Alexander Kent - In the King`s Name

He had already noticed that the flag captain’s aiguillette Tyacke wore was quite tarnished compared with the other lace on his uniform coat. It might have been the same one he had been wearing on that fateful day.

The cabin door was closed behind them, although Adam had not noticed any one in attendance. He must be more tired than he imagined.

Tyacke turned, framed against the broad stern windows. “And the sword, too! I want to hear all about you!” His eyes rested briefly on the sealed orders, which had been laid on a table. He must be wondering how they might affect the entire command, or his own ship. His life.

But all he said was, “From England.” Then he smiled freely. “It does me good to see you again-I can’t tell you how much. And I want to apologise for dragging you aboard when your anchor’d hardly touched the bottom. I wanted to meet and talk with you before anybody else hauled you away. You’ve been a flag captain yourself-you won’t need telling!” He unfastened his coat and slung it over the back of a chair, gesturing for Adam to do the same. “The admiral usually keeps to time, so we have a while to ourselves.”

Adam hung his coat on another chair and loosened his sweat-stained shirt. Then he unfastened his sword, and hesitated as Tyacke said, “Here. Let me.”

He held the sword with both hands for a long moment, then drew the blade a few inches, very slowly, before snapping it into the sheath. “Brings it all back, Adam. The man, too.” The scarred face softened at some private reminiscence. “‘Equality Dick.’ God bless him.”

The door opened and a man in a white jacket peered in at them seriously. “You called, sir?”

Tyacke smiled. “No, Simpson, but I will now,” and to Adam, “Sun’s over the yardarm. D’you fancy a brandy with me?”

“Thank you.” But as the door closed and the cabin servant departed, Adam said, “Suppose the admiral arrives?”

“He’s been ashore with some ‘important officials.’” Tyacke winked. “I imagine they’ll have shared a tot or two by this hour!”

Adam looked uneasily at the door. “The admiral-is he easy to work with?” and Tyacke grimaced.

“Under , more like.” He loosened his neckcloth. “He’s been in command for three months, and I know him no better than the first day.” He laughed shortly. “Except that he’s always right . You’ll know the situation?”

Someone shouted, the sound muffled by deck and distance, and followed by the regular thump of feet. Marines.

Tyacke shrugged. “We have a lot of Royals in Freetown. Here aboard Medusa , too. Just in case, as they say.” He leaned forward from his chair. “Didn’t someone tell me you were getting married?” He frowned. “Dear old John Allday, I think it was. When I was still a frigate captain like you, till I was shifted to this.” He waved one arm around the spacious cabin. “I’m luckier than many, I suppose. But …”

The door swung open and the servant came in quietly and set two crystal goblets down beside the sealed orders.

Tyacke nodded. “That’s excellent, thank you.” The servant was hesitating, and he said with a certain emphasis, “All for now, Simpson,” and when they were alone again, “Here’s to you and your lady.” When he put down the goblet, it was empty.

Then he said, “What’s her name?”

Adam gazed past him. “Lowenna. It means ‘joy’ in old Cornish. We were married at Falmouth, in November,” and he thought Tyacke sighed.

“That’s a lovely name. I gave up hope long ago.” He was touching the scarred side of his face, a habit of which he was probably unaware. “But I didn’t drag you from your own fine ship just to hear all my-”

The door opened once more, although there had been no knock. It was a lieutenant, one of the officers who had been with the side party when Adam had climbed aboard.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but …” He glanced at the two coats draped casually over the chairs. “… the admiral is on the jetty, sir.”

Tyacke stood up without haste. “Thanks, Martin. I’ll do the same for you one day!”

The lieutenant was hurrying from the cabin.

Tyacke said dryly, “Stand by to repel boarders!” and reached out to keep Adam seated. “Now we wait. You do, anyway.” Then he was suddenly serious. “You don’t know what this means to me, Adam.” He touched the sword again. “Together.” And the door closed behind him.

Adam refastened the sword and resumed his seat, stretching his legs, trying to relax. No matter what others might think, Tyacke was quite alone. He had asked about Lowenna, but what did he really feel? Envy or resentment?

On that last night, Adam had awakened, reaching out for her, and had seen her standing by the windows, curtains wide, moonlight like silver on her naked shoulders. They had held one another again, trying to delay the inevitable. When the dawn came he had heard her say, “Today, the sea is my enemy.”

He stared up at the same white-coated servant. Had he touched his shoulder to awaken him? Was that possible? He asked, “Time to move, Simpson?”

The man seemed surprised, perhaps that the stranger had remembered his name, or even cared to use it. He said, “Heard voices, sir,” and jerked a thumb up at the deckhead. “Best to be prepared.”

Adam stood up and tugged his collar into shape, and paused as the servant said, “You’ve not had your drink, sir.”

The goblet was still full, the brandy unmoving, as if the flagship were firmly aground.

Adam clapped his shoulder impetuously. “Too late now! I hope you can find a good home for it!”

The man regarded him with disbelief for a second, then grinned back. “As good as done, an’ thank you, Captain!”

Footsteps outside the door: it was the lieutenant again, the one Tyacke had called by his first name. Probably his first lieutenant.

Adam patted his pockets and paused at the door to make certain he had forgotten nothing. The goblet was already empty.

The lieutenant said, “The admiral is ready to receive you now, sir.”

“Wish me luck, Martin.”

A Royal Marine sentry stamped his heels together, and an orderly called, “Captain Bolitho, sir! ”

Medusa ‘s great cabin was not unlike that of any two-decker Adam had known, or Bethune’s flagship Athena . Although most sailors would swear that no two ships were the same. He had expected others to be present, Tyacke and perhaps a flag lieutenant, or a clerk at least, to take note of any exchange of views. But there was nobody else, and the cabin was dominated by its sole occupant.

Rear-Admiral Giles Langley was tall and square-shouldered, thick-set beneath his immaculate uniform. His hair, reflected now in the white-painted deckhead, was very fair and trimmed short in the style favoured by the younger breed of sea officer. His eyes were in shadow, and Adam realised there was a curtain of some kind half-drawn across the stern lights and windows.

But the smile was immediate and, he thought, sincere.

“I regret the delay, Bolitho. You must be feeling the strain after your long haul.” He gestured to a large table and a litter of papers, and the package, now sliced open. There were pens and ink containers close by so he had not been alone, until now.

He waved Adam to a chair but walked restlessly to the curtain and twitched it slightly. “Yours is a fine-looking ship, Bolitho. Fast too, it would seem.” He did not wait for an answer. “But for the weather,” he looked over his shoulder, “and the unfortunate Moonstone diversion, you would have arrived here even earlier, eh?”

In those few seconds Adam saw that his eyes were blue, and pale like glass.