Enemy in Sight! by Alexander Kent Read Free Book Online

deck.
    Winstanley guided him to the quarterdeck, his resonant voice held down with obvious effort. He was a giant of a man, loose limbed and outwardly ungainly, but gave an immediate impres- sion of great competence. His face was toughened and seamed from countless voyages, but his small twinkling eyes and the mass of crowsfeet around them gave an equal impression of a ready sense of humour.
    The captain of a flagship, even that of a lowly commodore, needed all of that and more, Bolitho thought grimly as he squelched up the ladder and into the shelter of the poop.
    Winstanley was saying gruffly, “I was watching your ship through my glass. She looks a mite different from the last time I saw her. Like new she is.” He glanced up at the commodore’s broad pendant which streamed stiffly from the masthead. “The Vectis will sail for Plymouth now that you’ve arrived to relieve her, and after that it’ll be my turn.” He gripped Bolitho’s arm as they approached the stern cabin. “Next to me you’re the senior captain, so I’ve no doubt Hyperion will wear his pendant in due course.”
    He must have seen the question on Bolitho’s face for he said quickly, “I’ll speak with you later. Pelham-Martin is no man to keep waiting.”
    He opened the door and Bolitho followed him into the cabin, his hat jammed beneath his arm, and conscious of the wet foot- marks across a rich, pale coloured carpet as he approached a littered table which was arranged to one side of the stern win- dows.
    The commodore was seated comfortably at a high-backed chair, seemingly relaxed in spite of the slow, sickening motion around him. He was incredibly broad, but as he got slowly to his feet Bolitho sensed something like shock when he realised that Pelham-Martin was extremely short and his effort at standing made little difference at all. All his bulk seemed to go into his breadth, like Tomlin, the Hyperion’ s bosun, but there the similar- ity ended. He had a round, pale complexioned face and his fair hair was cut in a newly fashionable short style. But whereas it may have suited the Navy’s younger bloods, it merely made the commodore’s head appear even smaller when compared with the great bulk beneath it.
    â€œWelcome, Captain.” His voice was smooth, even gentle. “You must have made a quick passage.” His eyes moved calmly over Bolitho’s bedraggled appearance, but he did not remark on it. Then he waved to some chairs and pointed to a silver wine cas- ket which swung gently from the deckhead. “A drink perhaps?”
    Across his bulky shoulder Winstanley gave the merest shake of his head and Bolitho said, “No, thank you, sir. Not for the moment.”
    He saw Winstanley relax slightly and noticed that Pelham- Martin was smiling. He was grateful for Winstanley’s warning, yet at the same time he was irritated at being put to some pri- vate test for the commodore’s own purpose.
    â€œWell, I expect you have read all the available reports, Bolitho. Our duty here is to patrol the approaches to the Gironde Estuary and stop any shipping entering or leaving. I have made a signal to Vectis to sail for Plymouth for repairs. She lost her mizzen in a great gale some two weeks back, and spare spars are in great demand here. In a few months’ time we will be joined by two more sail of the line, and by then we should know what the Frogs intend to do, eh?” He leaned back comfortably and smiled. He looked more like a rich merchant than a sea officer, Bolitho thought vaguely.
    He heard himself say, “The French will be out before that, sir.”
    Pelham-Martin’s smile stayed fixed on his small mouth. “You say so? Where did you gather this information?” He leaned forward slightly. “Has the admiral been keeping something from me then?”
    Bolitho smiled. “No, sir. But I have been reading all the avail- able reports, and I