Command a King`s Ship

9. Gift from a Lady

One hour before the morning watch was relieved Bolitho came on deck to enjoy the most peaceful time of the day. With his shirt open to his waist he crossed to the weather side and studied the set of each individual sail before going aft to consult the compass. Madras lay twelve days astern, but the wind, which had begun so promisingly, had lulled to a gentle breeze, so that even with all sails set it was unlikely they could maintain more than four knots.

Fowlar was scribbling on the slate beside the wheel, but straightened his back as Bolitho approached.

He touched his forehead and reported, 'East by south, sir. Full an' bye.'

Bolitho nodded and shaded his eyes to watch the sails again. The wind, such as it was, came from the south-west, and Undine's yards were braced well round, laying her over to the starboard tack. About a mile abeam the brig Rosalind had no difficulty in maintaining station on her heavier consort, and Bolitho found himself tempted to take a telescope and examine her more closely.

Fowlar seemed to think that he was expected to add something to his report and said, 'Might pick up before nightfall, sir. Mr. Mudge seems to think the wind'll freshen when once we enter the Malacca Strait.'

'Er, yes.'

Bolitho tried to compose himself. FromRosalind's deck Undine must make a beautiful sight under full canvas. But for once this gave him little consolation. He wanted to drive his ship faster to become involved with his mission. Ghosting along like this, even if idyllic for poet or artist, gave too much time for other thoughts.

He saw Davy hurrying towards him, frowning as he said, 'I beg pardon for not seeing you come on deck, sir.' He gestured towards the main mast. 'I was dealing with a complaint from a marine.' He added swiftly, 'Nothing important.'

,you are officer of the watch, Mr. Davy. You should know by now I don't interfere in your affairs merely to excite attention.' He smiled. 'A fine day, is it not?'

'Yes, sir.'

Davy followed his gaze over the nettings. The sea was very blue, and apart from the low-hulled brig there was not a speck of land or another ship to break the emptiness, its sense of vastness.

Davy asked casually, 'Is it true this sort of mission often leads to permanent appointments in the realm of colonial government, sir?'

Bolitho nodded. 'Rear Admiral Conway's appointment is such.'

He watched Davy's tanned features gravely. He was worried about something. It was showing now, just like the time when he had selected Soames and not him for the raiding party.

'I was thinking…'Davy faltered. 'I am of course well content with life as a King's officer. It is what I want. I am the first in my family to follow the sea. My father was a city merchant and had no use for service life. He was loath to allow me to enter the Navy.'

Bolitho wished he would get on with it. He said encouragingly, 'Mr. Herrick is like you. The first sailor in his family.'

'Yes.' Davy looked suddenly desperate as Soames emerged from the cabin hatch, yawning and consulting his pocket watch. 'Well, it is not exactly what I meant, sir.'

Bolitho turned and faced him. 'Mr. Davy, I would be obliged if you would come to the point. In an hour it will be an'oven again. I would like to take my walk before breakfast, and not wait until after dinner tonight.'

Davy bit his lip. 'I am sorry, sir.' He nodded firmly. 'Yes, I will try to explain.' He lowered his eyes. 'May I speak of your brother, sir?'

Bolitho tensed. 'My late brother?'

'I did not mean to offend.' Davy looked up and allowed the words to come out in a flood. 'I heard somewhere that he quit the Navy.'

Bolitho waited. Always it seemed to catch up with him. Now even his second lieutenant was risking a rebuke to satisfy his own curiosity. But he was wrong in Davy's case.

Davy said quietly, 'It was because of his gambling, I was told?'

He looked so strained, so pleading, that Bolitho forgot his own bitterness and asked, 'Is that what bothers you? Gambling?'

'Yes, sir. Like a fool I tried to win back my losses in London. With my father dead I am responsible for my mother's welfare, and that of the estate.' He looked away. 'In time of war I might have gained early promotion, and all the prize-money which went with it.'

'You could have just as easily been killed.' Bolitho added gently, 'Am I to be told how much you owe?' 'Twenty, sir.'

Bolitho stared at him. 'In God's name, you could pawn your dress-coat for more, man!'

"I', Davy gritted his teeth. 'Twenty thousand, sir.'

Bolitho ran his fingers through his hair. 'Undine and the brig yonder would cost about that sum. And I thought you had more sense.'

'Perhaps I should have kept my secret, sir.' Davy was shamefaced. Wretched.

'No. It is better shared. At least you are safe from your creditors out here.' He watched Davy grimly. 'But twenty thousand. It is a small fortune.'

