Enemy in Sight! Read Online Free PDF Page B

Flag Captain.”
    It was customary for captains to report in person to receive fresh orders when joining a squadron, although in cases of really bad weather for the sealed bag to be drifted across from ship to ship on a grass line. But this time the admiral was apparently sending his own captain.
    The barge which had brought the flagship’s captain across the choppy water had been almost swamped before it eventually hooked on to the main chains, and the thickset officer in his sod- den boat-cloak had hardly glanced at the side party and saluting marines as he had seized Bolitho’s hand and growled, “For God’s sake let us go below!”
    Once within the big cabin the visiting captain had come straight to the point.
    â€œI’ve brought you fresh orders, Bolitho. You are to continue to the south-east and join the inshore squadron of Commodore Mathias Pelham-Martin. My admiral detached him and his ships some weeks ago for duty off the Gironde Estuary. You’ll find a complete list of ships and requirements in your new orders.”
    He had spoken quickly, almost offhandedly, but Bolitho had been aware of a warning sensation at the back of his mind. Pelham-Martin. The name had been instantly familiar, yet at the same time he had been unable to recall any sea officer, com- modore or otherwise, who had distinguished or shamed himself enough to warrant this special visit by the flag captain.
    The other man had said abruptly, “I do not like deceit, espe- cially with a fellow captain. Things have been very bad between my admiral and the commodore. Pelham-Martin, as you will dis- cover, is a difficult man to serve in some ways.”
    â€œThis bad feeling? How did it come about?”
    â€œIt all happened a long while ago really. During the American Revolution . . .”
    Bolitho’s mind had suddenly cleared. “I remember now. A British colonel of infantry surrendered to the Americans with all his men, and when some of our ships arrived with reinforcements they sailed right into a trap.”
    The flag captain had grimaced. “The colonel was Pelham- Martin’s brother. I do not have to tell you who the officer was who commanded the ships, eh?”
    A midshipman had appeared at that moment. “Signal from flagship, sir! Captain to return on board forthwith.”
    Bolitho had understood fully at that moment what the visit had really meant for him and his ship. No admiral could voice a lack of confidence to a captain newly joining his command. But through a fellow captain it was just possible to show his displea- sure and his uncertainty.
    The flag captain had paused by the cabin door, his eyes search- ing.
    â€œI know your record, Bolitho, and so does Sir Manley Cavendish. When news was received that you were joining the squadron he told me that you were to be sent to Pelham-Martin’s sector to the south-east. You are well remembered for your part in the St. Clar invasion last year, although you got precious little credit for it. The commodore’s squadron is a small one, but its work and vigilance could prove to be vital. Your viewpoint and presence there could help to break this stupid feud.” He had shrugged heavily. “This is between ourselves naturally. If a word is voiced to me that any suggestion of mistrust or incompetence was made I will of course deny it!” Then with another quick handshake he had left the ship.
    Now, sitting at his littered desk, Bolitho found it hard to believe such bitterness could have been allowed to jeopardise the efficiency of the hard-pressed ships and their weary companies. That meeting with the flagship had been four days ago, and while the Hyperion had plunged further to the south-east and her com- pany had fought half-heartedly against seasickness and bad weather alike Bolitho had studied his orders carefully, and during his lonely walks on the quarterdeck had tried to estimate their true meaning.
    It seemed that