Honour This Day

And now there was Catherine. Rumours were always blown up out of all proportion. Like Nelson's much-vaunted affair. Later, Nelson would regret it. When he laid down his sword for the last time, there would be many old enemies eager to forget his triumphs and his worth. Hernck came of a poor family and knew how hard it was to rise above any superior's dislike, let alone outright hostility. Bolitho had saved him from it, had given him the chance he would otherwise never have had. There was no denying that. And yet -

Gossage straightened his hat. 'Barge approaching, sir!'

A voice yelled, 'Clear the upper deck¹'

It would not look right to have the gundeck and forecastle crowded with idlers when Bolitho came aboard. But they were there all the same, despite some tempting smells from the galley funnel.

Hernck gripped his sword and pressed it to his side. Old friends. None closer. How could it happen like this?

The calls shrilled and the Royal Marine fliers struck into Heart of Oak, while the guard slapped their muskets to the present in a small cloud of pipeclay.

Bolitho stood framed against the sea's silky blue and doffed his hat.

He had not changed, Hernck thought. And as far as he could see, he had no grey hairs, although he was a year older than Hernck himself.

Bolitho nodded to the Royal Marines and said, 'Smart guard, Major.' Then he strode across to Herrick and thrust out his hand.

Herri ck seized it, knowing how important this moment was, perhaps to Bolitho as well.

'Welcome, Sir Richard!'

Bolitho smiled, his teeth white against his sunburned skin.

'It is good to see you, Thomas. Though I fear you must hate this change of plans.'

Together they walked aft to the great cabin while the guard was dismissed, and Allday cast off the barge to idle comfortably within Benbow's tat shadow.

In the cabin it seemed cool after the quarterdeck, and Hernck watched as Bolitho seated himself by the stern windows, saw his eyes moving around while he recalled it as it had once been. His own flagship. There had been other changes too. That last battle had made certain of that.

The servant brought some wine and Bolitho said, 'It seems that Our Nel is still in the Atlantic.'

Herrick swallowed his wine without noticing it. 'So they say. I have heard that he may return to England and haul down his flag, as it looks unlikely that the French will venture out in strength. Not this year anyway.'

'Is that what you think'' Bolitho examined the glass. Herrick was on edge. More than he had expected. 'It is possible, of course, that the enemy may slip through the Strait again and run for Toulon.'

Hernck frowned. 'If so, we shall have 'em. Caught between us and the main fleet.'

'But suppose Villeneuve intends to break out from another direction? By the time their lordships got word to us, he would be beating up the Channel, while we remain kicking our heels in ignorance.'

Hernck stirred uneasily. 'I am keeping up my patrols -'

'I knew you would. I see you are short of a ship?'

Herrick was startled. 'Absolute, yes. I sent her to Gibraltar. She's so rotten, I wonder she remains afloat.' He seemed to stiffen. 'It was my responsibility. I did not know then that you were assuming total command.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Easy, Thomas. It was not meant as a criticism. I might have done the same.'

Herrick looked at the deck. Might. He said, 'I shall be pleased to hear of your intentions.'

'Presently, Thomas. Perhaps we might sup together?'

Hernck looked up and saw the grey eyes watching him. Pleading with him?

He replied, 'I'd relish that.' He faltered. 'You could bring Captain Haven if you wish, although I understand -'

Bolitho stared at him. Of course. He would not have heard yet.

'Haven is under arrest, Thomas. In due course I expect he will stand trial for attempting to murder his first lieutenant.' He almost smiled at Hernck's astonishment. It probably sounded completely insane. He added, 'Haven imagined that the lieutenant was having an affair with his wife. There was a child. He was wrong, as it turned out. But the damage was done.'

Herrick refilled his glass and spilled some wine on the table without heeding it.

'I have to speak out, Sir Richard.'

Bolitho watched him gravely. 'No rank or title 'twixt us, Thomas – unless you need a barricade for your purpose?'

Hernck exclaimed, 'This woman. What can she mean to you except -'

Bolitho said quietly, 'You and I are friends, Thomas. Let us remain as such.' He looked past him and pictured Catherine in the shadows. He said, 'I am in love with her. Is that so hard to understand'' He tried to keep the bitterness from his tone. 'How would you feel, Thomas, if some stranger referred to your Dulcic as this woman, eh?'

Hernck gripped the arms of his chair. 'God damn it, Richard, why do you twist the truth? You know, you must know what everyone is saying, that you are besotted by her, have thrown your wife and child to the winds so that you can lose yourself, and to hell with all who care for you!'

Bolitho thought briefly of the grand house in London. 'I've thrown nobody to the winds. I have found someone I can love. Reason does not come into it.' He stood up and crossed to the windows. 'You must know I do not act lightly in such matters." He swung round. 'Are you judging me too? Who are you -Christ?'

They faced each other like enemies. Then Bolitho said, 'I need her, and I pray that she may always need me. Now let that be an end to it, man!'

Hernck took several deep breaths and refilled both glasses.

'I shall never agree ' He fixed Bolitho with the bright blue eyes he had always remembered. 'But I'll not let it put my duty at risk.'

Bolitho sat down again 'Duty, Thomas? Don't speak to me of that. I've had a bellyful of late.' He made up his mind. 'This combined squadron is our responsibility. I am not usurping your leadership and that you must know. I don't share their lordships' attitude on the French, that is if they indeed have one. Pierre Villeneuve is a man of great intelligence, he is not one to go by the book of fighting instructions. He needs to be cautious on the one hand, for if he fails in his ultimate mission to clear the Channel for invasion, then he must die at the guillotine.'

Hernck muttered, 'Barbarians¹'

Bolitho smiled. 'We must explore every possibility and keep our ships together except for the patrols. When the time comes, it will be a hard sail to find and support Nelson and brave Colling-wood.' He put down his glass very slowly. 'You see, I do not believe that the French will wait until next year. They have run the course.' He looked through the sun's glare towards the anchored ships. 'So have we.'

Herrick felt safer on familiar ground. 'Who do you have as flag captain?'

Bolitho watched him and said dryly, 'Captain Keen. There is none better. Now that you are promoted beyond my reach, Thomas.'

Herrick did not hide his dismay. 'So we are all drawn together?'

Bolitho nodded. 'Remember Lieutenant Browne – how he called us We Happy Few?'

Herrick frowned. 'I don't need reminding.'

'Well, think on it, Thomas, my friend, there are even fewer of us now!'

Bolitho stood up and reached for his hat. 'I must return to Hyperion. Perhaps later -' He left it unsaid. Then he placed the packet of letters for Herrick on the table.

'From England, Thomas. There will be more news, I expect.' Their eyes met and Bolitho ended quietly, 'I wanted you to hear it from me, as a friend, rather than assault your ears with more gossip from the sewers.'

Herrick protested, 'I did not mean to hurt you. It is for you that I care.'

Bolitho shrugged. 'We will fight the war together, Thomas. It seems that will have to suffice.'