Alexander Kent - In the King`s Name

Drummond, the bosun, said quickly, “I’ve put young Tucker at the fore,” and to Tyacke, “One of my mates, sir. Used to be our best topman. Not much escapes his eye.”

Adam moved away a few paces. “I’m sorry you were disturbed, Mark.” He looked along the deck to where Monteith had just reappeared, and was standing with his back to them. A heavier hand might still be required there, but it would not be Vincent’s decision.

Tyacke said, “I know of two other patrol vessels on this stretch. Endeavour and Challenger , both brigantines.”

Vincent said automatically, “Commander Mason, Challenger . A good man, by all accounts.”

Tyacke nodded. “It’s only a matter of time.”

He did not explain, and Adam had seen how hard it was for him to remain detached from any plan that might have been decided.

Adam unslung his telescope and walked to the side. Despite the steady wind and occasional bursts of spray over the deck, his shoes were sticking to the seams in the heat. He levelled the glass and focused it, but it was the same unending coastline, monotonous, like a solid bank of motionless cloud. The edge of Julyan’s “invisible valley.” He licked his lips: they tasted like dried leather.

“Excuse me, sir.” It was Maddock, the gunner, shading his eyes with his hat to peer up at Squire. “We was supposed to exercise the gun crews this forenoon.”

Vincent interrupted, “I’ll have it piped when …”

He got no further. There were more shots, hurried and in rapid succession. Adam tried to see it in his mind. A brigantine, but no return fire, and the echoes were lost almost immediately in the slap and boom of canvas and the thud of Onward ‘s rudder. “Shaking the trunk,” old sailors called it.

Drummond called, “Nothing in sight, sir!”

With the others, Tyacke was staring up at the maintop, and then toward the land. “Everybody’s staying well clear today … Better maintain our course until-”

He turned to look at Adam and saw the flash reflected in his eyes. Several seconds seemed to pass before they heard the explosion, like a clap of thunder. Then nothing, not even an echo.

Adam said, “Midshipman Hotham will go aloft and speak with the lookouts.” He saw Napier watching. “You, too,” and their eyes met. “Easy does it.”

Tyacke moved to the compass box and glanced up at the masthead pendant. “I suggest you carry on with your gunnery exercise.” He walked to the side. “If it’s proof we need, we’ll have it soon enough.”

David Napier climbed into the shrouds and steadied his feet on the ratlines to get his balance. The tar on the rough cordage, heated by the sun, felt as if it were still fresh. He began to climb, but not before he had seen more figures crowding on deck, some peering at the land, or the empty horizon to starboard. He had also seen his friend Simon Huxley beside the quartermaster on the quarterdeck, ready to pass any new orders along the gangway: a “walking speaking-trumpet,” a role all the midshipmen hated.

A ship had been blown up, how or why they must discover.

I am not afraid . The thought reassured him, like a hand on the shoulder.

Squire stood watching the two climbing midshipmen until they were hidden by the curve of the main topsail and those few seamen still working aloft. The wind had remained steady, and the motion seemed easier after the last alteration of course: they were now steering due south.

He walked to the quarterdeck rail and stared along the ship’s length, from the visible cathead where he had seen the anchor made fast, to the place where he now stood on watch and in command, unless anything else happened.

The captain had gone below to the chartroom with his senior officer, leaving Squire with just a nod: the words, “Call me,” had not needed to be spoken. Unlike some captains he had known, he thought.

He looked toward the land. Hard to believe anything had happened to rouse Onward to this state of tension and readiness. A few shots and then the flash, the explosion. It might have been something ashore, but his ears were trained to such things. But where? How?

He saw Vincent by the fore hatch, some seamen gathered nearby, gun captains and quarter gunners, who were each responsible for the responses and efficiency of four of the eighteen-pounders: Onward ‘s teeth. Any moment now and they would exercise action. And this time it would have a stronger significance for all concerned.

Monteith was walking aft, apparently deep in thought. He had been below with Vincent when the first shots had been heard. Squire did not know the reason, but could guess. He closed his mind to it. Despite his age and seniority, he still felt like a stranger in the wardroom.

He walked to the side and gazed at the sea creaming away from the quarter. Except at times like this, when the ship was his.

He blinked as a bird seemed to drop from nowhere, hit the water and rise immediately, a catch in its beak like a sliver of silver.

“He’ll be eating that ashore while we’re still pounding along out here!”

Murray was so light on his feet Squire had not heard him crossing the deck. The surgeon was in uniform, but carrying one of his familiar smocks over his arm.

Squire said dryly, “Always prepared, aren’t you?”

The hawk-like profile was surveying the deck. “They say sound moves faster over water than land.” He faced Squire. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you, James. But I was ashore most of the time before we sailed.” He paused. “And I gave my word, you see.”

“You saw Claire. I had a feeling about it. Ever since …” He waited until a seaman coiling a halliard over his arm passed, without appearing to see them. “I’ve been thinking about her. Quite a lot.”

Murray repeated, “I gave my word.” He crossed himself with his free hand and gave a thin smile. “Until we sailed, at least. She didn’t want you to concern yourself.” Then, with a touch of impatience, “It’s for your own good, man. She’s still reliving her experiences. That’s only too common, in my experience, although in my profession we tend to underestimate the damage to the mind.” He fell silent as a bosun’s mate walked toward the fore hatch, moistening his silver call with his tongue. Then he said, “Am I wrong about this, Jamie?”

Squire said, staring at the sea, “I have nothing to offer her,” then looked steadily at Murray. “But I’ve never felt like this about any woman.” He shrugged, trying to dismiss it. “I’ll probably never see her again, anyway.”

Murray gripped his wrist with surprising strength. “I hope you do . For both your sakes.”

Whatever else he might have said was interrupted by the shrill of the call: “All hands! All hands to exercise action!”

Murray turned to leave the quarterdeck, the white smock streaming from his arm. But he paused long enough to watch the gun crews running to their stations, each man no doubt thinking that the next time would be in deadly earnest.

He had seen too much of it, and there was always the bloody aftermath. He looked aft again but Squire was by the compass box, calling to the two helmsmen. Where he belonged, Murray thought.

Above all of them, David Napier climbed into the foretop and paused to regain his breath. He had already visited the maintop, and had left Midshipman Hotham with another lookout.

Tucker greeted him with a grin and a thumbs-up. “Too much good food, David,” and Napier loosened his shirt.

“Not as young as I was, David! ”

They both laughed.

Napier looked across the larboard bow, balanced and shading his eyes against the fierce glare. It was an exciting sensation, this towering structure of masts, spars and canvas all quivering with power. He could recall when he had been too scared to release his grip, let alone dare to look down at the ship beneath him.