Command a King`s Ship

12. In for a Blow

Rear Admiral Beves Conway made a dark silhouette against the window's colourful rectangle, but Bolitho could recognise his impatience even though his back was turned. Beyond him, still and peaceful above their own varying shadows, the anchored ships shone in the late sunlight.

Undine lay apart from the heavy transport and the little brig Rosalind, and it was impossible to see the damage she had received from the French frigate's eighteen-pounders. Occasionally, when there was a lull in the voices, Bolitho heard the echoes of thudding hammers, the rasp of saws to show that only distance made Undine's trim appearance a lie.

The air in the big, timbered room was cool after the open bay, and although the various figures sitting around it looked as if they had barely moved since his last visit, Bolitho noticed that the place itself had changed considerably in so short a time. More furniture, some rugs, and a whole array of gleaming decanters and glasses made it look lived in, rather than a fortress under siege.

Don Luis Puigserver sat on a brass-bound chest, sipping wine, while James Raymond, tight-lipped and unsmiling, faced him across a littered table. The brig's master, Captain Vega of the original garrison and two red-coated soldiers from the Bedford made up the rest of the gathering. One of the latter, a heavy-faced man introduced briefly as Major Frederick Jardine, and who commanded the soldiers brought from Madras, Bolitho instantly recognised as the one he had seen there when he had been escorting Viola Raymond. He had a fat, belligerent face, and his small, piggy eyes had hardly left Bolitho since he had arrived. The other soldier, a Captain Strype, was his second-in-command, and a complete opposite. Tall and stickthin, with a black moustache, he spoke with a lisp, and had a short, barking laugh. He was probably rather stupid, Bolitho thought, but was obviously much in awe of his superior.

Conway said sharply, 'Naturally I am very distressed to learn of Argus's attack, Captain Bolitho.'

Raymond said, 'Unwarranted, too.'

Conway turned lightly on his heels, his hair yellow in the sunlight. 'But not unexpected, Raymond. Not by me, that is. It was obvious from the beginning that the French were implicated. They have to be, for their own interest's sake. We are lucky that Bedford's arrival put paid to their intention to take Captain Bolitho's ship from him.' He shifted his gaze, his tone incisive. 'And he would have done so, eh?'

Bolitho felt all their eyes on him. 'I believe so, sir.'

Conway bobbed his head. 'Good. Good, Bolitho. I wanted the truth and, believe me, I know what it cost you.'

Raymond tried again to put his point of view. 'I think, sir, that we should despatch the brig to Madras without delay. Sir Montagu Strang may consider that further operations here might be imprudent.' He ignored Conway's stiffening shoulders. 'Later, perhaps, some new plan may be conceived. Until then, we must take this affair as a warning.'

Conway rasped, 'A warning? Do you imagine that for one instant I will let some damned pirate work off his wrath on me and so imperil the very task I have just undertaken?' He stepped closer. 'Well, do you?'

Raymond paled but replied stubbornly, 'I am here on behalf of the government, sir. As an adviser. The French must realise that you are out-manoeuvred before you have begun. If this Muljadi is allowed to plunder and ravage these waters, then there is no chance of using Pendang Bay as a new and flourishstation for trade. No shipping master would risk it.' He turned' towards the brig's captain. 'Is that not so?'

The man nodded glumly. 'We need more protection, sir.'

Raymond sounded triumphant. 'Exactly! Which is what the French intend. If we ask for more men-of-war to patrol the area, they, too, will even the balance by sending additional consorts for Argus.'

Conway stared at him. 'Then so be it!'

'No, sir. It would mean war. Argus is protected by her letter of marque. Muljadi is protected by his own power and backed up by his French friends. There are a thousand Muljadis in the Indies, some who are genuine rulers, and some who reign over fewer people than Captain Bolitho does at present. We all want to extend our trade and influence, to China -if need be, and beyond. There are riches we can only dream of, lands where people have never heard of King George, or Louis either, for that matter.'

Bolitho said quietly, 'You are advising the governor to admit defeat, sir. Do I understand correctly?'

Raymond smiled calmly. 'As you have done, eh?'

Bolitho walked to the window and stared down at his ship. It gave him time. Allowed the sudden blinding anger to depart. In the lower enclosure he saw Midshipman Keen sitting with one of the ship's boys rescued from the Nervion. He had been detailed to look after Keen, to assist him, if only by making him rest. It was still not possible to be sure he would recover from his wound. Was it really only the day before yesterday? The smoke and noise, the aftermath of hard, heavy work to put their ship to rights. The sea-burials, each corpse heavily weighted to ensure it went straight down to avoid the prowling sharks.

He said, 'I take it, Mr. Raymond, you have never borne arms for your country?' He did not wait for an answer. 'Had you ever worn the King's coat you would have known that one defeat, if admitted, is not the end of a battle.'

He heard Captain Strype say in his thin voice, 'By Gad, that's not much of an argument, what?'

Bolitho turned swiftly, his tone hard. 'I was addressing Mr. Raymond, sir, not some damned mercenary who because of his rank imagines himself to be a solider!'

Don Puigserver brought his glass down to the table with a loud bang. 'Gentlemen! I know that Vega and I are no longer involved here. I also believe that both Senor Raymond and the governor,' he bowed slightly to Conway, 'are both right. With Muljadi free to use his ruthless power and so influence other friendly rulers in the Indies, you can make no advances. With more military strength you would only excite a hostile reaction and further French involvement.' He paused and gave an eloquent shrug. 'Which I doubt my own country could ignore.'

