The Only Victor Read Online Free PDF Page A

The same stretch of ocean, with one ship all but becalmed, and another with every stitch of canvas filled to the brim.
    Poland glanced at Bolitho, his features expressionless. But his fingers were opening and closing at his sides, betraying his agitation.
    â€œShall I clear for action, Sir Richard?”
    Bolitho raised a telescope and levelled it across the quarter. A strange bearing. Perhaps not one of the local squadron after all.
    â€œWe will bide our time, Captain Poland. I have no doubt you can be ready to run out in ten minutes, if need be?”
    Poland flushed. “I—that is, Sir Richard—” He nodded firmly. “Indeed, in less!”
    Bolitho moved the glass carefully, but could only make out the mastheads of the newcomer; saw the bearing alter slightly as they drew into line to swoop down on Truculent.
    Lieutenant Williams called from the mainmast crosstrees, “Frigate, sir!”
    Bolitho watched tiny specks of colour rising to break the other ship’s silhouette as she hoisted a signal.
    Williams called down the recognition and Poland could barely prevent himself from tearing the signals book from the midshipman’s fingers. “Well!”
    The boy stammered, “She’s the Zest, sir, forty-four. Captain Varian.”
    Poland muttered, “Oh yes, I know who he is. Make our number—lively now!”
    Bolitho lowered the glass and watched. Two faces. The midshipman’s confused, perhaps frightened. One moment he had been watching the first hump of land as it eased up from the sea-mist, and the next he had probably seen it all vanish, the prospect of an unexpected enemy, death even, suddenly laid before him.
    The other was Poland’s. Whoever Varian was he was no friend, and was doubtless much senior, to command a forty-four.
    Lieutenant Munro was in the shrouds, his legs wrapped around the ratlines, heedless of the fresh tar on his white breeches, and even thoughts of breakfast forgotten.
    â€œSignal, sir! Captain repair on board! ”
    Bolitho saw the crestfallen look on Poland’s face. After his remarkable passage from England without loss or injury to any man aboard, it was like a slap in the face.
    â€œMr Jenour, lay aft if you please.” Bolitho saw the flag lieutenant’s mouth quiver as though in anticipation. “I believe you have my flag in your care?”
    Jenour could not contain a grin this time. “Aye, aye, sir!” He almost ran from the quarterdeck.
    Bolitho watched the other frigate’s great pyramid of sails lifting and plunging over the sparkling water. Maybe it was childish, but he did not care.
    â€œCaptain Poland, for convenience’s sake, yours is no longer a private ship.” He saw doubt alter to understanding on Poland’s tense features. “So please make to Zest, and spell it out with care, The privilege is yours. ”
    Poland turned as Bolitho’s flag broke at the foremast truck, and then gestured urgently to the signals party as bunting spilled across the deck in feverish confusion.
    Jenour joined Munro as he clambered back to the deck.
    â€œThat is what you wanted to know. There is the real man. He’d not stand by and see any of his people slighted!” Not even Poland, he almost added.
    Bolitho saw sunlight reflecting from several telescopes on the other frigate. Zest ’s captain would not know anything about Bolitho’s mission, nor would anyone else.
    He tightened his jaw and said gently, “Well, they know now.”

2 R EMEMBER NELSON
    â€œM AY I ASSURE YOU , Sir Richard, that no disrespect was intended . . .”
    Bolitho walked to the cabin stern windows, half listening to the clatter of blocks and the surge of water alongside as Truculent rolled, hove-to in the swell. This would need to be quick. As predicted by Poland’s sailing-master, the wind would soon return. He could not see the other frigate, and guessed that she was standing slightly downwind