Soames clumped past and beckoned to a bosun's mate. 'Have the watch piped aft, Kellock.' He was careful to keep to the lee side of the deck.

Davy hurried on, well aware that Soames was waiting to relieve him. 'You see, sir, I thought that on a voyage such as ours I might gain some new standing.'

'I see. However, this is a mission of protection, not of discovery, or the capture of Spanish gold.' He nodded to Soames and added softly, 'But I will keep it in mind.'

He began to pace the deck while the two lieutenants conversed over the compass.

Undine had gathered all sorts within her slender hull. It was not only the lower deck which sported its fortune-hunters, it seemed. He saw Midshipman Keen walking along the larboard gangway with Armitage, and prayed he would never be left in Davy's predicament, or in one such as his brother Hugh's.

In family background Davy and Keen were similar. Both had wealthy parents who had gained promotion in trade rather than in the King's service. Davy's father had died leaving his son and heir totally unprepared for the temptations which he had managed to overcome. Keen on the other hand had been sent to sea because of his father's riches and influence. Her-tick had said that Keen had confided in him during a night watch in the Indian Ocean. To make a man of me. It had seemed to amuse him, Herrick had said. But Keen's father must be a remarkable man, Bolitho thought. There were not many who would risk a son's life or limb for such a goal.

He saw Noddall scurrying aft along the gun deck with a can of boiling water from the galley. Conway must be up and about, waiting to be shaved. It was surprising how little Conway's presence aboard had interfered with daily life. He had explained it himself. Informal. That did not mean he was disinterested. Quite the reverse. Whenever a ship had been sighted, or the hands had been called to reef or make sail, he had been there, watching. Once, when becalmed for half a day, the seamen had streamed a seine net in the hopes of getting some fresh fish. Just a few flounders, and some flatheaded fish which Mudge had knowingly described as 'foxes' were the entire result of their efforts, but Conway could not have been more pleased if they had caught a whale.

It was as if he was living out every hour, like a prisoner awaiting sentence. It was not pleasant to watch.

Bolitho was not quite twenty-eight years old, but as a postcaptain with two previous commands behind him he had learned to accept, if not agree, with many of the Navy's judgements.

Conway's experience had come out at dinner, one evening in the cabin. It was the second day out of Madras, and Bolitho had told Noddall to fetch some of his special wine to make it an occasion. It was madeira, the most expensive he had ever purchased in his life. Conway hardly seemed to notice. Had he been offered cider, Bolitho doubted if he would have remarked on it. But he had become very drunk. Not slowly, or by accident, or even out of bravado. But with the firm determination of one who has been too often alone, and wishes to blur the realisation without delay.

It had all happened two years back in these same waters, when the French admiral, Suffren, had captured Trincomalee and very nearly toppled Britain's power in India for good. Conway had started to tell his story as if Bolitho had not been there. As if he just wanted to make sure he could still remember it.

He had been in command of an inshore squadron and employed on the protection of supply ships and military convoys. A sloop had brought news of a French squadron off the coast of Ceylon, and without ado he had set off to engage or cripple the enemy ships until help arrived to complete the victory.

Unbeknown to Conway, another sloop was already searching for him, sent by the Commander-in-Chief with new orders for the defence of Trincomalee. Conway reached the area where the French had been sighted, only to find them gone. Fishermen informed him they had sailed towards the very position he had just left, and with an anxiety which Bolitho could only imagine, he had put his ships about once again. He managed to find and bring the French rear to a brief but unsatisfactory action before losing contact in the night. When dawn united his small squadron again, Conway found the supply ships which he had been guarding had been captured or destroyed, and when the admiral's sloop contacted him, she, too, had fresh news to cancel all previous instructions. Trincomalee had been taken.

In the silence of the cabin Conway's voice had risen suddenly, like a dying man's cry.

'Another day and I've have brought them to grips! Not Suffren, nor any other admiral, could have got us out of Ceylon then!'

Bolitho looked up as the first working parties swarmed aloft for the constant round of repairs, splicing and stitching. It was all too plain. Conway could have emerged a hero. Instead, he was seized upon as a scapegoat. He must still have influence

somewhere, he thought. A governorship, no matter where it was, represented reward rather than a continuance of disgrace.

He halted in his stride, his mind suddenly very alert. But suppose there was a second, more devious reason? Another scapegoat perhaps?

He shook his head. What would be the point of that?

Bolitho turned as Allday walked along the quarterdeck towards him.

