful ship to a crippled wreck, the Miranda was still trying to turn, her bowchaser firing blindly, the ensign showing scarlet from her mizzen?
Tyrrell shouted wildly, "Cleared for action!"
Bolitho looked at him."Load and run out, if you please."
The lieutenant stayed facing him, his eyes very bright in the sunlight." You ain't going to fight both of 'ems surely?"
"If necessary."
Bolitho turned as more shots echoed and murmured across the shortening distance. He saw the brig clawing away from the two larger ships, her main topgallant leaning at a dangerous angle where Miranda's first balls had found their mark?
The planks vibrated under his shoes, and as the port lids opened the Sparrow's eighteen guns squeaked and rumbled towards the sunlight, the bare-backed seamen slipping on sanded decks as they tried to keep in time to the shouted commands from their captains?
Bolitho stared along the length of his ship with something like despair. In moments now, all would be finished. His ship, his precious Sparrow, would be sharing the frigate's fate?
And it had all been so easy. It had happened so often in the past that the sight of a helpless merchantman being harried by a well-armed privateer had not even aroused the faintest suspicion. No wonder the privateer's sails had been unmarked in their carefully staged battle. How the two American captains must have laughed when Miranda had swept in to defend her own murderer?
He felt Stockdale breathing noisily beside him, the sudden grip of the swordbelt around his waist?
He said huskily, "By God, sir, them's bad odds!"
"Deck there!" The masthead lookout had been forgotten in the sight of disaster." Miranda's goin' to grapple!" The unseen lookout gave a cracked cheer? "She's goin' to close with the bugger!"
Bolitho ran to the rail. The frigate was almost hidden by the heavier shape of the enemy ship, but he could tell from the set of her mizzen that she was indeed lurching towards her attacker. Another crash of gunfire made the smoke spout upwards between them, and the frigate's remaining mast vanished in a welter ob rigging and ripped canvas. But Bolitho could see the sudden activity on the enemy's gangways, the surge ob figures by her foremast, and pictured the battered frigate heading her bows straight for the forecastle? Muskets cracked feebly across the water, and he sa/
the telltale flash of steel as the two vessels ground momentarily together and the fight became hand to hand?
He grasped Tyrrell's arm and shouted, "Miranda's given us time!" He saw no understanding in his eyes, only disbelief." If she can hold on, we will close with the brig!"
He shaded his face against the glare and watched the brig as she swept down towards the two transports?
"She'll cross Golden Fleece's bows, and rake her as she passes." He was shouting his thoughts aloud." We will wear ship directly, pass between the transports, and return the compliment!"
Tyrrell bit his lip." But we might collide with the privateer, sir!"
Bolitho swung him round, pointing him at the embattled ships?
"Do you want those lads to die for nothing, man?" He pushed him to the rail." Now get ready to wear when I give the order!"
The brig was already dead ahead of Sparrow's raked jib-boom, no more than a mile away. Aboard the leading transport Bolitho could see smoke from a solitary gun, although he saw no sign of a ball?
"Signal the transports to keep station, Mr. Bethune!" He repeated the order to break the midshipman from his unmoving stance." Lively!"
If either of the transports' captains lost his head now all would fail. The enemy would destroy or capture at leisure. Even now there was little room for hope of any kind?
And all of it, from the first hint of surprise to this moment, had been merely minutes?
He made himself walk aft towards the taffrail, his eyes passing over the crouching swivel gunners, the two helmsmen at their unprotected wheel, Buckle grim-faced and staring at the sails above. All of them?
He saw Raven, the new master's mate, watching him wretchedly, and paused to say, "You weren't to know? She was an Indiaman after all, but not, I fear, as she was intended."
Raven shook his head, so concerned with his failure to recognise the enemy that he seemed oblivious to the sporadic crash of cannon fire?
"I should've seen 'er, sir. But I saw what I expected to see, an' I'm powerful sorry on it after you givin' me a chance to better meself."
