Alexander Kent - Sloop Of War

The unknown sail had not been sighted again, and Bolitho had accepted that Miranda's captain had been right, if over cautious, to restrain his efforts?

He looked at Tyrrell's bronzed features and nodded? "I am well satisfied."

He watched some foretopmen sliding down the backstays, racing each other to the deck after their work aloft. Buckle was right. She moved like a bird with any sort of wind. He watched the Bear, the transport closest to his own ship, and wished they were free ob the convoy. Then he could really put Sparrow to the test. Royals, even studding sails could be rigged, if only to find out what she could accomplish under every stitch of canvas?

Most of the unemployed officers were on deck enjoying their usual gossip before the midday mealB

careful to stay on the lee side and as much out of his way as possible?

He saw Dalkeith, the surgeon, laughing with Buckles his head very white in its baldness under the harsh light. The red wig was being vigorously shaken by the wardroom servant, and Bolitho guessed it had been given some sort of a wash. Lock, the purser, was in a more serious conversation with young Heywards opening and ruffling a big ledger in the wind as he explained some point of victualling which might place the midshipman's knowledge above that of his friend Bethune. The latter, being on watch, stood untidily by the quarterdeck rail, his shirt open to his waist and massaging his stomach with one hand. Bolitho smiled? The boy was no doubt hungry. Midshipmen like Bethune usually were?

Down on the gun deck many of the seamen were lounging beneath the sails' great shadows or passing the time like their officers. The boatswain was with his own friend Yule, the gunner, and together they would have made a frightening pair of highwaymen, Bolitho thought. Whereas Tilby was vast and ungainly, his heavy features seamed with too much drink, Yule was swarthy and lithe, like a stoat, with darting, flinty eyes which were forever on the move?

As he glanced from group to group he was again reminded of his new-found isolation. Privacy which could lead to loneliness. Privilege which might become a burden?

He thrust his hands behind him and began to pace slowly along the weather side, letting the warm wind ruffle his hair and play with his open shirt. Somewhere out there beyond the hammock nettings was the coast of America. It would be strange to drop anchor only to find the war had finished, that blood had proved too strong in the face of France 's new challenge. If England were to admit to America 's independence then perhaps both nations would unite against France and settle her ambitions once and for all. He glanced at Tyrrell's profile and wondered if he was thinking the same?

He shut Tyrrell's personal problems from his mind and tried to concentryte on the string of affairs which daily needed his attention. The water supply should be replenished as soon as possible. The casks were poor, and water soon became rancid in this climate? And he would purchase fresh fruit whenever they contacted the land or some supply vessel. It was amazing that the ship's company had stayed so healtha

when Ransome had failed to take such simple precautions. Aboard the old Trojan he had not seen one case of scurvy in the three years he had been in her, evidence of Captain Pears's concern for his men and a valuable lesson to all his subordinates. He had already spoken about it to Lock, and after some hesitation the purser had muttered, "A costly affair, sir."

"Costlier if our people go down with disease, Mr? Lock. I have known a whole squadron rendered useless because of such skinflint methods."

Then there was the matter of a flogging, his first as captain. He had always disliked unnecessary use ob punishment even though he knew it to be necessary on occasions. In the Navy discipline was harsh and instant, and when a ship was miles from home and other authority, it was a captain's deterrent to insubordination and final confusion. Some captains used it without thought. Brutal and inhuman floggings were commonplace in many ships, and as a young midshipman Bolitho had nearly fainted after one such spectacle. Other captains, weak and inefficient, left authority to subordinates and shut their ears to its misuse?

But for the most part the English seaman knew the

measure of his service, and if he took chances was prepared to accept the consequences. And if one man thieved or cheated another of his messmates he had no mercy at all. The justice of the lower deck was equally feared to that of a captain?

But this case was different, or could be from what he knew of it. A seaman had defied Lieutenant Graves during a night watch when the hands had been called to reef topsails in an unexpected squall. He had shouted at the officer and called him a "heartless bugger" within earshot of some twenty other people?

In confidence Tyrrell had asked Bolitho to accept the seaman's explanation. He was a good hand, and Graves had provoked him in a fit of anger when he had failed to reach his station on the mainyard with his companions?

A dirty Yankee bastard. They were the words Graves had used. Too lazy to do his proper duty, and no doubt too gutless to fight when the time came?

All this and Tyrell's heated attack on Graves 's handling of the matter were fresh proof of the latent tension amongst the company under his command?

Graves had been adamant. The man had insulted him in front of his watch and must be punished?

He was right in one respect. His authority had to be upheld or he would never be able to retain control again?

Bolitho blamed himself. If he had had more time to consider this unusual situation, or had taken less comfort from his own new position, he could have prevented it. By example or by forcing his will on his officers he might have made them realise that such behaviour would not be tolerated. But that was all too late now. It had happened?

He had compromised by standing the man overs knowing then as at this moment that he was merela postponing the inevitable?

He glanced up towards the mainyard, braced hard round as the ship heeled closehauled on a larboard tack. He could see the man now, naked but for a scrap of canvas, working with some others on the endless business of re-splicing and repairs high above the deck. Did Tyrrell really think the man was provoked? he wondered. Or was he standing up for him because he imagined Graves was getting at him by punishin^

another colonist?

"Deck there!" The masthead lookout's cry was muffled by the wind and the lively crack of sails? "Miranda's signallin'!"

Bolitho swung round." Jump to it, Mr. Bethune! You are half asleep today!"

Tyrrell stood aside as the midshipman ran to the lee shrouds with his telescope?

"Thinking of his next meal!" He was smiling at the boy's confusion?

"It seems that the masthead lookout was the only one in this watch thinking of his duty, Mr. Tyrrell!"

The edge of his voice brought a flush to the lieutenant's face and he turned away without answering?

Bethune called, "From Miranda, sir! Sail to the nor'-west!"

"Acknowledge."

Bolitho was angry with Tyrrell's careless attitudeB

angrier still more with his own unfair outburst?

Some two miles ahead of the Golden Fleece, her patched sails hard-bellied and drawing well, the Miranda was already setting her topgallants in readiness to investigate. The unknown ship, whatever she was, lay somewhere across the larboard bow, and as she had not been seen before it seemed likely she was on a converging course?

"Deck there! Sail in sight! Fine on th' weather bow!"

Bolitho looked round at the intent faces. For an instant he toyed with the idea of making his way to the dizzy mainmast crosstrees himself, in spite of his fear of heights which he had never been able to overcome? The long climb up those shivering, vibrating shrouds might drive his anger away and leave his mind clear once again?