'Breakfast's ready, Captain.' He squinted his eyes towards the brig. 'Still with us then?' He smiled calmly at Bolitho's steady gaze. 'That's good.'

Bolitho watched him and wondered. It was the same look he had given when he had brought the gig for him at Madras.

'Thank you.' He added coldly, 'And what is amusing you now?'

Allday shrugged. 'Hard to put a name to it, Captain. It's a sort of glow I get inside sometimes.' He massaged his stomach. 'Comforting.'

Bolitho strode past him towards the hatch. His morning had been badly interrupted.

As he stepped into the cool shadows between decks he imagined Viola Raymond just a mile abeam in the brig. Her husband would be watching her. Mister Pigsliver would be watching both of them.

It was still hard to know what she really thought about him, or if she saw his attraction as some sort of game. There had been several visitors staying at the residence, soldiers, Company officials, but she had been determined to keep him to herself. It had not been anything she had actually said. It had been more of an excitement, a sense of recklessness. A dare which he found impossible to ignore.

She had no longer stayed at arms' length, and several times had allowed her hand to linger on his, even when Raymond had had been close by.

When he had made to return to the ship she had followed him on to a shaded terrace below the inner wall, and had held out a small box.

'For you.'

She had made light of it, but he had seen the hot eagerness in her eyes, the thrust of her breasts beneath her gown as he had opened the box.

It was a gold watch.

While he had turned it over in his hands she had gripped his arm and had whispered, 'I will always remember your face that day…'But she had not laughed that time. 'Do not refuse my little gift, please.'

He had taken her hand and kissed it, his mind grappling with what he was doing, seeing all the dangers, and yet dismissing them.

'It is as well you are sailing in another ship, Captain!' She had laughed and then had pulled his hand below her breast. 'See how my heart beats now! A week, a day even, and who can say what might occur!'

Bolitho walked past the sentry and into the cabin, his mind still hanging on to that moment.

Conway was spreading thick treacle on a biscuit, his wispy hair ruffling in the breeze from the stern windows. 'What time is it, Bolitho?'

'Time, sir?'

Conway eyed him wryly before taking a mouthful.

'I observed that you had your, er, new watch in your hand

and assumed that time was of some importance?'

Bolitho stared at him, the midshipman in front of his

captain again.

Then he grinned. 'It was a memory, sir, that was all.' Conway sniffed. 'That I can well believe!P

'It makes a fine sight, Thomas.'

Bolitho lowered the telescope and wiped his forehead with the back of one hand. The noon sun was merciless, but like most of the men around him, or standing high in the shrouds, he was momentarily unaware of it. Fifteen days out of Madras, and in spite of the wind's perversity, Undine had done well. Bolitho had made many landfalls in his time, but the sight of any shore after the hazards and doubts of navigation never failed to move him.

And now, just visible through the glare of sea and sky, he could see a smudge of green across the larboard side, and felt a fresh excitement and satisfaction. The narrowest part of the Malacca Strait. To starboard, hidden even to the masthead lookout, was the great scimitar-shaped island of Sumatra, poised as if to squeeze the strait shut and leave them sailing in a wilderness forever.

Herrick said, 'It seems a mite too narrow for comfort, sir.'

Bolitho smiled at him. 'It is wider than the English Channel even here, Thomas. The master assures me it is the safest course to take.'

'Perhaps.' Herrick shaded his eyes again. 'So that is Malacca, eh? It is hard to believe we have reached this far.'

'And in five days or so, with God's good grace, we'll anchor in Pendang Bay.' He paused, seeing the doubt in Herrick's blue eyes. 'Well, come on, Thomas, let us see that smile again!V

'Yes, sir, I know it is a good and fast passage, and I am well satisfied, as you are.' He fidgeted with his belt buckle. 'But I am more concerned with something else.'

'I see.'

Bolitho waited, knowing what was coming. He had seen the worry mounting in Herrick's face over the past fifteen days. Having to spend much of his time with the admiral, Bolitho had had little chance of enjoying Herrick's company. A walk together before dusk, a pipe of tobacco and a glass of wine.

Herrick said bluntly, 'Everyone knows about it, sir. It's not my place to speak on your behaviour, but…'

'But that is exactly what you are about to do?' Bolitho smiled gravely. 'It is all right, Thomas, I am not going to snap your head off!'

Herrick would not relent. 'It is no joke, sir. The lady is the wife of an important government official. If this sort of tale ever reached England, you would be in real danger, and that's the truth.'

