"It seems unlikely Either way there is little we can do. If I admonish Vincent-" He saw the unspoken protest on Keen's face and added, "You are his captain. But if I took a hand, they would see it as interference, a lack of trust, perhaps, in you. On the other hand if you quash the sentence the end result would be the same. The people might believe that no junior officer, Vincent or any other, is worth the cut of his coat."
Keen sighed. "Some would say it was a small thing, Sir Richard, but this ship is not yet of one company and does not have the loyalty which will unite the people, given time."
Bolitho smiled grimly. "Aye, that's so. Time is also in short supply."
Keen prepared to leave. "I have spoken with my first lieutenant about it. Mr Cazalet is already my right arm." He gave a rueful grin. "But doubtless he will soon be promoted out of my ship for a command of his own."
"A moment, Val. I merely wanted you to know that Catherine intends to call upon Zenoria. They were very close to one another and their suffering was much the same. So take heart-who would have believed that I might find Catherine again?"
Keen was silent, his eyes faraway. He was remembering how she had spoken to him, her sincerity about Zenoria matched only by the passion in her words.
Then he said, "Shall you visit RearAdmiral Herrick before Benbow quits the station?" When Bolitho did not answer immediately he added, "I know there was bitterness between us… but no man should learn of his wife's death in such a fashion." He hesitated. "I beg your pardon, Sir Richard. That was a thoughtless and indiscreet thing to say."
Bolitho touched his sleeve. "Indiscretion is not unknown to me." He became grave. "But yes, I hope to see him when we meet with the squadron."
There was a knock at the outer screen door and the marine sentry bawled, "Midshipman-of-the-Watch, sir! "
Bolitho winced. "God, you would think we were three fields away from the fellow! "
Ozzard had appeared in the other cabin, and opened the door to admit the midshipman.
Keen said quietly, "Someone else whose life you changed, I think, Sir Richard?"
Bolitho looked at the pale-faced youth who was staring back at him, his eyes shining with a barely-contained recognition.
Bolitho said, "I am glad you are in this ship, Mr Segrave." He seemed older than when he had helped the cruelly disfigured Lieutenant Tyacke to steer the blazing Albacora into the moored supply ships at Good Hope.
"I-I wrote to you, Sir Richard, to thank you for your sponsorship. My uncle the Admiral was full of admiration! " It sounded as if he was about to add for once.
Segrave turned to Keen. "Mr Cazalet's respects, sir, and the masthead has just sighted a sail to the nor'-east."
"My compliments to the first lieutenant. I shall come up presently."
As the door closed Keen said, "I heard all about that lad, and the bullying he received in his other ship. Your Mr Tyacke has become a bit of a hero in his eyes, I think." He smiled, so that the strain seemed to fall away. "Next to you, of course, Sir Richard! "
It was good to see him smile again. Perhaps his lovely Zenoria came to him in his dreams and tormented him, as Catherine had done and would do again if they were too long separated.
"Lieutenant Tyacke is a remarkable man. When you meet him there is only pity. Afterwards you can only find admiration, pride, even, at knowing him."
They went on deck together and walked out on to the broad quarterdeck, where at their approach the watchkeepers and the hands who were working there adopted stances and attitudes as if they were mimers.
Bolitho looked up at the dull sky, the tall masts and rigging dark against it. Under topsails and courses the Black Prince was leaning only slightly to leeward, her sails quivering to the wind's wet pressure.
"Deck there! " After Truculent, the lookout sounded a mile distant. "Frigate, zur! "
Keen turned up his collar as the wind probed the rawness of his skin. "Not a Frog, then. He'd be about and running by now if it was! "
Bolitho tried not to touch his left eye. Many were watching him, some seeing him for the first time. A new ship, a well-known flagofficer; it would be easy to lose their confidence before he had found it.
A tall, dark-haired midshipman whose generally aloof behaviour to the other "young gentlemen" was obvious even on the busy quarterdeck snapped, "Aloft, Mr Gough. Take a glass, lively now! " A minute midshipman scampered to the shrouds and was soon lost from view amongst the dark crisscross of rigging. Bolitho smiled to himself. The tall youth was named Bosanquet, the senior member of the gunroom, and next to go for promotion. It was not hard to see him as a lieutenant, or even a captain for that matter.
"Deck there! " Several of the seamen exchanged grins at the midshipman's squeaky cry from the crosstrees. "She's made her number! "
Cazalet, the first lieutenant, a tough-looking man with dark, bushy eyebrows, raised his speaking-trumpet. "We are all in suspense, Mr Gough! "
The boy squeaked again, although even from that dizzy height he sounded crushed. "Number Five-Four-Six, sir! "
Bosanquet already had his book open. "Zest sir, forty-four, Captain Charles Varian! "
Jenour had appeared at his side like a shadow. "You will need to change the captain's name." He darted a glance at Bolitho. "He is no longer in command."
Keen said. "Make our reply, if you please."
Bolitho turned away. Some of the watching faces probably saw him as Varian's executioner, and might judge him accordingly.
He saw the boatswain, whose name was already slotted into his mind as Ben Gilpin, with a small working party supervising the rigging of a grating on the lee side of the deck. Ready for the ritual of punishment. It would seem so much worse for those who had never been to sea in a King's ship before. And for many of the others, it could only brutalise them further.
Bolitho stiffened as he saw Felicity's son standing nearby, watching with fixed attention. Bolitho touched his eye and did not see Jenour glance across at him. He saw only Vincent's face. For one so young he had an expression of cruel anticipation.
Keen called, "Alter course two points, Mr Cazalet, we will wait for Zest to run down on us! "
Jenour stood apart from the bustling seamen as they manned the braces for retrimming the great yards to hold the wind, immersed in his private thoughts. All of his family were in or connected with the medical profession, and he had mentioned the foreign-sounding doctor Rudolf Braks to his uncle just before leaving to join the flagship.
His uncle, a quiet and much respected physician, had responded instantly.
"Of course-the man who attended Lord Nelson and visits the King because of his failing sight. If he can do nothing to help your admiral, then there is nobody who can."
The words still hung in his mind like part of a guilty secret.
He heard the first lieutenant ask, "Pipe the hands aft to witness punishment, sir?" Then Keen's equally taut reply. "Attend to it, Mr Cazalet, but I want loyalty, not fear! "
Bolitho walked towards the poop and knew Allday was following him. He had sensed the unusual bitterness in Keen's words. Had he perhaps been remembering how he had saved Zenoria from a savage whipping aboard the convict transport, when he had rescued her and helped to confirm her innocence? But not before she had taken one stroke across her naked back from shoulder to hip, something which she would never lose. Was that, too, keeping them apart?
He entered the stern cabin and threw himself onto the bench.
A new ship. No experience, unblooded, a stranger to the line of battle. Bolitho clenched his fist as he heard the staccato roll of the Royal Marines' drums. He could barely hear the crack of the lash across the seaman's body, but he felt it as if it were happening to himself.
He thought of Herrick, how he would be; what he was going through. Bolitho had heard from Admiral Godschale that it had been Anemone, Adam's command, which had carried the news of Dulcie's death. A double twist, he thought. It would have been better if it had been a total stranger.