Command a King`s Ship

4. Death of a Ship

Ezekiel Mudge, Undine's sailing master, sat comfortably in one of Bolitho's chairs and peered at the chart which was laid across the desk. Without his hat he looked even older, but there was assurance in his voice as he said, 'This wind'll freshen in the next day or so, sir. You mark my words.' He tapped the chart with his own brass dividers which he had just fished from one of his pockets. 'For now, the nor'-east trades will suit us, and we'll be up to the Cape Verde Islands in a week, with any luck.' He sat back and studied Bolitho's reactions.

'Much as I thought.'

Bolitho walked to the stern windows and leaned his hands on the sill. It was hot, like wood from a fire, and beyond the frigate's small, frothing wake the sea was blinding in the glare. His shirt was open to the waist, and he could feel the sweat running down his shoulders, a dryness in his throat like dust.

It was almost noon, and Herrick would be waiting for the midshipmen to report to him on the quarterdeck to shoot the sun for their present position. A full week, but for a few hours, since they had sailed from Santa Cruz, and daily the sun had pinned them down, had defied the light airs which had tried to give them comfort. Today the wind had strengthened slightly, and Undine was ghosting along on the starboard tack with all sails drawing well.

There was little satisfaction in Bolitho's thoughts. For Undine had suffered her first casualty, a young seaman who had fallen overboard just as darkness had been closing in the previous day. Signalling his intention to the Spanish captain, Bolitho had gone about to begin a search for the luckless man. He had been working aloft on the main topsail yard, framed against the dying sunlight like a bronze statue. Had he been a raw recruit, or some heavy-handed landsman, it was likely he would still be alive. But he had been too confident, too careless perhaps for those last vital seconds as he had changed his position. One cry as he had fallen, and then his head had broken surface almost level with the mizzen, his arms beating at the sea as he tried to keep pace with the ship.

Davy had told him that the seaman was a good swimmer, and that fact had given some hope they might pick him up. They had lowered two boats, and for most of the night had searched in vain. Dawn had found them on course again, but to Bolitho's anger he had discovered that the Nervion had made no attempt to shorten sail or stay in company, and only in the last halfhour had the masthead reported sighting her topgallant sails once again.

The seaman's death had been an additional thorn to prod at his determination to weld the ship together. He had seen the Spanish officers watching their first attempts at gun drill through their telescopes, slapping their thighs with amusement whenever something went wrong, which was often. They themselves never drilled at anything. They seemed to treat the voyage as a form of entertainment.

Even Raymond had remarked, 'Why bother with gun drill, Captain? I do not know much about such matters, but surely your men find it irksome in this damned heat?'

He had replied, 'It is my responsibility, Mr. Raymond. I daresay it may be unnecessary for this mission, but I'll take no chances.'

Raymond's wife had kept aloof from all of them, and during the day spent much of her time under a small awning which Herrick's men had rigged for her and the maid right aft by the taffrail. Whenever they met, usually at meal times, she spoke only briefly, and then touched on personal matters which Bolitho barely understood. She appeared to enjoy hinting to her husband that he was too backward, that he lacked assurance when it was most needed. Once he had heard her say hotly, 'They ride right over you, James! How can I hold up my head in London when you suffer so many insults! Why, Margaret's husband was knighted for his services, and he is five years your junior!' And so on.

Now, as he turned to look at Mudge, he wondered what he and the others were thinking of their captain. Driving them all too hard, and for no purpose. Making them turn to and work at those stubborn guns while aboard the Spaniard the offwatch hands sprawled about sleeping or drinking wine like passengers.

As if reading his thoughts, Mudge said, 'Don't mind what some o' the buggers are sayin', sir. You're young, but you've a mind for the right thing, if you'll pardon the liberty.' He plucked at his great nose. 'I've seen many a cap'n taken all aback 'cause he worn't ready when the time came.' He chuckled, his small eyes vanishing into his wrinkles. 'An' as you well knows, sir, when things do go wrong it's no blamed use slappin' yer hip an' blastin' yer eye, an' blamin' all else.' He tugged a watch the size of a turnip from an inner pocket. 'I must away on deck, if you can spare me, sir. Mr. 'Errick likes me to be there when we compares our reckonin'.' It seemed to amuse him. 'As I said, sir, you stand firm. You don't 'ave to like a cap'n, but by God you've got to trust 'un!' He lumbered from the cabin, his shoes making the deck creak as he passed.

