The Darkening Sea

17. All Is Not Lost

Bolitho took a mug of coffee from Ozzard and returned once again to his chart. Avery and Yovell watched him in silence, each knowing that he was thinking of Herrick below in the sickbay.

Bolitho sipped the hot coffee. Catherine had sent it to the ship for him. There could not be much more of it left.

He tapped the chart with his dividers and said, "At least we have more time now that Commodore Keen knows what we are about. Major-General Drummond will have enough to trouble him with seasick soldiers and horses that can barely stand, without the threat of a sea-attack."

As the others suspected his thoughts were of Herrick. He had visited him several times in spite of the need to remain in close contact with his little group of ships, and he had been shocked by what he had found. As Minchin the surgeon had said from the start, "Rear-Admiral Herrick is too strong in character to submit. Most men either faint from the pain or drink themselves into a stupor. Not him, Sir Richard. Even under the knife he was fighting me."

Herrick had seemed somehow defenceless and vulnerable on the last visit, his normally weathered features already like death. In between periods of insensibility he had been elsewhere, in other ships, shouting orders and demanding answers to questions nobody had been able to understand. Once he had called out the name of their first ship together, Phalarope,

and several times he had spoken in an almost matter-of-fact tone of his beloved Dulcie.

Bolitho's mind came back with a jolt as Avery said, "Baratte will not know about your despatches, sir. But he will not wish to wait too long before he moves."

Bolitho agreed. "To the north of Mauritius there is an area littered with smaller islands, Gunners Quoin, for instance. It would take a whole squadron to search amongst them." He rapped the chart again. "It is my belief that Baratte and his murderous friend will bide their time there until he can gain intelligence of the first convoy."

Avery held out his mug to Ozzard. "It is our only advantage."

"You sound troubled."

Avery shrugged. "It is beyond my experience, sir."

Bolitho would have questioned him further but at that moment there were voices at the door. He turned, his spine like ice as Ozzard opened the screen and he saw Minchin's grey head in the entrance.

"What…?"

Minchin came in rubbing his hands on his apron. He almost grinned as he said, "Into safe waters, Sir Richard. A very close-run thing."

"You mean he is all right?" He had been prepared, but not for this.

Minchin nodded. "It'll take a while, but the fever is falling away. I'm quite surprised."

"May I see him?"

Minchin stood aside. "He was asking for you in actual fact, Sir Richard." He beamed, and there was a strong odour of rum. "My surgeon's mate must take all the credit. He reads medicine and surgery, morning, noon an' night. He'll make as good a surgeon as many an' better than most, in my opinion! "

Bolitho hurried down the two ladders to the sickbay. After all that had happened it was the best news he could have hoped for.

Herrick looked up at him from his cot and tried to smile.

"You told me we would win, " he said faintly, and closed his eyes.

Allday was grinning, a glass of brandy in his fist; and the surgeon's mate, Lovelace, a pale, rather effeminate young man who had an almost prison pallor as if he rarely left the sickbay, said, "The ship held steady, Sir Richard, so I used the double skin-flap method. It is more severe, but lessens the chances of gangrene."

Bolitho eyed him gravely. "I an indebted to you, and I shall see that you receive mention in my next despatches."

They waited for Lovelace to leave, then Herrick said, "Enjoys his trade, that one." He winced as he moved, but he seemed lucid and composed, as if he had accepted it. As an afterthought he asked, "What of the enemy and that bloody renegade Englishman? I heard that Commodore Keen's convoy has been ordered to stand fast is that true?"

Bolitho said lightly, "Are there no secrets in a ship, Thomas? But you are correct. I thought it best."

He turned as shoes clattered on the companion ladder, and a midshipman's pale breeches seemed to glow in the orlop deck's poor light.

The captain's respects, Sir Richard…" His eyes moved unwillingly to the cot and the bandages where Herrick's forearm had once been.

"We are all agog, Mr. Harris, "

The youth flushed under his admiral's gaze and blurted out, "The masthead has reported gunfire, he thinks to the south'rd."

