Alexander Kent - The Flag Captain

Meheux entered the cabin, his shoes crunching on broken glass. He looked tired and strained, like the rest of the boarding party.

“We seem to have got some sort of mid-day meal cooking at

last, sir.” He gestured to the chart. “Any hope of fixing our position yet?”

“No.” There was little point in deluding the lieutenant. If anything happened to himself, it would be Meheux’s job to get the ship to safety. “To be becalmed like this is no help at all.” He studied Meheux gravely. “How are you managing with the passengers?”

He shrugged. “They are chattering like a lot of gulls. I don’t suppose they realise yet what is happening to them.”

Nor I, Bolitho thought. He said, “After our people have eaten we will put them to work again on the hull. The water intake is still very bad, so make sure the pumps are inspected too.”

Allday appeared in the sagging doorway, his face set in a frown. “Pardon, Captain, but one of the Dons wishes to speak with you. But if you wish, I’ll send him packing so that you can have your meal in peace.”

Meheux nodded and said, “I am sorry, I forgot to mention it. The little fat Spaniard who has been helping Ashton with the interpreting asked me earlier. With so much on my mind…”

Bolitho smiled. “I doubt that it is of much importance, but have him sent in, Allday.” To Meheux he added, “I am so desperate for information I have little choice in the matter.”

The Spaniard entered nervously, his head bowed beneath the deck beams although he had a good two feet clearance. He was wearing his wig, but Bolitho realised with surprise that it made him look older rather than more youthful.

Bolitho had already discovered his name was Luis Pareja, on passage to Port Mahon where he apparently intended to end his years.

“Well, seсor, what can I do for you?”

Pareja peered round at the shot holes and charred woodwork before saying timidly, “Your ship did terrible damage, Captain.”

Meheux muttered harshly, “Had we given you a full broadside

you would be down on the sea bed with those others, so mind your manners!”

Pareja flinched. “I did not mean to imply that you…”

He shifted his feet and tried again. “Many of the others are worried. They do not know what is to happen, or if we will reach our homes again.”

Bolitho eyed him thoughtfully. “This ship is now a British prize. You must understand it is not possible in war to know exactly how such matters will proceed. But there is ample food aboard, and I expect to meet with our ship soon.” He imagined he saw a flash of doubt in the man’s eyes and added firmly, “Very soon now.”

“I shall tell them.” Pareja sounded less sure than ever. “If I can help in any way, then please tell me, Captain. You saved our lives by staying with the ship, that I do know. We would certainly have perished otherwise.”

“Tell me, Seсor Pareja.” Bolitho dropped his eyes. To show extra confidence might be taken by Pareja as uncertainty in his own ability. He continued, “Do you know of any reason why the captain came so far to the south?”

Pareja pouted. “There was some talk. But in the haste of departure I did not take so much notice. My wife needed to leave Spain. Since the alliance with France things have become very bad at home. I hoped to take her to my estate in Minorca. It is not vast, but…”

Meheux asked, “Tell us about the talk?”

“Easy, Mr Meheux.” Bolitho shot him a warning glance. “He has his troubles too, eh?” He turned and asked easily, “You were saying something, seсor?”

Pareja spread his plump hands. “I heard one of the officers, alas now dead, saying that they were to meet with some vessel. To allow a passenger to be transferred. Something of that nature.”

Bolitho tried to hide his sudden interest. “You speak good English. A great help.”

Pareja smiled modestly. “My wife speaks it well. And I have done much business with London.” He faltered. “In happier days.”

Bolitho made himself sit very still, conscious of Meheux’s impatience, of the ship’s sluggish movement beneath him.

He asked calmly, “Do you remember where this meeting was to take place?”

“I think not.” He screwed up his face so that he looked like a plump child playing make-believe in an old wig.

Bolitho pushed the chart gently towards him. “Look at this. The names along that coastline.” He watched intently as Pareja’s eyes moved emptily over the well-worn chart.

“No.”

Meheux moved away, biting his lip. “Blast him!”

Bolitho turned in his chair to mask his disappointment. “If you remember anything, Seсor Pareja, be so good as to tell one of my men.”

Pareja bowed gravely and made as if to leave. Then he halted, one hand raised as if demanding silence. He said excitedly, “But the officer did say something more.” Again the quaint frown. “That… that it felt strange to do business with the French again.” He peered at Bolitho’s grim features and added, “But that is all. I am sorry.”

“Mr Meheux. Are there any Frenchmen aboard?” He held his breath.

Before the lieutenant could reply Pareja said quickly, “But yes. There is such a man. He is called Witrand and came aboard so late at Malaga that he had no cabin.” He looked startled. “Yet he was allowed to share these quarters with the captain? Very strange.”

Bolitho stood up slowly, his mind hardly daring to hold any hope. And yet it was just possible. Someone important enough to share with the captain might well be able to arrange an unorthodox transfer at sea. It would only mean a few days more aboard for the rest of the passengers, and power, like wealth, was

very insistent. This man Witrand could be a smuggler or a highborn criminal on the run. A traitor or a merchant trying to outwit his competitors. But he might have information, anything which could throw some light on events in these waters.

There was a sudden commotion in the passageway and he heard Allday say angrily, “It is no use! You cannot go in there!” And then in a strange, heavy accent, “Eet ees no bloody good, See-nora!”

But the door rocked back on its broken hinges and a woman stormed into the cabin, her eyes blazing as she said, “Ah, there you are, Luis! Everyone is waiting to hear what is happening! And you stand here making gossip like some fishwife!”

Bolitho looked at her with surprise. She was tall and had long hair, as dark as his own, and was wearing what must be a very costly blue gown. But it was smeared with salt stains, and there were darker patches near her waist which he guessed were blood.

Pareja was embarrassed and said, “This is my wife, Captain. Like yourself, she is English.”

Bolitho moved the remaining chair towards her. “Please be seated, seсora.”

She was nearly a head taller than her husband, and at a guess some twenty or so years younger. Striking rather than beautiful, her features were dominated by very dark eyes, and a mouth which was now set in a line of stubborn determination and anger.

“I will not be staying.” She looked at him for the first time. “All the others have been talking of my husband’s new importance in your eyes. I merely came to see that he did not make a fool of himself.”

“Now, my dove!” Pareja stepped back as she swung to face him.

She said, “Do not dove me! You promised to take me away from the war, and from fear of war! And as soon as we are at sea what happens?” She gestured with something like contempt towards Bolitho, “This one seizes our ship, and nearly kills us all in doing it!”

Meheux snapped, “Hold your tongue, madam! Captain Bolitho is a King’s officer and you’ll do well to remember it!”