Bolitho sat down and tugged at his open shirt. It was a beginning.

Allday peered into the cabin. 'Can I send your servant in now, Captain?' He darted a glance at the table. 'He'll be wanting to get your meal laid.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Very well.'

It was stupid to let small things prey on his mind. But with Mudge it was different. Important. He had probably sailed with more captains than Bolitho had met in his whole life.

They both looked round as Midshipman Keen stood in the doorway. Already he was well tanned, and looked as healthy and fresh as a veteran sailor.

'Mr. Herrick's respects, sir. Masthead has just reported sighting another vessel ahead of the Spaniard. On a converging tack. Small. Maybe a brig.'

'I will come up.' Bolitho smiled. 'The voyage appears to agree with you, Mr. Keen.'

The youth grinned. 'Aye, sir. Though I fear my father sent me away for other reasons but my health.'

As he hurried away Allday murmured, 'Young devil, that one! Got some poor girl into trouble, I'll wager!'

Bolitho kept his face impassive. 'Not like you, of course, Allday.'

He strode out past the sentry and climbed quickly to the quarterdeck. Even though he was expecting it, the heat came down on him like the mouth of an open furnace. He felt the deck seams sticking to his shoes, the searing touch on his face and neck as he crossed to the weather side and looked along his command.

With her pale, lightweight canvas bent on, and her deck tilting to the wind, Undine was moving well. Spray leapt up and round the jib boom at irregular intervals, and far above his head he saw the pendant streaming abeam like a thin whip.

Mudge and Herrick were muttering together, their sextants gleaming in the sunlight like gold, while two midshipmen, Armitage and Penn, compared notes, their faces screwed in worried concentration.

Soames was by the quarterdeck rail and turned as Bolitho asked, 'About this newcomer. What is she, do you reckon?'

Soames looked crushed with the heat, his hair matted to his forehead, as if he had been swimming.

'Some trader, I expect, sir.' He did not sound as if he cared. 'Maybe she intends to ask the Spaniard for her position.' He scowled. 'Not that they'll know much!'

Bolitho took a glass from the rack and climbed into the mizzen shrouds. Moving it gradually he soon found the Nervion, far ahead on the larboard bow, a picture of beauty under her great spread of canvas, her hull gleaming in the sun like metal. He trained the glass further to starboard and then held it steady on the other vessel. Almost hidden in heat haze, but he could see the tan-coloured sails well enough, the uneven outline of her rig. Square on the fore, fore-and-aft on the mainmast. He felt vaguely angry.

'A brigantine, Mr. Soames.'

'Aye, sir.'

Bolitho looked at him and then climbed back to the deck. 'In future, I want a full report of each sighting, no matter how trivial it might appear at the time.'

Soames tightened his jaw. 'Sir.'

Herrick called, 'It was my fault, sir. I should have told Mr. Keen to pass a full description to you.'

Bolitho walked aft. 'Mr. Soames has the watch, I believe.'

Herrick followed him. 'Well, yes, sir.'

Bolitho saw the two helmsmen stiffen as he moved to the compass. The card was steady enough. South by west, and with plenty of sea room. The African coast lay somewhere across the larboard beam, over thirty leagues distant. There was nothing on their ocean but the three ships. Coincidence? A need to make contact perhaps?

Soames's indifference pricked at his mind like a burr and lie snapped, 'Make certain our watchkeepers know what they are about, Mr. Herrick.' He saw Keen leaning against the nettings. 'Send him aloft with a glass. An untried eye might tell us more.'

Mudge ambled towards him and said gruffly, 'Near as makes no difference, sir. Cape Blanco should be abeam now.' He rubbed his chin. 'The most westerly point o' that savage continent. An' quite close enough, if you ask me!'

His chest went up and down to a small wheezing accompaniment. It was as near as he ever got to laughing.

Keen's voice came down from the masthead. 'Deck there! Brigantine is still closing the Nervionl'

Herrick cupped his hands. 'Does she show any colours?'

'None, sir!'

Herrick clambered into the shrouds with his own telescope. After a while he called, 'The Dons don't seem worried, sir.'

Mudge growled. "Artily likely to be bothered about that little pot o' paint, is they?'

Bolitho said, 'Bring her up a point, Mr. Mudge. It would be best if we regain company with our companion.'

He turned as a voice asked, 'Are you troubled, Captain?'

Mrs. Raymond was standing by the trunk of the mizzen mast, her face shadowed by a great straw hat which she had brought from Teneriffe.