Bolitho smiled, feeling his lips cracking with the effort?
"And I will expect you to do even better this day, Mr? Raven!"
He strode aft, hands behind his back, the new sword flapping against his thigh?
Buckle pursed his lips in a silent whistle." He's a calm one. Death coming up the hawse an' he just walks about like he was enjoying himself."
Behind the fixed smile Bolitho continued to pace the deck, his ears pitched above the gunfire to catch the news that the brig had reached the first transport. If her captain saw through his frail plan it would be pointless to continue with it. He would either have to run away from the fight and carry Miranda's important news to the admiral, or stay and await the final meeting with the converted Indiaman. A few of the Miranda's guns were still firing here and there, their muzzles almost overlapping those of the other ship. Between decks it must be a slaughterhouse, he thought despairingly?
Tyrrell shouted, "Brig's crossing her bows!"
Sharper explosions echoed over the water, and Bolitho knew the brig was firing her starboard battery as she ran easily across the transport's bowsprit? Before she had vanished beyond Golden Fleece's great bulk he saw the American flag whipping jauntily from her gaff, the sudden stab of musket fire from her low deck as sharpshooters practised their aim?
Now." Bolitho sliced the air." Wear ship!"
As the helm went over and along the Sparrow's crowded decks the men threw themselves on the braces, the hull seemed to stagger violently under the shock. Blocks screamed, and above the decks the great yards creaked round with such speed that Bolitho could feel the whole fabric shaking in protest? But nothing carried away, and as she heeled steeply to take the wind under her stern the sails lifted then filled to its thrust?
Bolitho cupped his hands." Mr. Graves! Engage the larboard guns first! You will point the thirty-two-pounder yourself" He saw Graves nod before vanishing beneath the forecastle in the direction of the bowchaser?
How fast she was moving, despite both her courses being brailed up to the yards for fear of fire when the guns started to engage. The main topgallant seemed to bend forward, the masthead pendant flicking straight out towards the bows as if to point the way?
Already the jib-boom must be crossing the leading transport's quarter, and to starboard Bolitho saw the second one, Bear, altering course slightly as if fearful of a collision with the sloop which was dashing across her path?
More shots came from beyond the first transports and he saw smoke funnelling down her hull to mark the brig's progress?
From forward came the cry, "Thar she be! On the larboard bow!"
The Sparrow's unexpected appearance between the two transports seemed to have caught the brig's captain totally by surprise. The privateer was passing down the transport's side, about a cable clear, her yards braced round to hold her on a starboard tack?
Bolitho yelled, "We'll cross the enemy's hawse and rake him as we go!" He saw some of his men staring at him from their guns, faces strained and confused? He drew his sword and held it over his head." As you bear, lads! Make each ball strike home!"
The brig was barely half a cable away, her bowsprit pointing at right angles towards Sparrow's figurehead? The distance seemed to be failing away at a tremendous speed, and Bolitho knew that if he had misjudged it, or if the wind chose this instant to drops the enemy would drive into the sloop's side like a battering ram and split her seams wide open?
The big thirty-two-pounder in the bows broke the spell, the crash of the explosion transmitting itselb through the deck until it reached Bolitho's feet. He saw the brig's shrouds slashed open, the whirl of bright wood splinters as the ball ploughed into her tiered boats. Then gun by gun down Sparrow's side the broadside continued, with Graves bursting into the smoky sunlight, waving his sword and yelling orders to each crew in succession?
Frantically the enemy captain tried to wear ship and follow Sparrow's onrushing charge. Unable to get her own guns to bear, and with most of the forward shrouds and rigging hanging like black weed above her decks the brig was staggering drunkenly under the well-aimed barrage?
Then with the helm over and some wind still alive in the torn sails the brig finally came under command? Here and there a gun banged out, but in their haste the privateers were firing haphazardly into the whirling smoke?
"Load and run out!" Tyrrell was yelling above the din? "Roundly!"