Bolitho controlled his instinct to hurry to the quarterdeck. It was common enough for masthead lookouts to hear far-off sounds, just as they would see another sail before anybody else. But this was from the wrong direction. Otherwise Tyacke's Lame would have reported it.

"I shall come up." He looked at Herrick. "I cannot say what this means to me."

Herrick watched him thoughtfully, as if he were still grappling with something. But he said, "Is this something unexpected, Richard? Are we a match for them?"

Herrick's we warmed him more than he could have believed possible. He rested one hand on Herrick's uninjured arm. "I have often been a flag officer with only two ships to command. This is the first time I have had one ship with two admirals in charge! "

Allday said anxiously, "I'd best go, sir."

Herrick was becoming drowsy: something Minchin had given him, or perhaps it was due more to Allday's brandy. He said quietly, "I'll not forget, you rogue! "

Allday grinned. "There, sir, your old self already! "

Bolitho found Trevenen and his lieutenants at the quarterdeck rail, each with a telescope as they stared at the eye-watering horizon.

"Deck there! Sail to the south'rd! "

Trevenen looked grim. "We had better clear for action, Sir Richard."

Bolitho wiped his eye with his fingers. Clear for action so soon? Why was he so on edge? Laertes's pale canvas made the tiniest mark on the horizon, with Lame staying well up to windward. In contact, within sight of each vigilant lookout.

Trevenen continued, "A broadside, I think, Sir Richard." He was puzzled, and he could not hide it. "Only one."

"Well, this stranger must have sighted us, Captain Trevenen. She seems to hold her course." He trained his telescope very carefully by resting it on Midshipman Harris's shoulder. It would make a good story for the dog watches, he thought.

"Deck there! She's a frigate, sir! "

Avery said, "But which one?"

Someone murmured, "By God, her captain knows how to make a ship take wings! "

Trevenen barked, "Mr. Monteith, I'd be more than obliged if you would keep such empty observations to yourself! "

The young lieutenant seemed to cringe, but swung away when he saw Avery watching.

Bolitho had heard the exchange. The frigate could be none other than Anemone. In such a short while he had proved what he could do, and he had the confidence to use his initiative whenever he got a chance.

But why Adam? Perhaps Keen had thought it prudent to send him. They were like extensions of himself, his ears and eyes, and the steel in his grip.

Bolitho said, "We will not clear for action, Captain Trevenen." He took a chance. "Let me know when Anemone is within range of our signals. Mr. Avery, come aft with me."

In the cabin Yovell was already leaving, while Ozzard was mixing something to carry to the sickbay. Like Allday, each knew Bolitho's moods, and recognised in him now the need for private conversation with his flag lieutenant.

Avery said, "I am delighted to hear of Rear-Admiral Her-rick's recovery."

Bolitho strode to the stern windows and shaded his eyes to look for Lame's topsails.

"When you came to me and I accepted you as my flag lieutenant, we had a wary agreement with each other. Would you see it that way?"

He stared out at the sea and waited for his vision to blur. He could feel Avery watching him, could sense his unwillingness to speak of what troubled him.

Avery said, "You have my complete loyalty as a King's officer, sir."

Bolitho turned but could see very little in the shadows of the cabin.

"And friendship too, I would hope?"

"I value it more than I can express, sir. But after my experiences, and carrying the stigma of an unjust court-martial, I have been careful in what I say and do."

"In case you lose your position, that rung on the ladder we all envy at times, and which was denied you by the very navy you so obviously love."

Avery heard more cries from the lookout, some bare feet padding overhead as the sails were re-trimmed yet again. When he answered his voice was faraway.

"To keep silent and to do only my duty… I thought it was enough. I had no way of understanding the greater power of Admiralty."

As if from another world, Bolitho recalled Catherine's warning that Sir Paul Sillitoe might be using Avery for his own ends. It hurt him more than he thought possible.

Avery said flatly, "I wrote to my uncle. From Gibraltar, as a matter of fact. He told me things."

"About me?"

Avery stared at him, shocked. "Never, sir! I was merely curious as to why a ship like Valkyrie should be given to Captain Trevenen."

Then you acted wrongly and improperly."

