Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

fruit and other items for barter. With all their bread ruined in the first storm, and few fresh fruits to rival those in the boats, Triphook, the purser, would be busy indeed.

'Tops'l clew lines!'

A boatswain's mate shook his fist at some anonymous figure on the fore topsail yard. 'Yew clumsy bugger! You 'old on with one 'and or yew'll never see yer dozy again!'

Bolitho watched the narrowing strip of water, his eyes half closed against the searing glare.

'Helm a'lee!'

He waited, as with dignity Undine turned quietly into the wind, her remaining canvas shivering violently.

'Let go!'

There was a yell from forward, followed by a splash as the anchor plunged down beneath the golden figurehead.

Herrick waited until the last of the canvas had vanished as if by magic along the yards and said, 'They did quite well, I thought, sir?'

Bolitho watched him, holding back the smile. Then, relent ing, he replied, 'Quite well, Mr. Herrick.'

Herrick grinned. 'You'll not need the gig today, sir. A boat's heading out to us in fine style.'

Allday strode forward and presented Bolitho's sword. He frowned and muttered, 'Not the gig, Captain?' He sounded aggrieved.

Bolitho held out his arms to allow the coxswain to buckle the belt around his waist.

'Not this time, Allday.'

It was terrible how both Herrick and Allday watched over his every move.

The marines were stamping and shuffling into a new formation by the entry port, Sergeant Coaker's face shining beneath his black shako like a great sweating fruit.

Bolitho turned to watch the approaching launch, a grand affair with a gilded and canopied cockpit. Beside it, Allday's poor gig would look like a Falmouth harbour boat. A resplendent officer stood watching the anchored frigate, a scroll under one arm. The usual welcoming words. The first link to w hatever lay ahead.

He said quietly, 'You will remain aboard, Mr. Herrick. Mr. Davy will accompany me ashore.' He ignored the obvious disappointment. 'Take good care of matters here, and make certain our people are ready for anything.'

Herrick touched his hat. 'Aye, aye, sir.' He hurried away to tell Davy of his good fortune.

Bolitho smiled gravely. With shore boats and other temptations, it would need all of Herrick's skill to keep the ship from being swamped by traders and less respectable visitors.

He heard Flerrick say, 'Sojou are to accompany the captain, Mr. Davy.'

Davy hesitated, gauging the moment and Herrick's mood. Then he said calmly, 'A wise choice, if I may say so, Mr. Herrick.'

Bolitho turned away, hiding his smile, as Herrick snapped, 'Well, you are damn little use here, are you?'

Then as the four minute drummer boys struck up with their flutes and drums Hearts of Oak and Bellairs' sweating guard presented muskets, Bolitho stepped forward to greet his visitor.

The Governor's Residence was well situated on a gently sloping road above the main anchorage. On his way from the ship by barge and carriage Bolitho was relieved to discover that his official escort, a major of artillery, spoke very little English, and contented himself wtih occasional exclamations of pleasure whenever they passed anything unusual.

It was obvious that everything was well planned, and that from the moment Undine's topgallants had been sighted the previous evening things had begun to move.

Bolitho barely remembered meeting the Governor. A bearded, courteous man who shook his hand, received Bolitho's formal greetings on behalf of King George, and who then withdrew to allow an aide to conduct the two British officers to another room.

Davy, who was not easily impressed, whispered, 'By God, sir, the Dons live well. No wonder the treasure ships stop here en route for Spain. A ready market for 'em, I would think.'

The room into which they were ushered was spacious indeed. Long and cool, with a tiled floor and a plentiful selection of well-carved furniture and handsome rugs. There was one huge table in the centre, made entirely of marble. It would take seven gun crews to move it, Bolitho decided.

There were about a dozen people standing around the table, arranged, he thought, so that without wasting time he could distinguish those who counted from those who did not.

The man he guessed to be James Raymond stepped forward and said quickly, 'I am Raymond, Captain. Welcome. We had expected you earlier perhaps.' He spoke very abruptly. Afraid of wasting time? Unsure of himself? It was hard to tell.

He was in his early thirties, well dressed, and had features which could pass as handsome but for his petulant frown.

He said, 'And this is Don Luis Puigserver, His Most Catholic Majesty's personal emissary.'

Puigserver was a sturdy man, with biscuit-coloured features and a pair of black eyebrows which dominated the rest of his face. He had hard eyes, but there was charm, too, as he stepped forward and took Bolitho's hand.

'A pleasure, Capstan. You have a fine ship.' He gestured to a tall figure by the window. 'Capstan Alfonso Triarte of the Nervion had much praise for the way she behaved.'

Bolitho looked at the other man. Very senior. He would be, to command the big frigate in the roads. He returned Bolitho's examination without much show of pleasure. Like two dogs who have fought once too often, perhaps.

He forgot all about Triarte as the emissary said smoothly, 'I will be brief. You will wish to return to your ship, to make last arrangements for sailing to our destination.'

Bolitho watched him curiously. There was something very compelling about the man. His stocky figure, his legs which looked so muscled, despite the fine silk stockings, even the rough handshake could not disguise his confident assurance.

No wonder the Governor had been quick to pass Bolitho on to him. Puigserver obviously commanded respect.

He snapped his spatulate fingers and a nervous aide hurried forward to take Bolitho's hat and sword. Another beckoned to some servants, and in minutes everyone was seated around the altar-like table, a beautifully cut goblet at his elbow.

Only Puigserver remained standing. He watched the servants filling the goblets with sparkling wine, his face completely unruffled. But when Bolitho glanced down he saw one of his feet tapping very insistently on the tiled floor.

He raised his glass. 'Gentlemen. To our friendship.'

They stood up and swallowed the wine. It was excellent, and Bolitho had a mental picture of his own doubts and fumblings in the shop at St. James's Street.

Puigserver continued, 'Little came out of the war but a need to avoid further bloodshed. I will not waste our time by making empty promises which I cannot keep, but I can only hope that we may further our separate causes in peace.'

Bolitho glanced quickly at the others. Raymond leaning back in his chair, trying to appear relaxed, but as taut as a spring. The Spanish captain looking at his wine, eyes distant. Most of the others had the empty expressions of those who pretend to understand when in fact they do not. It seemed likely to Bolitho that they only understood one word in ten.

Davy sat stiffly on the opposite side of the table, his clean features glowing with heat, his face set in a mask of formality.

It all boiled down to the three of them. Don Luis Puigserver, Raymond and himself.

The former said, 'Thankfully, Spain has received back Minorca and certain other islands as concessions following the unfortunate war.' His eyes rested on Bolitho very briefly. Dark, almost black. They were like Spanish olives. 'In return, His Most Catholic Majesty has seen fit to bless this new venture between us.' He looked at Raymond. 'Perhaps you would be good enough to expand the details, yes?'

Raymond made to stand up and changed his mind.

'As you will know, Captain Bolitho, the French Admiral Suffren was responsible for many attacks on our ships and possessions in the East Indies and India itself. Holland and Spain'-he hesitated as Ca pitaa Triarte coughed gently-'were France's allies, but they had not the available squadrons and men to protect their possessions in that area. Suffren did it for them. He captured Trincomalee from us and restored it to the Dutch after the war. There were several other instances, but you will know of most of them, Captain. Now, in exchange for certain other considerations which need not concern you, Spain has agreed in principle to hand over to Britain one of her remaining possessions in, er, Borneo.' He eyed Bolitho flatly. 'Which is where you will eventually be going, of course.'