Command a King`s Ship

He lurched to Mudge's side and shouted, 'How far now, d'you reckon?'

'Four or five mile, no more, sir.' Mudge was staring at the rain with dismay. 'This lot'll pass over quick enough. But then…' He shrugged.

Bolitho looked away. He knew well enough. A rising wind was most likely once the sun appeared. A wind which would do no service to Herrick, and keep Le Chaumareys in the safety of his anchorage. Undine would be helpless. She would be made to stay offshore until the enemy's double strength was prepared and ready to fight on their terms. Or they could turn and run for Pendang Bay with nothing to offer but a final warning.

Davy shouted, 'By God, life is hard!'

Mudge glared at him. 'Life's a bloody rear-guard action, Mr. Davy, from the day you're born!'

Bolitho swung round to silence both of them and then saw that the master's mate's face was clearer than before. He could even see Carwithen scowling at the same luckless helmsman. The dawn was forcing itself to be taken notice of.

He felt the blood racing in his head as he snapped, 'We will attack as before! Pass the word to all hands!'

Davy gaped at him. 'Without destroying the battery, sir?'

'It might not have worked anyway.' He tried to sound calm. 'The enemy will be listening to the rain and thanking God for being at anchor.' He added harshly, 'Are you deaf, man? Tell Mr. Soames to prepare for loading, once the rain is passed!'

Davy nodded jerkily and hurried to the rail.

Captain Bellairs strode to Bolitho's side and remarked coolly, 'Damn risky thing, sir, if you'll pardon my sayin' so.'

Bolitho felt his shoulders beginning to sag under the rain, the sudden spark deserting him.

'What wouldyou have me do?'

Bellairs turned up his collar and pouted, 'Oh,.I'd fight, sir, – no choice in the matter, what? Pity though, all the same. Waste. Damn bloody waste.'

Bolitho nodded heavily. 'No argument there.'

'Deck there! Land ho!'

Bolitho walked stiffly to the lee side, his shoes squeaking on the puddled deck. A darker blur, reaching out on either bow, deceptively gentle in the feeble light.

A voice said, 'Rain's goin'.' He sounded surprised.

As if to mark its passing, the dripping forecourse lifted and boomed dully to receive a fresher gust of wind. It made Bolitho shiver and grit his teeth.

'Tell Mr. Soames. Load, and prepare to run out when I pass the word.'

He looked around for Keen. 'Run up the Colours, if you please.'

Another voice muttered, 'No chance, mates. They'll do for the lot of us.'

Bolitho heard the halliards squeaking as the ensign dashed up to the peak and broke out to the wind, unseen as yet in the clinging darkness.

'As soon as it is light enough, Mr. Keen, have your party make a signal to the schooner. Discontinue the action. Mr. Herrick can stand off and retrieve our boats.'

Keen said, 'Aye, aye, sir, I'll see to it when-'

He turned angrily as a voice murmured from the shadows, 'Pick up our bloody corpses, more's the like!'

Keen shouted, 'Keep silence there! Master-at-arms, take that man's name!'

Bolitho said quietly, 'Easy. If it helps them to curse, then let it be so.'

Keen faced him, his fists doubled at his sides. 'But it's not fair, sir. It's not your doing.'

Bolitho smiled gravely. 'Thank you, Mr. Keen.'

He recalled with sudden clarity his lieutenant in his first command, the little sloop Sparrow. An American colonist, he had endured the worst of the war, serving his King, but fighting his own kind at the same time. What would he have replied? I ain't so sure. Bolitho could almost hear him, as if he was present at this very moment.

He turned quickly to starboard, seeing the glowing rim of sunlight as it probed above the bare horizon. Very soon now.

He discovered he was dreading the daylight, that which would lay them naked under the guns as they drove into the narrow channel where he had met Le Chaumareys.

Bolitho heard a step behind him and Aliday's voice. Firm, unruffled. 'Better go below and get out of those wet things, Captain.'

He swung towards him, his voice cracking with strain. 'Do you think I have nothing else to do?'

The coxswain regarded him stubbornly. 'Not just yet, you haven't.' He added in the same flat tone, 'You remember the Saintes, Captain?' He did not wait for an answer. 'It was a bad time. All those Frogs, the sea abounding with their damned ships until it was nigh on bursting. I recalls it well. I was right forrard on one of the carronades. The lads were all quaking with fright at what was to come. Then I looked aft and saw you pacing the quarterdeck, like you were going to church instead of to hell.'

Bolitho stared at him, his mind suddenly steady. 'I remember.'

Allday nodded slowly. 'Aye. You wore your best uniform.' Bolitho looked past him, recalling another voice. His coxswain who had died that day. They'll want to seeyou.

He replied quietly, 'Very well. But if I'm called…' Allday gave a slow smile. 'Immediately, Captain.'

Mudge said hoarsely, 'That was fool advice, man! The cap'n'll make a fine target for sharpshooters in 'is gold lace!' Allday eyed him angrily. 'I know. He does, too. He also knows we are depending on himtoday, andthatmeans seeinghim.' Mudge shook his head. 'Mad. You're all mad!'

'Deck there! Schooner fine on th' weather bow!' Keen called, 'Hoist the signal to recall her!'

Allday was standing with his arms folded, his eyes on the spreading carpet of early light as it reached towards the islands. 'Mr. Herrick won't see it.'

Davy glared at him. 'It will be light enough very soon now.' 'I know, sir.' Allday looked at him sadly. 'But he'll not see it.

Not Mr. Herrick.'

Without furniture or fittings the cabin felt strangely hostile, like an empty house which mourns a lost master and awaits another. Bolitho stoodbythe shuttered stern windows, his arms limp at his sides, while Noddall clucked around him and patted the heavy dress coat into position. Like the boat cloak, it had been made by a good London tailor with some of his prize-money.

Through the wide gap left by the screens, which had now been bolted to the deckhead, he could see straight out along the gun deck, the shapes and restless figures still only shadows in the frail light. Even here, in the cabin where he had found peace in solitude, or had sat with Viola Raymond, or shared a pipe with Herrick, there was no escape. The chintz covers had gone from the twelve-pounders and had followed the furniture to a safer stowage below the waterline, and by the guns on either beam the crews stood awkwardly, like unfinished statuary, conscious of his presence, wanting to watch him as he completed dressing, yet still held apart by the rigidity of their calling.

Bolitho cocked his head to listen to the rudder as it growled and pounded in response to the helm. The wind was fresher, heeling the ship over and holding it so. He saw the nearest gun captain checking his firing lanyard and noted how his body was angled to the deck.

Noddall was muttering, 'More like it, sir. Much more like it.' He said it fervently, as if repeating a prayer. 'Cap'n Stewart was always most particular, afore a fight.'

Bolitho wrenched his mind back from his doubts and misgivings. Stewart? Then he remembered. Undine's last captain. Had he felt the same, too, he wondered?

Feet stamped over the deck above, and he heard someone shouting.

He snapped, 'That will have to suffice.'

He snatched up his hat and sword and then paused to pat Noddall's bony shoulder. He looked so small, with his hands held in front of him like paws, that he felt sudden compassion for him.

'Take care, Noddall. Stay down when the iron begins to fly. You're no fighting man, eh?'

He was shocked to see Noddall bobbing his head and tears running down his face.

In a small, broken voice he said, 'Thankee, Cap'n!' He did not hide his gratitude. 'I couldn't face another battle. An' I'd not want to let you down, sir.'

Bolitho pushed past and hurried to the ladder. He had always taken him for granted. The little man who fussed over his table and darned his shirts. Content in his own small world. It had never occurred to him that he was terrified each time the ship cleared for action.