He almost missed his footing, but as the barge squeaked heavily against the Hyperion's fat flank he jumped out and down, praying that he had not misjudged it.
Allday breathed out. 'Out oars! Give way together!' Then he thrust the tiller hard over, and by the time Bolitho had regained his wind the Hyperion was already dropping fast astern.
She was swinging round once more to keep station on the flagship, and Bolitho felt a touch of pride as he watched the sails filling and the sluice of spray breaking back from her counter. He had been aboard her for twelve days only, yet_ already he could hardly remember what had gone before.
No sooner had Bolitho made another precarious climb from his barge to the flagship's entry port than he was met by her captain, and with hardly more than a curt greeting was led aft to the great stem cabin. If Bolitho's quarters in Hyperion were spacious, those of Admiral Hood were even grander on every scale.
Hood was seated on the bench below the stem window with one leg propped comfortably on a stool and his massive head in silhouette as he stared out at the ships which followed slowly in Victory's wake. He made no effort to stand but waved his hand towards a chair beside his writing table.
'I am very pleased to see you here, Bolitho. You appear to have carried the years well.'
Bolitho seated himself carefully and studied his superior with interest and admiration. He knew that Hood was nearing seventy, yet apart from a certain looseness around the jowl and the slowness of his speech he appeared to have changed little in the eleven years since their last meeting. The heavy brows and large beaked nose were the same. And the eyes which now swung to study him across the table were as clear and bright as a young man's.
The admiral asked, suddenly, `How do you like your ship, eh? Good enough for you?'
'I am well satisfied, sir.' Bolitho knew that Hood rarely wasted much time on unnecessary conversation and was taken slightly off guard. Perhaps, after all Hood was feeling his years. But for the war he would now be enjoying a more restful life well away from the burden of commanding a fleet.
Hood continued abruptly, 'I remember you well. You did good work at the Saintes.' He sighed. 'I wish I had my old flagship, the Barfleur, here with me today, but she is with Lord Howe in the Channel Fleet.' He heaved himself from the seat and moved heavily across the cabin. Over his shoulder he said, 'You've read all the intelligence reports, I suppose.' He hurried on without waiting „for a reply. It was safe to assume that any captain joining his command would have made himself fully familiar with every available detail if he wished to stay a captain. 'Just over yonder the French have at least twenty sail of the line bottled up in Toulon. I intend to see that they stay there until I decide what next action to pursue.'
Bolitho digested this information carefully. With a growing British squadron daily patrolling the French coastline it would be madness for the enemy to expect their own ships to enter or leave Toulon, or – Marseilles either for that matter.
Hood added sharply, 'In a week or so I shall have twentyone ships under my flag, and by that time I will know what to do. Compte Trogoff commands the French ships at Toulon, and our agents there have already reported that he is ready to negotiate terms with us. He was loyal to his king, like many more in Toulon. But his position is dangerous. Unless he can be sure of real support from his own people he will never allow us to land our men and take over the port.'
Bolitho said carefully, 'I would think that he has little time left to make up his mind, sir.'
Lord Hood gave what passed for a smile. 'You are right there, by God! There are reports that the French General Carteau is already marching south. I am hoping that such information is also available to Trogoff, for either way I am afraid his days will be numbered unless he obtains our assistance.' He drew one hand across his throat. 'He would not be the first French admiral to die on the scaffold. Not even one of the first dozen!'
Bolitho tried to imagine himself in the position of the wretched Admiral Trogoff. His was a difficult decision indeed. Beyond the sealed door the giant hundred-gun flagship murmured with life, the creak of spars and rigging, the muffled shout of orders. Across in his own ship Quarme and the others would be watching and wondering. Like himself.
Pipes shrilled from the upper',deck and there was more stamping and shouting. Another captain from one of the ships astern no doubt.
The admiral said calmly, 'What this campaign needs is a show of confidence. We cannot afford a failure at this early stage.' He looked hard at Bolitho. 'Have you heard of Cozar Island?'
Bolitho tore his mind back from the crowded possibilities of a full-scale invasion with the Hyperion in the van of the attack.
'Er yes, sir.' He saw the glint of impatience in Hood's eyes and added, 'We passed it to seaward on the night of the sixth.'
'And I take it that is all you know of it?' Hood's question was sharp.
'It lies off the French coast, sir, but is actually Spanish.'
'Well, that is slightly better,' said Hood dryly. 'In fact, Cozar was given by the late King Louis to Spain in exchange for some concession in the Caribbean. It lies about one hundred and twenty-five miles west-south-west from the chair you're sitting on. It is 'a miserable, sun-scorched place, and until recently was used by the Spaniards as a penal settlement. With their usual contempt for human life they realised that only convicts and scorpions could live there.'
He stood quite still, looking down at Bolito as he continued, 'But Cozar has one important asset. It has a magnificent harbour, and no other landing places at all. There is a fort of some kind at either end, and a well-sited battery could keep a whole fleet at bay for as long as necessary.'
Bolitho nodded. 'So close to the French coast it could be used like a stone frigate. Our ships would be safe for replenishing stores and sheltering from bad weather, and could dash out and attack any coastal shipping without warning.'
Hood said nothing and Bolitho realised with sudden clarity what the admiral had implied about his 'show of confidence'. He said quietly, 'Also we could launch a second in vasion from there should the Toulon venture prove successful.'
Hood eyed him grimly. `You get there in the end, Bolitho. Well done!' He walked back to the windows. `Unfortunately the French may have realised Cozar's importance already. I sent the sloop Fairfax to investigate a week ago. Nothing has been seen of her since.' He slapped his. hands together violently. ' Spain is our new ally, but under real pressure who can say how long such allegiance will last?'
There was a nervous tap at the door and a flag-lieutenant peered in at them.
Hood glared at him. 'Get out, damn you!' In a calmer voice he continued, "I have a Spanish squadron with me now. If we are to seize and occupy Cozar then the Spanish must outwardly be the main cause of the victory.' His eyebrows lifted slightly. 'It will clinch our relationship and will show the French that we are united not merely from fear but out of mutual respect.' He smiled grimly. 'Well, that is how it should look, eh?'
Bolitho rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'And you want the Hyperion to take part, sir?'
`I do. Of all the captains under my command I think you arepossibly the best suited. I seem to recall that you carried out some very successful raids in the Caribbean. That sort of initiative and imagination is what we need at the moment.' He looked away. 'You will accompany two Spanish ships of the line, of course, but the operation will be under the overall command of Vice-Admiral Sir William Moresby, d'you know him?'
Bolitho shook his head, his mind still mulling over Hood's words. After coming so far with the hope of taking part in the real campaign, and now this. Hyperion would go about and sail back again, with nothing but some local skirmish at the end of it. Once ensconced on their own territory the Spanish would be quick to rid themselves of Hyperion, Vice-Admiral Moresby or not.