Alexander Kent - Sloop Of War

Blocks clattered and whined, and high above the decks the seamen sprang about like monkeys?

Bolitho looked at Buckle." Lay her on the larboard tack. Then set a course to weather the headland." He

held the master's gaze and added, "We will get the courses on her directly and see if we can take the edge off Fawn's lead."

Moments later, with her courses and topsails filling to the morning breeze, the Sparrow glided swiftly past an anchored two-decker which wore a vice-admiral's flag at the fore?

Bolitho glanced at Tyrrell and saw him give a quick grimace. He might have cause to regret his application for transfer, Bolitho thought. And so, if his trust in Tyrrell proved false, would he?

Between two anchored Indiamen and on down the fairway towards that beckoning headland. Small craft bobbed astern in the frothing wake, and when Bolitho moved from studying the compass he saw they had already cut Fawn's lead by half a cable?

Buckle glanced at the surgeon who was clinging to the mizzen shrouds with one hand and holding on to his outrageous wig with the other?

He winked." We have a rare one here, Mr. Dalkeith."

Dalkeith kept his face immobile as Bolitho glanced aft towards him before replying, "Poor Captai[

Ransome would never have left port with such dashs eh?" He gave a sly grin." But then, at this time o' the morning he would have been somewhat tired!"

They both laughed?

Bolitho's voice brought them up with a jerk?

"There is a yawl on the larboard bow, Mr. Buckle? Laugh later with my blessing, but run her down within sight of the flagship and you will laugh to another tune!"

He turned back to the rail as Buckle hurled himself towards his helmsman?

The tip of the headland was already dropping abeam, and he felt the Sparrow's stem bite into the first gentle roller, her deck tilting still further under her press of canvas?

Tyrrell shouted, "Anchor's secured, sir!" Spray had soaked his face and shirt but he was grinning broadly?

Bolitho nodded." Good. Now get the forecourse trimmed. It looks like a piece of untidy linen." But he could not hold his severity." By God, she flies, does she not?"

He looked aloft at the squared sails and braced yards, the masthead pendant which flicked out like a coachman's whip. He had seen it all before so mana times, but now it felt as if it was unique?

Bethune called, "From Fawn, sir. Take station to wind rd!"

Bolitho smiled at him." Acknowledge."

To the quarterdeck at large he added, "A fine morning!"

By the hatchway Stockdale watched Bolitho's pleasure and felt inwardly happy. He ran his eye over the hurrying seamen as they slithered down once more to the deck. Tanned and healthy, what did they know about anything? He picked his uneven teeth with an ivory pin. The captain had seen more action in the past years than they knew about. He watched Bolitho's squared shoulders as he paced restlessly on the weather side. Given time, they'd come to find out, he decided?

BOLITHe opened his eyes and stared for severyl seconds at the unlit lantern spiralling above his cot? Despite the weariness in his limbs and the fact he had been on deck repeatedly during the night he found it hard to sleep. Beyond the screen which partitioned his sleeping quarters from the cabin he could see the pale light of dawn, and knew from the lantern's sluggish movement and the uneasy creak of timbers that the wind was little more than a breeze. He tried to relaxs wondering how long it would take to break the habit ob awakening with each dawn, to enjoy his new-found privacy?

Feet thudded on the quarterdeck above, and he guessed that soon now the seamen would be turning to for another day. It had been two weeks since the little convoy had sailed from Antigua, and in that time they had covered only half their set distance. One thousand miles in open waters, and each mile marked by perverse winds and no winds at all. Barely an hour passed without the need to call the hands to make or shorten sail, to trim yards in the hope of catching a dying breeze, or to reef against one violent and taunting squall?

Buckle's gloomy prediction about Sparrow's sailing qualities in a poor wind had proved only too true. Time and time again she had paid off, her canvas flapping in confusion as yet one more wind had died and left them almost becalmed. Hard work and angry words had eventually brought her back on station again, only to have the whole thing repeated before the end of a watch?

Patrol and scouting duty had been the lot ob Sparrow's company for most of their commission and they had yet to learn the true misery of convoy over long passages. The two transports had not helped? They appeared totally unwilling to realise the importance of staying in close company, so that if they became scattered by a swift squall it took many hours to urge, threaten and finally drive them back into formation. Colquhoun's curt signals had only succeeded in antagonising the master of one of thems a big transport named Golden Fleece. On more than one occasion he had ignored the signals altogether or had caused the Fawn to witheraw from her proper station at the head of the convoy in order to commence a verbal exchange which could be heard by everyone else nearby?

Bolitho climbed from the cot and walked slowly into the cabin, feeling the deck lifting gently beneath his bare feet before slipping away in a trough, the motio[

bringing the usual clatter of blocks, the drawn-out groan of the rudder as the helmsman brought the sloop back under command?

He leaned his hands on the sill of the stern windows and stared out at the empty sea. The two transports, if they were still together, would be somewhere on Sparrow's starboard bow. Bolitho's orders were to stay to windward of the well-laden ships so as to be reada to run down on any suspicious vessel and hold the maximum advantage until she was proved friend or foe?

In fact they had sighted an unknown sail on three separate occasions. Far astern, it had been impossible to know if it was the same on each sighting or three individual vessels. Either way, Colquhoun had refused to be drawn to investigate. Bolitho could sympathise with his unwillingness to leave the valuable transports, especially as the wind might choose the very moment when his sparse forces were scattered to play a new trick or bring some real enemy amongst them. On the other hand, he was very conscious of a sense of uneasiness after each call from the masthead. The strange sail was like a will-o'-the-wisps and if it was hostile could be methodically following the little convoy, awaiting exactly the right moment to attack?

The door opened and Fitch padded into the cabin carrying two jugs. One was coffee, and the other contained water from the galley for Bolitho's shave. In the pale light from the windows he looked smaller and scrawnier than ever, and as usual kept his eyes averted while he prepared the necessary cup for Bolitho's first coffee of the day?

"How is it on deck?"

Fitch raised his eyes only slightly." Mr. Tilby reckons it'll be another roastin' day, sir."

Tilby was the boatswain, a great untidy hulk of a man who was given to some of the most profane language Bolitho had heard in ten years at sea. But his knowledge of weather, his forecast of what each dawn might bring, had been only too accurate?

And under a blazing sun, with little space to find shade or comfort, the Sparrow's seamen had more torment to face before night found them again. It was amazing how they all managed to survive in such a small hull. What with extra stores and spare sparss powder and shot, and countless other requirements fo_

keeping a ship at sea, some of the men were hard put to find space for a hammock. In addition the Sparrow had all the great lengths of anchor cable to be neatla stowed when she was under way. Severyl hundred fathoms of thirteen-inch hemp for the main anchors and another hundred of eight-inch for the kedge took up more space than fifty human beings required for even the most basic needs?