A Tradition of Victory (25 page)

Bolitho said, “You may sit, Captain Emes. This is an informal meeting for, as I must tell you, it seems likely you will be required to face at best a court of enquiry, at worst …” He A

shrugged. “In the latter case, I would be called more as a witness than as a member of the court or as your flag-officer.”

Emes sat down carefully on the edge of the chair. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“I doubt that. But before further action is taken I need to know your own explanation for your conduct on the morning of the 21st July when
Styx
became a total loss.”

Emes began slowly and deliberately, as if he had rehearsed for this very moment. “I was in the favourable position of being able to see the French to seaward, and the other force which you were intending to engage. With the wind in the enemy’s favour, I con-cluded there was no chance of our destroying the invasion craft with time available to beat clear. I held my ship in position to wind’rd as ordered, in case …”

Bolitho watched him impassively. It would be easy to dismiss him as a coward. It was equally possible to feel pity for him.

He said, “When
Styx
struck the wreck, what then?”

Emes stared round the cabin like a trapped animal. “
Styx
had no chance. I saw her take the full force of the collision, her masts fall, her helm abandoned. She was a hulk from that moment. I—

I wanted to drop my boats and attempt a rescue. It is never easy to stand off and watch men die.”

“But you did just that.” Bolitho was surprised at his own voice. Flat, devoid of hope or sympathy.

Emes’s eyes settled on him only briefly before continuing their tortured search around the cabin.

He said tightly, “I was the senior captain present, sir. With just
Rapid
to support me, and she only a brig of fourteen guns, I saw no reasonable chance of a rescue.
Phalarope
would have been caught by the enemy ships which were moving down wind under all sail.

A ship of the line and two frigates. What possible chance would an old vessel like mine have stood, but for making a useless and

bloody gesture?
Rapid
would have been destroyed also.”

Bolitho watched the emotions on Emes’s pale features as he relived the battle of conscience versus logic.

“And as senior officer I had responsibilities to Captain Duncan in
Sparrowhawk.
He was in ignorance of what was happening.

Alone and unsupported, he would have been the next to go. The whole force would have been destroyed, and the enemy’s back door left unguarded from that moment.” He looked down at his hat and pressed it on to his knees as if to find the strength to go on. “I decided to discontinue the action, and ordered
Rapid
to follow my directions. I have continued with the patrols and the blockading of harbours as instructed. With
Ganymede
’s arrival I was able to fill the gap left by Captain Neale’s ship.” He looked up, his eyes wretched. “I was shocked to learn of his death.” His head dropped again. “That is all I have to say, sir.”

Bolitho leaned back in his chair and watched him thoughtfully. Emes had not pleaded or attempted to excuse his actions.

“And now, Captain Emes, do you regret your decisions?”

Emes gave a shrug which seemed to shake his whole body.

“In all truth, sir, I do not know. I knew that by abandoning
Styx
and her survivors I was also leaving my flag-officer to his fate. In view of my record, I think perhaps I should have cast common sense to the wind and gone down fighting. Officers I have since met make no bones on their sentiments. I could feel the hostil-ity when I stepped aboard
Benbow,
and there are some who will be eager to damn me in your eyes. A court martial?” He lifted his head again with something like defiance. “It was inevitable, I suppose.”

“But you think their lordships would be wrong to proceed with it nevertheless?”

Emes struggled with his conscience as if it was alien to him.

“It would be easy to throw myself on your mercy, sir. After all, you could have been killed by a stray ball within minutes of A

starting the action, and then I would have been the senior captain anyway. I would then have ordered Neale to discontinue the engagement. Had he disobeyed me, sir, he and not I would be facing a court-martial.”

Bolitho stood up and moved to the stern windows. He saw
Phalarope
lying hove to some two cables away, her gingerbread glittering cheerfully in the sunlight. What did she think of her latest captain? He saw Emes’s reflection in the thick glass, the way he sat rigidly yet without life. A man counting the odds yet unwilling to give in.