He shook his head. 'Merely curious, ma'am.' In his crumpled shirt and breeches he felt suddenly clumsy. 'I'm sorry there is not more to amuse you during the day.'

She smiled. 'Things may yet improve.'

'Deck there!' Keen's voice made them all look up. 'The other vessel is going about, sir!'

Herrick called, 'He's right. The brigantine's going to cross clean over the Don's bows!' He turned, grinning broadly. 'That'll make 'em hop about!'

The grin vanished as a dull bang echoed and re-echoed over the water.

Keen yelled, 'She's fired on the Nervion!' A second bang reached the quarterdeck and he cried again, 'And another!' He was almost screaming with excitement. 'He's put a ball through her forecourse!'

Bolitho ran to the shrouds and joined Herrick. 'Let me see.'

He took the big glass and trained it on the two ships. The brigantine's shape had shortened, and she was presenting her stern to him even as she idled across the frigate's broader outline. Even at such a distance it was possible to see the confusion aboard the Spanish frigate, the glint of sunlight on weapons as her company ran to quarters.

Herrick said hoarsely, 'That brigantine's master must be mad. No one but a crazy man would cross swords with a frigate!'

Bolitho did not reply. He was straining his eye to watch the little drama framed in his lens. The brigantine had fired two shots, one of which, if not both, had scored a mark. Now she was tacking jauntily away, and it was evident, as the _Nervion began to spread more sail, that Capitan Triarte intended to give chase.

He said, 'Nervion'll be up to her within the hour. They're both changing tack now.'

'Perhaps that fool imagined Nervion was a fat merchantman, eh?' Davy had arrived on deck. 'But no, it is not possible.'

Herrick followed Bolitho down from the shrouds and watched him dubiously.

'Shall we join in the chase, sir?'

Mudge almost pushed him aside as he barked, 'Chase be damned, I say!'

They looked at him.

'We must stop that mad Don, sir'!' He waved his big hand across the nettings. 'Off Cape Blanco, sir, there's a powerful great reef, an' it runs near on a 'undred miles to seaward. Nervion's in risk now, but if 'er master brings 'er up another point he'll be across that damned reef afore 'e knows it!'

Bolitho stared at him. 'Get the royals on her, Mr. Herrick! Lively now!' He walked quickly to the helm. 'We must make more speed.'

Soames called, 'The Don's come up another point by the look of her, sir!'

Mudge was already squinting at the compass bowl. 'Jesus! 'E's steerin' sou'sou'-east!' He looked at Bolitho imploringly. 'We'll never catch 'im in time!'

Bolitho paced to the quarterdeck rail and back again. Weariness, the scorching heat, all was forgotten but that distant pyramid of white sails, with the smaller, will-o'-the-wisp brigantine dancing ahead. Mad? A confused pirate? It made no difference now.

He snapped, 'Clear away a bow chaser, Mr. Herrick. We will endeavour to distract the Nervion'

Herrick was peering aloft, shading his eyes with his speaking trumpet as the topmen set the additional sails.

'Aye, aye, sir!' He yelled, 'Fetch Mr. Tapril!'

But the gunner was already forward, supervising the crew of a long nine-pounder.

Bolitho said sharply, 'Nervion's pulled over still further, Mr. Mudge.' He could not hide the anguish in his voice.

How could it be happening? The sea so huge, so empty. And yet, the reef was there. He had heard of it before from men who had passed this way. Many good ships had foundered on its hard spine.

'Larboard gun ready, sir!'

'Fire!'

It crashed out, the brown smoke drifting downwind and dispersing long before the telltale waterspout lifted like a feather far astern of the other frigate.

'Another. Keep firing.' He looked at Mudge. 'Bring her up a point.'

Mudge protested, 'I'll not be responsible, sir.'

'No. I will.'

He strode forward to the rail again, his shirt flapping open across his chest, yet feeling no benefit from the wind. When he looked up he saw the sails drawing firmly, as would the

Spaniard's. With such power to drive her, she would disembowel herself on the reef, unless Triarte acted, and at once.

The deck shook as another ball whined and ricocheted across the blue water.

Bolitho yelled, 'Masthead! What are they doing?'

The lookout replied, his rougher voice leaving no doubt in Bolitho's mind, 'Th' Dons is gainin', sir! They're runnin' out their guns right this moment!'

