Alexander Kent - Heart of Oak

But even Guthrie could not hide his mood, and to those who knew him well, his excitement.

It had started this morning, even as both watches of the hands were mustering for working ship, the stink of the galley funnel carrying on a fresh north-easterly. A few lights still twinkling from the dark mass of land, faint shouts and calls from other ships nearby. Another day.

Then the challenge from the gangway. "Boat ahoy?"

Early, but not unknown in Plymouth, major naval port that it was.

Jago had recognized the boat immediately: the same one which had brought him and the captain out to Onward for the first time, with that senior officer from the Admiralty. But it was not stores, or some officer begging a free passage after a night ashore with one of the Plymouth whores. He had seen the sudden activity at the entry port; even the first lieutenant had been there.

Guthrie had been close by with one of his working parties and had called back softly, "The admiral's speaking trumpet is among us!"

The flag lieutenant had come aboard, a tall, foppish young officer who seemed to wear a permanent look of disdain and impatience. It was hard to picture him serving in any seaman like capacity. "Flags "had walked past the side party and marines without even a glance and continued aft with Lieutenant Vincent beside him.

Jago contained a smile. All the bluff and tight lips meant nothing if you had trust. The launch had been coxswained by the same man as before. He had followed the flag lieutenant up to the entry port and seen Jago, and remembered him. Just the hint of a grin, mouth barely moving, eyes still on the officers.

"Sailin "orders, matey! Best o "luck! "And he was gone.

Secret orders, like the heavily sealed envelope he had seen in the flag lieutenant's hand, never remained confidential for long in the "family'. The conference of officers and senior warrants called unexpectedly in the great cabin, and an announcement by the first lieutenant, had confirmed it.

Tomorrow forenoon Onward would be leaving Plymouth.

Senior hands of messes would report for instructions.

Jago had heard one of the seamen joke, "Write your wills, while you still can!"

It was all they had been told. All they needed to know.

He looked aft and astern past the great ensign curling lightly in the breeze. Onward was swinging to her cable, so that the land seemed to be edging out around the quarter, like a protective arm.

Secrecy meant very little in a seaport like this one. People would know. Some worrying, dismayed at the news. And others who would see it as a release, or an escape.

Jago rarely thought beyond the moment, taking it at face value.

He saw Morgan the cabin servant standing by the quarterdeck rail, something white in his hand. A letter, or letters, for that last boat ashore. Jago eased his shoulders, and straightened the smart blue coat with its gilt buttons. For him there would be no letters. He had nowhere else to go.

But it felt so different. In war, every flag was an enemy, each encounter a chance of battle or worse.

He turned and saw three midshipmen up on the larboard gangway, watching an old schooner passing slowly abeam.

One of them was David Napier, his teeth flashing white in a grin. No regrets in that one. Glad to be leaving. Would he change with maturity, and become just another officer? It was stupid, absurd. As if it mattered. He must be losing his grip. Getting past it…

The bell chimed out from the forecastle, and his mind responded automatically. Time to report to the carpenter to settle the question of some boat repairs. One of the busiest men in any new ship, he hated to be kept waiting.

It was as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud. Past it… Napier must have run from the gangway to reach him so quickly. No sign of discomfort, let alone pain, a far cry from those early days of his recovery. And so at ease now in his uniform. Hard to remember him as the attentive, often over serious cabin servant in Unrivalled.

"Settled in, have you? "Jago gestured toward the slow moving schooner. "I seen you with your mates, getting alongЦ or can't you tell yet?"

Napier shrugged. "We're all finding our way. "He was frowning now. "I've been wondering about you, Luke. Onward's not a big ship, not like AthenaЦ but I never seem to see you. And we're sailing tomorrow. I wanted to ask you…" He halted, and touched his long-buttoned coat. "It's not because of this, is it?"

Jago hesitated as two seamen hurried past, unwilling to be overheard, angry with himself for not anticipating this. Never get too close to them. You of all people shouldn "t need to be told.

He looked at him steadily, giving himself time. What he said now would matter. Napier was not just another "young gentleman', thinking only of himself, reckoning his chances.

"The Cap'n came down and spoke to all of you midshipmen, right? "He said it slowly, wanting it to reach him. "All of you, David. But don't you think he was wanting to share the moment just with you. "Cause you're special?"

Some one called, "Mr. Falcon is yellin "out for you, "Swain, you'd better jump about!"

It had slipped Jago's mind. He reached out roughly and gripped Napier's arm, and felt him start a little with surprise.

"No favours, DavidЦ leastways you never show ‘em, or you're finished. Others look to you, or very soon will…" He shook his arm, hating his inability to express it, as if they were strangers. "Think on it, David. One day you'll meet some fine well-bred young lady who's got her eye on a likely King's officer. She might even be an admiral's kin, no less. "He waited for a smile, a flicker of understanding. There was neither.

"I've been looking for you, man! "The carpenter.

Napier watched them go to the boat-tier, Falcon gesticulating with some sort of rule, perturbed about something.

He touched his sleeve, still feeling Jago's grip: strong, like his presence and his convictions. Always at a distance of his own making, but he could see right through things. When others turned aside, or spluttered excuses.

"Are you coming, David? "That was Huxley. He must have seen Jago speaking with him, might even think it was gossip about his father and the forthcoming court martial.

He began to climb back to the gangway, his mind lingering on Jago and what he had been trying to say. He had seen and done so much, and had suffered in some unknown way which had scarred him as deeply as blade or ball. Maybe only the captain knew.

Jago understood the necessity of distance. No favourites. He stood on the gangway and felt the ship moving beneath him, as if eager to leave. To be free.

Was anybody? He looked toward the boat-tier but Jago and the carpenter had vanished.

A man apart and alone. Trusted but feared. Who missed nothing.

He shivered, remembering his comment about some fine, well-bred young lady. An admiral's kin… Just a rough allusion to make his point, as if he had witnessed that moment in the stable yard at Falmouth. The young, impatient Elizabeth very upright in her riding habit, staring at him, tapping her crop against one boot. "Leaving now to exchange all this for a ship. Serious or mocking, he was never certain. Despite the new uniform and his experiences in the Caribbean, she still regarded him as her cousin Adam's cabin servant, and treated him as such.

She had waited for him to walk toward her, and he remembered how much he had wanted her to see that he was no longer limping.

She had watched his approach with cool eyes.

"It may be a while before you come to visit again. "A slight crease of the clear, pale forehead. "To stay…" She seemed to have been coming to a decision. He had heard the horses stamping on the cobbles, impatient to begin the long haul to Plymouth.

"Write to us, when you feel inclined. "She had pulled off her hat and let her long chestnut hair spill over her shoulder. "You may kiss me, if you wish."