Bolitho said, “I knew John Neale very well. He was once a young midshipman under my command. As was Captain Keen of
Nicator,
while Captain Inch, who will shortly be joining us in
Odin,
was once my lieutenant. And there are many more I have known for years, have watched grow to the Navy’s demands or die because of them.”

He heard Emes murmur huskily, “You are fortunate, sir. I envy you those friends and their methods.”

Bolitho turned and regarded him searchingly. “And there is my own nephew, of course. Midshipman, and now first lieutenant under your charge.”

Emes nodded. “I have no doubts at all of his scorn for me, sir.”

Bolitho sat down and glanced at the litter of charts and notes which would still be there after he had dismissed Emes. It would be simple to remove him without even waiting for a suitable replacement. A senior lieutenant, someone like Wolfe, could easily assume command until told otherwise. Why take unnecessary chances when so much was at stake?

And yet … The two words stuck in his skin like thorns.

“They are all a comfort to me, Emes, whereas to you they are an additional hurdle. Because of me, they may despise you. Even my good friend, Commodore Herrick, a man of great integrity

and no little courage, was quick to speak his anger. He, after all, risked his position, maybe even this ship, on a whim, on a simple belief he might be able to find me. So you see, your decision, though logical, might be seen differently by others who were not even present on that damnable morning.”

Emes waited and then said dully, “Then there is no hope, sir.”

How quiet the ship seemed to be, Bolitho thought. As if she were holding her breath, like all the men who worked within her deep hull. He had known many such moments. Like the bad days of the mutinies at Spithead and the Nore. The boom of a signal gun, the breaking of a court-martial jack which had finished many a good officer just as surely as a halter at the main-yard or a merciless flogging round the fleet had ended the lives of their men.

“There is always hope, Captain Emes.” Bolitho stood up and saw Emes lurch to his feet as if to receive a sentence. He continued, “For my part, I think you acted correctly, and I
was
there.”

“Sir?”
Emes swayed and held his head on one side as if he had suddenly lost his hearing.

“I know now that the French ships were there by arrangement. But none of us did at the time. Had I been in your position I ought to have behaved in exactly the same way. I shall write as much to their lordships.”

Emes regarded him for several seconds. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say. I wanted to do the honourable thing, but everything I believed stood in my way. I am more than merely grateful. You will never know how much it means. I can bear what others say and think of me, they are unimportant. But you,” he shrugged, at a loss, “I hope I would act with such humanity if our roles were reversed.”

“Very well. Send me a full report of what your patrols have discovered during my, er, absence, and when you sight
Rapid,
ask her to make contact with me immediately.”

Emes licked his lips. “Yes, sir.” He turned to leave and still hesitated.

“Well, Captain Emes, spit it out. Very soon we shall all be too busy for recriminations.”

“Just one thing, sir. You said just now,
I ought to have behaved
in exactly the same way.
”

Bolitho frowned. “Did I?”

“Yes, sir. It was good of you to say so, but now that I understand how your people feel for you, even though I have never been fortunate to serve you and learn about it for myself, I know that the word
ought
is the true key.”

Bolitho said, “Well, you serve me
now,
Captain Emes, so let that be an end to it.”

Browne entered the cabin silently as Emes departed, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

Bolitho said heavily, “He should be the admiral, Oliver, not me.

He shook himself and tried to disperse the truth. Emes had been correct. Perhaps the word
ought
had been used intentionally.

For in his heart he knew he would have gone to
Styx
’s aid, no matter what. But Emes was in the right, that was equally certain.

Browne coughed politely. “I can see that you are going to have some explaining to do, sir.”

He held open the door and Bolitho saw Pascoe half running across the other cabin in his eagerness to reach him.

They stood for several long moments, and then Pascoe exclaimed, “I cannot tell you what the news did for me, Uncle. I thought … when there was no word … we all thought …”

Bolitho put his arm around the youthful lieutenant’s shoulder and together they walked to the stern windows. The ship was all behind them. Here was only the sea, empty now that
Phalarope
had fallen down wind and had laid bare the horizon.