Maybe the Spaniards had heard the bow chaser, even observed a fall of shot, but imagined the stupid British were still exercising gunnery. Or perhaps they believed Undine was so furious at missing the chase that Bolitho was firing at this impossible range merely to take the edge off his temper..

He heard himself ask, 'How long, Mr. Mudge?'

Mudge replied thickly, 'She should 'ave struck, sir. That damned brigantine must 'ave crossed the reef in safety. She'll draw little enough, I'm thinkin'.'

Bolitho stared at him. 'But if she got through, then perhaps…'

The master shook his head. 'No chance, sir.'

A great yell came from the watching seamen in the bows. When Bolitho swung round he stared with horror as the Spanish frigate lifted, drove forward again and then slewed round on the hidden reef. Over and around her all her masts and yards, the flailing sails and rigging splashed and cascaded in a chaos which was terrible to see. So great was the impact that she had presented her larboard side to the reef, and through the open gunports the water must now be surging in a triumphant flood, while men trapped in the tangled rigging and broken spars floundered in terror, or were being crushed by the cannon as they tore from their lashings.

The brigantine had changed tack. She was not even pausing to watch the full extent of her work.

Bolitho said harshly, 'Shorten sail, Mr. Herrick. We will heave-to presently and get every boat in the water. We must do all we can to save them.'

He saw some of the men by the bow chasers pointing and chattering as Nervion yawed still further on her side, spilling more broken timber and shattered planking into the swell above the reef.

'And get those hands to work, Mr. Herrick!' He swung away. 'I'll not have them watch others drown, as if it was a day's amusement!'

He made himself cross the deck once more, and when he looked towards the reef he almost expected to see Nervion's proud silhouette standing before the wind. That this was a bad dream. A nightmare.

But why? Why? The question seemed to mock him. To hammer at his brain. How could it have happened?

'I'd not venture any closer, sir.' Mudge was watching him grimly. 'If we gets a shift of wind we could still run foul of the reef.'

Bolitho nodded heavily. 'I agree.' He looked away. 'And thank you.'

Mudge said quietly, 'It worn't your fault. You done all you could.'

'Heave to, Mr. Herrick.' He could barely keep his voice level. 'Have the boats swayed out.'

Soarnes remarked, 'A long pull, sir. Near on three miles.'

Bolitho did not even hear him. He was seeing the little brigantine. It was no coincidence. No rash act of the moment.

Mudge said, 'There'll not be many, sir.' He fumbled in his pockets. 'There's sharks a'plenty in these waters.'

As Undine came up into the wind, her remaining sails thundering and flapping noisily in protest, the boats were lowered with surprisingly little delay. It was as if something had reached out across the three miles of smiling water to touch each and every one of them. A plea for help, a cry of warning, it was difficult to define. But as the first boat shoved off from the side, and the seamen at the oars picked up the stroke, Bolitho saw that their faces were grim and suddenly determined. As he had not seen them before.

Allday said, 'I'll take the gig, if I may, Captain.'

'Yes.' Their eyes met. 'Do what you can.'

'I will.'

Then he was gone, yelling for his men.

'Warn the surgeon to be prepared, Mr. Herrick.' He saw the quick exchange of glances and added coldly, 'And if he is the worse for drink I will have him flogged.'

All the boats were away now, while far beyond their busy oars he could see the remains of the other ship writhing on the invisible reef, the great foresail with its red and gold crucifix still floating around the wreckage like a beautiful shroud.

Bolitho began to pace up and down below the nettings, his hands behind him, his body swaying to the untidy motion as the ship rolled in each undulating trough.

He heard Raymond say, 'Captain Triarte was wrong. He made a stupid error of judgement.'

He paused and looked at him. 'He has paid for it, Mr. Raymond!'

Raymond saw the contempt in Bolitho's grey eyes and walked away. 'I was only saying…' But nobody looked at him.

Herrick watched Bolitho pacing back and forth and wished he could say something to ease his despair. But better than most, he knew that at such moments Bolitho was the only one who could help himself.

Hours later, as the boats pulled wearily back towards their ship, Bolitho was still on deck, his shirt dark with sweat, his mind aching from his deliberations.

Herrick reported, 'No more than forty survivors, sir. Some are in a bad way, I fear.' He saw the question in Bolitho's eyes and nodded. 'The surgeon's ready, sir. I saw to that.'

