"Mr. Holt, my fellow, rates him highly. He..." Oh blush for shame, he thought. To misuse Samuel so, to play for time. He said, decisively, "Nay, uncle. How should I know? He is well bred, a pretty talker, he pleases their lordships, else how would he command? I have seen him doing nothing that would let me form opinions, and if I had it would not be my place. When we go downriver, when we get stuck in whatever we are looking for, why, then I'll tell you!"
Swift smiled, for the first time. He was very handsome, in his face and in his body, and the smile lit him like an angel. His eyes were clear and grey.
"Between us, my boy, he needs attention. He is extremely rich, his family is of the very highest quality. He commands that ship because he The grey eyes narrowed, and Will caught their direction. Stroke oar, once more, let his eyes glide away. But Swift harrumphed, and took a different tack.
"No matter. We are heading for a yard now, and more of that later. These men are good men, nephew, but they are not mine, I've got the loan of 'em. For all I know they've ears that flap like turkey wings, and gobs like seven bells. Ain't that so, mister?"
The stroke oar smirked, and pounded on. Next bend, across the mud flats Bentley saw a village and some yards with vessels on the stocks. His uncle nodded, and ten minutes later they came ashore. While the boat's crew found grass to sit or lounge on some chasing crabs, barefoot in the muddy shallows the two of them approached the keel and timbers growing on the slip. It was a vessel of a certain rakishness, or would be. She had a good slope to her stem, was narrow at the entry, and the stern was shaping slim.
"She should be fast," said William. "But whose is she, sir? May I guess Lieutenant Kaye's next craft?"
Swift threw back his head and barked. There were men inside the timbers, who looked at them, then returned indifferently to their tasks. Still no one had approached the Navy officers.
"Lieutenant Kaye pays charter for the Biter," said Swift. "She is well matched to his task. Why think you he should want a ship like this?"
"Well, sir ... Well, you said he was rich, and commanded her because ... And then you stopped. If he is rich ..."
Swift nodded.
"A fair assumption. But no, she is not Kaye's, she is mine. Mine and .. . certain others'. Well, yes, I suppose it might turn out that Kaye will buy a share, but I doubt that. I have other things in mind for Kaye."
William knew better than to try and probe. His uncle was of uncertain temper, and his affection for his nephew was itself uncertain, now. Swift blew air out from his open throat, a sort of sibilant indication of moving on.
"Oh, my boy," he said, as if tiredly. "I can't tell you the half of it, it is not meet at present. Listen I was a private ship, you know that, don't you? My frigate was attached to nobody, these eight months I've been away. I had a good voyage you know my meaning there, I trust? and I amassed a good amount from it. I thought to stay in England for at least a while, to oversee this building among other plans, but their lordships want me at the Straits to join a squadron; so I must go. It has been precipitate, too precipitate, and leaves me with some ends not rove. Frankly, Kaye is one of them."
He locked his eyes on William's, almost a glare. This was more like old times, and he felt a tiny tremor of discomfort, some frisson he did not completely understand. Blood will out, he thought disconsolately.
"In many ways," said Swift, 'he is a very fine young man, our Richard Kaye. He does not need the Navy, he has no need of anything for that matter, he is exceeding rich. But he has ambition, nephew, he desires most extremely to be post. Now frank again this cannot, at the moment, come about. His father's name and power is not, for historic circumstances, with the Admiralty. Their lordships have opinions and they cannot, seemingly, be swayed. I have connections, as you know; massy ones. I have heard Kaye described, my boy, as this: a playboy, a fool, and lazy. As feckless, foolish, weak, corrupt. There. What think you of all that?"
This was mischievous, the cue to be amused, which William acknowledged with a nod. There were questions he could ask, but he thought it safer, still, to wait. Swift pulled a timepiece from his fob, flicked it open, then shut and pocketed it all in a movement.
"What I want from you is this," he said. "You are my sister's flesh and blood, if wayward, and you have grown up very cool. Also, I believe you conscientious, with the air and when and the makings of a seaman. You know discipline, you can make men jump to do your bidding. Listen this war will not last for ever, do you take my meaning? We must have other irons in the fire, for the peace. Influence. Interest. Power. Those are the vital things, my boy; the vital things."
No reply to this, because there was none. William composed his face, hoping for elucidation. Captain Swift shrugged impatiently.
"When Kaye is post," he said, "his rise becomes inevitable. We have shared interests, he and I, I will put it at no greater pitch than that. With our help, with your talents and encouragement, with your backing shall I say, we'll put some fire in his belly, and some iron in his soul. Then, when he rises, and his wealth is matched by power why then, he'll help us in his turn. He will be admiral, nephew. Once on the rungs the way is only up, and his father is a duke who has a million and more. Wars do not last for ever, Will. Do you read my meaning now?"
Bentley did, and it occurred to him, as it had occurred before, his uncle might be slightly mad. But his uncle did have interest in the higher echelons of the service, the highest echelons, and if anyone could get a dough-head promoted above his abilities, then surely it was he. To become an admiral in his turn! The first sea lord, mayhap?! God, thought William, with a sudden chill, why did his uncle feel he needed such insurance?
"He's not a coward," said Swift, suddenly. "I would not give a shit for him if so. He's not a booby even, very much. With good officers, the Biter will do very well. The Press is considered greatly important in these times, and will get more so. What sort of man is that tall one, Holt is it? He seemed not of the very best, more like a blessed pauper than a gent, too damn familiar with the people. I'll have Kaye make you up over him, if you wish."
"No, sir!" It came out half explosion, much too high. But Will was scandalised, amazed. "No, sir," he said, more levelly. "Mr. Holt is experienced above his years, is honest, and he's full of pluck. I shall learn from him, and take it as a privilege." He almost laughed, surprised by the jollity of the thought. "With me as second under him, Lieutenant Kaye would never make a captain, I declare. Sam Holt can even navigate, and should be lieutenant, save he has no cash or interest. I will learn from him, uncle."
Swift humphed, and set off for some buildings up the slip.
"Aye," he said. "And navigation, that's another thing. Kaye cannot navigate to save his life or yours, he takes it as a joke, the great poltroon. He has a sailing master, who also owns the ship, who also drinks his life away. Where was he yesterday? Where today? Why cannot you navigate, sir? Why?"
"Because," said William, but an answer was not needed.
"Because you've wasted time! Because you've dozed around on shore like a crying baby or a maid! You will learn navigation, Mr. Bentley, and Kaye will have a navigator! There, sir! There?
Luckily, it seemed to William, they had reached the shed that Swift was making for. They entered, and a man in leather apron bustled down to them from the far end. Taking his cue from Swift, this man, the master-shipwright it would appear, ignored William and entered into animated conversation about timber, dates, supplies. After half an hour he was desultorily introduced, then had to say a quick goodbye before they hustled out again. Swift gathered up the boat's crew with a shout, and five minutes later they were shooting upriver on a rising tide. There were questions William would have liked to ask, but the stroke oar still had ears, and his Uncle Daniel was preoccupied. Why should he not be? thought William. He is a Navy captain, yet a ship is being built for him. A fast ship and a handy. And Swift was off to join a squadron in the Straits ... Daniel Swift had one more surprise in store for him that day, and it was the stiffest of them all. When they reached the Biter's deck, he barked an order before William had time even to open his mouth, and a seaman scuttled aft as if it was his own commanding officer who had spoken. In truth, Swift's name and fame were known to all on board, and sailors take no chances with such people. Within seconds Samuel Holt appeared, then behind him the small black boy, whom Swift glanced at with disdain.