ALEXANDER KENT - TO GLORY WE STEER

`The captain of the frigate Phalarope has added to this information in no little amount, gentlemen!'

For a few seconds every head in the cabinn turned to stare at him, and caught off guard by this turn of events Bolitho felt a tinge of confusion.

In those few seconds he got a vague impression of faces and the reactions of their owners. Some nodded approvingly, and some merely eyed him with barely masked envy. Others studied his face as if to search out some deeper meaning from the admiral's comment„ A small item of praise from Hood, and therefore condoned by the great Rodney himself, could immediately mark Bolitho as a firm rival in the ladder of promotion and reward.

Hood added dryly. `Now that you all know each other, we will continue! From this day forward our vigilance must be stepped up. Our patrols must make every effort to watch each enemy port and spare no efforts to pass information back to me. When de Grasse breaks out it will be swift and final. If we cannot call his challenge and close him in battle we are done for, and make no mistake about it!'

His deep, booming voice' filled the crowded cabin, so that Bohtho could almost feel the import of his words like a physical force.

The admiral went on tirelessly and methodically outline the known whereabouts of supply ships enemy force showed neither strain nor impatience, and there was nothing at all in his manner to betray the fact that he had only recently returned to Antigua after holding St. Kitts against the whole French military force and their attendant fleet.

Sir George Rodney interrupted, 'I want every one of you to study and familiarise yourselves with my signal requirements.' He looked sharply around the cabin. 'I will not tolerate any officer misunderstanding my signals, any more than I will accept excuses for failing to execute same!'

Several captains exchanged quick glances. It was well known that when Rodney had tried to close the French admiral de Guichen off Martinique, and had not succeeded because some of his captains had failed either to understand or react to his signals, he had been quite ruthless. More than one captain now lived on miserly half-pay in England with nothing but disgrace and bad memories for comfort.

Rodney continued in a calmer tone, `Watch for my signals. Wherever, and on whatever ship my flag flies, watch for my signals!' He leaned back and stared at the deckhead. `This time there will be no second chance. We will win a great victory, or we will lose everything!'

He nodded to Hood, who added briefly, `Orders will be issued immediately to senior officers of squadrons. From the moment you leave here the fleet will be in all respects ready for sea. It is up to our patrolling frigates and sloops to watch the enemy's lairs like hounds.' He pounded the table with his fist. `Give the Commander-in-Chief the scent and the kill is assured!'

There was a murmur of approval, and Bolitho realised that the meeting was over.

Lieutenant Dancer said quietly, `I wonder where our squadron will be sent? I would hate to miss the final scene when it comes!'

Bolitho nodded, mentally smiling at the picture of the tiny Witch of Looe engaging de Grasse's'three-deckers. Aloud he said, `There are never enough frigates. In every war it is the same story. Too little too late!' But he could say it without bitterness. Phalarope would be needed more than ever now. With the vast sea areas, the complex hiding places amongst the lines of scattered islands, every frigatee would have more than enough to do.

He realised with a start that a sharp-faced flag-lieutenant had crossed the cabin to stop him leaving with the others.

`Sir George Rodney wishes to speak to you.'

Bolitho hitched up his 'sword and walked across the thick carpet. By the table he halted, half listening to the retreating scrape of footsteps. He heard the door close and the distant shrill of pipes speeding the exit of the fleet's captains, and for a terrible moment he thought he had misunderstood the flag. lieutenant's words.

Rodney was still sitting in his chair, his eyes half closed as he stared at the deckhead. Hood and Sir Robert Napier were completely engrossed in a chart on a nearby desk, and even the messmen seemed busy and oblivious to the young captainn by the table.

Then Rodney lowered his eyes and said wearily, `I know your father, Bolitho. We sailed together, of course. A very gallant officer, and a good friend.' He let his gaze move slowly across Bolitho's tanned face and down the length of his body. `You have a lot of him in you.' He nodded. `I am glad to have you under my command.'

Bolitho thought of his father alone in the big house, watch-, ing the ships in the bay. He said, `Thank you, sir. My father wished to be remembered to you.'

Rodney did not seem to hear. `There is so much to do. So few ships for the task.' He sighed deeply. `I am sorry you had to meet your only brother in such a fashion.' His eyes were suddenly fixed and unwavering.

Bolitho saw Sir Robert Napier stiffen beside the chart and heard himself reply, `He believes what he is doing is right, sir.'

The eyes were still hard on his face. `And what do you believe?’

'He is my brother, sir. But if we meet again I will not betray my cause.' He hesitated. `Or your trust, sir.'

Rodney nodded. `I never doubted it, my boy.'

Sir Samuel Hood coughed politely, and Rodney said with sudden briskness, `Return to your ship, Bolitho. I hope that both you and your father will be spared further hurt.' His eyes were cold as, he added, `It is easy to do your duty when there is no alternative. Yours was not an easy choice. Nor will it be if your brother is taken!'

