A Tradition of Victory (30 page)

weighing up his own separate part of the whole. “The chain of semaphore stations is as great an enemy as any French squadron, and to break it, for even a short while, demands the highest in courage and resolve. Fortunately for us, we have such a man who will lead a raid on the station which adjoins the prison we shared so recently.”

Bolitho could sense the instant change in the cabin as all eyes moved to Browne.

He continued, “The raid will be carried out tomorrow night under cover of darkness and making full use of the tide and the fact there will be no moon.” He glanced at Lapish’s intent face.

“Mr Browne has requested that your first lieutenant, Mr Searle, again be appointed to work with him. I suggest a maximum of six hand-picked men, with at least two who are experts in fuses and placing explosives.”

Lapish nodded. “I have such hands, sir. One was a miner and well used to placing charges.”

“Good. I will leave that to you, Commander Lapish. You will stand inshore tomorrow night, land the raiding party and then withdraw.
Rapid
will rejoin the squadron and report by pre-arranged night signal.” He had gone over and over it again in his mind so that it was almost like repeating someone else’s words.

“Commodore Herrick will take station off Belle Ile, with
Nicator
and
Indomitable
in company, and
Sparrowhawk
for close observa-tion inshore.” He looked directly at Inch. “I shall shift my flag directly to your ship, and with
Phalarope
’s carronades for good measure, we shall make the first attack on the invasion craft at their moorings.”

Inch bobbed and beamed, as if he had just been offered a knighthood. “A
great
day, sir!”

“Perhaps.” Bolitho looked around the cabin. “
Ganymede
will be my scouting vessel, and
Rapid
will link our two forces together.”

He let the murmur of voices die and then said, “The squadron A

will attack at dawn the day after tomorrow. That is all, gentlemen, except to say that God be with you.”

The captains rose to their feet and gathered round Browne to slap him on the back and congratulate him for his bravery, even though each one of them probably knew he was saying goodbye to a man already as good as dead. If Browne was thinking the same, he certainly did not show it. He seemed to have matured over the past weeks, so that in some ways he appeared senior to the captains around him.

Herrick whispered fiercely, “You did not tell them about the new orders, sir!”

“Recall? Discontinue the plan of attack?” Bolitho watched Browne sadly. “They would still support me, and by knowing of their lordships’ change of heart they would be considered accom-plices at any court of enquiry later on. Yovell will have written it all down for anyone who cares to read it.”

Herrick persisted, “That piece in the orders, sir, about using your discretion …”

Bolitho nodded. “I know. Whatever happens I must accept the responsibility.” He smiled suddenly. “Nothing changes, does it?”

One by one the captains departed, each eager to return to his own command and prepare his people for battle.

Bolitho waited until Browne arrived at the entry port, ready to be taken across to the waiting brig.

Browne said, “I am worried about your not having a suitable aide, sir. Perhaps Commodore Herrick could select a replacement?”

Bolitho shook his head. “The midshipman who was injured, I’ll take him. He is good with signals, you said, and his French is passable, you said that too.” It was impossible to keep it casual and matter of fact.

“Stirling.” Browne smiled. “Young but eager. Hardly suitable for your aide, sir.”

Bolitho looked at the
Benbow
’s barge being swayed outboard in readiness to carry him to Inch’s ship.

“He will be only temporary, I trust, Oliver?” Their eyes met and then Bolitho grasped his hand. “I am not happy about this.

Take good care. I’ve got used to your ways now.”

Browne returned the handclasp but did not smile. “Don’t worry, sir, you’ll get the time you need.” He stood back and touched his hat, the contact broken.

Herrick watched the brig’s jolly-boat pulling away and said,

“Brave fellow.” Then he turned on his heel and strode away to attend to his ship.

Allday came aft and waited for Bolitho to see him.

“Ozzard’s sent your gear across to
Odin,
sir. He’s gone with it. Wouldn’t stay in
Benbow
a second time, he said. Beggin’ your pardon, sir, nor would I.”

Bolitho smiled. “It seems we are always making this journey, Allday.”

He glanced at the midshipmen at the flag halliards preparing to strike his flag and hoist Herrick’s broad-pendant as he departed.

