Captain Charles Varian was a direct contrast to Poland. Very tall and broad-shouldered, self-confident: probably the landsman's idea of a frigate captain.
Varian said, "I was eager for news, Sir Richard. And seeing this ship, well-" He spread his big hands and gave what was intended as a disarming smile.
Bolitho watched him steadily. "It did not occur to you that a ship from the Channel Squadron might not have time to waste in idle gossip? You could have closed to hailing distance, surely."
Ozzard pattered in with his coffee pot and peered unseeingly at the stranger.
Varian nodded. "I was not thinking. And you, Sir Richard -of all people, to be out here when you must be needed elsewhere…" The smile remained, but his eyes were strangely opaque. Not a man to cross, Bolitho decided. By a subordinate, anyway.
"You will need to return to your command directly Captain. But first I would appreciate your assessment of the situation here." He sipped the hot coffee. What was the matter with him? He was on edge, as he had been since… After all, he had done it himself as a young commander. So many leagues from home, and then the sight of a friendly ship.
He continued, "I have come with new orders."
Varian's inscrutable expression sharpened immediately.
He said, "You will know, Sir Richard, that most of the force intended for retaking Cape Town from the Dutch is already here. They are anchored to the north-west, near SaldanhaBay Sir David Baird commands the army and Commodore Popham the escorting squadron and transports. I have been told that the landings will begin very shortly." He hesitated, suddenly uncertain under Bolitho's level gaze.
"You are with the supporting squadron." It was a statement, and Varian shrugged while he moved his cup across the table.
"That is so, Sir Richard. I am still awaiting some additional vessels to rendezvous as planned." When Bolitho said nothing he hastened on, "I had been patrolling in the vicinity of Good Hope and then your topsails were sighted. I thought a straggler had finally arrived."