Read Online Inshore Squadron by Alexander Kent - Free Book Online Page A

seamanship.
    He heard himself say, “I will look into it. I’ll not promise anything though.”
    He strode away, unable to bear the gratitude in Penels’ eyes.
    Commander Matthew Veitch arrived in Bolitho’s cabin and looked around him curiously. On his left shoulder the single epaulette denoting his rank glittered in bright contrast to his shabby sea-going coat. Veitch had served with Bolitho before and knew he would get no thanks for wasting time to change his clothing before he reported to the flagship.
    Bolitho said, “Sit down and tell me about it.”
    It felt strange to be at anchor again. The four ships of the line were all lying to their cables in close formation, with the Danish coast clearly visible through the quarter windows. The frigates were still on patrol, like watchdogs, they rarely rested.
    The sloop and her prize were also at anchor off Skaw Point, which in recent months had become the fleet’s general rendezvous and resting place.
    Veitch stretched his long legs. “The prize is a merchant brig, sir, the Echo out of Cherbourg. Slipped through our patrols in a storm last week, her master says. She made a run for it, so I raked her promptly.”
    Bolitho glanced at the bulkhead door. Beyond it Browne, who had a good knowledge of French, was busy going through the Echo ’s papers which Veitch had brought aboard.
    A French brig. Without obvious cargo or passengers. She had taken considerable risk in running the blockade, more again when she had attempted to outsail the Lookout.
    â€œWhere bound?”
    Veitch shrugged. “Her master had false papers, I suspect. But the charts were found stuffed in the lazarette by one of my midshipmen with the boarding party.” He grinned. “The lad was searching for food, no doubt, but I’ll not spoil his glory because of that!” He became serious again. “Two points were marked, sir. Copenhagen and Stockholm.”
    Herrick moved restlessly away from the quarter windows and said, “It smells, sir.”
    Bolitho looked at him. “You think as I do, Thomas? The French are in some way mixed up with Tsar Paul’s discontent?”
    Herrick replied, “I feel certain of it, sir. The more they can put under arms, the better it is for them. We’ll have the whole world against us if they have their way!”
    The door opened and Browne entered the cabin. He held one letter in his hand, the broken seal shining dully like blood. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
    â€œWhat does it say?” Bolitho had noticed that Browne never shared a single word of information with anyone else present without his permission.
    â€œIt is addressed to a French government official in Copenhagen, sir.”
    They all looked at each other. It was like some prearranged gathering of friends and enemies alike.
    Browne continued in his unemotional tone, “It is from the military commander in Toulon, and has reached this far via Paris and Cherbourg.”
    Herrick could not contain his impatience. “Don’t keep us in suspense, man!”
    Browne merely glanced at him. “The French forces in Malta have surrendered to the British blockading squadron, sir. It happened last month.”
    Herrick sounded perplexed. “Well, surely that’s good news? With Malta in our hands the Frenchies will have to tread warily in the Mediterranean in future!”
    Browne did not smile. “It should be known, sir, Tsar Paul of Russia had become the so-called head of the Grand Knights of Malta. When the French captured the island he was furious. This letter explains that the French government had offered to transfer the rule of Malta to the Tsar, knowing full well, of course, that the island would fall to the British anyway.”
    Herrick spread his hands. “I still don’t see where we come in?”
    Bolitho said quietly, “The British will not leave Malta, Thomas. It will be too valuable to us, as you