Quarme hovered nearby. `I am sorry about all that, sir. He is a bit outspoken at times.'
Bolitho faced him. 'It is a pity you are not more outspoken, Mr. Quarme. I should not have to do your work for you!'
Quarme looked as if he had received a slap in the face. `My work, sir?'
`Yes. I do not expect to have to interfere amongst the officers.' He let his words sink in. 'Now let that be the last of it,'
But as he walked to the opposite side of the deck and began to pace slowly back and forth he knew in his heart that it was not the end of it at all.
The next four days were much as those which had gone before, with sail and gun drill taking precedence over all other routine. As the Hyperion tacked round the last jutting corner of the Spanish mainland and steered north-east across the Golfe du Lion there was little to ease the weary monotony or to smooth the atmosphere of irritation and resentment.
During his daily walks on the poop or quarterdeck Bolitho was conscious of his own isolation and the barrier which he had made between himself and his officers. It was necessary, he was more sure of that than ever now. They could resent, even hate, him if they wished, but they had to be drawn together, woven into a weapon which he could use when the time came.
He was still puzzled by Quarme's attitude to Rooke. When they were together Quarme seemed nervous and unsure of himself, although in all matters of duty he was efficient and hard-working. Perhaps he was awed by Rooke's noble upbringing. It was not uncommon for quite, senior officers, let alone aspiring first lieutenants, to be impressed to the point of servility with a subordinate who might have influence at Court or in Parliament, and who could perhaps be the means of quick advancement. But that seemed unlikely here. They had been too long in the same ship. Surely something would have happened by now.
Bolitho sat at his desk and toyed unwillingly with another of Gimlett's meals. Through the stern windows he could see the crisp" whiteness of the ship's short wake, and heard the thump and creak of the steering gear as she butted along in the steady, unswerving wind. In the afternoon sunlight the sea threw back a million dancing reflections, and the endless stretch of small, restless whitecaps made him more aware of his. loneliness.
There was a knock at the door and Piper, one of the midshipmen, stepped carefully into the cabin. With a full press of sail the Hyperion seemed to stay steady and immovable at one angle, so that against the open door Piper's scraggy body appeared to be leaning over as if in a strong wind.
'Mr.-Mr. Inch's respects, sir, and he thinks we have just sighted the squadron!' His eyes followed Bolitho across the,cabin, never leaving him as he pulled on his coat.
'He thinks?' Bolitho felt strangely relieved. At last something might happen to break the apathy.
`Sir!'
Bolitho smiled. Lieutenant Inch was the ship's junior lieutenant, an eager if unsure young man. He would, of course, never commit himself to an actual statement.
He asked, 'How is Mr. Seton settling down?'
Piper screwed up his face so that he looked like a wizened monkey. `He's a bit sick, sir.' He sighed. `He's not used to it all yet.'
Bolitho hid a smile. Piper was also sixteen, yet spoke with the assurance of an admiral.
He walked past the marine sentry and on to the quarterdeck. The wind was still very fresh, but as he glanced forward across the leaping bowsprit he caught sight of a growing grey wedge of land. They had been following.t it all day, losing it as they ploughed through some open bay and picking it up again near the next headland.
Quarme said formally, 'Masthead reports six sail of the line to the north, sir.'
Bolitho saw Inch's long face watching him across the first lieutenant's shoulder. He was nodding vacantly in time with Quarme's words.
'Very well. Alter course two points to larboard to intercept.'
He crossed the deck and watched the men pouring up from below as the bosun's mates yelled, 'Hands to the braces there!'
Gossett stood stolidly near the wheel his lower lip between his teeth as the great yards began to swing round. To the helmsman he growled, ' 'Old 'er, man! Full an' bye!' Then he glanced aloft at the thundering sails and gave a slow smile. Bolitho had seen that smile before and- knew that Gossett was satisfied.
Bolitho took his glass and steadied his legs against the pitch and roll of the deck. With the wind sweeping down across• the bow and the ship sailing as close as she was able to it the motion was uneven and more pronounced.
He heard Quarme snap, 'Aloft with you, Mr. Piper, and be sure you make a proper report!'
Bolitho saw the tall pyramids of sails evenly spaced and shining like polished shells in the sunlight. Even from the deck there was no mistaking them.
He said to the quarterdeck at large, 'Stand by to report all signals.'
Then, carried by the wind like a flute he heard Piper calling from the mainmast. 'Six ships of the line, sir! The leading one wears the admiral's flag!'
The six ships were running on the opposite tack, and as Bolitho studied them through his glass he saw them growing in size and detail until the leading one, a huge three-decker with the admiral's flag at the main, filled his lens so that he could see the hull shining with thrown spray, the red and gold of her figurehead.
As he strained his eye to watch her he saw the tiny black balls streaking up the yards and breaking out like coloured metal in the wind.
Inch shouted, 'Flagship's signalling, sir!' He was hopping with excitement, as if he personally had spirited the squadron over the horizon.
Caswell, the signal midshipman, had already perched himself in the mizzen shrouds his big telescope steadied like a gun.
flying our pendant, sir!' His lips moved slowly, Then he called, 'Victory to Hyperion, "Fake station to windward!"'
Quarme. said quickly, 'The admiral'll be wanting you to go across, sir.'
'I imagine so.' Bolitho pushed his hands behind him to hide his excitement. 'Tack the ship and then call my boat's crew and prepare for lowering.'
Quarme nodded. Then he raised his speaking trumpet. 'Stand by to go about!'
From beside the wheel Gossett bellowed, 'Ready ho!' Then as the seamen ran to the braces he snapped, 'Helm a'lee!'
The hands up forward let go the headsail sheets and the Hyperion swung slowly into the wind, every block and sail flapping and banging as if outraged at this sudden change of direction.
From the maindeck came a yelp of pain, followed by a sharp, 'Lively, you awkward bugger! Lord 'God is watchin! you!'
Breathless and groaning, the men at the braces dug in their toes and hauled the great yards round, further and further, until with the jubilant roar of thunder the sails billowed and then filled, taut and bulging, while the ship beneath them heeled over to the wind.
Bolitho saw Gosset grinning and said, 'She handles well, Mr. Gossett. Slow but very determined.' He added, 'We will have the royals off her, Mr. Quarme.'
The fresh orders sent more men clambering aloft, and as the sails grew smaller and then vanished at the hands of the topmen Midshipman Caswell, who had run frantically to the opposite side of the quarterdeck, shouted, 'Flag to Hyperion, "Captain repair on board forthwith!"
Bolitho snapped, 'Acknowledge!' He looked down at his shabby seagoing uniform. There was no time to change now. From any admiral 'forthwith' meant immediately, if no sooner. 'Call away my barge!'
As the six other ships drew closer the Hyperion turned once more into the wind, sails thundering in protest and every shroud and stay vibrating like some mad musical instrument.
The barge was already swayed out, and as Bolitho took his sword from an anxious Gimlett, Allday shouted, 'Lower away!' By the time Bolitho had reached the entry port the boat was dipping and plunging alongside, the white oars raised like twin lines of polished bones.