TO GLORY WE STEER - ALEXANDER KENT

Pochin muttered, `Watch out! 'E's comin' back!'

Packwood stood at the top of the steps, his face sweating profusely from a hasty tankard of rum. `Right, my babies! Stand by to take on some more casks!' He swung his rattan casually. `After this trip you can go to your sty and get cleaned up. The admiral is coming to see you all this evening!'

Pook nudged his friend. `That Allday! Is he safe?'

Onslow ran his fingers around the loom of his oar. `The men like him. It must be handled carefully. It needs thinking about.' He watched Allday's naked back rippling in -the sunlight. 'But handled it must be!'

Punctual to the minute, Rear-Admiral Sir Robert Napier stepped through the. Phalarope's entry port and removed his hat to receive his due respects. As the shrill pipes faded into silence- and the marine guard presented arms- the frigate's small drummer, accompanied by two reedy fifes, broke into a frail but jaunty march, and with a final glance around the upperdeck Bolitho stepped forward to meet his admiral.

Sir Robert nodded curtly to the assembled officers, and as the marines banged their muskets to the deck he carried out a brief but searching inspection of the guard, followed at a discreet distance by Rennie and Captain Cope of the Cassius.

Bolitho tried to gauge the admiral's mood or his real reason for his visit from the man's profile, but Sir Robert's pinched face remained sphinxlike and unchanging, even when he fired the occasional question or comment to Rennie about the bear

ing of the marines.

At the end of the double line of men he paused to survey the maindeck. 'You keep a smart ship, Bolitho.' There was nothing in his dry tone to suggest either praise or suspicion.

'Thank you, sir.' Bolitho wished that he was alone aboard the flagship in the great stem cabin. There he could face and deal with anything Sir Robert chose to say. These circumstances kept every comment on a formal and controlled level which made his nerves raw with uncertainty.

Whatever the admiral really thought of the ship, Bolitho was certainly satisfied with her appearance. Long before a frantic messenger had reported a flurry of activity aboard the flagship and the smartly crewed barge had pulled swiftly towards the Phalarope's side, Bolitho had been round his ship to make absolutely sure that Sir Robert would find no fault with her at least.

The ship's company had manned the side, every eye on the small, gold-laced figure in the stern of the barge, and now as the admiral stood in silent contemplation there was an atmosphere of nervous expectancy which defied even the fifes and drum on the quarterdeck.

The admiral said, 'You may dismiss the hands, Bolitho.'

At the prearranged signal the men poured from the maindeck, and with a clash of weapons the marines wheeled and followed suit.

Then he said, 'I have read the report, Bolitho. It had a great deal to say.' His wintry eyes drifted across Bolitho's set features. 1-was particularly interested in the part about the Andiron's captain.' He -saw Bolitho stiffen and continued calmly, 'As a matter of fact I had received information as to his identity, but I thought it best to let you carry out your task.' He shrugged, the movement painful beneath his heavy uniform. 'Of course, what I did not know was that you were in fact already a prisoner at his hands.'

'And if you had known, sir?' Bolitho tried to keep his tone relaxed.

'I am not sure. Your first lieutenant is apparently capable in many ways, but I fear he will always be a man who takes orders. A born subordinate!'

From the corner of his eye Bolitho saw Captain Cope being ushered below by his own officers, and waited for the admiral to continue. He did not have long to wait.

'Andiron is finished. Her very existence was a challenge and an insult to every man in our fleet. I have already passed my views on the matter to the Commander-in-Chief, and I have no doubt you will receive due recognition.' He faced Bolitho squarely. 'However, the fact that your own brother once commanded he? and" is obviously still alive may in some quarters be taken as some sort of connivance on your part.' He walked to the side and stared at the Cassius. 'I do not happen to take that view myself, Bolitho. I gave you the task, not in spite of the Andiron's captain but because of him! You and your ship behaved very well indeed. I have told Sir George Rodney as much.' He added slowly, 'But had your brother been killed it might have been better all round.'

'I think I understand, sir.'

'Of course you do!' The admiral's old testiness was breaking through. 'To be killed is to be forgotten. But if he is taken in the future, he will have no defence. A public trial and hanging will follow. And I think you realise that such disgrace can smear a whole family!'

'Yes, sir.'

Sir Robert rubbed his hands. `Well, enough of that. You carried out your orders as best you could. That will have to suffice for the present. You did in fact find out about the enemy's intentions. If it is true, it will weigh heavily in your favour.'

He looked up at the gently moving flag and murmured, 'We could do with a little good fortune at the moment!'

