Bolitho said desperately, "I did it before, under Nelson's flag, sir."
Tyacke remarked calmly, "I'll lead the way, Sir Richard. If you'll have me."
Gambier followed them to the side and said to his own captain, "Would you say I am an easy man to serve?"
The captain smiled. "Fair, sir."
"Not the same." He watched the guardboat speeding across the water, one minute in total darkness, the next illuminated so brightly in the falling Congreve rockets that he could see every detail.
Then he said, "Just now, in my own flagship, I felt that he was in command, not I."
The flag captain followed him aft towards the din of voices. It was a moment he would savour all his life.
Back aboard Black Prince, Bolitho rapped off his orders as if they had been lurking there in his mind.
"Send a boat to your old ship, Val. She's to weigh and follow without delay." He gripped his arm. "I'll not have any arguments. Larne will lead us out. I said this might happen, damn them! "
The great three-decker seemed to burst alive as calls trilled between decks and men ran to their stations for leaving harbour. Anything was better than waiting and not knowing. They would not care whatever the reason. They were leaving. Bolitho thought of the unknown wag who had called out in the darkness.
The capstan was clanking busily, and he knew that the kedge-anchor would soon be hoisted inboard.
A lantern moved across the water, and occasionally Bolitho saw the brig's sturdy shadow as she made ready to take the lead.
Two great rockets fell together on the city, lighting up the sky and the ships in a withering fireball.
Bolitho had been about to call for Jenour when it happened. As the fire died away he took his hand from his injured eye. It was like looking through clouded water, or a misted glass. He lowered his head and murmured, "Not now. Not yet, dear God! "
"Cable's hove short, sir! "
Keen's voice was harsh in the speaking-trumpet. "How does the cable grow, Mr Sedgemore?" Then he paused until the next flash so that he could see the angle of the lieutenant's arm. There was not much room, especially in the darkness. He needed to know how the ship, his ship, would perform when she tore free of the ground.
Cazalet bellowed, "Loose tops'ls! " A few paces aft. "Stand by, the Afterguard! "
Black Prince seemed to tilt her lower gunports close to the black water as the cry came drifting aft.
"Anchor's aweigh, sir! "
Bolitho gripped the tarred nettings and tried to massage his eye.
Jenour asked in a whisper, "May I help, Sir Richard?"
He cringed as Bolitho swung on him, and waited for the stinging retort.
But Bolitho said only, "I am losing my sight, Stephen. Can you keep a secret so precious to me?"
Overcome, Jenour could barely answer, but nodded vigorously, and did not even notice a boat pulling frantically from under the black figurehead while the ship continued to swing round.
Bolitho said, "They must not know." He gripped his arm until Jenour winced with the pain. "You are a dear friend, Stephen. Now there are other friends out there who need us."
Keen strode towards them. "She answers well, sir! " He glanced from one to the other, and knew what had happened. "Shall I send for the surgeon?"
Bolitho shook his head. Maybe it would pass; perhaps when daylight found them, it would be clear again.
"No, Val… too many know already. Follow Larne's stern-light and put your best leadsmen in the chains."
Allday materialised from the darkness, holding out a cup. "Here, Sir Richard."
Bolitho swallowed it and felt the black coffee, with a mixture of rum and something else, steady his insides so that he could think again.
"That was more than welcome, old friend." He handed him the cup and thought of Inskip. "I am over it now."
But when he looked at the burning city again, the mist was still there.
19. True Colours
WITH HER great yards braced so hard round that to a landsman they might appear to lie fore-and-aft, Black Prince steered as closehauled to the wind as was possible. For most of the previous night they had clawed their way up the narrow Sound from Copenhagen, pursued all the while by the continuous thunder of the bombardment.
Somehow Nicator had held station on the flagship, but for Black Prince, a powerful three-decker, it had been a trial of nerves as well as skill. Urgent voices had passed each sounding aft from the leadsmen in the forechains, and at one time Bolitho had sensed that only a few feet lay between the ship's great keel and disaster.
Dawn had found them heading out into the Kattegat, still comparatively shallow, but after the Sound it felt like the WesternOcean. Later, when Bolitho watched the pink glow on the choppy water, he knew that darkness would be upon them early that night. A glance at the masthead pendant assured him that the wind was holding steady, north-east. It would help them tomorrow, but had he waited until daylight as Gambier had suggested, the wind's sudden veer would have bottled them up in harbour. He thought of Herrick for the hundredth time. Lady Luck.
Keen crossed the deck and touched his hat, his handsome features raw from a full day on deck in chill wind.
"Any further orders before nightfall, sir?"
They looked at one another, like friends across a common garden wall at the close of an ordinary day.
"It will be tomorrow, Val. Or not at all. You know what these supply convoys are like, the speed of the slowest vessel in it, necessary for mutual protection. RearAdmiral Herrick's convoy apparently numbers some twenty ships, so if there was a battle, some of the fastest must surely have reached the Skagerrak at least by now?"
He forced a smile. "I realise you think me morbid, even mad. Herrick will probably doff his hat to us at first light tomorrow, and sail past full of noble contentment! "
Keen watched him, the man he had come to know so well.
"May I ask something, sir?" He glanced round as the calls twittered in the endless daily life of a man-of-war: Last dogwatchmen to supper!
"Ask away." He saw the gulls pausing to rest on the pink water like flower petals and thought of the dead Captain Poland, who had seen nothing but the path to duty.
"If you were in RearAdmiral Herrick's position, what would you do, if an enemy second-or even first-rate as it now appears-and other vessels hove in sight?"
Bolitho looked away. "I would scatter the convoy." He looked at him again, his eyes dark in the strange glare. "Then I would engage the enemy. A waste of time… who knows? But some might survive."
Keen hesitated. "But you do not think he would order them to break formation, sir?"
Bolitho took his arm and guided him a few paces past the big double-wheel, where Julyan the tall sailing-master was speaking to his mates in his deep rumbling tones. Worth his weight in gold, Keen had claimed several times; he had certainly proved his skin with wind, tide and rudder when they had struggled up the Sound.
"I am concerned, Val. If the enemy is searching for his ships, he will see it as something…" He groped for the word but saw only Herrick's stubborn eyes.
"A personal thing, sir?"
"Aye, that's about the strength of it."
A sickly smell of pork came from the galley funnel and Bolitho said, "After both watches have eaten, have the ship cleared for action. But keep the galley in use until the last. More warm bellies than steel have won battles in the past, Val! "
Keen gazed along the broad length of his command, seeing it probably already enmeshed in the chaos and destruction of close-action.
"I agree." He added suddenly, "Your Mr Tyacke could be right about the largest Frenchman, but then precious few know about Black Prince as yet-she is far too new."