Enemy in Sight! Read Free

plunged clear of the shore, and Bolitho settled down to watch his ship as she grew slowly out of the haze of spray and drizzle until the towering masts and yards and the neatly furled sails seemed to fill the hori- zon. It was a normal illusion but one which never failed to impress him. Once, when a mere child, he had gone to join his first ship, of similar size to Hyperion, but in those tender years she had seemed even larger and more than a little frightening. As this ship must now seem to the newly gathered men, he thought, both the volunteers and those pressed from safer lives ashore.
    Allday swung the tiller and guided the barge past the high bows so that the gilt figurehead of Hyperion the Sun God seemed to reach with his trident right above their heads.
    Bolitho could hear the twitter of pipes carried on the wind, and saw the scarlet-coated marines already mustered by the entry port, the blue and white of the officers and the anonymous press of figures beyond.
    He wondered what Inch, his first lieutenant, would be think- ing about this moment of departure. He wondered, too, what had made him retain the young lieutenant when plenty of senior ones had been ready to take such a coveted appointment. Next in line to a ship’s captain there was always the chance, even the hope that promotion would come by that captain’s sudden death or advancement to flag rank.
    When he had taken command of the old seventy-four Bolitho had found Inch as the fifth and junior lieutenant. Service away from the land and often far from the fleet had guided the young officer’s feet up the ladder of promotion as one officer after the other had died. When the first lieutenant had taken his own life Bolitho’s friend Thomas Herrick had been on hand to take over, but now even he had left the ship with a captain’s rank and a ship of his own. And so, Lieutenant Francis Inch, gangling, horse- faced and ever-eager, had got his chance. For some reason, not really understood by Bolitho himself, he was being allowed to keep it. But the thought of taking the ship to sea as second-in- command for the very first time might make him view his new status with misgivings and no little anxiety.
    â€œBoat ahoy?” The customary challenge floated down the ship’s side.
    Allday cupped his hand. “Hyperion!”
    As the oars were tossed and the bowman hooked on to the chains, Bolitho slipped out of his cloak, and clutching his sword to his hip jumped quickly for the entry port. And he was not even breathless. He found time to marvel at what good food and reg- ular exercise ashore could do for one so long cramped and adjusted to shipboard life.
    As his head came above the coaming the pipes broke into a shrill twitter, and he saw the sharp jerk of muskets as the marine guard came to the present.
    Inch was there, bobbing anxiously, his uniform soaked with rain so that Bolitho guessed he had not left the quarterdeck since first light.
    The din ceased and Inch said, “Welcome aboard, sir.”
    Bolitho smiled. “Thank you, Mr Inch.” He looked around at the watching men. “You have been busy.”
    Inch was peering at the barge and was about to call to its crew when Bolitho said quietly, “No, Mr Inch, that is no longer your work.” He saw Inch staring at him. “Leave it to your subor- dinates. If you trust them they will come to trust you.”
    He heard heavy footsteps on the damp planking and turned to see Gossett, the master, plodding to meet him. Thank God he at least had been aboard the ship for several years.
    Gossett was huge and bulky like a barrel, with a pair of the brightest eyes Bolitho had ever seen, although they were usually half hidden in his seamed and battered face.
    â€œNo complaints, Mr Gossett?”
    The master shook his head. “None, sir. I always said the old lady’d fly along once she got rid of ’er weed.” He rubbed his massive red hands. “An’ so she