Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

Herrick said, 'The old Bedford.' He sounded bitter. 'A bloody storeship from Madras full of seasick soldiers and their womenfolk.'

Bolitho watched the helmsman bringing Undine carefully back on course, the skilful way they were allowing for the punctured sails' loss of power.

'If Argus had known that, she'd have done for both of us.' He saw the surprise and sudden concern and added simply, 'But not before we had rendered her equally useless.'

He glanced aloft at the masthead pendant. How many times had he done that? He took out his watch and flicked open the guard. Remembering. The whole sea-fight had taken less than two hours, and already Argus was almost lost in the offshore haze which marked the coming of evening. He shaded his eyes to look for the Bedford, and saw her topsails on the horizon like small yellow shells.

Then he looked around at the splintered planking, the small line of corpses which had been dragged below the weather gangway. There was much to do, and he must not give way for an instant if his men were to keep the will to fight again if the time came. He saw another corpse being carried up from the forehatch, and knew he would have to deal with the reports of damage, arrange for replacements and repairs. And burials.

He heard another sharp cry through the cabin skylight, and thought of Keen being spreadeagled there while Allday tried to extract the splinter.

He said, 'I am going below, Mr. Herrick. Deal with reports on damage and casualties.' He saw him nod. 'Thank you.'

As he hurried below I-Herrick said quietly, 'No. Thank.you.'

Bolitho brushed past the sentry at his door and then stopped. It was very quiet in the cabin, and when he saw Keen's naked body lying on the deck he thought he was too late.

Allday said, 'All done, Captain.' He held up the jagged red. lump in some pincers. 'I think he did very well, for a lad.'

Bolitho looked down at Keen's ashen face. There was blood on his lips where one of the seamen had held a strap between his teeth to prevent him from biting through his tongue. Noddall and' he other seamen were finishing tying the dressing around the wound, and there was a thick smell of rum in the air.

Bolitho said quietly, 'Thank you, Allday. I never knew you understood such things.'

Allday shook his head. 'Did it to a sheep once. Poor thing fell down a cliff on to a broken sapling. Very much the same really.'

Bolitho walked to the stern windows and sucked in a lungful of air. 'You must tell Mr. Keen that when he is well again.' He turned and watched him gravely. 'Do you think he will fully recover?'

Allday nodded. 'Yes. Another inch or so and it might have been the end.' He forced a grin, seeing the strain on Bolitho's face. 'For the ladies, anyway!'

The door opened and Herrick said, 'We are within signalling distance of Bedford, sir.'

'I'11 come up.' He paused and looked down at Keen. Even a glance told him his breathing was easier. 'Casualties?'

Herrick dropped his eyes. 'Ten killed, sir. Twenty wounded. It's a miracle we didn't lose far more. The carpenter and his mates are below, but it seems most of the holes are above the waterline. She's a lucky ship, sir.'

Bolitho looked from him to Allday. 'I'm the lucky one.' Then he walked from the cabin.

Allday shook his head and sighed, releasing more rum into the smoke air.

'My advice is to leave him be, Mr. Herrick, sir.'

Herrick nodded. 'I know. But he has taken this setback badly, though I know of no captain who could have done better.'

Allday dropped his voice. 'But one captain did do better today. And ours'll not rest until he's met with him again, I'm thinking.'

Keen gave a soft moan and Allday snapped, 'Come on, you idlers! Basin to his head! I've poured so much grog into his guts he'll spew all over the cabin when he comes to the surface again!'

Herrick smiled and walked out towards the ladder, seeing the men replacing the lashings on the guns, glancing at him and grinning as he passed.

One of them called, 'We showed the bastards, eh, sir?' Herrick paused, 'That we did, lads. The captain was proud of you.'

The seaman grinned more broadly. 'Aye, sir. I seed 'im in the thick of it, walkin' about like 'e was on Plymouth 'Oe. I knew then that we was goin' to be all right.'

Herrick climbed towards the sunlight and stared up at the torn sails. If only you knew, he thought sadly.

He found the other lieutenants and warrant officers already assembled on the quarterdeck giving their various reports while Bolitho leaned against the mainmast trunk.

When he saw Herrick he said, 'There is still a good span of daylight left. We'll put the hands to replacing canvas and running-rigging while it lasts. I have ordered the galley fire to be lit, and we'll see that our people get a good meal.' He gestured towards the labouring storeship which was now less than a mile away. 'We might even poach a few extra hands from her, eh?'

Herrick saw the others watching Bolitho dully, their bodies almost limp with exhaustion and delayed shock. He guessed that this other Bolitho, cool, confident, filled with ideas again, was the one the seaman on the gun crew had pictured throughout the battle.

The fact that he knew the real Bolitho behind the shield made him feel suddenly privileged and restored.

Rear Admiral Beves Conway made a dark silhouette against the window's colourful rectangle, but Bolitho could recognise his impatience even though his back was turned. Beyond him, still and peaceful above their own varying shadows, the anchored ships shone in the late sunlight.

Undine lay apart from the heavy transport and the little brig Rosalind, and it was impossible to see the damage she had received from the French frigate's eighteen-pounders. Occasionally, when there was a lull in the voices, Bolitho heard the echoes of thudding hammers, the rasp of saws to show that only distance made Undine's trim appearance a lie.

The air in the big, timbered room was cool after the open bay, and although the various figures sitting around it looked as if they had barely moved since his last visit, Bolitho noticed that the place itself had changed considerably in so short a time. More furniture, some rugs, and a whole array of gleaming decanters and glasses made it look lived in, rather than a fortress under siege.

Don Luis Puigserver sat on a brass-bound chest, sipping wine, while James Raymond, tight-lipped and unsmiling, faced him across a littered table. The brig's master, Captain Vega of the original garrison and two red-coated soldiers from the Bedford made up the rest of the gathering. One of the latter, a heavy-faced man introduced briefly as Major Frederick Jardine, and who commanded the soldiers brought from Madras, Bolitho instantly recognised as the one he had seen there when he had been escorting Viola Raymond. He had a fat, belligerent face, and his small, piggy eyes had hardly left Bolitho since he had arrived. The other soldier, a Captain Strype, was his second-in-command, and a complete opposite. Tall and stickthin, with a black moustache, he spoke with a lisp, and had a short, barking laugh. He was probably rather stupid, Bolitho thought, but was obviously much in awe of his superior.

Conway said sharply, 'Naturally I am very distressed to learn of Argus's attack, Captain Bolitho.'

Raymond said, 'Unwarranted, too.'

Conway turned lightly on his heels, his hair yellow in the sunlight. 'But not unexpected, Raymond. Not by me, that is. It was obvious from the beginning that the French were implicated. They have to be, for their own interest's sake. We are lucky that Bedford's arrival put paid to their intention to take Captain Bolitho's ship from him.' He shifted his gaze, his tone incisive. 'And he would have done so, eh?'