Alexander Kent - THE INSHORE SQUADRON

Herrick nodded. 'Thank you.' It was as he had expected, although he had searched for hope, for his 'Lady Luck'.

Loveys made to leave. 'I suggest you send Mr Pascoe to his normal duties, sir.' He silenced Herrick's unspoken protest by adding, 'Our admiral might die, but young Mr Pascoe will have to fight again. He is wearing down his very soul by staying aft with him.'

'Very well. Ask Mr Wolfe to attend to it for me.'

Alone once more, Herrick tried to decide what he should do. With Styx away from the squadron he could not spare Relentless to carry Bolitho to England. Relentless had amazed everyone. By harrying the heavy transport, which Captain Peel had confirmed to be packed with French soldiers, she had drawn off Ropars' frigates from the real fight. That, plus Benbow's unexpected challenge, had turned the tables. In spite of all that, Relentless had been barely marked.

Herrick had thought of detaching Lookout from the squadron. After Loveys' discouraging report there seemed no alternative.

He would get no thanks from Bolitho. He had always put duty before personal involvement, no matter what hurt it had caused him. But in this case…

Herrick started as someone tapped at the door and Lyb, who had taken over from Aggett as senior midshipman, peered in at him.

`Mr Byrd's respects, sir, and Lookout has just reported a sail to the west'rd.'

Herrick stood up, uncertain and reluctant. 'Tell the fourth lieutenant I will be on deck shortly, and inform the squadron. Is Relentless in sight?'

Lyb frowned at the unexpected question. He was a pleasantlooking youth of sixteen with hair the same colour as Wolfe's. He must have had to take some cruel comments on that, Herrick thought.

'Aye, sir. She is still to the nor'-west of us.'

'My compliments to Mr Byrd. Tell him to repeat the signal to Relentless. Just in case.'

Lyb stared. 'In case, sir?'

'Dammit, Mr Lyb, do I have to repeat every word?'

He gripped the chairback and steadied himself. Just in case.

It had been unthinkable to voice his caution aloud. It gave some

hint of the strain which held him like a vice. He called, 'Mr Lyb! '

The youth came back, trying not to look frightened. 'Sir?'

'I had no cause to abuse you just then. Now please carry my message to the fourth lieutenant.'

Lyb backed away, mystified. At the sudden outburst, which was quite unlike the captain, but more so at the apology, which was unlike any captain.

Herrick picked up his hat and made his way aft. Every day he had tried to act out his part, to pretend for Bolitho's sake that all was as before. Even when he had found Bolitho drowsing, or barely aware of what was happening, he had made his report, his comments about the ship and the weather. It was his own way of offering something which might break through the barrier of anguish, might also help to remind Bolitho of the world they shared.

He found Allday sitting in a chair and Ozzard collecting some soiled dressings from the sleeping cabin.

He waved Allday down as he made to rise. 'Easy, man. These are bad times for us all. How does he seem?'

Allday saw nothing unusual in being asked the question by a captain. Herrick was different. A true friend.

Allday spread his big hands. 'He's so weak, sir. I gave him some soup but he couldn't keep it down. I've tried brandy, an' I asked Ozzard to read to him, him being an educated man, so to speak.'

Herrick nodded, touched by Allday's simplicity.

'I'll make my report.'

He entered the small sleeping compartment and walked hesitantly to the swinging cot. It was always the same. The horrifying dread of gangrene, of what it could do to a man.

He said, 'Good morning, sir. Lookout has just sighted a sail to the west'rd. Likely a Dane, or some other lucky neutral. I have ordered Relentless to be ready to run down and intercept.'

Herrick watched Bolitho's strained face. He was sweating badly and the lock of black hair which usually hid the terrible scar on his temple was plastered aside. Herrick looked at the scar. That must also have been a close thing. But Bolitho had been a youthful lieutenant when it had happened, younger than Pascoe or even the wretched Lieutenant Courtenay.

With a start he realized that Bolitho had opened his eyes. They were like the only things alive in the man.

'A sail, you say?'

Very carefully Herrick answered, 'Aye. Probably nothing important.'

'Must get word to the admiral, Thomas.' The words were hurting him to utter. 'Tell him about Ropars and the big transport. As soon as we sight a scouting frigate from the fleet you must…'

Herrick bent over the cot, feeling his friend's despair, his suffering.

'I will attend to all that. Have no fear.'

Bolitho tried to smile at him. 'I am in hell, Thomas. At times

I am afire. Sometimes I can feel nothing at all.'

Herrick wiped Bolitho's face and neck with a flannel. 'Rest

now.'

Bolitho gripped his wrist. 'Rest? D'you see yourself? You look worse than I do!' He coughed, and then groaned as the movement awakened the pain.

Then he asked; 'How is the ship? How many did we lose?'

Herrick said, 'Thirty killed, sir, and about four to follow them, I fear. Throughout the squadron we have lost a hundred dead and seriously wounded.'

'Too many, Thomas.' He was speaking very quietly. 'Where is Adam?'

'I put him to work, sir. He has a lot on his mind.' Herrick was amazed that Bolitho could manage a smile. 'Trust you to think of that.'

'Actually, it was the surgeon.'

'That man.' Bolitho tried to move his arm. 'He is like the Reaper. Waiting.'

`A better surgeon than some, sir.' Herrick stood up. 'I must go and attend to this newcomer. I shall return soon.'

