Alexander Kent - Heart of Oak

He almost smiled. The captain had felt it badly. Forgive my poor company, Luke. How could you turn on some one like that? Like the handshake as he had stepped, and as a result all but fallen, into this launch. Jago had seen them staring. He was still getting used to it himself, and to his own response. Just a little while ago, he would have said it was impossible to change. Bloody officers.

He saw the one called Grenville gesturing toward another ship.

"I served in her! Twelve, no, fifteen years back. I can't believe it! "Jago saw him touch Bolitho's arm, and recalled that unexpected gesture when Grenville had been accorded the honour of taking precedence over the captain. It never made much sense to Jago, but he had seen what it had done for a man who seemed all-important anyway, an intimate of their lordships. But he had witnessed it, shared it, and thought he understood it. This was Grenville's real world. Like the rest of us. And he was going to lose it; and the captain knew, and he gave a damn.

Grenville gripped Adam's arm again.

"There she is! Larboard bow! Isn't she a beauty? "There could have been just the two of them in the launch, Jago thought. "They must have all worked watch-and-watch to have made her so!"

The lieutenant signalled to the helmsman and the tiller went over. Jago saw figures on the maindeck, some running, and a little group already assembled by the entry port. How low and sleek she looked after Athena… There were barges alongside, deep in the water, and carefully fendered away from Onward's new paintwork. Loaded with ballast which must have been removed when the new artillery had been hoisted aboard. Jago could remember all those other times: tackles, orders, backbreaking labour, the sweat and the curses. Poor old Jack!

Some of the gunports were open, black muzzles already visible. Onward was showing her teeth.

Impossible to guess what the captain was thinking now. A new ship. The proudest, and perhaps the loneliest, responsibility any man could grasp.

"Boat ahoy? "They were still half a cable from the ship, but the challenge was clear enough.

The helmsman looked over at Jago. "Yours, "Swain!"

Jago cupped his hands and shouted, "Onward!"

Adam saw the long bowsprit and tapering jib-boom sweep directly above their heads, and the figurehead, perfectly fashioned, a naked youth with one outstretched arm across a leaping dolphin, his other hand gripping a trident. A beautiful work of art. He felt a sudden sense of disloyalty, Unrivalled's figurehead clear in his mind.

"Bows! "Oars scraping across the thwarts, the bowmen on their feet, a boathook poised and ready.

Onward's side loomed over the narrowing strip of lively water. "Oars, up!"

Twin lines of blades, water running down over the seamen's arms and legs. The moment they all hated. A tot of rum would put things right with them.

Adam got to his feet as the hull lurched against fenders; two sideboys were already in position to ease the initial impact. He had never forgotten the story of the captain who had been tipped overboard when joining his first ship. It was probably true.

Grenville had remained seated but was looking up, studying him.

Adam reached for the hand-ropes and saw the entry port. He was shivering, but it was not the coldness of wind or sea. This was no time for doubt, or to lose your nerve. Like hearing his uncle's voice, recalling all those other ships. Remember this.

They will be far more worried about their new captain.

He took a deep breath and stepped clear of the launch, and on to the stairs that mounted the tumblehome. It seemed no distance at all after Athena.

The bark of commands and the piercing shrill of boatswain's calls, and he felt his feet on the deck, careful to avoid the piles of cordage that awaited stowing as he faced aft, touching his hat. The ship seemed to rise up and around him, standing rigging like black glass, loosely brailed canvas stirring in the wind as if Onward were about to get under way.

Seamen and a few Royal Marines at attention, facing the entry port. Beyond them, groups of riggers and dockyard workers standing amidst the litter and disorder of their efforts.

A lieutenant had stepped forward, his hat in his hand.

"Welcome aboard, sir. I'm Vincent, sir. I am the senior here."

The first contact: some said the most important.

An alert, intelligent face, younger than he had expected. Or was he still seeing the stolid and remote Stirling, Athena's first lieutenant? "Thank you, Mr. Vincent. "He looked along the deck. "Most people will be thinking I could have chosen a more convenient time!"

Vincent responded with a firm handshake, and the suggestion of a smile. Brown eyes, as dark as Adam's own.

What was going through his mind? Rumours or reputation? Maybe he was making comparisons with the man who had died.

He stood aside as Grenville came through the port, hooded eyes everywhere.

"Sir John has told me you've all worked with a will since the ship commissioned. She does you credit."

Vincent said, "We could not have done it without your support, Sir John."

Plain, almost matter of fact, as Grenville would appreciate.

Another boat was coming alongside, and a harassed-looking seaman called, "For you, Sir John! "But his eyes were on the new captain.

Grenville said curtly, "I was expecting it, although I might have wished for better timing! "He strode back to the entry port, and Adam saw a lieutenant hovering with a heavily sealed package. He noted the twist of gold lace and thought of Troubridge. This must be the admiral's flag lieutenant.

Grenville said, "I shall deal with this in the chart room. "He lifted his hand. "And I know where it is."

Vincent seemed to breathe out slowly.

"If you would care to come aft, sir, "and frowned as two seamen ran ostentatiously to drag some filthy canvas away from the deck. "The galley fire is lit, and you will be more comfortable in your quarters."

Adam followed him. A new captain, a senior official from the Admiralty, and now a message from the admiral. It was enough to throw any first lieutenant into a panic. Vincent was hiding it well.

Behind him, he could hear the hammers and winches resume, the squeal of tackles as more stores and equipment were hauled aboard. A ship coming to life.

He heard some one shout and Jago's curt response. "I'm with the Cap'n! "His guard was up, until he was good and ready to let it down.

Adam climbed on to the ship's larboard gangway, which linked forecastle to quarterdeck. Beneath him on the maindeck he saw the remaining rigging still to be hoisted and lashed into place, although to the casual onlooker it might seem a meaningless tangle. The real work, however, was finished, stays and shrouds taut and in place, running rigging, braces and halliards piled in coils or hanging like strange creeper in a forest.

Vincent was careful to point out stretches of wet paint, and any undried pitch that might cling to the shoe of an unwary visitor.

Adam looked down at the nearest eighteen-pounders, lined up behind their ports, breeching ropes taut. On parade. The quarterdeck was surprisingly clear, even spacious after the litter and confusion elsewhere. He paused for a moment, his eye taking in the big double wheel, and up and beyond, against the washed-out sky, the finely raked mizzen mast and yards, sails loosely brailed. A seaman was sitting casually astride one of the yards, a marline spike glinting in his hand. He seemed to freeze as he realized that one of the figures peering up from the deck below was his captain.

Down the companion ladder: less light here, with most of the screens in position to separate these quarters from the rest of the ship. Somebody was planing wood, one of the carpenter's mates, making a last-minute adjustment to ensure nothing would jam and refuse to move when required.