At least it would protect Herrick from any criticism if the worst happened.

He turned and shaded his eyes to watch for
Rapid
’s boat but it had already merged alongside and was lost from view.

Lieutenant the Honourable Oliver Browne had not even hesitated. It would make those in safe occupations ashore think again if they could have seen his sacrifice.

Herrick joined him and said, “Your
acting
flag-lieutenant is here, sir.”

They all looked down at Midshipman Stirling, who with bag in one hand and signals book under his arm was staring at Bolitho.

Bolitho saw that the midshipman had one hand resting in a sling, and said, “Take his things, Allday.”

Allday almost winked, but not quite. “Aye, aye, sir. This way, young sir, I’ll see you get no lip from them Odins.”

“Well, Thomas.”

Herrick rubbed his chin. “Aye, sir, it’s time.”

“Remember, Thomas, a victory now will put heart into the ordinary people at home. They’ve had much to bear over the years. It’s not only sailors who suffer in a war, you know.”

Herrick forced a grin. “Don’t fret, sir, I’ll be there with the squadron. No matter what.” He was making a great effort.

“Besides, I’ve got to be at the wedding, haven’t I?”

They shook hands.

“I’d not forgive you otherwise, Thomas.”

Herrick straightened his back. “Carry on, Major Clinton.”

Clinton’s sword glittered in the pale sunlight. “Marines!

Present
arms!
”

The drums rolled and the fifers broke into
Heart of Oak,
and with a last glance at his friend Bolitho climbed down to the waiting barge.

“Bear off forrard! Out oars!” Allday’s shadow rose over the rear-admiral and diminutive midshipman like a cloak. “Give way,
all!
”

The green-painted barge turned swiftly away from
Benbow
’s side, and as it pushed out of her protective lee, Bolitho was startled by a sudden burst of wild cheering. He turned and looked back as
Benbow
’s seamen lined the gangway and swarmed into the shrouds to cheer him on his way.

Allday murmured softly, “Good ship, sir.”

Bolitho nodded, unable to find words for the unexpected demonstration.

Benbow,
which had been his flagship in some of the worst fighting he had known, was wishing him well.

He was glad of the cold spray which danced over the gunwale and touched his face as if to steady and reassure him. He

saw Midshipman Stirling staring enthralled at the
Odin
where the ceremony would begin all over again.

Allday stared at the small two-decker with the fierce Norse-man’s figurehead and winged helmet waiting to receive them.

“Proper pot o’ paint
she
looks!” he muttered disdainfully.

“What do you think of all this, er, Mr Stirling?”

The boy looked gravely at his rear-admiral and took a few seconds to answer. He had just been writing a letter in his mind to his mother, describing this very moment.

“It is the happiest day of my life, sir.”

He said it so seriously that Bolitho momentarily forgot his anxieties.

“Then we must try and keep it so, eh?”

The barge hooked on to
Odin
’s main-chains, and Bolitho saw Inch peering down at him, not wishing to miss a minute of it as his ship hoisted the flag.

In his excitement Stirling made for the side of the barge, but was forestalled by Allday’s great fist on his shoulder.

“Belay that,
sir!
This is the admiral’s barge, not some mid-shipmite’s bumboat!”

Bolitho nodded to them and then climbed swiftly up
Odin
’s tumblehome.

“Welcome aboard, sir!” Inch had to shout above the din of fifes and barked commands.

Bolitho glanced aloft as his flag broke from the mizzen truck.

There it was, and there it would remain until it was finished. One way or the other.

“You may get the ship under way, Captain Inch.”

Inch was staring uncertainly at Midshipman Stirling.

Bolitho added calmly, “Oh, Mr Stirling, signal, if you please.

From Flag to
Rapid.
Make,
We Happy Few.
”

Stirling scribbled furiously on his book and then ran to muster the signalling party.

Bolitho shaded his eyes to watch the little brig turn stern on to the rest of the squadron. Stirling would not understand the signal, neither probably would
Rapid
’s signals midshipman.

But Browne would know. Bolitho turned towards the poop.

And that mattered.