Impetuously he reached down and touched Bolitho's shoulder. But he had drowsed off into semi-consciousness again. Very gently Herrick pulled down the blanket and after some hesitation laid his hand on Loveys' carefully prepared stupe. He withdrew it swiftly and left the cabin. Even through the dressing Bolitho's thigh had felt like fire. As if his body was being consumed from within.

Allday saw his face. 'Shall I go to him, sir?'

'Let him sleep.' Herrick studied him sadly. 'He spoke to me quite well, but…' He did not finish and went straight out to the quarterdeck.

In the dull light of the forenoon he saw that most of the lieutenants who were discussing the strange sail were careful to avoid his eye as he appeared.

He heard Wolfe saying, 'I understand how you must feel, Mr Pascoe. But duty is duty, an' I'm short-handed enough without you staying away from your division.'

Wolfe-'touched his hat to Herrick and said, 'All done, sir. It's better from me. He can loathe my guts as much as he wants, provided he does his work.'

Midshipman Lyb called, 'Lookout's signalling, sir. The other vessel is…' He craned. over a fellow midshipman's arm to study the list of numbers. 'She's Marguerite, brig, sir.'

Wolfe released a great sigh. 'News, mebbee?'

Then he glared at Lyb and roared, 'Pork and molasses, sir! Acknowledge Lookout's signal, i f you please!'

Herrick turned away. It was better to be like Wolfe. Uninvolved, and therefore unreachable. Even as he thought -it he knew it was a lie.

The ship's company went to their midday meal, and by the time they had turned to for work again the lively little brig Marguerite was already standing into the wind while she lowered a boat alongside.

Herrick said heavily, 'Man the side, Mr Wolfe. The brig's commanding officer is coming across, it seems.'

Further aft in his cot, Bolitho strained his body on to one side as he listened to the familiar sounds from the quarterdeck. Preparing to receive the other vessel's captain. Allday had told him the brig's name, and Bolitho had sent him on deck to discover what was happening.

The pain seemed to pounce on his thigh like a savage beast. Sweating and sobbing, Bolitho pulled himself further and further up the side of the cot. In his reeling mind it was suddenly vital that he should see the water again, the other ships, and cling on to what he saw like a life-line.

It was like that day on the gangway. One second standing there, the next feeling his face grinding against the planking, with no memory in-between.

Outside the screen door the startled marine sentry yelled, 'Sir! Sir!'

Allday came running, thrusting the sentry aside as he rushed into the cabin and then stared aghast at Bolitho's sprawled figure on the deck.

The black and white chequered canvas beneath him was stained with discoloured blood, and it was spreading even as Allday shouted, 'Fetch the surgeon!'

He gathered Bolitho in his arms and held him firmly.

When Herrick and Loveys entered, followed by the brig's astonished commander, neither Allday nor Bolitho had moved.

Loveys knelt on the deck and said tersely, `It's broken the wound.' He looked at Herrick. 'Please send someone for my instruments.' He was thinking aloud.

Herrick stared at him as Ozzard ran to fetch Loveys' assistants. `Not his leg?'

When the surgeon remained silent he said, 'You'll not take off his leg?'

Allday exclaimed brokenly. ''Twas my fault. He sent me away. I should have known!'

Loveys eyed him sharply. 'Known what?'

Allday jerked his head towards the stern windows. 'He

wanted to get to the sea. It's his life, don't you understand?' Men were crowding into the cabin, with orders being passed

as rapidly as any musketry drill.'

Loveys cut away the dressing, and the lieutenant who commanded the brig recoiled saying, 'My God, he must have been in agony!'

Loveys shot him a chilling glance. 'Be off with you, sir, if you've nothing but' slops to offer!'

In a gentler tone Loveys said to Allday, 'Go, too. Trust me.' Allday reluctantly released hold of Bolitho's limp body as

the surgeon's men grouped around him like ghouls.

In the adjoining cabin Herrick said quietly, 'Now, what do you have to tell me, Lieutenant?'

Still wilting from the surgeon's anger, the lieutenant answered, I brought a despatch for your flag officer, sir. The French squadron did not go to Ireland. It is almost certain it may try to enter the Baltic. Commodore Rice of the Downs Squadron is coming to give you support.'

Herrick tried not to listen to the movements beyond the closed door.

Then he answered simply, `We met with Vice-Admiral Ropars three days ago. That man you just saw, who may well die before another hour is out, dispersed the enemy and destroyed one of his seventy-fours.' In the silent cabin his words were like pistol shots.

The lieutenant said shakily, 'That was bravely done, sir. Do you have orders for me?'

Herrick looked at the door. 'Presently.'

Lieutenant the Honourable Oliver Browne watched Herrick's stocky shadow sweeping back and forth beyond the cabin lanterns.

The ship's motion had got a good deal worse during the day, and Browne could not even imagine the surgeon's difficulties in such conditions. Now, it was early dark, and it was obvious that Herrick was driving himself to a complete collapse unless he rested from his work. Browne knew why Herrick was keeping himself busy when others could have done some of the tasks needing attention, but he did not know how.

The masthead lookouts had reported a signal from Relentless as she prowled along her patrol line to the north-west of the anchored ships. Commodore Rice's Downs Squadron had been sighted, but even as the signal had been read and repeated to the other captains, dusk, aided by a fast-moving rain-squall, had blotted out everything from view.

Herrick said, 'I shall inform Commodore Rice of our situation. We can fight, but some hull damage needs more careful attention. I will ask permission to leave the area and return to port.'