'Thank you for your concern.' He glanced ahead where far beyond the gently spiralling bowsprit he saw Rosalind leading the way through the shallows and sandspits as she had no doubt done many times before. 'But it is something I do not wish to discuss. Even with you, if you are to disagree with everything I say.'

'Yes, sir, I'm sorry.' But Herrick added stubbornly, 'I can't stand by and see you in irons because of others, sir, not without trying at least to help.'

Bolitho gripped his arm. 'Then we will say no more of the matter, Thomas. Agreed?'

'Aye, Sir.' Herrick regarded him unhappily. 'If it is the way you want it.'

A seaman left the galley and darted down an open hatch below the forecastle. He was carrying a bucket and swab. Herrick said wearily, 'The surgeon is sick again. That man must be going to clean out his quarters.'

Bolitho looked at him. 'Drunk, I suppose?'

'It would seem so. But there is little to occupy him, sir, and our people have been remarkably free of illness.'

'That is just as well.' Bolitho felt unreasonably angry. 'What in hell's name am I to do with him?' 'He has a lot on his mind, sir.'

'So have many others.'

Herrick kept his voice even. 'He saw his young brother hanged for a crime of which he was later proved innocent. Even if he had been guilty it would still have been a terrible thing to watch.'

Bolitho swung round from the rail. 'How did you discover this?'

'At Madras. He came aboard drunk. I was a mite harsh with him and he started to rave about it. It is destroying him.'

'Thank you for telling me, even if it is somewhat late.'

Herrick did not flinch. 'You have been rather buoi, sir. I did not wish to trouble you.'

Bolitho sighed. 'I take your point. But in future I would like to hear everything. Most ship's surgeons are no more than butchers. Whitmarsh has been something more, but as a drunken sot he is a menace to everyone aboard. I am sorry for his brother, I for one can appreciate his feelings.' He looked steadily at Herrick. 'We will have to see what we can do to put things right for him, whether he likes it or not.'

Herrick nodded gravely. 'I agree, sir. The one afflicted is not always the best judge of his own malady.' He tried not to grin. 'If you see what I mean, sir.'

Bolitho slapped his shoulder. 'By God, Thomas, you go too far! I am not surprised your father sentyou to sea!'

Then he walked up the tilting deck to the weather side and left Herrick to supervise his watch.

So they knew all about it, did they? He touched the bulge in his breeches pocket. What would Herrick say if he saw the inscription inside the watch-guard, he wondered?

'We will wear ship directly, Mr. Herrick.' Bolitho strode to the compass and peered over Mudge's untidy shoulder. 'Steer nor'nor'-east.'

Herrick touched his hat. 'Aye, aye, sir.' He was equally formal.

It was five days since they had discussed Viola Raymond and the doctor's personal problem, and in that time Bolitho had never felt better. The ship had settled down to a regular, unhurried routine, and even the drills had passed off without complaint. At gunnery Undine's company still had a lot to learn, but at least they moved as a team and not a stumbling, confused rabble.

He raised his glass and studied the new shapes and patterns which parted sea from sky. Mudge had assured him that Pendang Bay lay some five miles distant, but it was difficult to accept that they had all but arrived at their destination. Over fifteen thousand miles. Another world. A different life.

'Hands wear ship! Man the braces there!'

Shoes scraped on the planking, and Bolitho turned to study Conway's reaction as he came on deck. It was early morning, and for a few seconds he thought he was imagining what he saw.

Conway was wearing his rear admiral's uniform, complete with laced cocked hat and sword. The latter he held like a pointer, as if unsure of his reception.

Bolitho said, 'Good morning, sir.'

He saw Herrick staring at them, his speaking trumpet in mid-air.

Conway joined him by the rail and raised his head to watch as the great yards creaked round in unison, while the straining seamen hauled and panted at the braces.

'Well?' His tone was wary. 'What do you think?'

'I think you look right for the occasion, sir.'

He saw the quick tightening of Conway's mouth, the lines on either side deepening still further. It was moving, if pathetic, to see Conway's gratitude, for that is what it was.

'It is a bit creased of course. I was merely trying it on to see if it required alteration.' He added sharply, 'If I am to be governor, I'll land as I intend to continue, damn their eyes!'

Midshipman Armitage was watching the brig as she trimmed her yards to take station off Undine's lee.

He remarked nervously, 'Thunderstorm, sir.'

But Bolitho was already snatching a telescope.

'Not this time, Mr. Armitage.' He looked at Herrick. 'Shorten sail, if you please, and then beat to quarters.'

He saw them all gaping at him. Like total strangers.

'That thunderstorm is of a kind I have come to respect!'