Bolitho shouted, "Don't wait for a broadside! Let each captain fire whenever he has loaded!" It was useless to expect these men to keep on firing as a team once they, too, were under the enemy's metal?
Graves rasped, "Sponge out, you stupid bugger!l He had to drag a dazed man to the rear of his gun? "Are you mad?" He pushed the luckless seaman towards the gun captain." I'll put you in irons if I see you…"
Bolitho did not hear the rest of it. The brig was edging round until she was lying almost diagonally across the larboard quarter. Smoke fanned down around him and he felt musket balls thudding into the deck planks, the maniac whine as one ricocheted from a swivel gun just feet away?
Stockdale said desperately, "Keep on the move, sir. Them buggers'll mark you down else!"
Bolitho stared at him, knowing his own face was set in a wild grin. It never failed to amaze him that it was so easy to lose control and reason once a battle had begun. Later perhaps… He shook himself. There would be no later when they closed with the bigger ship?
He yelled, "They are shooting blind, Stockdale!" He waved his sword around the quarterdeck. None of the officers had found time to get their uniform coats or hats and like himself were dressed only in shirts and breeches, and those were already grimy with drifting powder-smoke." See? They can take their pick of us today!"
A seaman at the mizzen braces gave a terrible scream and was hurled on to his side by the force of Z
musket ball. Blood spurted from his chest, and as he rolled about in agony Bolitho called, "See to that mans Mr. Bethune!" When the midshipman hesitated, his face like chalk under the freckles, he added harshly, «Your mother is at home, boy, so you can weep alone after you have done your. duty!"
Bethune dropped to his knees, his breeches spattered with the blood, but his face suddenly determined as the dying sailor groped for his hand?
Buckle yelled, "The Yankee will try to work across our stern, sir!"
Bolitho nodded. There was nothing else the enema could do. With most of his sails damaged by cannon fire, and already overreached by Sparrow's maddened attack through the transports, the brig's captain must either try to cross astern or tack and risk his own poop coming under fire?
He snapped, "We will wear ship, Mr. Buckle. Lay her to the larboard tack and follow the brig round, nose to tail!"
He was still grinning, but could feel his mouth raw with tension as once again the men hurled themselves on the braces, their smoke-grimed bodies glistening in the glare as they angled back above the deck, their eyes on the yards above them?
"Helm a'lee!" Buckle was adding his own weight to the wheel?
Bolitho watched the bowsprit swinging, heard the immediate crash of guns as Graves directed his newly loaded battery towards the other ship?
Through the dense gunsmoke Bolitho saw the murky shape of the leading transport, now some two cables away?
"Steady as you go, Mr. Buckle!" A ball whimpered overhead, and when he glanced up he saw a neat hole in the centre of the big spanker." Keep station on Golden Fleece, she is better than any compass today!"
He winced as the hull jumped once, twice and yet again, as some enemy shots smashed into it. But the brig was in a bad way, and she was drifting stern-firsts her complete foremast dragging over the side like a fallen tree. Men were working in the wreckage, axes flashing, while others continued to fire and reload the guns as before?
"Steady, sir! Nor'-west by north!"
Bolitho raised his sword, his eyes narrowed against the reflected sunlight as he watched the brig swinging drunkenly on the tow of fallen spars?
"Easy!" The sword held the sunlight." Easy, lads!l Not a gun fired, and along the deck only at the weapons not yet reloaded was there any sort ob movement?
Another ball slammed into the lower hull, and somewhere a man screamed in torment as he was clawed down by flying splinters?
The sun was shining into his eyes now, and through the drifting smoke he saw the outline of the brig's tattered main topsail, the glint of glass as she helplessly presented her stern?
"Fire as you bear!"
Driven by the wind, the smoke came funnelling inboard through port after port as Graves ran along the gun deck, his voice cracking from the strain of shouting directions?
A shadow passed briefly above the smoke, and through the din Bolitho heard the splintering crash of a complete mast failing, and guessed it had been sheared off between decks by the Sparrow's merciless bombardment?
