Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

'I see. However, this is a mission of protection, not of discovery, or the capture of Spanish gold.' He nodded to Soames and added softly, 'But I will keep it in mind.'

He began to pace the deck while the two lieutenants conversed over the compass.

Undine had gathered all sorts within her slender hull. It was not only the lower deck which sported its fortune-hunters, it seemed. He saw Midshipman Keen walking along the larboard gangway with Armitage, and prayed he would never be left in Davy's predicament, or in one such as his brother Hugh's.

In family background Davy and Keen were similar. Both had wealthy parents who had gained promotion in trade rather than in the King's service. Davy's father had died leaving his son and heir totally unprepared for the temptations which he had managed to overcome. Keen on the other hand had been sent to sea because of his father's riches and influence. Her-tick had said that Keen had confided in him during a night watch in the Indian Ocean. To make a man of me. It had seemed to amuse him, Herrick had said. But Keen's father must be a remarkable man, Bolitho thought. There were not many who would risk a son's life or limb for such a goal.

He saw Noddall scurrying aft along the gun deck with a can of boiling water from the galley. Conway must be up and about, waiting to be shaved. It was surprising how little Conway's presence aboard had interfered with daily life. He had explained it himself. Informal. That did not mean he was disinterested. Quite the reverse. Whenever a ship had been sighted, or the hands had been called to reef or make sail, he had been there, watching. Once, when becalmed for half a day, the seamen had streamed a seine net in the hopes of getting some fresh fish. Just a few flounders, and some flatheaded fish which Mudge had knowingly described as 'foxes' were the entire result of their efforts, but Conway could not have been more pleased if they had caught a whale.

It was as if he was living out every hour, like a prisoner awaiting sentence. It was not pleasant to watch.

Bolitho was not quite twenty-eight years old, but as a postcaptain with two previous commands behind him he had learned to accept, if not agree, with many of the Navy's judgements.

Conway's experience had come out at dinner, one evening in the cabin. It was the second day out of Madras, and Bolitho had told Noddall to fetch some of his special wine to make it an occasion. It was madeira, the most expensive he had ever purchased in his life. Conway hardly seemed to notice. Had he been offered cider, Bolitho doubted if he would have remarked on it. But he had become very drunk. Not slowly, or by accident, or even out of bravado. But with the firm determination of one who has been too often alone, and wishes to blur the realisation without delay.

It had all happened two years back in these same waters, when the French admiral, Suffren, had captured Trincomalee and very nearly toppled Britain's power in India for good. Conway had started to tell his story as if Bolitho had not been there. As if he just wanted to make sure he could still remember it.

He had been in command of an inshore squadron and employed on the protection of supply ships and military convoys. A sloop had brought news of a French squadron off the coast of Ceylon, and without ado he had set off to engage or cripple the enemy ships until help arrived to complete the victory.

Unbeknown to Conway, another sloop was already searching for him, sent by the Commander-in-Chief with new orders for the defence of Trincomalee. Conway reached the area where the French had been sighted, only to find them gone. Fishermen informed him they had sailed towards the very position he had just left, and with an anxiety which Bolitho could only imagine, he had put his ships about once again. He managed to find and bring the French rear to a brief but unsatisfactory action before losing contact in the night. When dawn united his small squadron again, Conway found the supply ships which he had been guarding had been captured or destroyed, and when the admiral's sloop contacted him, she, too, had fresh news to cancel all previous instructions. Trincomalee had been taken.

In the silence of the cabin Conway's voice had risen suddenly, like a dying man's cry.

'Another day and I've have brought them to grips! Not Suffren, nor any other admiral, could have got us out of Ceylon then!'

Bolitho looked up as the first working parties swarmed aloft for the constant round of repairs, splicing and stitching. It was all too plain. Conway could have emerged a hero. Instead, he was seized upon as a scapegoat. He must still have influence

somewhere, he thought. A governorship, no matter where it was, represented reward rather than a continuance of disgrace.

He halted in his stride, his mind suddenly very alert. But suppose there was a second, more devious reason? Another scapegoat perhaps?

He shook his head. What would be the point of that?

Bolitho turned as Allday walked along the quarterdeck towards him.

'Breakfast's ready, Captain.' He squinted his eyes towards the brig. 'Still with us then?' He smiled calmly at Bolitho's steady gaze. 'That's good.'

Bolitho watched him and wondered. It was the same look he had given when he had brought the gig for him at Madras.

'Thank you.' He added coldly, 'And what is amusing you now?'

Allday shrugged. 'Hard to put a name to it, Captain. It's a sort of glow I get inside sometimes.' He massaged his stomach. 'Comforting.'

Bolitho strode past him towards the hatch. His morning had been badly interrupted.

As he stepped into the cool shadows between decks he imagined Viola Raymond just a mile abeam in the brig. Her husband would be watching her. Mister Pigsliver would be watching both of them.

It was still hard to know what she really thought about him, or if she saw his attraction as some sort of game. There had been several visitors staying at the residence, soldiers, Company officials, but she had been determined to keep him to herself. It had not been anything she had actually said. It had been more of an excitement, a sense of recklessness. A dare which he found impossible to ignore.

She had no longer stayed at arms' length, and several times had allowed her hand to linger on his, even when Raymond had had been close by.

When he had made to return to the ship she had followed him on to a shaded terrace below the inner wall, and had held out a small box.

'For you.'

She had made light of it, but he had seen the hot eagerness in her eyes, the thrust of her breasts beneath her gown as he had opened the box.

It was a gold watch.

While he had turned it over in his hands she had gripped his arm and had whispered, 'I will always remember your face that day…'But she had not laughed that time. 'Do not refuse my little gift, please.'

He had taken her hand and kissed it, his mind grappling with what he was doing, seeing all the dangers, and yet dismissing them.

'It is as well you are sailing in another ship, Captain!' She had laughed and then had pulled his hand below her breast. 'See how my heart beats now! A week, a day even, and who can say what might occur!'

Bolitho walked past the sentry and into the cabin, his mind still hanging on to that moment.

Conway was spreading thick treacle on a biscuit, his wispy hair ruffling in the breeze from the stern windows. 'What time is it, Bolitho?'

'Time, sir?'

Conway eyed him wryly before taking a mouthful.

'I observed that you had your, er, new watch in your hand

and assumed that time was of some importance?'

Bolitho stared at him, the midshipman in front of his

captain again.

Then he grinned. 'It was a memory, sir, that was all.' Conway sniffed. 'That I can well believe!P

'It makes a fine sight, Thomas.'