Success to the Brave by Alexander Kent Page B

here.
    Keen read his thoughts and said, “He is young, sir. Maybe it was a wrong choice to appoint him flag-lieutenant.”
    Bolitho swung on him hotly. “Did Browne say as much?”
    Keen shook his head. “I formed my own opinion. Your nephew is a fine young man, and I have nothing but affection for him. You have watched over him from the beginning, treated him like a son.”
    Bolitho faced him again. He had no fight left. “Was that wrong too?”
    Keen smiled sadly. “Certainly not, sir.”
    Bolitho walked past his chair and rested his hand momentarily on the young captain’s shoulder.
    â€œBut you are so right. I did not accept it because I did not wish to.” He waved down Keen’s protest. “I never saw Adam’s mother, nobody did. The one good thing she ever did was to send him across the country to Falmouth, to me. But you were correct about me. I love him like a son, but he is not my son. His father was Hugh, my brother. Maybe there is too much of Hugh in him—”
    Keen stood up quickly. “Let it stop there, sir. You are tiring yourself to no good purpose. We all look to you. I believe we are in for trouble. I do not think we would have been sent otherwise.”
    Bolitho poured two glasses of claret and handed one to Keen.
    â€œYou are a good flag-captain, Val. It took courage to say that. And it is true. Personal feelings do not come into it. Later maybe, but now the slightest anxiety may transmit itself through this ship.” He held the glass to the sunlight. “And Old Katie will have enough to contend with. She can manage without an admiral who is so wrapped up in his own troubles he can think of nothing else.”
    There was a nervous tap at the door and Yovell entered, his eyes fixed on Bolitho.
    Keen looked away, unable to watch as Bolitho took the single letter from his clerk’s hand.
    He wanted to leave but, like the clerk, was unwilling to snap the spell.
    Bolitho read the short letter and then folded it with great care.
    â€œGet the ship under way, if you please. The wind will suffice to clear the harbour.”
    He met Keen’s even stare.
    â€œThe letter is from my sister in Falmouth. My wife . . .” His lips hesitated on her name as if they were afraid. “Belinda is not well. The letter was written some time ago for the packet made another landfall before Boston. But she knew that the packet was sailing. And she wanted to let me know she was thinking of me.” He turned away, his eyes suddenly stinging. “Even though she was too ill to write.”
    Keen looked at Yovell’s stricken face and gave a quick jerk of the head.
    When the clerk had gone he said gently, “It was what I would expect her to do, sir. And that is how you must see it.”
    Bolitho looked at him and then nodded. “Thank you, Val. Please leave me now. I shall come up directly.”
    Keen walked through the adjoining cabin space and past the motionless marine sentry at the outer screen door.
    Herrick would have known what to do. He felt helpless and yet deeply moved that Bolitho had shared his despair with him. He saw Allday beside an eighteen-pounder and gestured to him.
    Allday listened to him and then gave a great sigh. It seemed to come from the soles of his shoes, Keen thought.
    Then Allday said, “I’ll go aft, sir. He needs a friend just now.” His face tried to grin. “He’ll no doubt take me to task for my impertinence, but what the hell? He’ll crack like a faulty musket barrel if we allows it, an’ that’s no error.”
    Keen strode out into the noon sunlight, adjusting his hat as his lieutenants and the master turned to face him.
    â€œStand by to get under way, Mr Quantock. I want to see your best today with half the port watching us.”
    As the officers hurried to their stations and the boatswain’s mates sent their shrill calls below decks, Keen ran lightly up a poop