Sir Robert lapsed into silence until Bolitho had guided him below to his cabin where the other officers were already seated. With the table fully extended and ten officers already crammed round it, the cabin seemed to be full to capacity, and Bolitho found time to wonder why the admiral had bothered to make this journey away from the comparative luxury of his own quarters.

The officers rose to their feet and then sank expectantly into their seats again as Bolitho and the admiral squeezed around the head of the table.

Bolitho also realised for the first time that this was the only occasion he had sat down to dine with all his officers. As Atwell and two hastily recruited messmen began to serve dinner he glanced round the table marking the strange difference which seemed to have come over the familiar faces. They were like embarrassed strangers, he thought vaguely.

Apart from his lieutenants and Captain Rennie he had arranged for the three midshipmen to be present also. As representatives of the ship's warrant officers Proby, the master, and Tobias Ellice, the surgeon, sat in stiff discomfort, their eyes on their plates.

Still the admiral gave no sign of relaxing. In almost complete silence the dinner went on. But with it came the wine, this time brought by the admiral's personal steward, a tall, disdainful man in a scarlet jacket. It was then that Bolitho began to realise what Sir Robert was doing. Coupled with the tension and the unaccustomed richness of the excellent dinner, the wine began to take effect. When Bolitho noticed that the admiral had hardly eaten more than a bird's share of the food and made a point of keeping the same glass of wine at his elbow, he fully understood.

Voices grew louder, and while Sir Robert sat calmly at Bolitho's side the officers began to talk more freely. Bolitho did not know which he felt more. Annoyance or admiration. Not content with a bald report, no matter how concise, Sir Robert was here to hear for himself. From the men who until now had been mere names from Bolitho's pen.

Some of the strain seemed to drain out of him. Right or wrong, the admiral's sly methods were now beyond his control.

Slowly the story began to unfold. Each phase being taken up and polished by a different officer. The attack on Mola Island and the taking of the battery. The more eloquent elaborated on the plan as a whole, the less capable ones contenting themselves on painting the smaller parts to the overall picture.

There was humour too in some of the recollections. Like the story of Parker, the master's mate, who had commanded the jolly boat during the attack on the Andiron. Separated from the other boats by the rising sea, he had returned to the

Phalarope only to have his discomfort further increased by a volley of musket fire from some vigilant marines. And the story of Captain Rennie conducting the retreat from Mola Island with his sword in one hand and half a chicken pie in the other. But this sort of reminiscence did not last.

Sir Robert snapped suddenly, 'And you, Mr. Farquhar, were left behind with the Spanish prisoner?'

Farquhar eyed him carefully, and for a moment Bolitho felt the tension returning to the crowded table. But Farquhar kept his head. Even the fact that it was well known that Sir Robert normally made a point, of never addressing anyone below the rank of lieutenant failed to ruffle him.

'Yes, sir. I joined the captain and together we went into captivity.'

The admiral swung round in his chair and peered at Okes, who until now had remained almost silent. 'Your part in this business seems to have kept you very busy, Mr. Okes?'

The lieutenant looked up startled. 'Er, yes, sir. I did what I had to do. There was no other way!'

Sir Robert sipped his wine and eyed him coolly. 'For an officer who has gained nothing but glory you sound remarkably guarded, Mr. Okes. A modicum of modesty is welcome these days, but not when it sounds remarkably like guiltl' For a second longer he held Okes' pale face with his cold eyes, and then he laughed. It was a humourless sound, but it helped to beak the sudden and unhappy silence.

'And you, Mr. Herrick?' Sir Robert craned round his own captain to stare along the table. `Your exploits at Nevis seem a trifle haphazard? But against that you obtained the result you intended no doubt?'

Herrick gave a broad grin. 'Captain Bolitho has already pointed out to me the pitfalls of too much luck, sir!'

'Did he indeed?' The admiral's eyebrows rose slightly. 'I am gratified to hear it.'

And on it went in the same vein. The admiral would question and listen, or when that failed would openly provoke the luckless officer into some excited and unguarded reply.

The loyal toast was called for by the junior officer present. Midshipman Neale, dwarfed on either side by Proby and Ellice, squeaked, `Gentlemen, the King!' and then sank into a blushing silence.

Bolitho noticed that the admiral's right hand was curled like a claw around his goblet, and when the latter saw him looking at it the admiral snapped petulantly, 'Damned rheumatism! Had it for years!'

For a few moments Bolitho took time to appreciate the man sitting by his side. Not the admiral, with all his petty foibles, his unfair uses of privilege and rank, but the actual man.

