Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

Including the man who had fallen from aloft, that made three dead, with some seven others injured. Broken bones, fingers torn raw by bucking, sodden canvas, skin inflamed by salt, by wind, and by lines snaking through clutching hands in pitch darkness, made up most of the surgeon's list.

Herrick strode aft and said, 'I'm having a new jib bent on now, sir. The other's only fit for patching.' He took a mug from Noddall and cradled it gratefully to his mouth. 'Heaven help the poor sailorman!'

Bolitho looked at him. 'You'd not change it.'

Herrick grimaced. 'A few times back there I wondered if I'd get the choice!'

Davy, who had the watch, joined them by the rail.

'What are our chances of a landfall, sir?'

He looked older, less assured than he had before the action with the frigate. During the storm he had behaved well, so perhaps he still believed the only real menace came from a cannon's mouth.

Bolitho considered his question. 'That will depend on fixing our position. Allowing for our drift, and the shifting of the wind, I'd say we might sight the islands before nightfall.'

He smiled, the effort making him more conscious of the strain he had been under.

Herrick said dourly, 'The damned Frog will be laughing at us. Sitting in harbour under that bloody pirate's guns.'

Bolitho looked at him thoughtfully. The same idea had only left him occasionally, and that when he had needed all his thoughts elsewhere. To parley with the French captain was one thing. To accept that he was serving under Muljadi's flag meant far more. It would be an open admission of failure. An acceptance that Muljadi's sovereignty did exist. If Conway agreed to the latter, every other European power which had trading and protection rights in the Indies, especially the powerful Dutch East India Company, would see it as England's move to take all the advantages for herself. Which was exactly what the French would like.

What should he do if the French captain refused to be moved by Conway's message? Patrol up and down outside the islands and draw Argus into combat? It would be a one-sided affair. Le Chaumareys was an old hand in these waters, knew every islet and cove where he had once hidden to avoid British frigates in time of war. Equally, he would be well advised to lie at anchor, living off the land, until Undine was made to withdraw.

He felt his tiredness putting an edge to his anger. If only the politicians were here to see what their ideas of world strategy actually represented in flesh and blood, in wood and canvas.

'Land ho! Fine on th' starboard bow!'

Davy rubbed his hands. 'Nearer than you thought, sir.'

Mudge said quickly, 'Never!' He fumbled with his slate and made some rapid calculations. 'There's a small islet, some forty miles to the south'rd of the Benuas, sir.' He peered round until he had discovered Midshipman Penn's diminutive shape by the taffrail. 'Aloft with ye, Mr. Penn, an' fetch the big glass for company.' He eyed him fiercely. 'Take a look, an' make me a sketch just like I taught you!'

He waited until the boy had scampered for the main shrouds and chuckled. 'Cap'n Cook 'ad the right idea, sir. Sketch an' describe every damn thing you see. Time'll come when every man-o'-war will 'ave a complete set o' pictures to study.' He watched Penn's progress. 'Not that some'll 'eed 'em, o' course.'

Bolitho smiled at Herrick. 'Better than I had expected. We'll have a man in the chains and begin soundings as we pass this islet of the master's. The chart describes some nineteen fathoms hereabouts, but I'd prefer to be certain.'

Twenty minutes later Penn returned to the deck, his brown features sprinkled with sweat. He held out his grubby pad and stood back to watch Mudge's reactions.

Over his shoulder Davy said, 'Looks like a whale to me.'

Mudge eyed him coldly. 'So it does.' To Penn he said, 'Fair work. It is 'ow I recalls it.' His small eyes returned to Davy. 'Exactly like a great rocky whale.' The merest pause. 'Sir.'

'Anything there?'

Bolitho took a glass and trained it above the gun deck. As yet he could see nothing but the same, painful glare. He wondered momentarily where the storm had gone, how it could vanish after showing so much fury.

'Bless you, no, sir.' Mudge beamed at Davy's discomfort. 'Just a fistful o' rocks, like the tip of some undersea ridge, as no doubt it was one time. But I suppose it could be used as shelter in a full gale.'

Bolitho watched some seamen hauling a new length of hemp along the larboard gangway. Tired and unshaven perhaps, but there was something else, too. The way they worked together. Confidently.

He said, 'We will alter course a point, Mr. Davy, and take a look at your whale.'

Davy hurried to the rail. 'Mr. Penn! Pipe the hands to the braces!'

Herrick watched him, smiling easily. 'Any reason, sir?'

Bolitho shrugged. 'More of a feeling.'

He watched the men thronging along the decks, where the steamy vapour continued to drift amongst them. From forward he saw real smoke, as Bogle, the cook, got busy with the first hot meal they would have eaten since the storm had come and gone.

He saw the yards swinging to the pull of the braces, heard the helmsman cry, 'Nor'-cast by north, sir!'

Davy hurried past to consult the binnacle and the set of the sails. 'Another pull on the weather mainbrace, Mr. Shellabeer!' He dabbed his streaming face. 'Now belay!'

Bolitho smiled. When Davy was irritated he always performed his duties better, for some reason.

He said, 'Put another good lookout aloft, if you please. I want that islet watched until we are up to it.'

He glanced at the sun's blinding patterns beyond the gently pitching bowsprit.

'I am going below to shave and to bribe Noddall into finding a clean shirt.'

Later, as he lay back in a chair while Allday busied himself with his razor, he found time to wonder what he would do if or when he met with Argus's captain.

The hastily heated water, the skilful movement of the blade against his skin was making him relax, muscle by muscle, and he could feel the air from the open stern windows across his bare shoulders like a soothing embrace.

All around the world the King's captains were going about their affairs. Fighting scurvy and disease, carrying despatches for an admiral or some lonely outpost not marked on any schoolboy's map. Or pondering behind a cabin bulkhead in dread of mutiny, or planning some diversion to prevent one. Fighting maybe, with some dissident ruler who had attacked the King's subjects, defiled the flag, butchered men and women. He smiled. And some would be like himself. A tiny extension to a half-formed plan.

Through the open skylight he heard the lookout's cry, 'Deck there! Ship at anchor close inshore!'

He jumped to his feet, seizing the clean shirt and using it to dab away the soap from his chin.

Allday stood aside and grinned admiringly. 'By God, Captain, you must have more wiles than a farmyard cat! How did you know there was a ship?'

Bolitho was tucking the crumpled shirt inside his breeches. 'Magic, Allday!'

He hurried for the door, and then forced himself to wait until Midshipman Penn appeared in the entrance.

'A ship, sir! Mr. Davy's respects, and he believes it may be a schooner.'

'Thank you, Mr. Penn.' It was all he could do to appear calm. 'I will come up when I have completed dressing. My complimmts to the first lieutenant, and please ask him to meet me on the quarterdeck.'

He turned and saw Allday hiding a smile. 'Is something amusing you?'

'Why, no, Captain.' Allday watched him gravely. 'But I am always ready to see my betters at their affairs.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Then I hope you learn from it.'

He walked into the passageway and made for the ladder.

Herrick greeted him excitedly. 'A schooner, sir! The man in the foremast crosstrees is my best lookout, and I had a glass sent aloft to him.' He stared at Bolitho with open astonishment. 'It is uncanny!'