Bolitho walked slowly to the nettings and craned over to watch the first boat, the gig, as it hooked on to the chains. One man, cradled against Allday's legs, and held firmly by two seamen, was shrieking like a tortured woman. A shark had taken a piece from his shoulder big enough to thrust a round-shot through. He turned away, sickened.

'In God's name, Thomas, send more hands to help those poor devils.'

Herrick said, 'It is being done, sir.'

Bolitho looked up at the flapping ensign at the gaff. 'By heaven, if this is how we behave in peace, then I would we were at war.'

He watched some of the oarsmen clambering aboard. Hands blistered, backs and faces raw from the sun, they said very little as they went below.

Perhaps what they had seen at the reef had taught them more than drill, and would act as a warning to all of them. He began to pace again. And to me.

Bolitho strode into the cabin and paused below the skylight. It was almost sunset, and the open stern windows shone in the dying glare like burnished copper. Within the cabin the shadows bobbed this way and that to the frigate's steady motion and the swinging deckhead lanterns, and he watched the little group by the windows with something like disbelief.

Don Luis Puigserver sat awkwardly on the bench seat, one arm in a sling, his chest and ribs encased in bandages. When he had been dragged aboard with the other survivors a few hours earlier he had passed unrecognised until a gasping Spanish lieutenant, the only one of 1\Tervion's officers to be rescued, had managed to explain the truth. Then, Bolitho had thought it was too late. The thickset Spaniard had been unconscious and covered with angry scars and bruises. The fact he had survived that long had been hard to accept when Bolitho had recalled the Nervion's final destruction. Of the forty or so to reach Undine's protection, ten had already died, and several of the remainder were in a bad state. Crushed under falling spars, half drowned by the inrush of water, the Nervion's original complement of two hundred and seventy men had been totally unprepared for the horror which had awaited them on the reef. While their vessel had foundered and smashed herself to pieces, the surging waters had suddenly erupted in a maelstrom of dashing shapes as the sharks had hurried to the attack. Terrified men had seen their companions torn to bloody remnants, when moments before they had been setting more sail and manning their guns to run down the impudent brigantine.

When Undine's boats had arrived it had been nearly over. A few men had swum desperately back to the capsized frigate, only to be dragged down as she had slid from the reef for her last plunge. Others had clung to floating spars and upturned boats and had watched in terror as one by one their grey attackers had plucked them screaming into the churned, scarlet water.

And now, Puigserver was sitting here in the cabin, his face almost composed as he sipped steadily from a goblet of wine. He was naked to the waist, and Bolitho could see some extent of the bruising on his body, evidence of his will to survive.

He said quietly, 'I am grateful that you are in better spirits, Ser7or.'

The Spaniard made to grin, but winced at the effort. He waved the surgeon and one of his assistants aside and asked, 'My men? How many?'

Bolitho looked past him towards the horizon. A thread of copper, fading even as he watched.

'Thirty.' He shrugged. 'Many were badly mauled.'

Puigserver took another swallow. 'It was terrible to behold.' His dark eyes hardened. 'Capitan Triarte was so enraged by that other ship's attack that he went after her like a man possessed. He was too hot-blooded. Not like you.'

Bolitho smiled gravely. Not likeyon. But suppose he had not had a sailing master like Mudge? One so experienced, so travelled as to feel the reef's danger like another of his stored memories. It was likely Undine might have shared the Spaniard's fate. It made him chill, despite the lifeless air in the cabin.

Somewhere beyond the bulkhead a man screamed. A thin, long-drawn sound which stopped abruptly as if a door had been slammed on it.

Whitmarsh wiped his hands on his apron and straightened his back, his head bowed beneath the beams.

He said, 'Don Puigserver will be comfortable for a while, sir. I would like to return to my other charges.' He was sweating very badly, and a muscle at one corner of his face twitched uncontrollably.

Bolitho nodded. 'Thank you. Please inform me of any help you might require.'

The surgeon touched the Spaniard's bandages vaguely. 'God's help perhaps.' He gave a wry smile. 'Out here, we have little else.'

As he left with his assistant Puigserver murmured, 'A man with an inner torment, Capitan.' He grimaced. 'But a gentle one for his trade.'

Allday was folding up a towel and some unused dressings and said, 'Mr. Raymond was asking to see you, Captain.' He frowned. 'I told him you had given orders that the cabin was to be kept for the surgeon until his work was done with Don Puig-' he coughed, '… the Spanish gentleman.'

'What did he want?'

Bolitho was so weary he hardly cared. He had seen little of Raymond since the survivors had been brought aboard, and had heard he had been in the wardroom.

