Alexander Kent: Stand into Danger

Bolitho climbed up the frigate’s tumblehome and stepped through the entry port. He was astonished at the difference even though he’d been expecting it. After a ship of the line, the Destiny seemed crowded to a point of confusion. From the twenty 12pounders on her gun deck to the smaller weapons further aft every inch of space seemed to have a purpose and to be in use. Neatly flaked lines, halliards and braces, tiered boats and racks of pikes at the foot of each mast, while in and around every item were men he must soon know by name.

A lieutenant stepped through the side party and asked, “Mr Bolitho?”

Bolitho replaced his hat. “Aye, sir. Come aboard to join.”

The lieutenant nodded curtly. “Follow me. I’ll have your gear taken aft.” He said something to a seaman and then shouted, “Mr Timbrell! Put some more hands in the foretop. It was like bedlam up there when I last inspected it!”

Bolitho just remembered in time to duck his head as they walked aft beneath the quarterdeck. Again the ship appeared to be crowding in on him. More guns, firmly tethered behind each sealed port, the aromas of tar and cordage, fresh paint and crowded humanity, the smells of a living vessel.

He tried to assess the lieutenant who was leading him aft to the wardroom. Slim and round-faced, with that harassed look of a man left in charge.

“Here we are.”

The lieutenant opened a screen door and Bolitho stepped into his new home. Even with the black muzzled twelve-pounders along one side, a reminder, if one was needed, that there was no place in a ship-of-war which was safe when the iron began to fly, it looked surprisingly comfortable. A long table, with high-backed chairs instead of benches like those endured by lowly midshipmen. There were racks for drinking glasses, others for swords and pistols, and on the deck there was a covering of painted canvas.

The lieutenant turned and studied Bolitho thoughtfully. “I’m Stephen Rhodes, Second Lieutenant.” He smiled, the change making him more youthful than Bolitho had realized. “As this is your first ship as lieutenant, I’ll try to make the way as easy as I can. Call me Stephen, if you wish, but ‘sir’ in front of the hands.” Rhodes threw back his head and yelled, “Poad!”

A scrawny little man in a blue jacket bustled through a screen door.

“Some wine, Poad. This is the new third lieutenant.”

Poad bobbed. “Pleasure, sir, I’m sure.”

As he hurried away Rhodes remarked, “Good servant, but light-fingered, so don’t leave anything too valuable lying about.” He became serious again. “The first lieutenant is in Plymouth, doing something or other. His name is Charles Palliser, and might seem a bit stiff at first meeting. He’s been in Destiny with the captain from her first commissioning.” He changed tack suddenly. “You were lucky to get this appointment.” It sounded like an accusation. “You’re so young. I’m twenty-three, and was only promoted to second lieutenant when my predecessor was killed.”

“Killed?”

Rhodes grimaced. “Hell, it was nothing heroic. He was thrown off a horse and broke his neck. Good fellow in many ways, but there it is.”

Bolitho watched the wardroom servant putting goblets and a bottle within Rhodes ’ reach.

He said, “I was surprised to get this appointment myself.”

Rhodes eyed him searchingly. “You don’t sound too sure. Don’t you want to join us? God, man, there are a hundred who would jump at the chance!”

Bolitho looked away. A bad beginning.

“It’s not that. My best friend was killed a month back.” It was out in the open. “I just can’t believe it.”

Rhodes ’ eyes softened and he pushed a glass towards him.

“Drink this, Richard. I didn’t understand. Sometimes I wonder why we do this work when others live easily ashore.”

Bolitho smiled at him. Except for his mother’s benefit he had not smiled much lately.

“What are our orders, er, Stephen?”

Rhodes relaxed. “Nobody really knows except the lord and master. A long haul to the south’rd is all I do know. The Caribbean, maybe further still.” He shivered and glared at the nearest gunport. “God I’ll be glad to see the back of this wet misery here!” He took a quick swallow. “We’ve a good company for the most part, but with the usual seasoning of gallows-birds. The sailing master, Mr Gulliver, is newly promoted from master’s mate, but he’s a fine navigator, even if he is a bit awkward amongst his betters. By tonight we shall have a full complement of midshipmen, two of whom are twelve and thirteen respectively.” He grinned. “But don’t be slack with ’em, Richard, just because you were one yourself a dog-watch ago. Your head will be on the block, not theirs!”

Rhodes tugged a watch from his breeches. “First lieutenant will be coming off shortly. I had better chase up the hands. He likes a smart display when he steps aboard.”

He pointed to a small screened cabin. “That one is yours, Richard. Tell Poad what you need and he will get the other servants to deal with it.” Impulsively he thrust out his hand. “Good to have you with us. Welcome aboard.”

Bolitho sat in the empty wardroom listening to the clatter of blocks and rigging, the unending slap of feet above his head. Hoarse voices, the occasional trill of a boatswain’s call as a piece of gear was piped up from a boat alongside, to be stored and checked into its own special place in the hull.

Soon Bolitho would know their faces, their strengths and weaknesses. And in this low-beamed wardroom he would share his hopes and daily life with his fellows. The two other lieutenants, the marine officer, the newly appointed sailing master, the surgeon and the purser. The select few in a company which was listed as being 200 souls.

He had wanted to ask the second lieutenant about the lord and master, as he had described him. Bolitho was very young for his rank, but not so much that he did not know it would have been wrong. To share a confidence and to give a personal opinion of Destiny’s captain would be little short of madness from Rhodes ’ point of view when he had only just met the new arrival.

Bolitho opened the door of his tiny cabin. About the length of the swinging cot and enough room to sit down. A place for privacy, or as near to it as one could get in a small, bustling man-of-war. After the midshipman’s berth on the orlop deck it was a palace.

His advancement had been very swift, as Rhodes had remarked. But for all that, if the unknown lieutenant had not been killed by a fall from his horse the vacancy for third lieutenant would not have been posted.

Bolitho unlocked the top half of his sea-chest and then hung a mirror on one of the massive timbers beside his cot. He looked at himself, seeing the small lines of strain around his mouth and grey eyes. He was leaner, too, honed down to a youthful toughness which only shipboard food and hard work could produce.

Poad peered at him. “I could pay a waterman to go into town and purchase some extra victuals for you, sir.”

Bolitho smiled. Poad was like a stall-holder at a Cornish fair.

“I have some coming aboard directly, thank you.” He saw the disappointment and added, “But if you see that it’s stowed properly I’ll be obliged.”

Poad nodded quickly and scuttled away. He had made his play. Bolitho’s reaction had been the right one. There would be payment somewhere along the way if Poad looked after the new lieutenant’s personal stores.

A door crashed open and a tall lieutenant strode into the wardroom, hurling his hat on one of the guns and yelling for Poad in one breath.

He examined Bolitho very slowly, his eyes taking in everything from his hair to his new buckled shoes.

He said, “I’m Palliser, the senior.”