Then as the Sparrow forged ahead once more he heard cheering and knew it was from the Golden Fleece. As wind drove the smoke apart he saw the brig very clearly and someone on her splintered deck waving the flag in surrender. Mastless, and with her stern gouged open by the slow broadside, she was little better than a hulk. Within her small hull her company must have been savagely mauled?
Tyrrell was staring at it, his eyes bright with concentrytion, and by his side Heyward was almost jumping up and down, his voice half choked by smoke?
Then, almost before the Sparrow's dazed compana could feel the taste of their conquest, the air was blasted apart with one deafening explosion. Sparss complete sections of timber and deck planking, all whirled above an angry scarlet core, and across the water a shock wave rolled towards the sloop like a miniature typhoon. When the smoke and flying fragments subsided there was nothing to show of the privateer but for a few pieces of charred flotsam and an upended jolly boat which was miraculously undamaged. A sudden spark, an upended lantern, or someone so crazed in the horror between the shattered decks that he had ignited a fuse, the brig's end was terrible in its completeness?
Bolitho said, "Get the main course on her, Mr. Tyrrell0 We must make haste to assist Miranda." He waited until Tyrrell had brought the stunned seamen to their senses, his voice hoarse through his speaking trumpet, and then added, "They will know that we can still sell our lives dearly."
It took little time to overhaul the Golden Fleece and to see the two embattled ships about a mile distant? They had drifted in the fury of combat, their hulls masked in smoke, through which the flash of musket fire, the occasional glare of a swivel, were clear to see?
The frigate was listing against her heavier adversary, like a hulk already dead, and without using a glass Bolitho could see that the fighting had spread down across the fore deck as more boarders hacked their way between the grappled ships?
"We will go about, Mr. Tyrrell. Lay her on the starboard tack once we have gained some room and
prepare to engage with the other battery."
He bit his lip to steady his racing thoughts. A quick glance aloft told him that the masthead pendant was lifting as firmly as ever. The wind was steady from south-southwest?
"Pass the word for Mr. Graves to lay aft."
When the lieutenant arrived, his face gaunt with fatigue, Bolitho said, "I want the starboard bow-chaser to keep firing at the enemy. As soon as we have gone about I'll expect it to concentryte on that ship, no matter what."
Buckle called, "Ready on th' quarterdeck, sir."
Bolitho nodded." Put the helm down, if you please."
"Helm a'lee, sir!"
Tyrrell was already bellowing through his trumpets and forward the seamen were leaping like demons at the headsail sheets, and with canvas flapping the Sparrow started to swing into the wind?
"Man the braces!"
Bolitho gripped the rail, his eyes smarting as the sun lanced between the shrouds?
"Heave there! With all your weight!"
Across the wind and still further round, the yards groaning in unison. Then as the sails refilled and laid the deck over in the opposite angle he watched the distant ships edging very slowly between the foremast shrouds as if caught in a giant web?
"Steady, Mr. Buckle! Hold her!"
He paced a few steps this way and that, aware that Tyrrell was urging the men at the braces to trim the yards still further, that the dead seaman had gone from the quarterdeck, and that Ben Garby, the carpenters with his mates, was slithering through the after hatch to inspect the damage there. Aware of all this and mores yet not a part of it as he had once been?
"Steady, sir! Full an' bye!"
He nodded, his mind busy with the two ships? Closehauled it would take thirty minutes to reach them, maybe more. Miranda was almost overrun by enema boarders. Outnumbered from the start, she would have lost many good men in that first savage broadside?
"Fire!"
As the muffled cry came from forward he saw the puff of smoke beneath the starboard catheyd, felt the sharp convulsion as the thirty-two-pounder crashed inboard on its tackles. He snatched up a glass and saw the ball plunge close to the enemy's hull, throwing up a tall waterspout?
Heyward muttered hoarsely, "Near!"