Bolitho wished he could see his face, but after the ocean's mirrored surface the cabin's darkness was like being in a cave.

"I still require an explanation, Mr. Avery."

Avery replied, "I did it because of you, sir, not in spite of you. I had seen how you hated the floggings and privations set upon the people, and you felt helpless to interfere."

Bolitho waited. You saw a man every day, shared a meal or a memory, and all the while you did not know him. Perhaps until now.

"My uncle was well-informed. I suspect he knew when their lordships insisted upon your appointment to Good Hope." He spoke with such anger he could not conceal it. "This ship was Trevenen's reward for false evidence at a court of enquiry. He once served in the frigate Priam, an unhappy ship according to my uncle, with a captain who twice allowed men to die under punishment. Trevenen gave evidence to refute this, and the court of enquiry was only too eager to dismiss the complaints."

"Can I guess the name of Priam's captain?"

"I think you know, sir. It was Hamett-Parker, now Admiral Sir James Hamett-Parker. The one who instigated your appointment here." He sounded out of breath.

Bolitho gripped the edge of the bench seat. "He once made a point of telling me he had never served in frigates."

Avery said quietly, "The admiral is aware of Trevenen's hatred of your family, sir. A simple but cruelly effective weapon." He was speaking more quickly, as if he might regret the impulse if he hesitated. Trevenen comes of lowly stock, sir."

"All to his good, I'd have thought." Even as he spoke Bolitho recalled Trevenen's endless discussions with the purser and his clerk about ship's stores and the fresh fruit which was so necessary in these demanding climates.

Avery said, This is not how I meant it to end, sir. You have my word on it." He sounded as if he had turned away to look around the cabin. "It has been my great fortune to serve with you, and I know I have dismissed my chances for good."

There is something else?"

Avery said, "I feel in my bones that we are intended to fight. I am not new to it, nor will I fail you when it begins."

Bolitho heard the squeal of halliards from above in that other world, probably an acknowledgement to the other frigate's signal.

He tried to remain calm. "I never doubted your ability."

Avery said, "When you know a secret…"

"Tell me only if you wish. You have said enough to destroy you already."

"Captain Trevenen is a coward, sir. I have watched him. I am a good judge of men, I think."

Heavy feet pounded on the ladder and Trevenen's knuckles rapped impatiently on the door.

For a moment they stood staring at one another. Then Bolitho said, "That took courage too." He paused. "It is still a secret, Mr. Avery." He said sharply, "Enter! "

Trevenen almost burst into the cabin, "She is Anemone, Sir Richard! " It sounded like an accusation. "Her captain is coming aboard! "

"Is that all, Captain?"

Trevenen took a grip on himself, his massive figure swaying about as if he had forgotten where he was.

"Orcadians lost! Yellow Jack! "

Bolitho caught his breath. Without asking he knew what must have happened. In the time available Adam had not been able to report to Keen, which probably meant that Keen's ships had already sailed.

"I shall come up directly."

As the door slammed shut Allday came in by the other entrance.

Bolitho said quietly, "Poor Stephen Jenour. He did not want a command, you know. I forced it on him. I might as well have shot him."

Avery was disconcerted, uncertain what to say. "I'm sure it's what any officer would want, sir."

"I doubt that." He reached out for Avery's arm but missed it in the shadows.

"We have a war to fight, Mr. Avery. Put other thoughts from your mind. You did it for me and you acted rightly. Every commander must know his weakness as well as his strength."

Allday placed a glass by his hand, "Wet, Sir Richard." He could not say more.

"We shall wait on deck, sir." Avery followed the burly coxswain into the filtered sunlight. It seemed incredible that Anemone had already changed tack and run down under their lee. Avery could even make out individual figures, men dashing past the guns to haul on the boat-hoisting tackles.

Then he turned and was astonished to see the intensity of Allday's stare.

"What is it?"

Allday said steadily, "I've not known you that long, sir, but I happen to believe you've come to belong to Sir Richard's little crew as he calls us." He did not smile. "Otherwise I'd not be saying a word, see?"

"I was sorry to hear about Jenour, though I scarcely knew him."

