He said, “Thank you, Mr Keverne. I will be up directly. But now you may have Mr Tothill make a signal to the squadron to take stations as ordered.” He paused, sick of the delays and the constant uncertainties. “We attack tomorrow if the wind holds.”

Keverne showed his teeth. “Then there’s an end to the waiting, sir.”

Bolitho watched him leave and then returned to the windows. Aye, an end to it, he thought. And with any luck, a beginning too.

12

THE FORTRESS

“WAKE UP, Captain!”

Bolitho opened his eyes and realised he must have fallen asleep across his desk. Allday was peering down at him, his face yellow in the glow of the single deckhead lantern. Both candles on the desk were guttered and dead, and his throat felt dry and smoky. Allday placed a pewter cup on the desk and poured some black coffee into it.

“It will be dawn soon now, Captain.”

“Thank you.”

Bolitho sipped the scalding coffee and waited for his mind to repel the last dragging claws of sleep. He had been on deck several times during the night, checking last details before daylight, studying the wind, estimating the squadron’s course and speed. He had finally fallen into deep sleep while going over Draffen’s notes, but in the sealed cabin he could feel no benefit from it.

He stood up, suddenly angry with himself. They were all committed to the coming day. Nothing could be gained by supposition at this early stage.

“A quick shave, Allday.” He downed the coffee. “And some more of that.”

He heard something clatter in the cabin below, and knew Broughton’s servant was about to call his master. He wondered if he had been sleeping, or just lying in his cot, fretting over the coming battle and its possible consequences.

Allday returned carrying another lantern and a jug of hot water.

“Wind’s holding steady from the nor’ west, Captain.”

He busied himself with the razor and towel as Bolitho threw his shirt on the bench and slumped back in his chair again.

“Mr Keverne called all hands an hour since.”

Bolitho relaxed slightly as the razor scraped over his chin. He had not even heard a sound as Euryalus’s company of several hundred souls had come alive to the pipe’s bidding. While he had lain on the desk in an exhausted sleep they had been fed and had set about cleaning down decks in spite of the surrounding darkness. For, no matter what lay ahead, there was no sense in allowing them to brood about it. When they commenced to fight they would expect the ship around them to be as normal as possible. It was not only their way of life, but their home also. Like the faces at the mess tables, the ones which would soon be peering through open gun ports, everything was as familiar as the spread sails and the sluice of water against the hull.

While Allday completed the hasty shave with his usual dexterity, Bolitho let his mind drift back over the previous day’s frantic preparations. The whole complement of marines from all the ships had been divided into equal halves. Half had been transferred to Rattray’s Zeus at the head of the line. The remainder to Valorous astern. Almost all the squadron’s large pulling boats had been divided in the same way, and Bolitho could pity the two ships’ uneasy night with so many extra people to accommodate.