He heard one of the women give a gentle cough behind him, and recalled how he had seen some of them peering around after Bolitho had stepped aboard. Looking for Catherine, preparing the gossip. But they had been disappointed, for she had remained ashore, although Keen had not yet had time to speak with Bolitho about it "… all officers and company appointed to said ship shall obey, follow and serve you to this purpose, when His Britannic Majesty King George shall charge to accept the said ship Black Prince into his service…"
Keen glanced over the scroll and saw his coxswain Tojohns standing beside the powerful figure of Allday. Their familiar faces gave him strength, a sense of belonging in this teeming world of a ship of the line where every man was a stranger until proved otherwise "… hereof, not you nor any of you may fail as you will answer the contrary at your peril and according to the Articles of War… God Save the KING! "
It was done. Keen replaced his hat and tucked the scroll inside his coat again while the first lieutenant, Cazalet, stepped smartly from the group of officers and shouted, "Three cheers for His Majesty lads! " The response could have been better, but when Keen glanced round he saw that the port admiral was beaming, and there were a lot of handshakes amongst the men who had planned and supervised for this day, and those who would profit by the end of it.
Keen said, "Dismiss the hands, Mr Cazalet, then come aft to my quarters."
He thought he saw the other man raise an eyebrow. It was now time to entertain the visitors. By the look of some of them it was going to be difficult to get rid of them. He called after the first lieutenant, "Tell Major Bourchier to double his marine guard." He had almost forgotten the major's name. In a few weeks he would know them better than they did each other.
Lieutenant Jenour touched his hat. "I beg your pardon, sir, but Sir Richard is leaving now."
"Oh, I had hoped…" He saw Bolitho standing apart from the others, as they flowed aft on either side of the great double-wheel which was yet to feel the fury of wind and rudder in contest.
Bolitho said, "Pay my respects, Val. But I have to go. Lady Catherine…" He looked away as some visitors passed by, one of the women staring at him quite unashamedly.
He added, "She would not come aboard. She thought it best. For me. Later perhaps."
Keen had heard about Browne's death and the duel which had preceded it. He said, "She is a wonderful lady, Sir Richard."
"I cannot thank you enough for standing by her in my absence. My God, Fate soon determines who your true friends are! "
He walked slowly to the quarterdeck to look down at the guns, the neatly-packed hammock nettings.
"You have a fine ship, Val. A floating fortress. There's no flag captain I'd rather have, and you know it. And have faith, as I did, although to others the odds against my finding Catherine again were a million-fold. Zenoria needs time. But I am certain that she loves you." He clapped his arm. "So no more melancholy, eh?"
Keen glanced aft where the din of voices and laughter was already growing. "I'll see you over the side, Sir Richard."
They went down to the entry port together, and Keen noticed there were already more marines in evidence with their muskets and fixed bayonets and immaculate, pipeclayed, crossbelts. Their major had acted promptly; there were still those who might try to desert before the ship was at sea, and order and discipline took root.
Keen was a fair and understanding captain, but he was mindful that he was still fifty men short of his full complement of eight hundred officers, marines and sailors. The sight of the armed sentries might make the foolhardy think twice.
"Man the side! " The gleaming new barge was rolling gently in the sluggish confinement of the dockyard, Allday in the sternsheets, the crew neatly turned out in checkered shirts and tarred hats.
Bolitho hesitated. A ship without history, without memory. A new start. Even the idea seemed to mock him.
He said, "You will receive further orders within the week. Use all the time you can to work the people into a team we can be proud of."
Keen smiled, although he hated to see him leave after so brief a visit. "I have had the best of teachers, sir! "
Bolitho turned, then felt himself falling. Keen seized his arm, and there was a clatter as one of the marines dropped his musket with surprise. The lieutenant in charge of the side-party snarled something at the luckless marine and gave Bolitho a few seconds to recover his wits.
"Is it the eye, Sir Richard?" Keen was shocked to see the expression of utter despair on Bolitho's features when he faced him again.
"I've not told Catherine yet. They can do naught to help me, it seems."
Keen stood between him and the guard and boatswain's mates with their silver calls still poised and ready.
"I will lay odds she knows." He wanted to offer some kind of help so badly that even his own worries seemed beyond reach.
"If that is the case…" Bolitho changed his mind and touched his hat to the guard before lowering himself down the stairs from the entry port, where Allday's hand was outstretched to guide him the last few steps into the barge.
Keen watched the boat until it was out of sight beyond a moored transport. He had commanded several ships during his service, and this should have been his greatest reward. Older captains than himself would give their blood for such a command. A new ship, soon to fly a viceadmiral's flag, could only bring honour to the man who controlled her destiny. So why did he feel so little? Was he so affected by the Hyperion, or was it that he had been so near to death on too many occasions?
He frowned at the laughter from his quarters. They neither knew nor cared about the people who would serve this ship.
A lieutenant blocked his way and touched his hat. "I beg pardon, sir, but another lighter is putting off from the victualling pier."
"Are you the Officer-of-the-Watch, Mister Flemyng?" The young lieutenant seemed to shrink as Keen added sharply, "Then do your work, sir, for if you cannot I will seek out another who can! "
Almost before the lieutenant had made to move away he regretted it.
"That was uncalled for, Mr Flemyng. A captain's rank has privileges, but abuse of them is beyond contempt." He saw him staring in astonishment. "Ask as much as you like. Otherwise we may all be the poorer when it concerns something vital. So send for the boatswain and the duty-watch to deal with these stores, eh?"
As the lieutenant almost ran across the quarterdeck, Keen gave a sad smile. How true had his words been just now to Bolitho.
I have had the best of teachers.
The thought seemed to rally him, and he looked along the deck again to the black, armoured shoulder of the proud figurehead. Then he stared aloft at the curling masthead pendant and some gulls which screamed through the rigging with an eye for scraps from the galley Almost to himself he said, "My ship." Then he spoke her name, "Zenoria." Afterwards he thought it had been like releasing a bird from captivity. Would she ever call him in return?
The light carriage, with mud splashed as high as its windows, reached the top of a rise and reined to a halt, the two horses steaming in the cold air.
Yovell groaned and released his grip on a tasselled handle and exclaimed, "These roads are indeed a disgrace, m'lady."
But she lowered a window and leaned out regardless of the fine, intermittent drizzle which had followed them all the way from Chatham.
"Where are we, Young Matthew?"
Matthew leaned over from his box and grinned down at her, his face like a polished red apple.
"The house is yonder, m'lady." He pointed with his whip. "'Tis the only one hereabouts." He puffed out his cheeks and his breath floated around him like steam. "A lonely spot, in my opinion."
"You know these parts, Young Matthew?"
He grinned again, but with a certain wistfulness as the memory clouded his eyes. "Aye, m'lady. I was here 'bout fourteen years back-I were just a boy then, working for my grandfather who was head coachman for the Bolitho family."