Flag Captain Read Online Free Page B

Keverne and the others, but halted as Bolitho added sharply, “You will favour me by remaining silent until I tell you otherwise.”
    The admiral did not look up or speak until Bolitho had finished telling him of Rook’s news. Then he said, “If the French come out again, England will be done for.” He looked at his hands and let them fall to his sides. “Where is Vice-Admiral Broughton? Is he not here after all?”
    Bolitho held out the envelope and said gently, “Perhaps this will explain what we are to do, sir.”
    He could see the emotions crossing and re-crossing the admiral’s wizened face. He had been hating the thought of striking his flag for the last time. But he had accepted it. It was like his illness, unbeatable. But now that there was a real possibility of continuing he was probably torn between two paths.
    He said, “Show our visitor aft.” He made an effort to square his shoulders. “Then set the hands to work. It would be unwise for them to see their leaders in despair.”
    Then followed by his secretary he walked slowly and painfully into the poop’s shadow.
    When Bolitho joined him again in the great cabin the admiral was sitting at the desk, as if he had never left it.
    â€œThis despatch is from Sir Lucius Broughton.” He waved to a chair. “ Euryalus will remain at Falmouth to receive his flag, but at present he is in London. It seems that a new squadron is to be formed here, although to what purpose is not explained.” He sounded very tired. “You are to ensure that our people have no contact with the shore, and those sent there because of illness or injury will not be returned.” His mouth twisted angrily. “Afraid of spreading the disease on board, no doubt.”
    Bolitho was still standing, his mind grappling with all that the words entailed.
    The admiral continued in the same flat voice, “You will of course tell your officers what you think fit, but under no circumstances must the people be informed of the unrest at the Nore. It is worse than I feared.” He looked at Bolitho’s grim face and added: “Captain Rook is required to assist you with all your supplies, and has instructions to bring any further stores or new spars and cordage direct to the ship.”
    Bolitho said slowly, “Sir Lucius Broughton, I know little of him. It is difficult to anticipate his wishes.”
    The admiral smiled briefly. “His flag was flying in one of the ships which mutinied at Spithead. I imagine his main requirement will be that it does not happen again.”
    He groped for his handkerchief and gripped the edge of the desk. “I must rest awhile and think of what has to be done. It would be better if you went ashore in my place. You may find that things are less dangerous than we imagine.” He met Bolitho’s eyes. “But I would inform Captain Giffard first, so that his marines may be in readiness for trouble.” He looked away and added, “I have seen the way our people look up to you, Bolitho. Sailors are simple folk who ask little more than justice in exchange for their lot afloat. But . . .” the word hung in the air, “they are only human. And our first duty is to retain control, no matter at what cost.”
    Bolitho picked up his hat. “I know, sir.”
    He thought suddenly of the crowded world beyond the panelled bulkhead. At sea or in battle they would fight and die without question. The constant demands of harsh discipline and danger left little room for outside ideals and hopes. But once the spark touched off the latent power of these same men anything might happen, and it would be no use pleading ignorance or isolation then.
    On the quarterdeck again he was conscious of the change around him. How could you expect something like this to remain a secret? News travelled like wildfire in an overcrowded ship, though none could explain how it happened.
    He beckoned to