Allday replied, 'He was wishing to make a complaint, Captain. His wife took a displeasure at you asking her to help tend the injured.' He frowned again. 'I told him you had more important work to do.' He picked up his things and walked to the door.

Puigserver leaned back and closed his eyes. Without the others present he seemed willing to reveal the pain he was really enduring.

He said, 'Your All-day is a remarkable fellow, eh? With a few hundred of his kind I might think again about a campaign in the South Americas.'

Bolitho sighed. 'He worries too much.'

Puigserver opened his eyes and smiled. 'He seems to think you are worth worrying about, Capitan.'

He leaned forward, his face suddenly intense. 'But before Raymond and the others come amongst us, I must speak. I want your opinion about the wreck. I need it.'

Bolitho walked to the bulkhead and touched the sword with his fingers.

He said, 'I have thought of little else, Senor. At first I believed the brigantine to be a pirate, her captain so confused or so in dread of his crew as to need a battle to keep them together. But I cannot believe it in my heart. Someone knew of our intentions.'

The Spaniard watched him intently. 'The French perhaps?'

'Maybe. If their government is so concerned at our movements it must mean that when they sank the Fortunate they did indeed capture her despatches intact. It would have to be something really vital to play such a dangerous game.'

Puigserver reached for the wine bottle. 'A game which did work.'

'Then you, too, are of the same mind, Senor?' He watched the man's outline, paler now against the darkened windows.

He did not reply directly. 'if, and I am only saying if, this someone intended such a course of action, he will have known we were two ships in company.' He paused and then said sharply, 'A reaction, Capitan! Quickly!'

Bolitho said, 'It would make no difference. He would realise that this is a combined mission. One ship without the other makes further progress impossible, and…

Puigserver was banging his hip with the goblet, wine slopping over his leg like blood.

He shouted excitedly, 'And? Go on, Capitan! And what?'

Bolitho looked away and replied firmly, 'I must return either to England or to Teneriffe and await further orders.'

When he looked again at the Spaniard he saw he was slumped back on the seat, his square features strained, his chest heaving as if from a fight.

Puigserver said thickly, 'When you came to Santa Cruz, I knew you were a man of thoughts and not merely of words.' He shook his head. 'Let me finish. This man, these creatures, whoever they are, who would let my people die so horribly, want you to turn back!'

Bolitho watched him, fascinated, awed by his strength. 'Without you being here, Senor.' He looked away. 'I would have had no option.'

'Exactly, Capitan.'

He peered at Bolitho over the rim of the goblet, his eyes shining in the lantern light like tawny stones.

Bolitho added, 'By the time I returned to England, and new plans were made and agreed upon, something might have happened in the East Indies or elsewhere which we could not control.'

'Give me your hand, Capitan.' He groped forward, his breathing sharper. 'In a moment I will sleep. It has been a wretched day, but far worse for many others.'

Bolitho took his hand, suddenly moved by Puigserver's obvious sincerity.

The latter asked slowly, 'How many have you in this little ship?'

Bolitho pictured the riffraff brought aboard at Spithead. The ragged men from the prison hulks, the smartly-dressed ones fleeing from some crime or other in London. The gun captain with only one hand. All of them.

He said, 'They have the makings, Senor. Two hundred, all told, including my marines.' He smiled, if only to break the tension. 'And I will sign on those of your men who have survived, if I may?'

Puigserver did not seem to hear. But his grip was like iron as he said, 'Two hundred, eh?'

He nodded grimly. 'It will be sufficient.'

Bolitho watched him. 'We go on, Senor?'

'You are ey Capitan now. What do you say?'

Bolitho smiled. 'But you know already, Senor.'

Puigserver gave a great sigh. 'If you will send that fool Raymond in to me, and your clerk, I will put my seal on this new undertaking.' His voice hardened. 'Today I saw and heard many men die in fear and horror. Whatever made that foul deed necessary, I intend to set the record right. And when I do, Capitan, I will make it a reckoning which our enemies will long remember.'

There was a tap at the door and Midshipman Armitage stood outlined by the swinging lantern in the passageway.

'Mr. Herrick's respects, sir. The wind's freshening from the nor'-east.' He faltered, like a child repeating a lesson to his tutor.

'I will come up directly.'

Bolitho thought suddenly of Mudge, how he had prophesied a better wind. He would be up there with Herrick, waiting for the night's orders. Armitage's message told him all that and more. Whatever was decided now might settle the fate of the ship and every man aboard.

