She had whispered, 'They included mel'
As the boat had pulled clear of the stairs Bolitho had looked back, but she had vanished. And yet as they had bumped over a choppy Solent where Firefly tugged at her cable, he had sensed that she was still there. Watching him to the last second. He had written to ask her just that, and to tell her what her love meant to him.
He remembered what Belinda had said about their infatuation. Allday had described Catherine as a sailor's woman, an'that's no error. When he said it, it sounded the greatest compliment of all.
While the frigate Tybalt and the sloop-of-war Phaedra chased and questioned any coaster or trader foolish enough to be caught under their guns, Bolitho and Keen studied the scanty reports, as day by day they sailed deeper into the Mediterranean.
It was said that Nelson was still in the Atlantic and had joined up with his friend and second-m-command Vice-Admiral Collmgwood. Nelson had probably decided that the enemy were trying to divide the British squadrons by ruses and quick dashes from safe harbours. Only when that was achieved would Napoleon launch his invasion across the Channel.
As Yovell had mildly suggested, 'If that is so, Sir Richard, then you are the senior officer in the Mediterranean.'
Bolitho had barely considered it. But if true, it meant one thing to him. When the enemy came his way he would need to ask no one what he must do. It made the weight of command seem more appealing.
One forenoon as he took his walk on the quarterdeck he saw Lieutenant Parns moving along a gangway, his arm strapped to his side, his steps unsteady while he gauged the rise and fall of the hull. He appeared to have withdrawn more into himself since Haven's attack with intent to murder him. Keen had said that he was well content to have him as his senior, but had not known him before so could not make a comparison.
Parns moved slowly to the lee side of the quarterdeck and clung to a stay to watch some seabirds swooping and diving alongside.
Bolitho walked across from the weather side. 'How do you feel»'
Parns tried to straighten his back but winced and apologised. 'It is slow progress, Sir Richard.' He stared up at the bulging sails, the tiny figures working amongst and high above them. Til feel a mite better when I know I can climb up there again.'
Bolitho studied his strong, gipsy profile. A ladies' man? An enigma'
Parns saw his scrutiny and said awkwardly, 'May I thank you for allowing me to remain aboard, Sir Richard. I am less than useless at the moment.'
'Captain Keen made the final decision.'
Parns nodded, his eyes lost in memory. 'He makes this old ship come alive.' He hesitated, as if measuring the confidence. 'I was sorry to hear of your trouble in London, Sir Richard.'
Bolitho looked at the blue water and tensed as his damaged eye misted slightly in the moist air.
'Nelson has a saying, I believe.' It was like quoting one of Adam's favourites. 'The boldest measures are usually the safest.'
Parns stood back as Keen appeared below the poop-deck, but added, 'I wish you much joy, Sir Richard. Both of you."
Keen joined him by the nettings. 'We shall sight Malta tomorrow in the forenoon watch.' He glanced over at the master's powerful figure. 'Mr Penhahgon assures me.'
Bolitho smiled. 'I was speaking with the first lieutenant. A strange fellow.'
Keen laughed. 'It is wrong, I know, to jest on it, but I have met captains I would have dearly liked to shoot. But never the other way about!'
Down by the boat-tier Allday turned as he heard their laughter. Keen's old coxswain had been killed aboard their last ship, Argonaute. Allday had selected a new man for him, but secretly wished it was his son.
Keen's coxswain was named Tojohns, and he had been captain of the foretop. He glanced aft with him and said, 'A new ship since he stepped aboard.' He studied Allday curiously. 'You've known him a long while then?'
Allday smiled. 'A year or two. He'll do me, an' he's good for Sir Richard, that's the thing.'
Allday thought about their parting at Portsmouth Point. The people cheering and waving their hats, the women smiling fit to burst. It had to work this time. He frowned as the other coxswain broke into his thoughts.
Tojohns asked, 'Why did you pick me?'
Allday gave a lazy grin. Tojohns was a fine seaman and knew how to put himself about in a fight. He was not in the least like old Hogg, Keen's original coxswain. Chalk and cheese. What they said about me and Stockdale.
Allday said,' 'Cause you talk too much1'
Tojohns laughed but fell silent as a passing midshipman glanced sharply at him. It was hard to accept his new role. He would no longer have to be up there at the shrill of every call, fighting wild canvas with his foretopmen. Like Allday he was apart from all that. Somebody, for the first time.
'Mind you.' Allday watched him gravely. 'Whatever you sees down aft, you keep it to yerself, right, matey?'
Tojohns nodded. Down aft. Yes, he was somebody.
Six bells chimed out from Hyperion's forecastle and Captain Valentine Keen touched his hat to Bolitho, barely able to suppress a smile.
'The master was right about our arrival here, Sir Richard.'
Bolitho raised his telescope to scan the familiar walls and batteries of Valletta. 'Only just.'
It had been a lengthy passage from Gibraltar, over eight days to log the weary twelve hundred miles. It had given Keen time to impress his methods on the whole ship, but had filled Bolitho with misgivings at the forthcoming meeting with Hernck.
He said slowly, 'Only three ships-of-the-hne, Val.' He had recognised Hernck's flagship Benbow almost as soon as the masthead lookouts. Once his own flagship, and like Hyperion, full of memories. Keen would be remembering her for very different reasons. Here he had faced a court of enquiry presided over by Herrick. It could have ruined him, but for Bolitho's intervention. Past history? It seemed unlikely he would ever forget.
Bolitho said, 'I can make out the frigate yonder, anchored beyond Benbow.' He had been afraid that she would have been sent elsewhere. She was named La Mouette, a French prize taken off Toulon while Bolitho had been at Antigua. She was a small vessel of only twenty-six guns, but beggars could not be choosers. Any frigate was welcome at this stage of the war against the new cat-and-mouse methods used by the French.
Keen said, 'But it raises our line of battle to eight.' He smiled. 'We have managed with far less in the past.'
Jenour stood slightly apart, supervising the signals midshipmen with their bright flags strewn about in apparent disorder.
Bolitho crossed to the opposite side to watch as the next astern, Thynne's Obdurate, took in more sail and tacked slowly after her admiral.
He pictured Herrick in Benbow, watching perhaps as the five major ships of Bolitho's squadron moved ponderously on a converging tack in readiness to anchor. It was very hot, and Bolitho had seen the sunlight flash on many telescopes amongst the anchored ships. Would Herrick be regretting this meeting, he wondered? Or thinking how their friendship had been born out of battle and a near mutiny in that other war against the American rebels?
He said, 'Very well, Mr Jenour, you may signal now.'
He glanced at Keen's profile. 'We shall just beat eight bells, Val, and so save Mr Penhaligon's reputation!'
'All acknowledged, sir!'
As the signal was briskly hauled to the deck, the ships faced up to the feeble breeze and dropped anchor.
Bolitho said, 'I have to go aft. I shall require my barge directly."
Keen faced him. 'You'll not wait for the rear-admiral to come aboard, Sir Richard?'