More shrills from the silver calls, and he saw George Probyn of the Nicator heaving his untidy shape through the port.
On the other side of the quarterdeck Pascoe was standing with Luce by the signal party, and Bolitho imagined that he himself must have looked like that when as a lieutenant he had witnessed comings and goings of aloof and unreachable beings.
He sighed and walked to the ladder.
Herrick said, "If you will come to my quarters, Captain Probyn. The Commodore wishes to speak with Captain Farquhar."
Farquhar's eyebrows rose slightly." "Pon my word. Bit formal, aren"t we, Captain Herrick?"
Herrick regarded him coldly. "Yes."
Bolitho watched Farquhar as he strode into his cabin.
Watchful, wondering probably what his commodore's reactions were going to be, sensing something deeper around him, too. But confident above all.
"I have my report, sir."
Bolitho gestured to a chair. "In a moment. Our attack as you will have realised, was successful. We have one good prize, and despatched another Spanish vessel in the bay. Four days ago we met with two French ships of the line and engaged them. We broke off the action after crippling both vessels. Our losses were small. Considering."
Farquhar smiled quietly. He did not look quite so confident now. He said, "I followed your instructions, sir. Buzzard reported sighting a convoy of some five sail, and we gave chase. Under the circumstances.
You acted correctly. "Bolitho watched him gravely. "Did you catch them?"
"Captain Javal managed to damage a couple, sir, but he only succeeded in making one heave-to. Unfortunately, I was unable to reach the scene on time as -I had lost my main topgallant mast in a squall. Nicator took the lead, and due to some, er, misunderstanding of signals, fired a half-broad-side into the French vessel, so that she began to founder."
"And then?"
Farquhar tugged an envelope from inside his elegant coat. "My boarding officer managed to save this letter from the master's safe before the vessel capsized and sank. It is addressed to a Yves Gorse, who apparently resides in Malta. It contains instructions for Gorse to prepare watering arrangements." He thrust the letter across the table. "For merchant vessels on their lawful occasions, or words to that effect. I believe the letter to be in some sort of code, but the vessel's master is such a dolt that I could get nothing from him. But the small convoy was out of Marseilles. A French corvette was escorting them through these waters, not because of any threat from us, but because of Barbary pirates and the like." He was keeping the most important until the last. "My first lieutenant did manage to discover one thing, sir. I have several Frenchmen pressed into my company, and one of them told my senior that he"d heard one of the survivors claim that the letter had been sent aboard their ship by order of Admiral Brueys himself!"
Bolitho looked at him. Brueys was perhaps the finest and. most capable admiral in the French navy. In any navy for that matter.
"You did well." Bolitho rubbed his hands on his thighs. "This man Gorse may be a spy or agent of some kind. Perhaps the French intend to attack Malta. "
"Or Sicily?" Farquhar frowned. "Bonaparte is said to have intentions towards the kingdom. They are at peace, but he probably believes, as I do, that in war there is no such luxury as neutrality. "
"Maybe." Bolitho tried not to think of Herrick. "We will make haste to Toulon and Marseilles. Following your discovery, we can now determine the strength of these preparations. "
Farquhar asked, "Your prize, sir. What does she hold?" "Powder and shot. And fodder."
"Fodder?"
"Yes. It troubles me, too. All the French and Spanish preparations are for a full-scale attack. They blend together into a sort of strategy. But fodder. It does not sound like a local attack. It sounds like cavalry and heavy artillery. And all the men and horses to sustain them."
Farquhar's eyes gleamed. "This vessel, too, was carrying fodder." He looked around the cabin. "I am sorry, sir. But should we not wait for the others? It will save time."
Bolitho looked at the sealed envelope. "This is for you, Captain Farquhar." He walked to the stern and watched the other ships, hearing the rasp of a knife as Farquhar slit open the envelope.
Farquhar said quietly, "You have me all aback, sir." Bolitho turned and studied him thoughtfully. "It was a hard decision. "
"And Captain Herrick, sir?" Farquhar's face was masklike. "Is he ill?"
"Not ill." He added shortly, "Execute the arrangements directly. I want the squadron under way before dusk." Farquhar was still watching him, the letter in one hand. "I cannot begin to thank you, sir."
Bolitho nodded. "You obviously think I made the right choice."
Farquhar had blue eyes. But they were not like Herrick's, and in the light from the sea they were like ice.
"Well, as you have asked, sir, yes I do."
"Then see that the squadron's affairs show some sign of this." He looked at him evenly. "Captain Herrick is a fine officer."
The eyebrows moved again. "But?"
"No but, Captain Farquhar. I want him to feel his strength in a well-trained ship, where he has no personal contact as yet. He will be kept fully occupied. I think it will be good for him and the squadron.
Farquhar smiled. "My first lieutenant will be surprised. It will do him good also." He did not explain what he meant. "The first lieutenant in this ship is Mr. Gilchrist. I suggest you make his acquaintance without delay."
He waited for a sign but Farquhar merely remarked, "Gilchrist? I don’tthink I know him." He shrugged. "But then, why should one bother to know these people?" Bolitho said, "I would appreciate it if you would keep your personal dislikes out of the meeting."
Farquhar stood up. "Of course, sir. You should know that I have never disliked Captain Herrick. Although I am well aware of his hostility towards me." He gave his tight-lipped smile. "I cannot imagine the reason for it."
Bolitho saw Ozzard hovering at the door. 'show the other captains aft, Ozzard. Then you can bring some wine." He tried to speak lightheartedly, as if he was untroubled, unreached.
Ozzard bobbed, his eyes on Farquhar. "Aye, aye, sir." Bolitho crossed to a quarter gallery and stared at the small white-horses cruising down from the horizon. Each piece of news and every thin rumour took them deeper and deeper into the Mediterranean. Each time it would be his decision. One captured letter had taken him into a bay where men and ships had been destroyed. Now Farquhar's chance find would send them still further north-east, to the harbours of the French navy. Pieces of a puzzle, all set against a chart and the remorseless run of sand in an hour-glass.
The door opened and he turned to see Herrick and Probyn entering the cabin. He waited until they were seated and then beckoned Ozzard to the wine cabinet.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and Gilchrist peered in at them. He saw Herrick and said, "I am sorry to intrude, sir, but I wish to speak with the flag captain." Farquhar's voice made him turn.
I am the flag captain, Mr. Gilchrist. I will trouble you not to forget it!" There was an uncomfortable silence and he added, "I" will also trouble you never to enter the commodore's quarters without my permission!"
The door closed and Farquhar leaned sideways in his chair to look at the cabinet.