He looked at Puigserver. 'It is settled then, Senor?'

'Yes, Capitan.' He was getting more drowsy. 'You can leave me now. And send Raymond before I sleep like some drunken goatherd.'

Bolitho followed the midshipman from his cabin, noting how stiffly the sentry at the door was holding his musket. He had probably been listening, and by tonight it would be all over the ship. Not merely a voyage to display the Navy's reach in foreign parts, but one with a real prospect of danger. He smiled grimly as he reached the quarterdeck ladder. It might make gun drill less irksome for them in future.

He found Herrick and Mudge near the helm, the master with a shaded lantern held over his slate, upon which he made his surprisingly neat calculations.

Bolitho walked up the weather side, looking aloft at the bulging canvas, hearing the sea creaming along the hull like water in a mill sluice.

Then he returned to where they were waiting and said, 'You may shorten sail for the night, Mr. Herrick. Tomorrow you can sign on any of the Nervion's people you find suitable.' He paused as another frantic cry floated up from the orlop deck. 'Though I fear it may not be many.'

Herrick asked, 'We are not going about then, sir?'

Mudge exclaimed, 'An' a good thing, too, if I may say so, sir.' He rubbed his bulging rump with one hand. 'Me rheumatism will sheer off when we gets to a 'otter climate.'

Bolitho looked at Herrick. 'We go forward, Thomas. To finish what was begun back there on the reef.'

Herrick seemed satisfied. 'I'm for that.'

He made to walk to the rail where a bosun's mate awaited his orders, but Bolitho stopped him, saying, 'From this night on, Thomas, we must keep our wits about us. No unnecessary pauses for fresh water if prying eyes are nearby. We will ration every drop if necessary, and stand or fall by our own resources. But we must stay clear of the land where an enemy might betray our course or intentions. If, as I now believe, someone is working against us, we must use his methods against him. Gain ourselves time by every ruse we can invent.'

Herrick nodded. 'That makes good sense, sir.'

'Then I hope it may seem so to our people.' He walked to the weather side. 'You may carry on now.'

Herrick turned away. 'Call the hands. We will shorten sail.'

As the shouts echoed between decks and the seamen came dashing on to the gangways, Herrick said, 'I almost forgot, sir. Mrs. Raymond is worried about her accommodation.'

'It is arranged.' He paused and watched the hands scampering to the shrouds. 'Don Puigserver will sleep in the main cabin. Mrs. Raymond can retain her own cot with the maid.'

Herrick sounded cautious. 'I doubt she will like that, sir.'

Bolitho continued his pacing. 'Then she may say so, Mr. Herrick. And when she does I will explain what I think of a woman so pampered she will not lift a finger to help a dying man!'

A master's mate strode along the gangway. 'All mustered, sir!'

Herrick was still watching the pacing figure, the open white shirt clearly etched against the nettings and the sea beyond. In the next few weeks Undine would get much smaller, he thought.

'Very well, Mr. Fowlar. Get the to'gan's'ls off her. If the weather freshens up we may have to reef tops'ls before the night's done.'

Old Mudge rubbed his aching back. 'The weather is a fool!' But nobody heeded him.

Bolitho saw the topmen sliding down to the deck, with barely a word to each other as they were checked again by their petty officers. Around the vibrating bowsprit the spindrift rode in the wind like pale arrows, and high above the deck he saw the topsails hardening and puffing out their bellies to a combined chorus of creaking rigging and blocks.

'Dismiss the watch below.' Herrick's voice was as usual. He took Bolitho's word as he would a rope to save himself from drowning.

In the darkness Bolitho smiled. Perhaps it was better to be so.

In the cabin Don Puigserver sat at the desk and watched the clerk's quill scraping across his written orders. Raymond was leaning against the quarter windows, his face expressionless as he peered into the darkness

Then across his shoulder he said, 'It is a great responsibility, Don Puigserver. I am not sure I can advise in its favour.'

The Spaniard leaned painfully against the chair-back and listened to the regular footsteps across the deck overhead. Up and down.

'It is not mine alone, Senor Raymond. I am in good company, believe me.'

Above and around them the Undine moved and murmured in time with sea and wind. Right forward below the bowsprit the golden nymph stared unwinkingly at the darkened horizon. Decision and destiny, triumph and disappointment meant nothing to her. She had the ocean, and that was life itself.