Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

He walked towards the cabin hatch, adding for Soames's benefit, 'Call me the moment there is a change.'

Soames watched him go and then walked aft to the compass.

Fowlar watched him warily. Once back in England, he, too, would get the chance to obtain a commission as lieutenant. The captain had said as much, and that was good enough. But if he did make that first all-important step up the ladder, he hoped he would be happier about it than Lieutenant Soames appeared to be.

Soames rasped, 'Mr. Fowlar, your helmsmen are wandering off a point or so! Damn my eyes, I don't expect that from you!'

Fowlar watched him move away and smiled to himself. There was nothing wrong with the helm, and Soames knew it. It was part of the game.

He said, 'Watch your helm, Mallard.'

Mallard transferred a plug of tobacco from one cheek to the other and nodded.

'Aye, Mr. Fowlar, sur.'

The watch continued.

Before the last dog watch had run its course it was obvious the rising wind made it necessary to reef topsails.

Bolitho gripped the hammock nettings and faced along his ship's length as he watched the petty officers checking their men in readiness for going aloft, while Shellabeer and his own hands were already busy scrambling about the boat-tier with further lashings.

Herrick shouted above the wind, 'A second reef within the hour, sir, if I'm any judge!'

Bolitho turned aft and felt the spray as it hissed freely above the weather quarter. The wind- had backed rapidly and now blew lustily from the south-east, making the motion both violent and uncomfortable.

He replied, 'We will steer due west once we have reefed. On the larboard tack she will be steadier.'

He watched the great, steeply banked swell, like serried lines of angry glass hills. When the wind got up further, those rounded rollers would break into heavy waves.

Bolitho heard Mudge shout, 'We're in for a blow right enough, sir!' He was'clinging to his misshapen hat, his small eyes watering in the wind. 'The barometer is poppin' about like a pea on a drum!'

Davy shouted, 'All mustered, sir!'

'Very well. Hands aloft.' Herrick held up his hand. 'Keep them from racing each other, and stop the bosun's mates from using their rope's-ends.' He glanced at Bolitho. 'One slip, and a man would go overboard without a chance of recovery.'

Bolitho agreed. Herrick always remembered things like that.

He said, 'I hope this doesn't last too long. If we have to ride it out it will upset Admiral Conway's other arrangements, I have no doubt.'

He looked up as faint shouts and curses told him of the struggle the topmen were having with the violent, unruly canvas. Fisting and kicking, pitching this way and that, with the deck far below, the very sight of their efforts made him feel queasy.

It took the best part of an hour to master the sails to Herrick's satisfaction, and by then it was time to take in yet another reef.

Spray and spindrift whipped across the weather side, and every timber and stay seemed to be groaning in a protesting chorus.

Bolitho shouted, 'Lay her round another point, Mr. Herrick! We will steer west-by-south!'

Herrick nodded, his face running with spray. 'Afterguard to the mizzen braces!' He shook his speaking trumpet angrily. 'Keep together, damn you!'

A marine had slipped and fallen in a scarlet heap, knocking several of his comrades into confusion.

Bolitho pointed abeam, to the first glitter of white crests as the wind did its work.

'She's steadier, Mr. Herrick 1' He relaxed as the experienced seamen rushed aft to help the marines and less skilled hands on the mizzen braces. 'And not a man hurt, by the looks of it!'

Undine had paid off stiffly to the wind, her shrouds and ratlines shining jet-black against the rising swell. But with her yards comfortably braced, and canvas reduced to topsails and jibs, she was making the best of it.

Davy panted on to the quarterdeck, his shirt wringing and sodden.

'All secure, sir!' He lurched backwards, tottered and then reeled against the nettings, adding savagely, 'By the Lord, I'd forgotten what a real gale felt like 1'

Bolitho smiled. 'Dismiss the watch below. But tell the boatswain to make regular inspections. We can't afford to lose precious gear for want of a good lashing.' He turned to Herrick. 'Come below with me.'

Despite the din of sea and strained timbers it seemed warm and inviting in the cabin. Bolitho watched the spray making diagonal patterns across the stern windows, heard the rudder grinding and squeaking while the helmsmen held the frigate on her new course.

Noddall pattered into the cabin, his small body steeply angled as he fetched goblets for the two officers.

Herrick wedged himself in a corner of the bench seat and regarded Bolitho questioningly.

'If we have to run before the wind, would it make so much difference, sir?'

Bolitho thought of his written orders, Conway's brief but lucid instructions.

'It might.' He waited until they both had goblets and said, 'To what we can achieve, Thomas!'

errick chuckled. 'I'll share that toast.'

Bolitho sat at the desk, feeling the deck tilting and then sliding into yet another trough.

He was glad he had insisted that Keen and some of the other wounded had been left at Pendang Bay. Too much of this sort of motion would burst open even the finest stitches.

He said, 'Admiral Conway intends to let Bedford put to sea as soon as we are on our way to the Benua Islands. I think he wishes to get rid of the Spanish troops and dependents as soon as possible.'

Herrick watched him. 'Bit risky, isn't it, sir? With the damned Argus still at large?'

Bolitho shook his head. 'I think not. I am certain the French or Muljadi will have agents watching Conway's settlement. They will have seen us weigh anchor. Argus will know we are coming well enough.'

Herrick looked glum. 'They are as clever as that, eh?'

'We must assume so. I think Conway is right. Better to get Bedford away with her passengers and despatches for Madras before things get any worse.'

'If there's a real storm, it'll put paid to everything.' Herrick cheered up somewhat. 'The Frogs don't like bad weather.'

Bolitho smiled at Herrick's confidence. 'This one may not care. He has been in these waters a long time, I believe. He is not one of the hit-and-run kind who used to dash out of Brest or Lorient and flee for home again at the sight of an English ship.' He rubbed his chin. 'This Le Chaumareys interests me, I would like to know more of him than his record in battle.'

Herrick nodded. 'He appears to know a lot about you, sir,,

'Too much.'

A steep roller cruised beneath the quarter, holding the ship up and tilting her forward at a steeper angle before freeing her again to sidle into the next rough. Beyond the closed door them heard the marine sentry slip and fall, his musket clattering away while he cursed and fought to regain his composure.

Bolitho said slowly, 'When we meet with Argus's captain ve must keep our eyes well opened. If he agrees to parley, we may learn something. If not, we must be ready to fight.'

Herrick frowned. 'I'd rather fight, sir. It's the only way l know how to be at ease with a Frenchman.'

Bolitho thought suddenly of that room at the Admiralty, the calm features of Admiral Winslade as he had given a brief outline of Undine's mission. Four months back. A time of peace, yet ships had foundered, and men had been killed or crippled for life.

But even the lordly power of admiralty, the guile and experience of politics were useless out here. A solitary, wind-swept frigate, minimum resources, and no guiding hand when one might be needed.

Herrick took Bolitho's quiet mood as a signal. He placed his goblet inside the table fiddles and rose carefully to his feet.