Allday brushed it aside. "He was a good man. We all trusted him, I mean." Then he made up his mind. "I think you should know, sir, because I've seen the way he's taken to you…" He hesitated and then blurted out, "If you speaks of it to anybody but us, I shall know."

Avery waited, knowing that it was not merely important, but vital.

"He's going blind, sir. Left eye. He was badly wounded. We have to watch him, like."

"I thank you for your trust. I mean that most sincerely."

Allday did not seem to hear. "Sir Richard used to have a flag lieutenant, the Honourable Oliver Browne, he was. A real gentleman, an' I means that in the only true way. Always spoke of We Happy Few, he did. Then he got himself killed." His eyes hardened. "Not in any sea-fight, neither."

He moved away as Anemone's sails were backed and the gig dropped smartly alongside. Over his shoulder he said, "Now you're one of the few, sir! "

Valkyrie came up into the wind, her sails like thunder in the fresh breeze. Avery stood by the hammock nettings while the side-party prepared to receive Anemone's captain.

"So there you are! " Bolitho strode from the companion hatch and glanced at the compass before acknowledging the officer-of-the-watch.

Avery watched him, and was moved by the easy way he could bridge the distance from quarterdeck to forecastle, from naval hero to ordinary pressed seaman; and something of his admiration and his sadness must have revealed itself on his face. Bolitho looked first at Anemone and then toward Allday, who was standing by one of the guns.

Then he said quietly, "He told you, didn't he?"

"A little, sir. You can trust me." He hesitated. "Can nothing be done?"

"I believe not." He smiled. "Let us receive my nephew and find out what he knows! "

It was astonishing. I believe not, he had said. But his tone implied the opposite.

Avery looked at Allday and saw him give the briefest of nods. He was accepted.

Bolitho stood just outside the door of the sickbay. Beyond the hull the sea would be in total darkness, with only the occasional glow of phosphorescence or a breaking crest to betray movement. The ship felt even quieter than usual, but for reasons other than fear of punishment.

Just before darkness had closed in to conceal one ship from another, Larne had made one last signal. Tyacke had sighted several sail to the north-east. They could only be the enemy.

Bolitho thought of Adam's brief visit to receive his orders and to describe the horror he had seen in the drifting Orcadia. He had the strongest feeling that, bad though it was, Adam had spared him the worst part. He had described how he felt about leaving his patrol area to join them, and how he had announced his approach by the single broadside the lookout had heard. He had sighted an Arab topsail-schooner, which must have been tracking the Anemone after she had left the Orcadia: one of Baratte's scouts, or a slaver who was still willing to risk capture. Either way there had been too little time to give chase with the added risk of losing her in an approaching rain squall. Adam had fired a broadside at extreme range and had left the vessel dismasted and adrift to fend for herself.

The enemy's strength was unknown, but their own numbers were probably already listed in Baratte's mind like a plan of action.

Whatever they were, they would not proceed further in the darkness. They would hold as close together as possible until first light.

Bolitho could picture the Valkyrie's watch below, brooding over what they would perceive as inevitable, the land men and the youngsters asking the old Jacks what to expect. What is it like?

He heard Avery walking very softly behind him. Leaving him to his thoughts, instantly ready if he was needed.

How did he know Trevenen was a coward? There had certainly been no doubt in his voice. Something Sillitoe had told him, or had it been his father, who had died in battle?

Trevenen's reward for lying under oath to save his captain from disgrace was no small thing. Just to be Valkyrie's captain now was privilege enough to ensure his promotion to flag rank, if he could stand clear of trouble or causing offence to Hamett-Parker. It was not cowardice in that case, but just as dangerous.

Minchin loomed out of the shadows. "Yes, Sir Richard?"

"How is he?"

Minchin scratched his head. "Sleeping now. Been fretting a mite, but that's usual enough."

He grinned as Herrick called, "Who is that?"

Bolitho stepped into the light of a solitary lantern. "I am here, Thomas."

Herrick gasped with pain as he tried to drag himself into a sitting position. Between his clenched teeth he exclaimed, "Hell's teeth! One arm is more trouble than two! " Then he lay still again, his eyes glowing in the flickering light.

