He had been awake for most of the night, but when the hands were called, and the work of preparing the ship for whatever lay ahead begun, he had felt a strange eagerness to sleep.
Allday had padded into the cabin, and while Ozzard had magicked up his strong coffee, the big coxswain had shaved him by the light of a spiralling lantern.
Allday had still not unburdened himself about his son. Bolitho could remember his elation when he had discovered he had a son of twenty, one he had known nothing about, who had decided to join him when his mother, an old love of Allday's, had died.
Then aboard the cutter Supreme after Bolitho had been cut down and almost completely blinded, Allday had nursed an anger and a despair that his son, also named John, was a coward, and had run below at the very moment when Bolitho had needed him most.
Now he knew differently. Afraid of the fire of battle perhaps, but no coward. It took a brave heart to disguise fear when the enemy's iron raked the decks.
But his son had asked to leave the ship when they had docked. For Allday's sake and for everyone's peace of mind Bolitho had spoken to the officer in charge of the coastguard near Falmouth, and asked him to find a place for him. His son, John Bankart as he was named after his mother, had been a good seaman, and could reef, splice and steer with the most experienced Jack. He had been performing the duties of second-coxswain in the prize Argo-naute to help Allday, who was too proud to admit that his terrible wound was making things hard for him. Also, Allday had been able to keep an eye on him, until the day when Bolitho had been wounded whilst aboard the little cutter.
Bolitho disliked asking favours of anyone, especially because of his rank, and now he was unsure that he had done the right thing. Allday brooded about it, and when not required on duty spent too much time alone, or sitting with a tot in his hand in Ozzard's pantry.
We are both in need. Like dog and master. Each fearful that the other would die first.
A youthful voice exclaimed, 'Sunrise, sir!'
Haven muttered something, then crossed to the weather side. He touched his hat in the darkness.
The boats are ready for lowering, Sir Richard.' He seemed more formal than ever. 'But if Upholder is on station we should get plenty of warning if we need to clear for action.'
'I agree.' Bolitho wondered what lay behind the formality. Was he hoping to see Upholder's signal flying to announce she had Thor in sight? Or was he expecting the sea to be empty, the effort and the preparation a waste of time?
He said, 'I never tire of this moment.' Together they watched the first glimpse of sunlight as it rimmed the horizon like a fine gold wire. With Hyperion on her present tack the sun would rise almost directly astern, to paint each sail by turn then reach out far ahead, as if to show them the way to the land.
Haven commented, 'I just hope the Dons don't know we're so near.'
Bolitho hid a smile. Haven would make Job seem like an optimist.
Another figure crossed the deck and waited for Haven to see him. It was the first lieutenant.
Haven moved a few paces away. 'Well? What now?' His voice was hushed, but the hostility was obvious.
Parris said calmly, The two men for punishment, sir. May I tell the master-at-arms to stand over their sentence until -'
'You shall not, Mr Parris. Discipline is discipline, and I'll not have men escape their just deserts because we may or may not be engaging an enemy.'
Parris stood his ground. 'It was nothing that serious, sir.'
Haven nodded, satisfied. 'One of them is from your part-of-ship, am I right? Laker? Insolent to a petty officer.'
Parris's eyes seemed to glow from within as the first weak sunlight made patterns on the planking.
They both lost their tempers, sir. The petty officer called him a whore's bastard.' He seemed to relax, knowing the battle was already lost. 'Me, sir, I'd have torn out his bloody tongue!'
Haven hissed, 'I shall speak with you later! Those men will be seized up and flogged at six bells!'
Parris touched his hat and walked away.
Bolitho heard the captain say, 'Bloody hound!'
It was no part of his to interfere. Bolitho looked at the sunrise, but it was spoiled by what he had heard.
He would have to speak to Haven about it later when they were alone. He glanced up at the mizzen topmast as a shaft of light played across the shrouds and running rigging. If he waited until action was joined it might be too late.
The words seemed to echo around his mind. If I should fall… Every ship was only as strong as her captain. If there was something wrong… He looked round, Haven brushed from his thoughts, as the masthead yelled, 'Sail in sight to the sou'-west!'
Bolitho clenched his hands into fists. It must be Upholder, right on station. He had been right in his choice for the van.
He said, 'Prepare to come about, Captain Haven.'
Haven nodded. 'Pipe the hands to the braces, Mr Quayle.'
Another face fitted into the pattern; Bolitho's companion of the forenoon watch the day before. The sort of officer who would have no compassion when it came to a flogging.
Bolitho added, 'Do you have a good man aloft today?'
Haven stared at him, his face still masked in shadow. 'I – I believe so, sir.'
'Send up an experienced hand. A master's mate for my money.'
'Aye, sir.' Haven sounded tense. Angry with himself for not thinking of the obvious. He could scarcely blame Parris for that.
Bolitho glanced around as the shadows nearby took on shape and personality. Two young midshipmen, both in their first ship, the of ficer-of-the-watch, and below the break in the poop he saw the tall, powerful figure of Penhaligon the master. If he was satisfied with their progress you would never know, Bolitho thought.
'Deck there! Upholder in sight!'
Bolitho guessed the voice was that of Rimer, master's mate of the watch. He was a small, bronzed man with features so creased that he looked like some seafarer from a bygone age. The other vessel was little more than a blur in the faint daylight, but Rimer's experience and keen eye told him all he needed to know.
Bolitho said, 'Mr Jenour, get aloft with a glass.' He turned aside as the young lieutenant hurried to the shrouds. 'I trust you climb as fast as you ride?'
He saw the flash of teeth as Jenour grinned back at him. Then he was gone, his arms and legs working with all the ease of a nimble maintopman.
Haven crossed the deck and looked up at Jenour's white breeches. 'It will be light enough soon, sir.'
Bolitho nodded. 'Then we shall know.'
He bunched his fists together under his coat-tails as Jenour's voice pealed down.
'Signal from Upholder, sir! Thor in company!'
Bolitho tried not to show excitement or surprise. Imrie had done it.
'Acknowledge!' He had to cup his hands to shout above the slap of canvas and rigging. There was no further signal from Upholder. It meant nothing had gone wrong so far, and that the ungainly lighter was still safely in tow.
He said, 'When the others are in sight, Captain Haven, signal them to proceed while we are all of one mind. There is no time for another conference. Even now there is a chance we might be discovered before we are all in position.'
He walked to the nettings again. There was no point in showing doubt or uncertainty to Haven. He looked aloft as more and more of the rigging and spars took shape in the sunlight. It was strange that he had never mastered his dislike of heights. As a midshipman he had faced each dash aloft to help shorten or make more sail as a separate challenge. At night in particular, with the yards heeling over towards the bursting spray and the deck little more than a blur far beneath his feet, he had felt an enduring terror.