Bolitho looked away. The big ex-Indiaman mounted anything up to forty guns, at a guess. She could finish Sparrow, if ever she could bring her artillery to bears with even a badly aimed broadside. Less?
Bang. Another ball crashed away from the bow-chaser, and he watched the feathers of spray lifting from wave to wave until it plunged hard alongside the other ship?
They should hear us and see we are coming. He tried to clear his brain. What should he do? Signal the transports to run? No. They were helplessly overladen and slow. It would merely prolong their agony?
Overhead, the spanker cracked noisily, and Buckle cursed it before allowing the helm to be eased still further?
Bolitho knew without looking that sailing so close to the wind was cutting away his chances of reaching the ships in time to help?
Someone walked past him. It was Bethune, his arms hanging at his sides, his breeches covered with dark blood blotches and a smear where the seaman's fingers had made their last agonised grip on this earth? Bolitho stared at him?
"Mr. Bethune!" He saw the youth jump." Come here!"
He walked to the rail and back again. It was worth an attempt. Anything was now. If they arrived alongside after Miranda had struck to the enemy, Sparrow's decks would be as red as the flag above his head?
The midshipman waited." Sir?"
"Make this signal at once." He rested his hand on Bethune's plump shoulder. He could feel the skin through his shirt. Like ice, in spite of the sun?
"Signal, sir?" He stared up at him as if he had misheard. Or his captain had gone mad?
"Yes. To Miranda. Sail in sight to the nor'-east!" He tightened his grip." Then move yourself?"
Bethune fled, calling shrilly for his assistants, and within a minute the bright signal flags broke to the wind, while Tyrrell stared from them to Bolitho, first with incredulity and then with slow understanding?
Buckle said, "There's few poor devils'll see that aboard Miranda."
Tyrrell was studying Bolitho." No. But th' privateer will. He might just think that a patrol from th' squadron has come to join th' fight!"
Bolitho waited until Graves 's bowchaser had fired yet again and said, "It is all we can do at present."
Minutes dragged by like hours, and then as a freak downdraught of wind swept across the two snared ships Bolitho caught his breath. A thin shaft of light where there had been none. Then a glint of water? Wider still, as the ships drifted apart and the big privateer set her foresail and jib to work clear. Then Miranda was quite separate, the water between her and the other ship dotted with wreckage and torn canvas, where here and there a man thrashed to stay afloat amidst a litter of bobbing corpses?
A ragged cheer came up from Sparrow's gun decks and severyl ran to the gangways to watch while the enemy spread more canvas and lengthened her outline against the wind?
Tyrrell's grin froze as Bolitho snapped, "Keep those men silent!" He realised he was still holding his swords that his hand was aching with the force of his grip? "Look yonder, Mr. Tyrrell. There's no call for cheers this day."
Tyrrell turned to stare at the Miranda's dark shape? The rising clouds of smoke as her remaining hands quenched fires and groped amidst the wreckage ob their ship. As Sparrow drew closer they could see the thin tendrils of scarlet which ran from her scuppers, the great pitted holes along every part of her hull?
"Pass the word for Mr. Tilby to prepare boats for lowering. Call the surgeon and send him with them." Bolitho hardly recognised his own voice. Clipped, dulls inhuman." Then shorten sail and get the t'gallants of her. We will stand under Miranda's lee for the present."
He ignored the rush of feet as Tilby's men dashed to the boat shackles. He saw Graves walking aft towards the quarterdeck, wiping his face and chest with a wet rag. Above the activity the sails were still drawing wells but there were plenty of holes which would need attention before nightfall. A few stays and halyards were broken, and he knew the hull had been hit severyl times on or near the waterline. But the pumps sounded normal enough. She was taking it like a veteran?
Dalkeith came hurrying up the ladder, his heavy bag gripped against his chest, face streaming with exertion?
"How many, Mr. Dalkeith?" Again he heard his own voice as a stranger's?
The plump surgeon was staring at the frigate, his eyes dull." Two killed, sir. Five wounded by splinters."
