"He does. As boatswains go, he is a treasure. Lieutenant Kaye thinks him too familiar, and says he ought to drive them more. Consequently..."
"Consequently?" asked Will, after a time. He followed Holt's gaze. Ahead of them, two cable's-lengths, came a small skiff, lean and fast, with four men at the oars, another in the bow and two in the stern sheets barely visible. "Oh. Is that... ?"
"Our Richard Kaye. It is. Consequently, we must shut up. Consequently, in answer to your first, the boatswain will become .. . Well, you shall see. Jem!" he shouted, standing upright. "Mr. Taylor! Lieutenant Kaye's approaching. Clear away that tea, for God's sake. Look alive."
There was, at present, no chance of real formality. The Biter was on the dockyard tiers, swarming with yardmen, with attendant noise and mess. Some of them were singing, a raucous row that increased perceptibly as the boat bore down upon them an indicator that the men of Deptford were not Navy servants, had no fear of blue-coated martinets, took their discipline (if they even knew the concept, let alone the word) from no sailing officer, especially not an Impress man, and sang and skylarked exactly as they pleased. Kaye's own men, ranged up on either side of the gangway, took their cue directly from these freer spirits, their reluctant surliness quite surprising William. While Jem Taylor, before his eyes, became a different man; slack-shouldered, dull-visaged somehow unjointed. As the skiff rounded up smartly underneath the boom, the bow man slung the painter across the rail with unerring aim - and Taylor dropped it.
"Jem, Jem," Sam admonished, below his breath but loud enough for William. And added: "Consequently, will become a shambling imbecile."
William, for all that Sam had said of him, realised he had no idea at all what kind of man he might expect in Kaye except a rich one. Certainly, from above, he had not the air of violence and unpleasantness that he knew so well from many other officers he'd met. He stood up in the well and wreathed his face in smiles as he glanced up at them. He was a handsome man, bulky but with narrow shoulders, with a roundish face, slightly lop-sided, and an air of boyishness. William guessed his age at twenty-three or -four, but the skin was smooth, unlined by ravages of weather or of care. He skipped quite lightly across the thwarts to reach the ladder, quite lightly but almost clumsy with it, and scooted up the Biter's side in quick order. There he stood, resplendent in blue coat and white-powdered wig, with eyes for them alone, ignoring the common sailors ranged up to honour him with a blank completeness, as if they were not there.
"So! You are Bentley, then! Your Uncle Daniel has said much of you, and I am pleased at last to engage the flesh! Your servant, sir!"
William Bentley, in that evening sun, felt the warmth drain from himself, to be replaced by a hollow certainty he found sickening. So Daniel Swift, whose offers and whose overtures he had so strongly fought, his savage Uncle Daniel, whose very forgiveness had filled him with a creeping dread, knew Richard Kaye and so had got this ship for him, behind his back. Not merit, not service, not even shortages of officers in time of war; but interest had put him here. In the Biter, in the Impress, and with a man Sam Holt most roundly hated. Why? He put his hand out because he had to, but his heart was crushed. His face, he guessed, must look a pretty picture.
If Richard Kaye noticed, though, he showed it not a whit. His round eyes, brown like hazel nuts and slightly protuberant, shone with enthusiasm as he pumped Will's unresisting hand. He was laughing.
"I know your weaknesses!" he said, aloud for all the world to hear. "Your uncle has done me the signal honour of recommending you to me, with all your background, the good sides and the bad! Between us, sir, I confide we shall go far!"
William's bow and smile were models of control. Good Christ, he thought, imagine that I called Sam vulgar. This man, from speech and bearing, comes from a family that's impeccable, and he is rich. Corrupt, and rich, and as Sam says, a stupid, useless man. So why has Daniel Swift put me to him?
Lieutenant Kaye, his captain, still had hold of his hand. The skiff still hung in the water, at the boom, her boat's crew looking round indifferent. Samuel harrumphed significantly.
"Sir," he said. "We have done our best, but the ship is not yet in a state of readiness to go downriver, as you may see. The dockyard men are far from finished. While Mr. Gunning..."
"Yes, yes," Kaye interrupted, carelessly. "No matter for that, Holt, we are going nowhere this evening. Look, man, get these idle dogs whipped up to shape, can't you? Bob! Get up here this instant, you idle rogue! Sankey; start him, can't you?"
Dropping Will's hand, Lieutenant Kaye moved to the gangway and peered over. From the stern sheets of the skiff, with sudden speed, a small black shape, black boy, appeared, and scampered for the ladder, which he quickly climbed. He was dressed in black velveteen, with a black cap on his head, and went shoeless. In front of them, he stood with downcast eyes. Although he smiled, his smile seemed empty, a mask of lonely misery.
"Mr. Bentley," declared Kaye, pompously. "Meet my little man, my servant. Black Bob, make a bow, sir!"
Black Bob did, but never raised his eyes. He was eight years or so, maybe seven, small and beautiful, but very, very sad. Kaye reached out and took his hand.
"Black Bob," he said. "We go now to the cabin, where I need my head rubbed with those aromatic oils. Sankey!" (another yell) "Get that boat tied and tidied, then I'll need another suit of clothes!" He turned his face to William ignoring Holt and gave out his soft, lop-sided smile. "In my cabin, in thirty minutes, sir, we shall take tea. I have another surprise in store. It will delight you."
Sankey, Holt explained, was the commander's coxswain, but treated like a servant or a slave. He was no good seaman, having come with Richard Kaye into the service from the great estates in Hertfordshire, his man from early years. For Kaye was of a landed family, and yes, exceeding rich, despite he was third son and might be thought to have joined the Navy from necessity, therefore. In fact, Sam held, he had joined because he 'had had naught else to do', and was a great embarrassment to his father, a duke or something other mighty, because he'd failed to rise. Although it was a secret, it was believed that he was twenty-eight, and had passed for lieutenant God knew how, skulduggery was suspected some several years before. He had not made post, and never could or would in Sam's opinion, because he was so hopeless; a playboy, lazy, and a fool'. At the end of all which, Holt gave a sudden grin.
"Mark you," he guffawed, "I am not speaking as an enthusiast! His breeding, on the other hand, is excellent. You may go together like a horse and cart!"
It was the black boy, though, that had shaken Bentley most. He had heard of this quaint fashion, much indulged in by rich men in the city and some of their wives and mistresses, but he had never seen one in the flesh. Black men at sea he'd heard of, men of Africa and the Colonies who had kept or won their freedom through some special merit, but this was a child, a sad-eyed little toy. When questioned, Samuel was dismissive.
"I guess he bought him from a trader," he said. "Black Bob's been with him since before I knew the man, although 'tis said he used to have a parrot. He keeps him in a box beside his bed, or sometimes in it, for all I care. On ship he is a waste of space and vittles, but then so is Kaye in most men's eyes. Black Bob is harmless, though. He speaks no English that I've ever heard. He'll fetch and carry, though, if Kaye is not around, so I guess he understands an order, don't he?"
The dockyard men were ranging to the gangway. Two had gone down into their cutter to bail her out, and there was bantering and insults being swapped with Biter's crew. The chaos on the decks was of a different order from the night before, but still pretty comprehensive. But the damaged yard was finished, ready to be rigged and furnished, and its sail bent on. Aloft the hempen cordage had been gathered in, the standing gear all shipshape, most of the running hardened home to pin rails or belays. Will could see that with a good crew and some hours, the vessel might be almost fit to sail.