He said, "I shall walk with you a while, James." He paused. "But for Sergeant Bazely, I would not be doing that!"
Avery had been looking at the signals log with Singleton, the midshipman in charge. Bolitho had been down on the orlop for only a short while, although it had felt like hours.
He heard Bolitho say, There may be some letters for us when we anchor that would sweeten the pill, eh?"
He heard them laugh, saw some seamen look up to watch them pass.
Midshipman Singleton said, "My ambition is to be like that, sir."
Avery turned sharply, surprised by the seriousness and the sincerity of this youth who had seen men die screaming on this same deck.
He said. "Keep to your studies, my lad. One day you might remember what you just told me. I hope you do." He stared unseeingly at the open log. "For all our sakes!"
Singleton was still gazing at the two pacing figures, remembering how the admiral had gone to speak to each of the survivors from the brig Black Swan. It had been impossible to save the brig, and she had been set alight to prevent her capture and repair by the Algerines.
He would remember that most of all. Black Swan's young commander, wounded, but too stricken to accept attention while he had watched the dirty column of smoke against the blue sky. The end of his ship. He had heard the lieutenants saying it would finish his career too, at a court-martial table.
Bolitho had joined him by the nettings and had gripped his uninjured arm, held it until the other officer had turned towards him.
Singleton could still hear it. The worst lies behind you now. Think only of the next horizon.
He turned to Avery, but the tall lieutenant with the tawny eyes and the grey streaks in his hair was gone.
The first lieutenant called wearily, "When you are through with your dreams, Mr. Singleton, I would be obliged if you would bring me your log!"
Singleton stammered, "Aye, aye, sir!"
Order and routine. But for him, things would never be quite the same again.
Daniel Yovell. Bolitho's round-shouldered secretary, dripped the red. official wax on to yet another envelope before sealing it. Then he shifted slightly in his chair, and peered through the salt-dappled stern windows, where the sun was touching the bright sails of some local craft as Frobisher made her final approach. He heard Allday moving restlessly in the sleeping cabin, still brooding over the short, savage fight on the upper deck when one twist of the Algerine's great blade had rendered him helpless to defend his admiral. His friend.
Yovell's frown softened slightly. People mocked him behind his back. Old Yovell and his Bible. But it had helped him in more ways in the past than people would ever know. Allday had no such release.
He was here now, looking at the pile of letters and despatches which had kept Bolitho, and Yovell's pen, busy for much of the time since the encounter with the chebecks.
Allday asked, "What d'you think will happen?"
Yovell adjusted his small gold-rimmed spectacles. "It depends. On what orders are waiting for us in Malta. On what the patrols may or may not have discovered about the two frigates at Algiers. I sometimes wonder if anyone ever takes heed of all this intelligence." He made another attempt, for he was a kindly man. Try to forget what happened that day. You did your best. The pirate, from what I've heard, was a giant, and a savage, probably filled with some devil's potion as well as an unholy lust to kill." He added gently, "We get no younger, John. We sometimes forget that."
Allday punched one fist into another. "I should have stopped the bastard! Not left it to some bloody bullock!"
Yovell half-listened to the stamp of bare feet, and the sudden squeal of blocks as the ship began to change tack again.
He said, "Sir Richard seems well enough. I think he always knew his eye would, eventually fail him. It could have been worse. Much worse." He folded his hands on Bolitho's desk. "I prayed. I hope I was heard."
Allday turned on him, but was moved to silence by the simple assurance.
He growled, "Well, I think we should stop now. Haul down the flag an' let some other up-an'-comin' Nelson take the strain!"
Yovell smiled at that. "Within a month you'd be burrowing round, looking for some job to keep you occupied. I would lay odds on it, and you know I am not a gambling man."
Allday sat heavily on the bench seat, and glared at the nearest eighteen- pounder.
"I don't never want to become like most of the old Jacks you see. You knows 'em well enough, swingin' the lamp and sayin' how great an' fine it was to be raked by some bloody mounseer, an' to lose a spar like poor Bryan Ferguson." He shook his shaggy head. "Never! What we done, we done together. That's how I wants to remember it!"
The door opened and Avery entered the cabin. He, too, glanced at the pile of waiting letters and despatches, and shook his head.
"I don't know what drives him so!" He waved Allday back to his seat and remarked, "There might be some fleet mail for us." He peered through an open gun port "I just saw a sight, a big Indiaman, making all plain sail with the skill and swagger of a first-rate! Young Singleton told me she was Saladin, on passage to Naples. On the King's business for a change, by the sound of it."
Allday looked at him. '1 knows her, sir. We was just talking about Bryan Ferguson, back home. Him an' me went down to see her once when she dropped her hook at Falmouth."
Avery said something vague in acknowledgement. Like
Singleton, this seasoned, unflinching sailor could still surprise him. Back home…… Not many landsmen would ever understand what that meant to men like Allday, worn out by war and unready for peace. And what of me?
He could hear Ozzard rattling glasses in his pantry, preparing for the ship's first visitors after they had anchored. He smiled faintly. Dropped her hook… Yovell was saying, "In a few weeks it will be Christmas again. And we don't even know if the war with the Yankees is over."
Avery, still gazing out idly, saw another local sailing craft pass Frobisher's quarter. Eyes everywhere. The news of their destruction of the Algerine pirates would have preceded them, too. He thought of Black Swan's commander, Norton Sackville. Even in the crowded wardroom, he remained alone. Avery knew what such isolation was like, while he had been waiting for the unwarranted court martial, and had seen former friends cross the road to avoid contact with him.
Ozzard appeared and said stiffly, "Sir Richard's not here, then? Must be still on deck for entering harbour."
Allday stood up abruptly. "I'll take his sword." It was suddenly important, and he knew Avery was watching him with his steady cat's eyes.
Avery said, "It'll be a while yet. Another hour, the master informs me."
Allday took down the sword, nonetheless. Remembering all those other times, the excitement, the madness, the survival. Always the pain.
It was still damp on deck, and the air was surprisingly cool, reminding him of what Yovell had said. It was November now, but hard to compare with England 's bare trees and angry, autumnal coastline.
The watch on deck were at their stations, and Allday noticed the extra lookouts aloft for the final approach. He thought of Captain Tyacke blaming himself for losing the Black Swan; you could never be too careful with so many mindless natives controlling all these hundreds of small vessels. Not a true seaman amongst them.
He found Bolitho with Tyacke by the quarterdeck rail, shading his eyes while he watched the land opening out to greet them. There was an anchored sloop-of- war close by, her yards and rigging full of cheering seamen as their flagship passed slowly abeam.
Allday gave a satisfied grin. As it should be.
Bolitho saw him, and the sword. That was thoughtful, old friend… I was looking at the harbour, preparing myself for what we might expect."
Allday fastened the sword into place. The belt needed adjusting; Sir Richard was losing weight. He frowned. One of Unis's pork pies, now, that would be more like it.
Kellett called, "Signal that fool to stand away!" He sounded sharper than usual, on edge.