He lapsed into silence, and the flag-lieutenant said impa

tiently, `Your hat, sir! And I have just called for your boat!' Bolitho followed the harassed officer into the sunlight, his mind still dwelling on the admiral's words. So the whole fleet would now know about his brother. In the confined, monastic world- of ships permanently at sea he would be discussed and measured against past exploits and future events.

He ran down the gangway to the waiting boat and stared across at the anchored Phalarope. Once she had been on trial. Now it was the turn of her captain.

On the evening of the same day that Bolitho had attended the conference aboard the Formidable, and with a minimum of fuss or ceremony, the Phalarope weighed and headed for the open sea.

The following morning found her a bare fifty miles to the south-west, her full set of sails drawing on the gentle breeze which did little to ease the growing power of the sun.

But this time she was not completely alone. Even from the deck it was possible to see the Cassius, her tall pyramids of canvas golden in the early sunlight as she moved on a ponderous and slow parallel course. Somewhere beyond her, hidden below the lip of the horizon, was the frigate Volcano. Invisible, and ahead of the slow-moving formation, Lieutenant Dancer's tiny Witch of Looe alone enjoyed a certain freedom of movement beyond the scrutiny of her admiral.

Lieutenant Herrick had just taken over the forenoon watch and stood relaxed by the quarterdeck rail as he idly watched the men at work on the maindeck. Earlier the swabs and holystones had made the planking wet and pliable, but now as the heat slowly mounted above the gently swaying hull the decks shone in shimmering whiteness while the normal business of splicing and running repairs was carried out.

It was a peaceful scene, and the combination of warmth and a good breakfast left Herrick drowsy and at ease. Occasionally he cast an eye towards Midshipman Neale to make sure he had his glass trained on the distant flagship, and Phalarope was keeping as good a station as the wind allowed.

He could see Lieutenant Okes inspecting the starboard battery of twelve-pounders with Brock, the gunner, and wondered, not for the first time, what was going on behind his strained features. Ever since the raid on Mola Island Okes had been a changed man. And the admiral's casual comments across the dinner table had made him withdraw even more into himself.

As for Farquhar, it was quite impossible to tell what he was thinking. Herrick was not sure, if he envied the midshipman's aloof reserve or admired him for it. It was strange how Farquhar's manner had always made him feel on the defensive. Perhaps it was because of his own humble beginnings, he decided. Even here, cooped up in a small frigate, Farquhar retained his distance and individuality.

Herrick tried to imagine what he would have felt if, as Rennie had suggested, Okes had retreated from the raid without care or interest, and had left him to die. He pictured himself reacting as Farquhar had done, but instantly in his heart he knew he was deceiving himself. More than likely it would have ended in an open conflict, with a court martial to round it off.

The helmsman coughed warningly, and Herrick turned quickly as Bolitho came up the cabin hatch. He touched his hat and waited as Bolitho walked first to the compass and then stood looking up at the masthead pendant. Then he relaxed slightly as Bolitho crossed to his side and looked down at the busy seamen on deck.

'Another fifty miles to our patrolling station, Mr. Herrick. At this speed we will need another day!' There was impatience in his tone, and a touch of irritation which Herrick was now able to recognise immediately.

Herrick said, `But still it is comforting to see the Cassius abeam, sir. If de Grasse ventures out this way we will not be alone!'

Bolitho stared at the distant gleam of sails, but there was no response to Herrick's forced cheerfulness. 'Ah yes, the flagship.' He gave a bitter smile. 'Forty years old, and so much weed on her bottom that she crawls even in a strong gale!'

Herrick looked quickly at the Cassius. Up until this moment size and seniority had represented safety and a ready shield. He replied, 'I did not know, sir.'

'She was a Dutch prize, Mr. Herrick. Look at the rake of her beakheadl' Then as if realising that he was speaking from memory of things which were of no importance he added harshly, 'My God, this crawling makes me sick!'

Herrick tried another tack. 'Our orders, sir. May I ask what is expected of us?'

He immediately regretted his impulse and checked himself as Bolitho turned his head away to watch a slowly circling gull. But from the set of the captain's shoulders and the way his hands were locked on the rail he knew that he had struck on something uppermost in Bolitho's mind.

But Bolitho's voice was calm as he answered, 'We will take up our station fifty miles to the west'rd of Guadeloupe and keep contact with our''-he waved his hand towards the open sea-'with our squadron!'

Herrick digested this information slowly. The excitement and frantic preparations at Antigua had left him in little doubt of an impending battle, and he knew that even now most of those proud ships he had watched with an undiminished fascination would have weighed and set sail to complete Rodney's plan to seek out and confront the Comte de Grasse.

Bolitho continued absently, 'There is a chain of ships up and down the Caribbean. One good sighting and the chase will be on.' But there was no excitement in his voice. 'Unfortunately, Martinique is another hundred miles to the south of our patrol area, Mr. Herrick. De Grasse will be there with the bulk of his ships. He will bide his time and then make a dash for Jamaica.' He turned swiftly and stared at Herrick's frowning face. 'And when Rodney's frigates report that the French have sailed, the fleet will attack him!' He shrugged, the gesture both angry and despairing. 'And we shall still be on our station, as useless as a signpost in a desert!'