Alexander Kent - Heart of Oak

He peered through the salt-misted glass across the anchorage. He had seen the other ships nearby, the telescopes on their decks levelled at the admiral's smart barge and accompanying boats. Critical but envious too, no matter what they said between decks. A new ship, and a frigate above all else.

There was a sudden burst of cheering. Morgan had opened the cabin skylight an inch or so, and the din seemed to fill the whole poop.

He beamed. "Splice the mainbrace, sir! Hitting the right place, I'd say, see?"

"They've earned it. "No doubt the purser thought otherwise.

Vicary, that was his name. A stooping, desiccated, humourless man: one of those he had met for the first time yesterday evening.

Morgan had placed a goblet on the table. "Cognac, sir. Came aboard today. The guardboat brought it. "He paused, and laid an envelope beside it.

Adam opened it and saw the ribbon, the same colour as the one she had given him, and her writing, like the letter he always carried.

From the Last Cavalier. There was a smudge, kiss or tear.

She was with him.

"Thank you. "He looked away sharply at the water astern, still reflecting the hard light. A few boats were moving or loitering nearby, friends, relatives, hoping for a glimpse or a wave.

It would only make it worse when the anchor broke free and Onward put to sea. Worse than this? How could that be? The sentry tapped his musket beyond the screen.

"Officer o "th "watch, sir!"

"That'll be Mr. Monteith, sir."

Adam saw Morgan's reflection briefly in the sloping glass windows. He was scowling. Then he hurried to the door.

He picked up the card and read it again before slipping it into his pocket.

Voices now beyond the screen. Monteith… When he had boarded Onward, the young lieutenant had been with the side party. And yesterday here in this cabin, with his fellow lieutenants and all the senior warrant officers. Young and very attentive, eager to answer questions about his duties, and today when he had been introduced to the admiral, different again.

Anxious, almost shy.

He put down the goblet; it was empty. Monteith presented another face completely in the punishment book. There were several entries, mostly for trivial offenses, when a sharp reprimand from a senior seaman or a quick slap when nobody was looking would have sufficed. Nothing serious, but wrongly directed they could end at the gangway with two dozen lashes. Or worse. Vincent must have been aware of it, but had offered no comment when they had discussed the ship's affairs.

Charge and command of captain. It would always be the invisible line between them.

He shook himself mentally. He was letting it grow out of all proportion. He was too tired to think clearly.

"Mr. Monteith wishes to have a word with you, sir."

Morgan was holding the door half open. It sounded like "insists'.

"My apologies, sir. I understood that the first lieutenant was here. "He bit his lip. "He left word that I was to call him ifЦ"

Adam said, "As you can see, Mr. Vincent is not here. Can I help?"

Morgan strode past, heading for his pantry, and said meaningfully over his shoulder, "If you need me, sir?"

Monteith pulled out the papers.

"Two midshipmen have just come aboard. "He frowned slightly, his head on one side. "To join. They were overdue, and the first lieutenant wanted to be told whenЦ лthey made an appearance."

Adam turned away. David had done it. After his experience he might have been forgiven for not wanting to return to sea.

But he had recovered his strength and his resolve.

"I understand one of them has served with you before, sir?"

Adam took the papers and opened them. He could feel Monteith's eyes flicking around the cabin, noting his captain's untidy appearance, the empty glass on the table.

He knew he was being unfair, and said abruptly, "There has been flooding in Cornwall, roads blocked. It does happen."

"Quite so, sir. "A pause. "But the other midshipman was already in Plymouth."

Adam looked up from the papers, the fatigue suddenly gone.

This visit was no accident.

"Midshipman Huxley was delayed for personal reasons. The first lieutenant will know that."

"As I thought, sir. "He dropped his eyes confidentially. "But as officer of the watch I considered it my duty to confirm it.

The word is that Midshipman Huxley's father is awaiting court martial."

Beyond the door the sentry rapped his musket again.

"First lieutenant, sir!"

Morgan bustled past.

"No peace, sir."

The door opened on a separate little drama. A seaman below the companion, a mop in his hands, a marine checking his musket in readiness to relieve the sentry. And Lieutenant Vincent staring into the cabin, barely able to contain his anger.

Monteith finished, "For losing his ship!"

Vincent cut in, "I am very sorry, sir. I was in the sick bayЦ one of the new hands has had a fall. Not serious, butЦ "He controlled his voice. "I left word where I would be. "He had not looked at Monteith. There was no need.

Adam unclenched his hand slowly, deliberately, and withdrew it from his pocket. A small thing which should never have happened. And tomorrow it would be all through the ship.

He said quietly, "Losing a ship is an indescribable experience, because it never leaves you. It happened to me."

He barely recognized his own voice; it was cool, almost matter of fact. "Like a terrible storm. You ride it or you go under, with the ship. But you never forget."

"Boat ahoy! "The challenge from the maindeck was faint, almost inaudible amongst the shipboard sounds. It could have been an echo of those lost voices.

Then he heard the shrill of a boatswain's call, and running feet, very much alive.

"Carry on, Mr. Monteith. "He did not look at him. "Onward is a private ship, no admiral's flag flying at our masthead, no chain of command while we wait to be told what to do. We depend on ourselves. "He felt the deck tilt very slightly beneath him, as if she were stirring. "Upon each other."

When he turned Monteith had gone, almost running to deal with the arrivals.

Vincent said, "The wardroom has asked if you will be our guest, "and faltered. "If you would feel inclined to…"

The tension had gone; it was like being set free.

"I will be honoured, Mark, although I have a feeling that it might be delayed a while."

Vincent thought he understood. The captain was back.

In his little pantry Morgan waited until the screen door had closed, then poured himself a small tot of rum and sipped appreciatively.

Tomorrow it would be all through the ship.

Luke Jago climbed down from the boat-tier and examined the gig closely. His gig. Oars stowed, lashings in place, equal strain on all parts. Probably its first time out of the water since leaving the builder's yard.

"Fair enough, Robbins. You can fall out now."

The big seaman knuckled his forehead, grinning. Praise indeed from the captain's coxswain, who was impossible to please.

Jago hardly noticed. Just words, but they mattered. Anybody could pull an oar after a few attempts, and a threat or two. But the gig was special.

He stared along the maindeck, quieter now after all the working parties and inspections, as if a King's ship had never weighed anchor and put to sea before. All those years, different ports or anchorages he could no longer name or recall, and you never got used to it. Doubt, anxiety, resentment. All and none of them.

He saw Joshua Guthrie, the boatswain, indicating something on the mainyard, jabbing the air with a massive fist to make his point to one of the new hands. A born sailor, Guthrie had entered the navy at ten. Now he seemed ageless, scarred and battered, his nose shapeless from fights ashore as well as in the line of duty. He could control the deck with a minimum of effort, using only a powerful, carrying voice and a cuff if the offender was near enough. His girth had increased over the past few years but only a fool would see it as a soft plank. Like punching a bloody oak tree, as one seaman had discovered.