Alexander Kent - Sloop Of War

He stared at the nearest gun, his eyes blurred with strain. A woman's touch. Then he turned abruptly to face Tyrrell and Grave who had followed him into the cabin upon his return from the crippled Miranda?

His mind was so filled with questions and suppositions, his brain so wracked by the sights and sounds aboard the frigate, that for a moment he was unable to speak at all?

Beyond the bulkhead he could hear the steady thud of hammers, the rasp of saws as the ship's company continued work on repairs. After a full hour aboard the Miranda he had returned to find his own command settling down to the task of making good the damage from their encounter with the privateer with such orderly dedication that he had been unable to compare the scene with what he had just left. The sailmaker and his mates had already replaced the punctured canvas, and with their needles and palms flashing in the sunlight covered every foot of deck space as they patched the others sent down from the yards?

Garby, the carpenter, had greeted him at the entry port and had told him that the brig's gunnery had not been too damaging. Two shot holes below the waterline which his men were already plugging, and

severyl others which he would repair before sunset? Garby had spoken quickly, professionally, as if like the rest he was unwilling to think about the Miranda and the fate which could have been theirs?

Graves was the first to break the silence?

"All guns secured, sir. No damage to tackles or ports." He dropped his eyes under Bolitho's unmoving stare." Better'n we could have hoped."

Tyrrell asked quietly, "How was it, sir?"

Bolitho let himself drop into a chair and thrust out his legs in front of him. The breeches were black with powder stains and his climb up the frigate's side. How was it? Once again he saw the pictures of death and horror, the few uninjured men who were trying even now to put the frigate to rights. Smoke stains and great patches of drying blood, gaping corpses littered amongst the fallen spars and broken planking. It was a miracle that Miranda was still able to keep afloat?

He said, "They hope to get a jury rig hoisted by sometime tomorrow. Provided the wind doesn't get ups or the pumps foul, they will obtain steerage way." He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, feeling the weariness enclosing him like a vice." Some of the wounded will be transferred to the transports directly? There they will have more room to recover."

He tried again to shut the agony from his mind. Men so badly mutilated by splinters that they should be dead already. Midshipmen and even seamen in charge of repairs because of the carnage on the quarterdeck. He had found the frigate's first lieutenant supervising the recovery of the mizzen topmast when he had climbed aboard. The man had had one arm in a sling and his forehead had looked as if it had been laid open by a hot iron?

Graves breathed out very slowly." They did well against such odds."

"Yes."

Bolitho wanted to get them out of the cabin. Seal the door and shut them away from his uncertainty?

Tyrell said, "I've passed th' word around th' ship, sir.] think our people know how satisfied you…"

Bolitho's tone made him fall back." Satisfied?" He lurched to his feet." If you feel cause for complacency, Mr. Tyrrell, then please contain it!" He moved to the

windows and back again." I have seen it for myself? Our people are not moved by a sense of victory. They are relieved, and nothing deeper than that! Thankful to be spared a similar mauling, and all too eager to overlook their own shortcomings!"

Tyrrell said quickly, "But that's a mite unfair, surely."

"You think so?" He sank down at the table, his anger spent." Raven had the measure of it. He saw what he expected to see, as did Captain Selby in Miranda. And like you, Mr. Tyrrell, our people thought that fighting an enemy was just an extension of drill, a few cuts and a few curses, and all would be well. Perhaps we have been too victorious in the past and have been overreached by this newer kind of warfare."

There was another silence, so that the hammering somewhere deep in the hull became insistent, and to Bolitho suddenly urgent?

Graves asked, "What will we do now, sir?" He sounded wary?

Bolitho faced them gravely." Captain Selby is dead? Killed in the first broadside."

He walked to the quarter windows and stared towards the drifting frigate. Without effort he could picture the wounded first lieutenant, the man who had somehow fought his ship alongside the enemy? Knowing it was all he could do despite the crippling losses and damage already suffered. Now, without a single lieutenant, aided by a mere handful of junior warrant officers, he was doing his utmost to repair the ship. To get her to safety before the sea or an enema found him again?

In the shattered chaos of Selby's cabin he had unlocked the safe and handed Bolitho the despatches without hesitation. Even now that he was back in his own cabin he found it hard to believe. Junior command, and then, almost in the twinkling of an eyes he was to shoulder the total responsibility for them all? Colquhoun and Maulby were beyond reach. And Selba was dead. He had seen his corpse on the splintered quarterdeck, pinned beneath an upended nine-pounder, one hand still clutching his sword like a useless talisman?

Tyrrell's voice made him turn towards them again?

"Then you are in command, sir?"

The lieutenants were watching him intently, their faces showing both doubt and apprehension?

Bolitho nodded slowly." We will continue with the transports before dusk. After we have ferried the Miranda's wounded across to them and done what we can for their own ship." He tried not to think of the endless problems which lay ahead." When we have made contact with the squadron as ordered we will proceed with the despatches to the Commander-in-Chief."

He let his eyes stray around the cabin. All at once it was smaller, the sloop more vulnerable?

"And Miranda, sir?" Tyrrell's tone was hushed?

Bolitho kept his voice level and without emotions knowing that if he showed them even for an instant, his true feelings, they would lose what small faith they still retained?

"Her people will do what they must. We cannot stay with her, nor would they wish it."

Spray pattered against the thick windows. The wind was already freshening slightly?

Tyrrell licked his lips, his eyes distant as he stared towards the dismasted frigate?

Bolitho added, "That will be all. Keep the hands working until the last minute."

The two lieutenants, in their filthy shirts and breeches, turned and left the cabin without another word?

Bolitho looked at Fitch and said, "You may go, too.] wish to think."

When Fitch and his helpers had gone he rested his head in his hands and allowed his body to sway with the ship's uncomfortable motion?

Tyrrell probably thought him heartless for leaving the other ship without company or aid. Graves, too, would no doubt be finding plenty of fuel for his own personal fires?

He stood up, fighting back the tiredness and strains knowing he must not heed nor care about their considerations. They were in a war which for too long they had only skirted like spectators. If learn they musts it were better to be done at once?

Then he recalled the Miranda's lieutenant, the bitterness in his voice as he had described the action? He was able to add little to what Bolitho already knew and guessed. But for one thing, the name of the big privateer. Bonaventure. It was a name he would not forget?

There was a tap at the door. It was Lock, his face dark with gloom as he began to recount a list of stores damaged in the brief fight with the brig?

Bolitho faced him and said quietly, "Now let me have a full list, Mr. Lock, and I will give you my opinion."