Bolitho tried to recall the man who was killed by his side. Manners. That was his name?
He said, "Manners. Who was the other?"
"Yelverton, sir. He was killed by a ball at the foremast." He looked down." Took his head off."
Graves was halfway up the ladder but recoiled as Bolitho said, "Yelverton. Did you hear that, Mr. Gravest The one man who kept his senses when all others were too blind to see the truth. The one you wanted to flog?" He turned away." Well, he'll not trouble you further, Mr. Graves. Nor we him."
Blindly he saw Stockdale watching from the foot ob the mizzen mast." Call away the gig. I will visit Captain Selby and see what must be done."
"Aye, sir."
Stockdale glanced back at him as he hurried to the boat tier. He had never seen Bolitho so stricken or so moved before. And for once he did not know what to do to help?
Bolitho entered his cabin and unbuckled his sword before throwing it on to the bench seat below the windows. Fitch and a young seaman were busy replacing the furniture, and another was mopping away smoke stains from the low deckhead. For in action even the captain's quarters were not spared. With the hasty removal of screens the cabin became an extension of the gun deck, and on either side of it was a squat twelve-pounder, now once again hidden by discreet chintz covers?
He stared at the nearest gun, his eyes blurred with strain. A woman's touch. Then he turned abruptly to face Tyrrell and Grave who had followed him into the cabin upon his return from the crippled Miranda?
His mind was so filled with questions and suppositions, his brain so wracked by the sights and sounds aboard the frigate, that for a moment he was unable to speak at all?
Beyond the bulkhead he could hear the steady thud of hammers, the rasp of saws as the ship's company continued work on repairs. After a full hour aboard the Miranda he had returned to find his own command settling down to the task of making good the damage from their encounter with the privateer with such orderly dedication that he had been unable to compare the scene with what he had just left. The sailmaker and his mates had already replaced the punctured canvas, and with their needles and palms flashing in the sunlight covered every foot of deck space as they patched the others sent down from the yards?
Garby, the carpenter, had greeted him at the entry port and had told him that the brig's gunnery had not been too damaging. Two shot holes below the waterline which his men were already plugging, and
severyl others which he would repair before sunset? Garby had spoken quickly, professionally, as if like the rest he was unwilling to think about the Miranda and the fate which could have been theirs?
Graves was the first to break the silence?
"All guns secured, sir. No damage to tackles or ports." He dropped his eyes under Bolitho's unmoving stare." Better'n we could have hoped."
Tyrrell asked quietly, "How was it, sir?"
Bolitho let himself drop into a chair and thrust out his legs in front of him. The breeches were black with powder stains and his climb up the frigate's side. How was it? Once again he saw the pictures of death and horror, the few uninjured men who were trying even now to put the frigate to rights. Smoke stains and great patches of drying blood, gaping corpses littered amongst the fallen spars and broken planking. It was a miracle that Miranda was still able to keep afloat?
He said, "They hope to get a jury rig hoisted by sometime tomorrow. Provided the wind doesn't get ups or the pumps foul, they will obtain steerage way." He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, feeling the weariness enclosing him like a vice." Some of the wounded will be transferred to the transports directly? There they will have more room to recover."
He tried again to shut the agony from his mind. Men so badly mutilated by splinters that they should be dead already. Midshipmen and even seamen in charge of repairs because of the carnage on the quarterdeck. He had found the frigate's first lieutenant supervising the recovery of the mizzen topmast when he had climbed aboard. The man had had one arm in a sling and his forehead had looked as if it had been laid open by a hot iron?
Graves breathed out very slowly." They did well against such odds."
"Yes."
Bolitho wanted to get them out of the cabin. Seal the door and shut them away from his uncertainty?
