The Only Victor Read Online Free PDF

of her smaller consort.
    He turned and sat on the bench seat, gesturing to a chair. “Some coffee, Captain Varian?” He heard Ozzard’s quiet footsteps and guessed that the little man was already preparing it. It gave Bolitho time to study his visitor.
    Captain Charles Varian was a direct contrast to Poland. Very tall and broad-shouldered, self-confident: probably the landsman’s idea of a frigate captain.
    Varian said, “I was eager for news, Sir Richard. And seeing this ship, well—” He spread his big hands and gave what was intended as a disarming smile.
    Bolitho watched him steadily. “It did not occur to you that a ship from the Channel Squadron might not have time to waste in idle gossip? You could have closed to hailing distance, surely.”
    Ozzard pattered in with his coffee pot and peered unseeingly at the stranger.
    Varian nodded. “I was not thinking. And you, Sir Richard —of all people, to be out here when you must be needed elsewhere . . .” The smile remained, but his eyes were strangely opaque. Not a man to cross, Bolitho decided. By a subordinate, anyway.
    â€œYou will need to return to your command directly, Captain. But first I would appreciate your assessment of the situation here.” He sipped the hot coffee. What was the matter with him? He was on edge, as he had been since . . . After all, he had done it himself as a young commander. So many leagues from home, and then the sight of a friendly ship.
    He continued, “I have come with new orders.”
    Varian’s inscrutable expression sharpened immediately.
    He said, “You will know, Sir Richard, that most of the force intended for retaking Cape Town from the Dutch is already here. They are anchored to the north-west, near Saldanha Bay. Sir David Baird commands the army, and Commodore Popham the escorting squadron and transports. I have been told that the landings will begin very shortly.” He hesitated, suddenly uncertain under Bolitho’s level gaze.
    â€œYou are with the supporting squadron.” It was a statement, and Varian shrugged while he moved his cup across the table.
    â€œThat is so, Sir Richard. I am still awaiting some additional vessels to rendezvous as planned.” When Bolitho said nothing he hastened on, “I had been patrolling in the vicinity of Good Hope and then your topsails were sighted. I thought a straggler had finally arrived.”
    Bolitho asked quietly, “What of your senior officer— Commodore Warren? I am surprised that he would release his biggest fifth-rate at a time when he might need your full support.”
    He had a vague picture of Commodore Warren in his mind, like a faded portrait. He had known him briefly during the ill-fated attempt by the French Royalists to land and retake Toulon from the Revolutionary army. Bolitho had been a captain then like Varian, and his ship had been Hyperion. He had not seen Warren since. But the navy was a family and he had heard of him serving on various stations in the West Indies and the Spanish Main.
    Varian said abruptly, “The Commodore is unwell, Sir Richard. In my opinion he should never have been given—”
    Bolitho said, “As the senior captain you have assumed overall charge of the supporting squadron; is that it?”
    â€œI have made a full report, Sir Richard.”
    â€œWhich I shall read in due course.” Bolitho moved his hand consciously away from his eyelid and added, “It is my intention to hasten the attack on Cape Town. Time is of the essence. Which is why this fast passage was of the utmost importance.” He saw the shot go home but continued, “So we will return to the squadron in company. I intend to see Commodore Warren without delay.”
    He stood up and walked to the quarter windows to watch the crests beginning to ruffle like crisp lace in the wind. The ship was rising to it. Eager to move again.
    Varian tried to recompose himself.