Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

Three days after returning to Teluk Pendang His Majesty's frigate Undine weighed anchor again and put to sea. By late afternoon of that day she stood well out in the glittering expanse of the Java Sea with not even a cormorant for company.

To any casual observer who might have watched her departure there was little to betray her mauling from Argus's cannon, but as Bolitho came on deck he was well aware of it.

Shrouds and stays which had been cut by grape and catus shone brightly in their fresh tar. Deck planking, hastily placed, looked duller than the well-tried and holystoned W,,')6f which had been in the ship since she had been built. The s;,,, maker and his mates had been busier than most, and even nccr, as he walked slowly along the weather side, Bolitho saw Jots Tait squatting with some helpers, his one eye gleaming watdr fully as with needles and palms they continued with th;' patching.

Fowlar, who was master's mate of the watch, touched forehead and reported, 'South-west by south, sir.' He gestwcd abeam. 'A bit of a swell, and Mr. Soames has gone forrard check the gun lashings.'

Bolitho glanced at the compass and then the set of each,,',' by turn. He had already noticed the steep, sickening motion but it was too early to gauge its importance. The barornett, was unsteady, but that was usual in these latitudes, and wl' he had consulted Mudge he had chosen his words carefully,

'Could be in for a storm, sir. You never know in these waters

He nodded to Fowlar and walked to the quarterdeck feeling the sun lingering on his shoulders and face. It was a wind, he thought, but sultry, and somehow depressing.

He saw Herrick speaking with Soames by the starboard twelve-pounders. The boatswain was there, too, pointing various repairs yet to be done, and through the main hatch he heard the lively sounds of a jig from the ship's fiddler. Normal, everyday sights and noises. He shifted wearily and began,o pace up and down the weather side.

From one corner of his eye he saw Soames climb from th. gun deck, make as if to approach him, and then return to the opposite side of the deck. Bolitho was relieved. Soames had proved himself a tower of strength in a fight, but as a conversationalist he was heavy and limited.

And Bolitho needed to be left alone. To think. To examine the rights and the wrongs of what he had done. With the laj,d left far astern, and once more abandoned to his own resources! he could view everything much more clearly. Now, as his shadow bobbed and swayed above the black six-pounders, he decided there were far more wrongs than rights.

Inevitable? Something which either of them could have stopped in a second merely by a word, a hint even? He recalled the way she had watched him across the table while the others had talked and chattered the night away. Capitan Vega had entertained them with a song so sad it had brought tears to his eyes. Puigserver had spoken of his adventures in the South Americas and the West Indies before the war. Raymond had become steadily drunk after getting into a fruitless argument with Major Jardine on the possibilities of a lasting peace with France.

Conway had remained terribly sober, or if not, Bolitho

thought he must be a better actor than he had imagined. When then, had the actual moment of decision arrived? He had found himself on the upper rampart with her at his side, leaning over the rough timber to look at the anchored ships in the bay. They had made a fine picture. Tiny lights reflected on the uneasy water, the pale splash of oars as a guardboat patrolled monotonously around its heavier charges. Without looking at him she had said, 'I want you to stay on shore tonight. Will you?'

Perhaps that had been the moment? He had felt reckless, dangerously so.

'I'll send a message to my first lieutenant.'

He turned to stare along the deck. Herrick was still talking to Shellabeer, and he wondered if he had guessed what had occurred.

He could remember the room exactly. More like a cell, with fewer luxuries than a lieutenant's cabin in a man-of-war. He had lain on the bed, his fingers locked behind his head, listening to the strange noises beyond the walls and the rapid beats of his own heart.

Cries from the jungle, the occasional call of a picket challenging one of the sergeants of the guard. Wind murmuring around the square tower without response from deck or rigging which was his normal life.

Then he had heard the sound of her footstep in the passageway, a quick whisper to her maid before she opened the door and shut it quickly behind her.

It was becoming harder to remember in perfect sequence. The continuity was confused. He could recall holding her tightly against his body, the warmth of her mouth on his, the sudden, overwhelming, desperate need which threw all last caution to the winds.

There had been no light in the tiny room, but that from the moon. He had seen her only briefly, her bare shoulder and thigh shining like silver before she had climbed on to the bed, pulling him down and down, until at last, spent and gasping with the extent of their desire they had lain together as one.

He could not remember sleeping at all. Just holding her, needing her, tortured by the realisation it could not last.

Once during the night and towards dawn she had whispered in his ear, 'Do not reproach yourself. It is not a question of honour. It is a part of life.' She had put her lips to his shoulder and had added softly, 'What a lovely smell you have. Of the ship. Salt and tar.' She had giggled quietly. 'I must have it, too.'

Then the nervous tap on the door, the quick scramble to pull on her gown as her faithful maid warned of the coming of another day.

But for Bolitho it had been different from all other days. He felt totally unlike anything he had been before. Alive, yet restless. Replete, but needing more.

He heard steps on the deck and saw Herrick watching him.

'Yes, Mr. Herrick?'

'Wind's freshening again, sir. Shall I call the hands to reef tops'ls?' He ran his eyes across the ship. 'Rigging's straining a'piece by the sound of it.'

'We'll give her her head a while longer. Until eight bells if possible, when we -change tack and run to the west'rd. No sense in tiring the hands when one operation will suffice.' He leaned back, hands on hips as he stared at the main topgallant masthead, the long pendant undulating in the wind. 'She's a lot of power to offer us yet.'

'Aye, sir.' Herrick sounded tired.

'Is anything wrong?'

Bolitho walked to the weather rail and out of earshot of Soames and two seamen who were splicing halliards.

Herrick said quietly, 'You know already, sir. I've said my piece. What's done is done.'

Bolitho watched him gravely. 'Then let us leave it well alone.'

Herrick sighed. 'Very well, sir.' He looked at the helmsmen.

'I'm sorry I could only get four extra hands. Neither Bedford nor the Rosalind were eager to part with any more. And those I did obtain are troublemakers by the cut of them.' He gave a slow smile. 'Although Mr. Shellabeer assures me they will change their ways before another dawn.'

Midshipman Armitage ran up the ladder and touched his hat.

To Herrick he stammered, 'Mr. Tapril's respects, sir, and would you join him in the magazine.'

Herrick asked, 'Is that all?'

The boy looked uncomfortable. 'He said you'd promised, sir.' 'And so I did, Mr. Armitage.'

As the midshipman hurried away Herrick said, 'I was going to arrange to have the powder casks inspected and marked again. No sense in losing good powder.' He lowered his voice. 'Look, sir, are you sure you cannot see the folly of what you are doing? There is no telling what damage it might do to your career.'

Bolitho swung towards him and then saw the anxious concern on Herrick's face.

He replied, 'I am relying on your lady luck, Thomas!'