"We're to fight then?"

"We have to win, Thomas."

Herrick sipped from a mug which Lovelace held for him. "Always the same. Not enough ships where you need 'em. We've known it a few times, eh? They never learn, because they don't have to see it. To do it!"

"Easy, Thomas."

"I know, I know." He moved his head from side to side. "And I'm no use to you either! "

Herrick saw Avery for the first time. "I abused you at Freetown, Mr. Avery." He looked away. "I heard about Jenour as well. No age to go."

Bolitho paused by the door again. Try to sleep. I shall see that you are looked after if…"

Herrick raised his left arm. "If. That has a chilling ring too."

Outside the sickbay the ship seemed at peace. Some midshipmen were crouched in a tight circle, their expressions revealed only by the light of their glims. Like some strict religious sect; but Bolitho knew they were asking one another questions on seamanship and navigation. Preparing like all 'young gentlemen' throughout the fleet for that magic day when they would be examined for lieutenant. To midshipmen it was the first, impossible rung on the ladder, and few could see any further beyond it.

Lovelace left the sickbay carrying two books, and Bolitho recalled what the surgeon had told him.

He asked, "Have you ever thought of taking the big step, Lovelace? To the College of Surgeons? Mr. Minchin speaks very highly of you."

It was the first time he had seen him smile.

"I too would like to own a carriage and pair, Sir Richard! " The smile vanished. "I beg your pardon, sir. I meant no offence."

Avery watched, leaning against the curved timbers at his back. He saw Bolitho reach out for the young man's arm, heard him say quietly, "If we can break the enemy tomorrow, I will sponsor you."

Avery almost held his breath, unwilling to miss any of it.

Bolitho said, "My late flag lieutenant should have studied medicine, not war, like his father and uncle before him.

Instead…" He turned aside. "But Fate decided otherwise, God bless him! "

Lovelace was still staring after them as they climbed the companion ladder together.

"That was a generous thing to have done, sir."

"You reap only what you sow." He gripped a rope hand rail as the hull dipped heavily in a cross-swell. Then he said, "Sup with me tonight. I wish to discuss the signals for tomorrow. There may be little enough time later on."

The meal was a simple one, washed down with some of Catherine's claret from St. James's Street. In Ozzard's capable hands it made a fitting end to the day.

Even as, encouraged by the flag lieutenant, he reminisced, and spoke of men and campaigns he had known, Avery was aware that Bolitho was speaking of others like Jenour, who would be remembered only by the few who had shared those experiences.

He saw Bolitho touch the locket beneath his shirt, his gaze faraway as he said, "I shall add a little more to my letter to Lady Catherine before I sleep. She was very fond of Stephen. He used to sketch her, like the daily scenes he saw around him."

He would not have to tell her what to do when she received the news. She would go to Southampton herself and see Jenour's parents, to spare them at least the brutal formality of an Admiralty letter.

The Secretary of the Admiralty regrets to inform you…

Nobody should have to suffer that.

He said almost abruptly, "If anything should happen…" He looked at Avery directly. There is a letter in my strongbox which you may deliver to…"

"I would prefer that it never need be read, Sir Richard."

Bolitho smiled. That was well said." Without realising what he was doing he touched his eye with his fingertips, so he did not see the concern on the lieutenant's face. "Baratte is a devious man, a trickster who will use every ruse to overthrow us. Whoever loses will be a scapegoat, something too well known to you already. His father was denounced as a hated aristo during the Terror and was beheaded before those howling murderers. He was an honourable officer, and France has had cause to regret his death and the blood on their hands of so many others like him. Baratte has done all in his power to prove his skill and his worth to his country, perhaps to protect himself. It is a weakness that may make him reckless enough to play one trick too often."

"And what of the Englishman Hannay, sir?"

"He will fight as never before."

"No weakness then?" Avery was fascinated as he watched the inner power of this man, the grey eyes full of intensity and emotions as he spoke of his enemies so lucidly that Avery could almost see them. It was impossible to know from his appearance that the vice-admiral was almost blind in one eye. Another secret.

