Alexander Kent - Sloop Of War

Fitch was tiny. A miserable scrap of a man, who had already confessed to having been a petty thief in his unfortunate past. Saved from transportation or worse by the timely arrival of a King's ship as he awaited sentence at the Assizes, he had accepted life at sea more as an extension to his punishment than any love of service. But he seemed a capable servant and was probably well pleased with his work. It kept him from the heavier tasks on deck, and provided his current master was a humane man he had little to fear?

Bolitho watched him as he collected the crockery on to a tray. It had been an excellent meal. Cold tongue and fresh vegetables from ashore, and the claret which Fitch had mournfully observed wa, «the last of Cap'n Ransome's stock" had been a touch of perfection?

"Your late captain." Bolitho saw the small man stiffen? "Did he leave any instruction as to his property aboard?"

Fitch dropped his eyes." Mr. Tyrrell 'as attended to its sir. It's been sent to a transport for passage 'ome."

"He must have been an officer of some consequence."

Bolitho hated this form of questioning, but he felt he needed some link, no matter how small, with the man who had controlled this ship from the day she had slid into the water?

Fitch bit his lip." 'E were a strict cap'n, sir. 'E saw that the 'ands took fairly to their work. If they obeyed, 'e was 'appy. If not…" he shrugged his frail shoulder, «then 'e tended to swear a piece."

Bolitho nodded." You may leave."

It was useless to proceed with Fitch. His life concerned only the comings and goings. Food and drink, a warm cot, or a swift curse if things were not to his master's liking?

Feet padded overhead and he had to restrain himself from running to the stern windows or standing on a chair to peer through the skylight above the table? He thought of his old companions in the Trojan's wardroom and wondered if they were missing him? Probably not. His promotion would mean a gap, and therefore a step up the ladder for another. He smiled to himself. It would take time to fit himself into this new role. Time and vigilance?

There was a tap at the door and Mathias Buckle, the sailing master, stepped inside?

"Do you have a moment, sir?"

Bolitho gestured to a chair. Again this was so unlike a bigger ship-of-war. There were no marines in the company, and visitors to the captain's quarters seemed free to come and go almost as they pleased? Perhaps Ransome had encouraged such informality?

He watched Buckle fitting himself into the chair. He was a short, square-built man, with steady eyes and hair almost as dark as his own. Aged forty, he was the oldest man in the ship?

Buckle said, "I'd not trouble you, sir, but as the first lieutenant's away, I thought…" He shifted in the chair? "I thought I should settle the matter of promotion for one of the hands."

Bolitho listened in silence as Buckle ran through the points which concerned a man named Raven. It was an internal matter, but he was conscious of the importance it represented. The very first time as captain he was being confronted with the affairs of one of his own company?

Buckle was saying, "I thought, begging your pardons sir, that we might advance him to master's mate for a trial period."

Bolitho asked, "How long have you been master?"

"Just in this ship, sir." Buckle's clear eyes were distant." Before that I was master's mate in the old Warrior, seventy-four."

"You've done well, Mr. Buckle." He was trying to place the dialect. London, or further east. Kent?

"How does she handle?"

Buckle seemed to consider it." She's heavy for her size, sir. All of four hundred and thirty tons. But the better the wind, the livelier she goes. You can even get the stunsails and royals on her in anything but a true blow." He frowned." In a calm she can be the devil's daughter." He gestured vaguely." You've probably seen the little port alongside each gun port, sir?"

Bolitho had not. He said slowly, "I am not too sure."

Buckle smiled for the first time." If you gets becalmed you may run a sweep through each o' those ports, sir. Clear lower deck and get every man-jack on the sweeps and you can still get a knot or two out ob her."

Bolitho looked away. Reading the ship's books and correspondence had not even told him the half of it. He felt vaguely angry that his first lieutenant was still not present. Normally the departing captain would have been aboard to tell him the ship's behaviour and failings, or at least the senior lieutenant?

Buckle said, "You'll soon get the feel of her, sir. She's the best yet."

Bolitho eyed him thoughtfully. The master was nobody's fool, and yet, like Graves, he seemed to be holding back. Maybe waiting for him to display his strength or weakness to them?

He made himself reply coldly, "We shall see about that, Mr. Buckle."

When he glanced up he saw the man watching him with sudden andiety. He added, "Any other matter?"

Buckle rose to his feet." No, sir."

"Good. I anticipate that sailing orders will be arriving shortly. I will expect the ship to be ready."

Buckle nodded." Aye, sir. Have no fear."

Bolitho relented slightly. It was just possible his own uncertainty was making him unnecessarily harsh towards his sailing master. And it was equally likely he would need Buckle's guiding hand very much until he got the feel of his new command?

He said, "I have no doubt that I will be as satisfied with your appointment as Captain Ransome was."

Buckle swallowed hard." Yes, sir." He stared round the low cabin." Thank you, sir."

The door closed behind him and Bolitho ran his fingers through his hair. Just a few hours since he had climbed aboard to the squeal of pipes and already he was beginning to feel different?

It was all so alien to his past life when you could argue and compete with your companions, curse your captain behind his back or reveal his weakness which only you really understood. As from today a mere word could bring a shutter across a man's eyes or make him fear for his own safety. Buckle was eighteen years his senior, yet at the first hint of Bolitho's displeasure had almost cringed?

He closed his eyes and tried to fathom out how he should proceed. To try to be too popular was to be a fool. To hold unswervingly to matters of discipline and order was to be a tyrant. He recalled Colquhoun's words and grinned ruefully. Until you reached Colquhoun's lofty post-rank you could never be certain of anything?

Somewhere beyond the bulkhead he heard a challenge and a shouted reply from a boat. Then the squeak of a hull alongside, the patter of feet on a gangway. It seemed unreal and incredible that the ships his ship, was running her affairs while he just sat here at the table. He sighed again and stared at the pile ob papers and books. It would take longer than he had imagined to adjust?

There was another rap at the door and Graves ducked inside, removing his hat and jamming it under his arm as he announced, "The guardboat has just been alongside, sir." He held out a heavily sealed canvas envelope." From the flag, sir."

Bolitho took it and laid it carelessly on the table. His sailing orders without doubt, and he had to restrain himself from acting as he truly felt. He wanted to rip them open, to know and understand what was required of him?

He saw Graves looking round the cabin, his eyes passing swiftly over the discarded dress coat, the hat lying on the bench seat, and finally on Bolitho's unbuttoned shirt?

Graves said quickly, "Will you wish me to stay, sir?"

"No. I will inform you of their content when I have had

time to study them."

Graves nodded." I am waiting for the last water-lighter to come out to us, sir. I have sent the cooper ashore to speed them up, but…"

Bolitho smiled." Then attend to it, if you please."