He was old, probably in his sixties, and to Bolitho's knowledge had not set foot ashore for more than a few days at a time in the last ten years. He had shifted his flag from ship to ship, dealing with problems and strategy which Bolitho could only half imagine.

The admiral was looking at him unwinkingly. 'Are you still -wondering why I came, Bolitho?' He did not wait for an answer. 'I commanded a frigate myself many years ago. The happiest time in the Navy for me. Life was easier in many ways then. But the stakes were not so high.' The shutter dropped again. 'I came because I wanted to see what you have made of this ship.' He tugged at his chin as if to seek some way of avoiding a compliment. 'What I find does not displease me entirely.' He dropped his voice, so that it was almost lost in the newly awakened conversation around the table. 'Most of your officers appear to have great respect for you. I know from experience that it is very hard to come byl'

Bolitho gave a small smile. 'Thank you, sir.'

'And you can remove that stupid smile from your face!'

The admiral shifted beneath his coat. 'I like to know the men whom I command! When I see a sail on the horizon I don't wish to know the size of her guns or the state of her paintwork. I want to know the mind of the man in control, see? He stared over the heads of the lolling officers. ' England is fighting for her life. It is a war of defence now. The attack will come later, perhaps years later, after I am dead and buried! But until that time England depends on her ships, maybe only a couple of hundred ships which are in a position to act to full advantage!' He tapped on the table, so that the others fell silent and turned to listen. 'And those ships depend on their captains and no one else!'

Bolitho opened his mouth to speak but the admiral said testily, 'Hear me out! I know your reputation now. You are an idealist in many ways. You have hopes for better conditions for your men, so that they can make the sea an honourable career again.' He waved a finger. 'When I was younger I wanted all those things and more beside. But a good captain is the one who accepts all these difficulties as they stand and still manages to run an efficient ship, one worthy of honour and praise!'

He glared round the table. 'Well, gentlemen, did I make myself understood?'

Bolitho followed his gaze. Vibart, flushed and unsmiling. Herrick, still grinning and unquenched by the admiral's earlier sarcasm. Rennie, stiff-backed but with eyes so glassy that they were beyond focus. Old Daniel Proby, humbled by being with such illustrious company, yet whose face was stiff with sudden pride, as if he had heard a deeper meaning in the admiral's words. And Ellice, the bucolic surgeon, who had been drinking without pause since they had arrived at table. Bolitho could find time to pity Ellice. Poorly paid, like all ships' surgeons, it was no wonder he was more of a butcher than a doctor. It was a race which would win. Drink or a fatal mistake, it was merely a matter of time.

Okes, still smarting from the admiral's keen appraisal of the half-remembered attack on Mola Island. Bolitho noticed how he kept darting quick, desperate glances towards Farquhar, who by comparison was calm and impassive, his thoughts perhaps far away. Maybe still back there below the shattered bridge where he had been left to die by the man who now sat watching him. The fact that Farquhar had made neither comment nor complaint must be all the more worrying for Okes, Bolitho thought grimly.

And the two other midshipmen, Maynard and Neale. Excited and untouched by the deeper channels of comment and thought around them, Bolitho was suddenly very aware of his responsibility to all of them.

The admiral stood up and lifted his glass. 'A toast!' His pale eyes flashed below the low beams. `Death to the French!'

The glasses came up as one and the voices rumbled the reply, 'And confusion to our enemies!'

The admiral. called to his captain, 'Time we were going, Cope!'

Bolitho followed him to the upperdeck, only half listening to the scamper of feet and the hurried creak of oars alongside. It was over. The admiral would never admit a mistake, but Bolitho knew that the worst was behind him. Phalarope was free of disgrace at last.

He lifted his hat' as the admiral crossed to the port and waited until he had vanished to the waiting barge. Then he clamped on his hat and began to pace the deserted quarterdeck, his hands clasped behind him.

The admiral had also made it plain in his own way that if the ship was free of disgrace it was up to her captain to keep her so.

He looked at the riding lights dancing across the water and listened to the plaintive scrape of a violin and the accompanymg sadness of an old shanty. If the men could still sing there was hope for all of them, he thought.

13. DANGER FROM WITHIN

The pipes shrilled in salute as Richard Bolitho stepped through the ornate entry port and on to the Formidable's wide deck. Automatically he doffed his hat to the quarterdeck, and as he returned the greeting of the flagship's officer of the watch he allowed his eyes to move swiftly up and around him, taking in the busy activity, the seemingly endless deck space and the long lines of gleaming guns.