shall!'
13. RETURN TO COZAR
The barge crew tossed their oars and sat motionless on the thwarts as the boat slid neatly alongside the jetty where it was instantly made fast to the great rusting iron rings.
Bolitho gathered his cloak around him and stepped carefully on to the worn steps, then he stood for a few moments looking back at the crowded harbour. It was evening, and in the purple twilight the anchored ships looked at peace, even gay, with their twinkling lanterns and glowing gunports, the latter thrown open to clear the heat and humidity of the day. The flagship Tenacious anchored in the centre of the stream had strings of coloured lanterns along her poop, and as he stood on the old jetty Bolitho could hear some of her people singing one of the sad songs beloved by sailors the world over.
Now, looking round, it was hard to believe so much had happened, that at dawn this very day the Hyperion had sailed past the burning Saphir to take command of the port. He eased his arm painfully beneath his cloak and felt the stab of agony lance through him like fire. Without effort he could relive the sickening minutes as Rowlstone had cut the coat sleeve and shirt from the gaping wound, the blood pouring afresh as he had pulled the remnants of cloth from the deep slash left by the French lieutenant's blade. Tentatively he moved each finger in turn, gritting his teeth against the immediate pain, but thanking God that the surgeon had not found it necessary to amputate his arm.
Herrick climbed up from the boat and stood beside him. He said, 'It's difficult to grasp that we're in France, sir. The ships look as if they belong here.'
It was true. Within hours of Pomfret's squadron arriving in the inlet the transports had been unloaded, and gratefully the soldiers had formed up in the bright sunlight before marching through the town inland to the hills and to positions abreast the coast road. In addition to Colonel Cobban's infantry and a small detachment of light artillery there had been a thousand Spanish troops and a full squadron of their cavalry. The latter had looked resplendent and proud in their pale yellow tunics. On perfect horses they had cantered through the narrow streets, watched with fascinated awe by crowds of townspeople and cheered by the many children along the route.
But now the town was like a dead place, for as soon as the landing force had cleared the streets Pomfret had ordered a curfew. The narrow lanes, the bridge across the river and most of the main buildings were guarded by some of the two hundred and fifty marines landed by Pomfret's ships, and foot patrols moved constantly about the town to enforce his orders.
The boom across the entrance had not been replaced, but half a dozen guardboats rowed back and forth in regular sweeps, with the gutted hulk of the Saphir close by to remind them of the price of negligence and over-confidence.
Bolitho said, 'Carry on back to the ship, Allday. I will signal for the barge when I require it.'
Aiday stood in the boat and touched his hat. 'Aye, aye, Captain.'
He sounded worried, and Bolitho added quietly, 'I do not think that this visit will-be prolonged.'
It was strange how Allday fretted about him, he thought. Had he been present aboard the flagship when he had reported to Pomfret he might have been even more disturbed.
The admiral's reception had been cool, to say the least. He had listened in silence to Bolitho's account of the raid and the events leading up to it, his face completely expressionless.
Then he had said shortly, 'You take too much upon yourself! You knew my orders, yet you decided to act entirely on your own.' He had begun to pace the cabin. 'The French might have been trying to play a double game. All this socalled ardour for their dead king could be a mere tactic to delay our own operations!'
Bolitho had remembered Charlois, his desperate determination to warn him.
'Charlois gave his life, sir. I acted as I thought fit to prevent what might have been a military disaster and a great loss of life
Pomfret had regarded him searchingly. 'And you entered harbour first, Bolitho. Before me and the squadron. Very convenient!'
Bolitho had replied, 'I could not contact you in time, sir. I had to do what I did.'
There is a point when tenacity becomes stupidity!' Pomfret had not proceeded further with the matter for at that moment Captain Dash had entered to announce that the soldiers were ready to disembark.
Bolitho had been too weary, too sick with pain and effort to care about Pomfret's anger. Looking back, it seemed as if the admiral actually suspected he had planned and carried out his attack on the Saphir merely to gain favour, to grasp rewards for himself, even at the expense of losing his ship and every man aboard.
He said to Herrick, 'The admiral wishes all his senior officers to take wine with him. We had better make sure we are on time.'
They walked in silence along a narrow, cobbled lane where the houses on either side seemed to reach towards each other as if to touch.
Herrick said, 'How long will it be before the enemy launch an attack on the port, sir?'
'Who can say! But Cobban has his scouts around the town, and no doubt Sir Edmund intends to keep up his coastal patrols to watch the road from the north.'
He tried to keep his tone casual, but he could not put the feeling of disappointment to the back of his mind. Pomfret seemed to put a blight on everything. This curfew for instance. The townspeople had greeted the ships and soldiers like their own, had thrown flowers to the grinning redcoats, as if to show that they believed in what they had helped to start and would share the cost, no matter how hard it became.
And aboard the Hyperion the wild excitement had soonbeen pushed aside as Pomfret ordered the squadron to disembark troops and stores with a minimum of delay. Just one word from him would have made all the difference. Hyperion's raiding party had lost fifteen killed and missing, with another ten badly wounded. Viewed against what would have happened had they failed to sink the Saphir it was a negligible amount. But in the ship's tight community it was still very personal and deeply felt.
Pomfret had shifted his flag ashore almost immediately, and as the two officers walked across a deeply shadowed square it became obvious that the admiral had chosen his new headquarters with no little care. It was the house of a rich wine merchant, a pleasant, wide-fronted building, with a pillared entrance and surrounded by a high wall. Cross-belted marines snapped to attention at the gates, and nervous-looking servants waited at the tall double doors to take the hats and cloaks as various officers arrived from ships and garrison alike.
Herrick watched gravely as Bolitho eased his bandaged arm more comfortably inside his dress-coat, noting the deep lines around his mouth, the dampness of sweat below the rebellious lock of hair.
He said at length, `You should have sent me, sir. You're not fit yet. Not by a long shot!'
Bolitho grimaced. 'And miss the chance of seeing this fine house? Certainly not!'
Herrick looked at the hanging tapestries, the rich glitter of perfectly matched chandeliers.
'Sir Edmund seems to find luxury adequate, sir.'
There was no hiding the bitterness in his tone, and Bolitho wondered if Herrick hated Pomfret for what he had once been in the past or for what he imagined he was doing now to his captain.
He smiled briefly. 'You will fall over that tongue of yours one day, Thomas!'
A bewigged footman threw open a door and as a British petty officer muttered in his ear called loudly, 'Captaine de vaisseau, M'sieu Boli…' He faltered, unable to complete it. The petty officer glared at him threateningly and then bellowed in a voice more suited to addressing foretopmen, 'Cap'n Richard Bolitho! Of 'Is Britannic Majesty's Ship Hyperionl'
Bolitho smiled and stepped into a long, panelled room. It seemed to be full of officers, both military and naval, and the buzz of noisy conversation died as every face turned towards him. Bellamy of the Chanticleer was the first to start clapping, and while Bolitho stood momentarily confused and off guard the clapping became cheering until the noise filled the building and spread to the quiet gardens outside where the sentries craned their heads to listen to the thunderous applause.