"Only that he is unused to taking orders." Bolitho shrugged. "Especially from a Frenchman! " It seemed to amuse him.

He looked at Avery's serious face. "Mr. Yovell thought well of you from the start, that day in Falmouth. He was particularly impressed with your knowledge of Latin, although at the time I had no idea it would prove so useful! "

"A good deal will depend on your nephew tomorrow, sir."

"Yes. I am very proud of him. He is like a son to me."

Avery did not press the point. "Mr. Yovell tells me that he met Nelson, who spoke warmly of him." He hesitated. "Did you never meet him, sir?"

Bolitho shook his head, suddenly depressed. The same people who now sang the little admiral's praises had been the same ones who had tried to destroy him before he had fallen aboard Victory. And what of his dear Emma? What had become of her? How did those who had made promises to Nelson even as he lay dying manage to face themselves, he wondered?

And Catherine. Who would care for her if the worst happened?

He said, "Go and speak with the first lieutenant. He needs to be reassured."

Avery stood up and felt the ship around him, shivering repeatedly as she thrust the ocean contemptuously from her flanks.

Tomorrow then, sir."

Bolitho nodded, then said, "What did you want to know about Nelson?"

Avery rested his hand on the screen door. "Men who never knew or even saw him shed tears like women when they heard of his death." He opened the door. "I never thought to see it myself until I became your flag lieutenant, sir." Then he was gone.

Bolitho smiled. Avery would think very differently if the day went against them.

After Ozzard had tidied the cabin and had departed thoughtfully to his pantry, Bolitho took a small book from his trunk and turned it over in his hands: not one of Catherine's gifts of Shakespearean sonnets in their immaculate green leather binding, but a much older book, stained by salt air and much handling, one of his few possessions which had actually been carried by his father. It was Paradise Lost. Like Captain James Bolitho, he had read it beneath the scorching tropical sun, or riding out a storm on blockade duty off Brest and Lorient, and in the calm of some unspoiled anchorage.

With great care he covered his left eye with his hand and held the page close to a cabin lantern.

What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.

Bolitho closed the book and walked across the cabin to the table where his chart still lay.

Perhaps it had already been decided, and there was nothing he could do to change what Fate had decreed.

The ship swayed again and the lantern's yellow glare touched momentarily on the sword that hung on the bulkhead. It seemed to bring the steel to life.

Aloud he said, "All is not lost."

He stared at the stern windows, but saw only his reflection against the darkness of the sea. Like a ghost, or the portraits on the walls at Falmouth.

He felt suddenly calm, as if something had been resolved. It had so often been like this in the past when all that had stood between a victory and disaster had been the courage of individuals on either side or beneath different flags.

He sat down again and took the unfinished letter from a drawer. It would be summer in Cornwall, the air full of farm noises, sheep and cattle, the bustle of bees. The scent of roses. Her roses…

He touched the locket as he read the last lines of this lengthy letter. She might never see it.

I have some unhappy news to tell you about Stephen Jenour…

He wrote with great care, as if he were talking with her, or she were watching him at this table.

I feel certain that we shall fight tomorrow. He looked up at the deck head as feet moved purposefully aft. The middle watch was about to begin. He smiled gravely and crossed out the last word and replaced it with today.

He pictured his few captains lost out there in the darkness, each as different as one man could be from the others. Young Adam, who might be thinking of the girl who could never be his. Peter Dawes, the admiral's son, who thought a little too much of taking prizes and making certain that he was never found wanting when it came to a fight: a keen young officer, who was not hampered by either imagination or doubt. James Tyacke, totally alone and yet so much a part of all that had happened. And of course the senior captain, Aaron Trevenen, hostile, resentful and in matters of discipline, completely unbending.

He heard some of the hands being dismissed to their messes. There would be little sleep for many of them.

He thought too of Nelson and Avery's surprising comparison. Nelson had written a letter to his beloved Emma even as the combined enemy fleets had left port.

He had ended it by saying, "I hope that I shall live to finish my letter after the battle."

Bolitho folded the letter but did not seal it. I shall finish it later.