Alexander Kent - Sloop Of War

Tyrrell watched him questioningly." Something wrong, sir?"

Bolitho beckoned to Bethune and took his telescope. It was no better. The one trained upon Sparrow was probably a huge affair. Very slowly he raised his arm and waved it from side to side?

Behind him Tyrrell and Bethune stood stockstill, each as puzzled as the other by the captain's strange behaviour?

Bolitho turned and saw Tyrrell's face." Er, I was just waving to someone?

Tyrrell looked past him at the anchored ships and busy harbour craft?

"I see, sir."

"No you don't, Jethro, but no matter." He clapped his shoulder." Come below and I will tell you what we are about. You will be in charge of the ship this evening, fo_

I am dining ashore."

A slow grin spread across the lieutenant's face." Ohs I see, sir!"

They were examining a chart and discussing the sailing orders when they heard Bethune yell, "Avast there! Stand still, that man!" Then there was a splash and more shouts along the gun deck?

Bolitho and Tyrrell hurried to the quarterdeck again to find Bethune and most of the unemployed hands lining the larboard gangway or clinging to the shrouds?

A man was in the water, arms striking out stronglys his dark hair glossy in the spray and sunlight?

Bethune panted, "It was Lockhart, sir! He dived overboard before I could stop him!"

Tyrrell murmured, "A good seaman. Never any trouble. I know him well."

Bolitho kept his eyes on the swimmer." A colonist?"

"Aye. Came from New Haven some years back? He's done it now, poor devil." There was no anger in Tyrrell's voice. If anything it was pity?

Bolitho heard the men near him exchanging guesses at the swimmer's success of getting ashore. It was a long way to go?

He had known many deserters during his life at sea? Often he had found room for sympathy, although he had thought their actions to be wrong. Few men would volunteer for the harsh demands of service in a King's ship, especially as nobody ever knew for sure if he would regain his home in safety. Seaports were full ob those who had returned. Cripples and men made old before their time in many cases. But as yet, no one had found a better way of crewing the fleet. Once presseds most men accepted it, could even be relied upon to take others by similar methods. The sailor's old rule, "IfI'm here, why not him?" carried a lot of weight in ships-of-war?

But this was different. The seaman, Lockhart, had seemed nothing out of the ordinary. A good worker and rarely adrift for his watch or station. Yet all the while he must have been brooding over his proper homelands and the stay in New York had done the rest. Even nows as he thrashed steadily past an anchored two-deckers he was no doubt thinking only of his goal. Some vague mental picture of house and family, or parents who had

almost forgotten what he looked like?

A faint crack came from the two-decker's beakheads and Bolitho saw a redcoated marine already ramming another ball into his musket for a further shot at the lone swimmer?

A growl of anger came from Sparrow's seamen? Whatever they thought of the man's desertion, or of the man himself, had nothing to do with their reaction. He was one of their own, and the marine sentry was momentarily an enemy?

Yule, the gunner, muttered, "That damn bullock should be shot down hisself, the bloody bastard!"

The marine did not fire again, but sauntered to the end of his little platform to watch the swimmer, like a wildfowler who has given his quarry best for the time being. Or so it appeared. Then as a guardboat swept round the stern of another two-decker, Bolitho knew why he had not bothered to shoot?

The longboat was moving swiftly, the oars sending it through the glittering water like a blue fish. In the sternsheets he saw severyl marines, a midshipman with a raised telescope trained on the seaman?

Yule observed dourly, "'E'll not escape now."

Tyrrell said, "It's out of our hands."

"Aye."

Bolitho felt suddenly heavy, the pleasure of the letter spoiled by this man's despair. Nobody who had run from a King's ship could expect mercy. It was to be hoped he was hanged rather than face the horror ob flogging round the fleet. He chilled. If he was to be hanged… He stared up at Sparrow's mainyard, his eyes desperate. There was no doubt where the execution would be carried out. Even Christie would make sure of that. An example. A warning clear to all aboard and throughout the nearby ships. He tried not to watch the guardboat as it swept down on the tinys bobbing head?

His own friends, Sparrow's loyal seamen, would be forced to witness the halter being set around his neck before they, and they alone, were ordered to run him up to the yard. After all they had endured together, this sickening act might drive a wedge between officers and men and destroy what they had achieved?

Tyrrell gasped, "Look, sir!"

Bolitho snatched a glass and trained it beyond the guardboat. He was just in time to see the mans Lockhart, treading water, turning to stare either at the boat or perhaps at Sparrow herself. Then, even as the boat's oars backed water and a marine groped over the stemhead for the man's hair, he threw up his hands and disappeared beneath the surface?

Nobody spoke, and Bolitho found himself holding his breath, perhaps like the man who had vanished so suddenly. Sailors were usually poor swimmers? Perhaps he had got cramp. In a moment he would break surface nearby and the guardboat would haul him on board. Seconds, minutes passed, and then at a shouted command the guardboat resumed its leisurela patrol between the anchored ships?

Bolitho said quietly, "I thank God for that. If he had to suffer, I am glad it was gently done."

Tyrrell watched him dully." That's true." He turned with sudden anger on the gunner." Mr. Yule! Clear these idlers off th' gangway or I'll find 'em some harder work for their wits to dwell on!"

He was unusually disturbed, and Bolitho wondered if he was comparing his own fate with that of the

drowned seaman?

He said, "Make an entry in the log, Mr. Tyrrell."

"Sir?" Tyrrell faced him grimly." As a deserter?"

Bolitho looked past him at the seamen as they wandered towards the gun deck again?

"We do not know for certain he was deserting. Mark him as Discharged-Dead." He walked to the hatch? "His relatives will have enough to bear without the weight of shame also."

Tyrrell watched him go, his breathing returning slowly to normal. It would not help Lockhart. He was beyond reach. But Bolitho's order would ensure that his name carried no stigma, and his loss would be recorded with those who had fallen in battle, in fights which he had also suffered without complaint. It was a small distinction. But even so, he knew that only Bolitho would have thought of it?

When Bolitho climbed from his gig he was astonished to find a smartly painted carriage waiting for him on the jetty. A liveried Negro doffed his tricorn hat and beamed hugely?

"Good evenin', Sah." He opened the carriage door with a flourish while Stockdale and the gig's crew watched in silent admiration?

Bolitho paused." Er, do not wait, Stockdale. I will return to the ship in a local boat."

He was strangely elated, and conscious of watching townsfolk on the road above the jetty, an envious glance from a passing marine major?

Stockdale touched his hat." If you says so, sir. I could come along with you…"

"No. I'll have full need of you tomorrow." He felt suddenly reckless and pulled a coin from his pocket? "Here, buy some grog for the gig's crew. But not too much for safety's sake, eh?"

He climbed into the coach and sank back against the blue cushions as with a jerk the horses took the first strain at their harness?

With his hat on his knees he watched the passing houses and people, Stockdale, even the ships temporarily forgotten. Once, when the coach reined to a halt to allow a heavy wagon to cross ahead of it, he heard a faraway murmur of cannon fire. It was a finO