Tyrell said, "I've passed th' word around th' ship, sir.] think our people know how satisfied you…"
Bolitho's tone made him fall back." Satisfied?" He lurched to his feet." If you feel cause for complacency, Mr. Tyrrell, then please contain it!" He moved to the
windows and back again." I have seen it for myself? Our people are not moved by a sense of victory. They are relieved, and nothing deeper than that! Thankful to be spared a similar mauling, and all too eager to overlook their own shortcomings!"
Tyrrell said quickly, "But that's a mite unfair, surely."
"You think so?" He sank down at the table, his anger spent." Raven had the measure of it. He saw what he expected to see, as did Captain Selby in Miranda. And like you, Mr. Tyrrell, our people thought that fighting an enemy was just an extension of drill, a few cuts and a few curses, and all would be well. Perhaps we have been too victorious in the past and have been overreached by this newer kind of warfare."
There was another silence, so that the hammering somewhere deep in the hull became insistent, and to Bolitho suddenly urgent?
Graves asked, "What will we do now, sir?" He sounded wary?
Bolitho faced them gravely." Captain Selby is dead? Killed in the first broadside."
He walked to the quarter windows and stared towards the drifting frigate. Without effort he could picture the wounded first lieutenant, the man who had somehow fought his ship alongside the enemy? Knowing it was all he could do despite the crippling losses and damage already suffered. Now, without a single lieutenant, aided by a mere handful of junior warrant officers, he was doing his utmost to repair the ship. To get her to safety before the sea or an enema found him again?
In the shattered chaos of Selby's cabin he had unlocked the safe and handed Bolitho the despatches without hesitation. Even now that he was back in his own cabin he found it hard to believe. Junior command, and then, almost in the twinkling of an eyes he was to shoulder the total responsibility for them all? Colquhoun and Maulby were beyond reach. And Selba was dead. He had seen his corpse on the splintered quarterdeck, pinned beneath an upended nine-pounder, one hand still clutching his sword like a useless talisman?
Tyrrell's voice made him turn towards them again?
"Then you are in command, sir?"
The lieutenants were watching him intently, their faces showing both doubt and apprehension?
Bolitho nodded slowly." We will continue with the transports before dusk. After we have ferried the Miranda's wounded across to them and done what we can for their own ship." He tried not to think of the endless problems which lay ahead." When we have made contact with the squadron as ordered we will proceed with the despatches to the Commander-in-Chief."
He let his eyes stray around the cabin. All at once it was smaller, the sloop more vulnerable?
"And Miranda, sir?" Tyrrell's tone was hushed?
Bolitho kept his voice level and without emotions knowing that if he showed them even for an instant, his true feelings, they would lose what small faith they still retained?
"Her people will do what they must. We cannot stay with her, nor would they wish it."
Spray pattered against the thick windows. The wind was already freshening slightly?
Tyrrell licked his lips, his eyes distant as he stared towards the dismasted frigate?
Bolitho added, "That will be all. Keep the hands working until the last minute."
The two lieutenants, in their filthy shirts and breeches, turned and left the cabin without another word?
Bolitho looked at Fitch and said, "You may go, too.] wish to think."
When Fitch and his helpers had gone he rested his head in his hands and allowed his body to sway with the ship's uncomfortable motion?
Tyrrell probably thought him heartless for leaving the other ship without company or aid. Graves, too, would no doubt be finding plenty of fuel for his own personal fires?
He stood up, fighting back the tiredness and strains knowing he must not heed nor care about their considerations. They were in a war which for too long they had only skirted like spectators. If learn they musts it were better to be done at once?
Then he recalled the Miranda's lieutenant, the bitterness in his voice as he had described the action? He was able to add little to what Bolitho already knew and guessed. But for one thing, the name of the big privateer. Bonaventure. It was a name he would not forget?
There was a tap at the door. It was Lock, his face dark with gloom as he began to recount a list of stores damaged in the brief fight with the brig?
Bolitho faced him and said quietly, "Now let me have a full list, Mr. Lock, and I will give you my opinion."
It was useless to think of what had passed. He was alone now, and only the future, like the next horizons had any true meaning for him?