“
Rapid
’s acknowledged, sir.”

Bolitho entered his new quarters and saw Allday carefully placing the bright presentation sword on a rack.

Allday said defensively, “Makes it more like home, sir.”

Bolitho sat down and watched Ozzard bustling around the cabin as if he had served in
Odin
for years.

Stirling entered and stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Well, Mr Stirling, what do you suggest I do now?”

The boy regarded him warily and then said, “I think you should invite some of the ship’s officers to dinner, sir.”

Allday’s face split into a grin. “A proper flag-lieutenant already, sir, an’ that’s no error!”

Bolitho smiled. Perhaps by being with Browne, Stirling had also learned something.

“That is an excellent idea. Would you ask the first lieutenant to see me?”

The door closed and Allday said, “I’ll find you a good sword for later on.”

By later on, Allday meant the forthcoming battle with the French.

But now the rear-admiral would show his other face to
Odin
’s officers, the one which displayed confidence and a certainty of victory. For on the day after tomorrow they would be looking to him again and, right or wrong, they had to trust him.

Inch entered the cabin and peered round as if to assure himself that the quarters were suitable for his unexpected arrival.

He remarked, “
Phalarope
’s taken station to wind’rd as ordered,

sir.” He tossed his hat to his own servant. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, sir, I would that your nephew was aboard
Odin
instead of that ship.”

“You never alter, Inch.” Bolitho lay back on the bench and listened to the sea surging around the rudder. “But in this case I think you are wrong.”

He did not see the perplexed look on Inch’s long face. When action was joined it was somehow right that his brother’s son should be in that same old frigate. Like a joining of hands, after all the bitterness which had driven them apart.

Allday left the cabin, wondering what sort of companion Inch’s coxswain would make. He saw Stirling hovering in the lobby and asked, “All too much, is it?”

The boy turned on him as if to hit back but then smiled. “It’s a big step, Mr Allday.”

Allday grinned and squatted on the breech of a nine-pounder.

“Not
Mister,
just Allday, it suits well enough.”

The boy relaxed and studied him curiously. “But you speak with the admiral like one of his equals.”

Allday looked down at his fists. “Friend, more like. It’s what he needs.”

He stood up suddenly and leaned over the midshipman’s slight figure.

“If you go aft to him and act normal, he’ll treat you the same.”

He spoke with such force that Stirling was impressed into silence.

“Cause he’s just a
man,
see? Not God Almighty! Right now he needs all his friends, not his bloody lieutenants, so just you remember that,
sir!
” He punched the midshipman gently on his uninjured arm. “But you tell him what I said, or give him any of your lip, an’ I’ll take you apart,
sir!
”

Stirling grinned. “Got you, Allday! And thanks.”

Allday watched him re-enter the cabin and sighed. Seems a nice lad, he thought. Of course, when he was made lieutenant he A

might well change. He looked round the shadowy between-decks at the tethered gun at every sealed port, brooding and waiting, like all the others in the squadron. Stirling was fourteen. What the hell was he doing here when they were about to sail into battle? What the hell were any of them doing here?

Allday shivered. It got worse, not better. Stirling was full of high spirits, in spite of his injury, or perhaps because of it. But he did not know what it would be like when those guns were surrounded with yelling, smoke-blackened madmen, and the order was to fire, reload and keep firing, no matter what.

He thought of the battle-crazed marine who had almost driven his bayonet through him on the
Ceres
’ orlop deck.

Maybe peace was really coming, and this might be the last sea-fight for any of them.

Allday thought too of the
Phalarope
standing to windward of them. It made him feel uneasy, just to know she was there.

A sergeant of marines clumped out of the shadows and peered at him.

“Feel like a wet, matey?”

Allday grinned. “From a bullock?”

The sergeant took his arm and led him towards the companion ladder.

“Why not?”

They climbed down through the familiar shipboard smells and the headier aroma of Jamaican rum.

Maybe
Odin
wasn’t such a bad ship after all.

The marine sergeants and corporals shared a small, screened off portion of the lower gun-deck. They greeted Allday with cheerful grins, and soon had him comfortably seated with a pot of rum by his elbow.