Enemy in Sight! by Alexander Kent

“I would suggest that you go around the upperdeck yourself while you have time.” He held Inch’s eyes with his own. “Better to be sure now than sorry later.”
    Inch nodded, his face so full of gratitude that Bolitho felt ashamed for him, and for himself. He had fully intended to give Inch the greatest reprimand he could muster, and in his heart he knew that it was probably doing him a disservice by not doing it. But after the commodore’s attitude to his superior and the dan- ger it could entail for all of them, he could not bring himself to break Inch’s last strand of self-confidence.
    Even as the barge swung dizzily above the larboard gangway Gascoigne called, “ Flag to Hyperion! Take station astern of col- umn!”
    â€œAcknowledge!” Bolitho clasped his hands behind him. Astern of column, he thought bitterly. Vectis had already slipped away into the drizzle and mist, and now there were just three ships, and they too distant from the enemy to do much good. Somewhere, far beyond the flagship was one solitary frigate. He could pity her captain.
    The pipes shrilled and men swarmed to their stations, as if each one was fully aware of the flagship’s nearness, more so per- haps of their own captain’s displeasure.
    But in spite of the clumsiness and expected confusion amongst some of the hands the manoeuvre was completed without further incident. The Hyperion went about, and showing her copper in a steep swell tacked round to take station astern of the other sev- enty-four, Hermes, so that to an onlooker, had there been one, there was nothing to show that a new sentinel had arrived, nor that one was already making full sail for England and a momen- tary rest from blockade.
    Eventually Inch crossed the quarterdeck and touched his hat. “Permission to dismiss the watch below, sir?”
    Bolitho nodded. Then he said, “In future, Mr Inch, be firm when you are giving your orders. Whether it be to those who know better or merely think they know better. Then they will have confidence in you.” The words stuck in his throat as he added, “Just as I have confidence in you.” He turned on his heel and walked to the weather side, unable to watch Inch’s pathetic deter- mination.
    Inch gripped the quarterdeck rail and stared blindly at the milling seamen around the foot of the foremast as they were relieved from duty. He had been dreading Bolitho’s return, not because he was going to be told of his failures, for he was better aware of them than anyone. But because he had caused Bolitho displeasure and disappointment, and that he could not bear. To Inch’s simple mind Bolitho was more like a god than a captain. If hero-worship was a driving force then Inch possessed it more than a will to live.
    He pointed suddenly and called, “That man! Come now, you can do better than that!”
    The seaman in question looked up guiltily and then turned back to his work. He did not know what he had done wrong, and in any case he was doing his task the only way he knew. Nor could he possibly realise that to the first lieutenant he was just a misty blur, an outline amongst many as Inch stared along the length of the labouring ship seeing his own future come alive once more.
    Gossett, writing on his slate beside the helmsman, glanced across at him and then at the captain as he strode up and down, head lowered in thought, his hands behind him, and gave a slow nod of understanding. Poor Inch, he thought. Some captains he had known would never have bothered with an officer like him. But Bolitho seemed to care about everyone. When they failed him he seemed to feel the blame himself, yet when he succeeded he always appeared to share the rewards with them. The old master smiled to himself. Equality, that was the word. It suited Bolitho right well. Equality Dick. His features split into a broad grin.
    Bolitho paused at the end of his walk and said sharply, “Mr Gossett,