ALEXANDER KENT: In Gallant Company

Bolitho made to reassure him but checked himself. Quinn must learn to stand on his own. Any officer who depended on help whenever things got awkward would be useless in a real crisis.

He followed Cairns to the companionway, while Quinn made a big display of checking the compass and the notes in the log.

Cairns said softly, 'He'll be fine. Given time.'

Bolitho sat at the wardroom table while Mackenzie and Logan endeavoured to present the meal as best they could. Boiled meat and gruel. Ship's biscuit with black treacle, and as much cheese as anyone could face. But there was a generous supply of red wine which had arrived in New York with the last convoy. From the lock on Probyn's face he had made very good use of it.

He peered across at Bolitho and asked thickly, 'What was all that din about a sail? Somebody getting a bit nervous, eh?' He leaned forward to peer at the others. 'God, the Navy's changing!'

Bunce sat at the head of the table and intoned deeply without looking up, 'It is not His doing, Mr Probyn. He has no time for the Godless.'

Sparke said unfeelingly, 'This bloody food is swill. I shall get a new cook at the first chance I can. That rogue should be dancing on a halter instead of poisoning us.'

The deck tilted steeply, and hands reached out to seize plates and glasses until the ship rolled upright again.

Bunce took out a watch and looked at it.

Bolitho asked quietly, 'The fog, Mr Bunce. Will it come?'

Thorndike, the surgeon, heard him and laughed. He made a braying sound.

'Really, Erasmus! Fog, when she pitches about in this wind!'

Bunce ignored him and replied, 'Tomorrow. We will have to lie to. There is too great a depth to anchor.' He shook his massive head. 'Time lost. More knots to recover.'

He had spoken enough and stood up from the table. As he passed Probyn's chair he said in his deep voice, 'We will have time to see who is nervous then, I'm thinking.'

Probyn snapped his fingers for some wine and exclaimed angrily, 'He is becoming mad in his old age!' He tried to laugh, but nothing happened.

Captain D'Esterre eyed him calmly. 'At least he seems to have our Lord on his side. What do you have, exactly?'

In the cabin above, Captain Pears sat at his large table, a napkin tucked into his neckcloth. He caught the gust of laughter from the wardroom and said to Cairns, 'They seem happier at sea, eh?'

Cairns nodded. 'So it would appear, sir.' He watched Pears' bowed head and waited for his conclusions or ideas.

Pears said, 'Alone or in company the schooner is a menace to us. If only we had been given a brig or a sloop to chase off these wolves. As it is…' He shrugged.

'May I suggest something, sir?'

Pears cut a small piece of cheese for himself and examined it doubtfully.

'It is what you came for, surely.' He smiled. 'Speak out.'

Cairns thrust his hands behind him, his eyes very bright.

'You have heard the master's views on the chance of fog, sir?'

Pears nodded. 'I know these waters well. Fog is common enough, though I would not dare to make such a bold prediction this time.' He pushed the cheese aside. 'But if the master says a thing it is usually right.'

'Well, sir, we will have to lie to until it clears.'

'I have already taken that into account, damn it.'

'But so too will our watchdog. Both for his own safety and for fear of losing us. The fog might be an ally to us.' He hesitated, sensing the captain's mood. 'If we could find her and take her by boarding-' He got no further.

'In God's name, Mr Cairns, what are you saying? That I should put boats down, fill them with trained hands and send them off into a damned fog? Hell's teeth, sir, they would be going to certain death!'

'There is a chance there may be another vessel in company.' Cairns spoke with sudden stubbornness. 'They will display lights. With good care and the use of a boat's compass, I think an attack has a good chance.' He waited, seeing the doubts and arguments in Pears' eyes. 'It would give us an extra vessel, and maybe more. Information, news of what the privateers are doing.'

Pears sat back and stared at him grimly. 'You are a man of ideas, I'll give you that.'

Cairns said, 'The fourth lieutenant put the thought in my mind, sir.'

'Might have guessed it.' Pears stood up and walked towards the windows, his thickset frame angled to the deck. 'Damned Cornishmen. Pirates and wreckers for the most part. Did you know that?'

Cairns kept his face stiff. 'I understood that Falmouth, Mr Bolitho's home, was the last place to hold out for King Charles against Cromwell and Parliament, sir?'

Pears gave a tight grin. 'Well said. But this idea is a dangerous thing. We might never find the boats again, and they may not discover the enemy, let alone seize her.'

Cairns insisted, 'The fog will reach the other vessel long before us, sir. I would suggest that as soon as that happens we change tack and close with her with every stitch which will draw.'

'But if the wind goes against us.' Pears held up his hand. 'Easy, Mr Cairns, I can see your disappointment, but it is my responsibility. I must think of everything.'

Overhead, and beyond the cabin doors, life was going on as usual. The clank of a pump, the padding of feet across the poop as the watch hurried to trim a yard or splice a fraying halliard.

Pears said slowly, 'But it does have the stuff of surprise about

it.' He made up his mind. 'My compliments to the master and ask him to join us in the chart room.' He chuckled. 'Although, knowing him as I do, I suspect he is already there.'

Out on the windswept quarterdeck, his eyes smarting to salt spray, Bolitho watched the men working overhead, the shivering power of each great sail. Time to reef soon, for the captain to be informed. He had seen the activity beneath the poop, Pears with Cairns entering the small chart room which adjoined Bunce's cabin.

A little later Cairns walked out into the drizzle, and Bolitho noticed that he was without his hat. That was very unusual, for Cairns was always smartly turned out, no matter how bad the circumstances.

'Have you had further reports from the masthead?'

'Aye, sir.'

Bolitho ducked as a sheet of spray burst over the nettings and soaked them both. Cairns barely flinched.

Bolitho said quickly, 'As before, the stranger is holding to wind'rd of us, on the same bearing.'

'I will inform the captain.' Cairns added, 'No matter, he is here.' "

Bolitho made to cross to the lee side as was customary when the captain came on deck, but the harsh voice caught him.

'Stay, Mr Bolitho.' Pears strode heavily to the quarterdeck rail, his hat tugged down to his eyes. 'I believe you have been hatching some wild plan with the first lieutenant?'

'Well, sir, I -'

'Madness.' Pears watched the straining main-course as it billowed out from its yard. 'But with a grain, a very small grain of value.'

Bolitho stared at him. 'Thank you very much, sir.'

Pears ignored him and said to Cairns, 'The two cutters will have to suffice. I want you to hand-pick each -man yourself. You know what we need for this bloody work.' He watched Cairns ' face and then said almost gently, 'But you will not be going.' As Cairns made to protest he added, 'I cannot spare you. I could die tomorrow, and with you gone too, what would become of Trojan, eh?'

Bolitho watched both of them. It was like being an intruder to see the disappointment showing for the first time on Cairns ' face.

Then Cairns replied, 'Aye, sir. I'll attend to it.'

As he strode away, Pears said bluntly, 'But you can send this one, he'll not be missed!'

Pears returned to the poop where Bunce was waiting for him,

his straggly hair blowing in the wind like spunyarn.

He barked, 'Pass the word to the second lieutenant to lay aft.' Bolitho considered his feelings. He was going. So was Sparke.