Success to the Brave Read Free Page B

been chosen for the task instead of a skilled politician?
    A man of tact as well as a man of action, Sheaffe had said.
    Bolitho smiled grimly. He had heard that kind of explanation many times. If you were proved right others received the praise. If you made the wrong move you took all the blame.
    He shut his orders from his mind. It was useless to plan beyond the written word. Everything might have changed by the time his ship next dropped anchor.
    It would be strange not to have Browne as his flag-lieutenant. Intelligent, skilled with the ways of admiralty and government, Browne had been a tower of strength since he had been appointed as his aide. Now Browne was the lord and master of estates and property Bolitho could only guess at, his father having died in the last few months.
    Browne had come to Cornwall to say his farewell. It had been a wrench for both of them. Bolitho had decided then and there he would ask his nephew, Adam Pascoe, to take his place. With so many young officers being put ashore it seemed right to offer him the post, even though it went against Bolitho’s instinct to use his authority to grant a favour. But he loved his nephew as if he had been his own son, and they had come through many hazards together. The experience would do him good.
    Browne had raised a doubtful eyebrow at the idea. Perhaps he had been trying to warn him against having one so close as an aide, one who is supposed to stand aside and remain impartial when required.
    But to be without a ship at the age of twenty-one, when he most needed a chance to further his career, had seemed a more weighty argument.
    Bolitho rested his head on the warm leather seat.
    Valentine Keen, Adam and Allday. They would sustain each other. There would be no more other familiar faces this time, or would there?
    Achates had originally commissioned at the Nore, whereas Bolitho was more used to West Country ships or those from Spithead.
    Belinda had been so pleased at his sudden and advanced promotion, when all he had wanted was to be with her when their first child was born.
    Vice-Admiral of the Red. It barely seemed to matter. Some had even compared him with Nelson! Curiously enough, this made Bolitho uneasy, as if he were merely playing a part. It was indeed odd to realize that Achates was almost a twin of Nelson’s favourite and his last command before his own promotion to flag-rank. His famous Agamemnon had been laid down and built in the same yard, that of Henry Adams of Bucklers Hard on the Beaulieu River.
    The dwindling number of sixty-fours had one sure advantage. Bigger than anything faster. Faster than anything bigger. No wonder captains of heavier vessels looked on them with begrudging admiration.
    Nelson had once said of his little Agamemnon that she was an excellent sailer and even when running close to the wind under storm-staysails could match many a frigate.
    Bolitho wondered if Keen was equally agreeable with Achates. After his recent command of a powerful seventy-four he might already be regretting his decision to accept the role of Bolitho’s flag-captain.
    The horses slowed to a gentle trot while some sheep crossed the narrow road and bustled their way into an adjoining field.
    A young woman with a child on her hip, her husband’s midday meal carried in a red handkerchief, stared at the carriage as it moved past. She bobbed her head to Bolitho and flashed him a white smile.
    Bolitho thought of Belinda, how she would manage when their child was born. A son to follow the tradition, to walk the deck of a new generation of King’s ships. A daughter perhaps, to grow up and win the heart of a young man in a world he might never know.
    Bolitho had confided little of his mission to Belinda. He wanted to keep her free of worry. Also she might resent the reason for his leaving her when she had time to think about it.
    He tried to think about San Felipe’s governor, the man who would have to hand over his tiny kingdom to their