The lieutenant’s uniform had done little to change the youth

who had joined his old
Hyperion
as a young midshipman. His black hair, cut in the new short length, was as unruly as ever, and his body felt as if it needed six months of Cornish cooking to put more flesh on it.

He said, “Adam, you must know I had some concern about your joining
Phalarope,
even though the opportunity of being first lieutenant at twenty-one is enough to tempt a saint, which you are certainly not! Captain Emes has not made any report on your progress, but I have no doubt—” He felt Pascoe tense as he turned to face him incredulously.

“But,
Uncle!
You’ve not allowed him to remain?”

Bolitho shook his finger. “You may be a nephew, and when I am in despair I sometimes admit that I am quite fond of you—”

It was not working this time. Pascoe stood with his hands clenched at his sides, his dark eyes flashing as he said, “He left you to die! I couldn’t believe it! I pleaded with him! I very nearly flew at him!” He shook his head violently. “He’s not fit to have
Phalarope,
or any other ship!”

“How did
Phalarope
’s people behave when Captain Emes ordered them to change tack away from the enemy?”

Pascoe blinked, disconcerted by the question. “They obeyed, naturally. In any case, they do not
know
you as I do, Uncle.”

Bolitho gripped the youth’s shoulders and shook him gently but firmly.

“I love you for that, Adam, but it must surely prove my point?

The same one I just made to your captain.”

“But, but …”

Bolitho released him and smiled ruefully. “Now I am not speaking as uncle to nephew, but as rear-admiral commanding this squadron to one of his officers, a damned cheeky one at that.

Emes acted in the best way he knew. Even after considering what people would say and read into his interpretation at the time. We cannot always know the man who leads, just as I am no longer A

privileged to recognize the face of every sailor and marine who obeys.”

“I think I can see that.”

Bolitho nodded. “Good. I have enough problems without you starting a war of your own.”

Pascoe smiled. “Everything will be all right now, Uncle, you see.”

Bolitho said, “I am being serious. Emes commands, and you owe it to him to give everything you know for the ship’s benefit.

If you were to fall in battle, there must be no gulf between captain and company. The bridge made by any first lieutenant between poop and fo’c’s’le
has
to survive. And if Emes were to die, the people have got to look to you as their leader, and not remember the petty bickering which went before. I am
right,
Adam.”

“I suppose so, Uncle. All the same—”

“God, you’re getting like Herrick. Now be off with you. To
your
ship, and heaven help you if I see any slackness; for I shall know where to lay the blame!”

This time Pascoe grinned and could not control it.

“Very well, Uncle.”

They walked out to the quarterdeck where Herrick waited in unsmiling silence beside Captain Emes.

Herrick said, “Wind’s freshening, sir. May I suggest that I have
Phalarope
’s gig piped to the chains?” He glanced meaning-fully at Emes. “Her captain will want to get back on board, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Pascoe darted a quick glance between them and then stepped smartly up to his captain.

“Thank you for allowing me to accompany you, sir.”

Emes eyed him warily. “A pleasure, Mr Pascoe.”

For a moment longer Bolitho held on to the relationship he shared with his nephew.

“I met Belinda Laidlaw at Gibraltar. She is now on passage

to England.” He could feel his cheeks flush under the youth’s stare.

Pascoe smiled. “I see, Unc—sir. I did not know. It must have been a very happy reunion.”

He glanced from Bolitho to Herrick and smiled. “I’m sure it was, in every way.”

They touched their hats, and then Emes followed Pascoe down into the tossing gig alongside.

Herrick whispered fiercely, “Impudent young bugger!”

Bolitho faced him gravely. “About what, Thomas? Did I miss something?”

“Well, er, I mean to say, sir—” Herrick lapsed into confused silence.

Wolfe’s great shadow loomed over them.

“Permission to get the ship under way, sir?”

Bolitho nodded curtly. “Granted. I fear the commodore is choking on words.”

Bolitho walked up to the weather side as the hands ran to the braces and halliards once again.