Bolitho nodded towards him, grateful for his interruption. Another second and he knew he would have said too much, and Conway, even had he wanted to, would have been unable to help him.

Major Jardine cleared his throat. 'Despite what the gallant captain has said,' he did not look at Bolitho, 'I believe my force will be sufficient. I have two hundred sepoys and a mule battery. All experienced.' He had a thick voice, and sweated badly, despite the room's comparative coolness.

Puigserver regarded him gravely. 'If Nervion had been here, none of this could have happened. An additional ship, the men, and the showing of our flag to -the Argus would certainly have delayed, if not defeated, Muljadi's intentions.'

Conway said, 'But she is not here. Only the Undine.'

Jardine said thickly, 'And she does not seem to have acquitted herself too well.' He turned to Bolitho, his small eyes like steel. 'Even as a mere soldier, a mercenary, I can see that neither of the schooners lies at anchor, and as far as we know, the Argus still flies Muljadi's colours. What sayyou, Captain?'

Bolitho faced him. 'The first schooner turned turtle and sank. The other took advantage of Argus's presence to escape.' He could feel little emotion now. Words and taunts were inevitable. It was better to get it over with. Clear the air.

'Indeed, yes.' Jardine leaned back in his chair, his polished boots squeaking. 'And then the Bedford arrived to give you help. The poor, much-maligned Company's own ship was the one to drive Argus away.'

'Had you been there, Major '

Jardine spread his plump hands. 'But I was not, sir. I am a soldier. I am supposed to be able to leave such matters to our Navy, surely?'

Conway said coldly, 'I have heard enough. I will brook no more hostility here. Not from you, Bolitho,' he looked at Jardine, 'nor from anyone else!' He thrust his hands behind him, making his sloping shoulders droop even further. 'Had Undine been beaten in open combat I would have removed Captain Bolitho from command. He knows that well enough, and so should the rest of you. The Navy is too often expected to fight greater forces than itself possesses, and has been so successful in the past that victory against ridiculous odds is now taken for granted. By the empty-minded men of politics, and those who care more for quick profit than lasting security! As it is, Captain Bolitho will be required to sail without further delay, other than completing necessary repairs, for Muljadi's own territory in the strait.' He looked at Bolitho calmly. 'You will make contact with Argus's captain, under flag of truce, and convey a message which I will give you.'

Raymond said quickly, 'May I suggest, plead with you, sir, that you allow Don Puigserver to go with Captain Bolitho? He has the right to demand the freedom of Spain's last governor here, Colonel Pastor. He could explain his displeasure at such-'

Conway shouted, his voice bounding back from the timbered walls. 'I have been appointed governor, Raymond! I don't need your apron strings, nor do I need the help of the King of Spain, d'you understand?'

Raymond's defiance wilted under Conway's sudden anger. He said nothing.

Puigserver stood up and walked slowly towards the door, followed gratefully by Capitan Vega.

He paused and looked back at them, his eyes very dark. 'I would have accompanied Capitan Bolitho with pleasure, of course.' He smiled briefly. 'I have a great admiration for his courage, his…' he searched for the word, '… his integrity. But I have much to do. My task is to embark the remaining Spanish soldiers and their dependents on to the Bedford.' He glanced at Conway, his smile fading. 'As you remarked this morning, the flag of Spain no longer has authority here.'

Bolitho watched him stride out. He had sensed the tension as soon as he had arrived. It could not have been easy for Conway. Fretting over lack of news, waiting for supplies and troops to arrive. But he was wrong to antagonise Puigserver. If things went badly here, Conway would need all the references he could get, even in Spain.

Jardine remarked vaguely, 'I'd better be off then. Settle the sepoy s in their company lines, and replace the marines as sentries and pickets.'

No thanks, no admiration for what Captain Bellairs and his marines had achieved in so short a time. Bolitho glanced through the window again. The encroaching brush and creeper cleared away, and corpses buried. The place used as a hospital had been cleaned and painted, and even Whitmarsh had been full of praise for their efforts.

Conway nodded. 'I will meet you here after sunset, Major.'

Bolitho waited until the two soldiers had left the room and then said, 'I am sorry about my outburst, sir. But I have had my bellyful of his kind.'

Conway grunted. 'Perhaps. But you will hold your tongue in future. If Jardine commanded only a handful of crippled beggars I would say the same. I need every man I can get.'

Raymond stood up and yawned. 'This damned heat. I think I'll take a nap before dinner.'

He, too, walked out. He did not look at Bolitho.

Conway said softly, 'He disliked your remark about bearing arms, you know.' He chuckled. 'His wife has been singing the praises of sea-officers in general during your absence, and you in particular.' He frowned. 'I seem to be plagued with those intent on disruption.'

'Is she well, sir?' He could not face him. 'I have not seen her since my return.'

'She's been assisting that sot of a surgeon with the sick and wounded.' His eyebrows mounted. 'Surprised? By God, Bolitho, you've much to learn about women!' He nodded sharply. 'But you'll see, all in good time.'

Bolitho recalled her refusal to help tend the injured aboard Undine after Puigserver had been carried aboard more dead than alive. And her reasons? He sighed. Perhaps Puigserver and Conway were both right. He had much to learn.

He replied, 'I will return to the ship, sir. There will be a lot to arrange.'

'Yes.' Conway watched him thoughtfully. 'And remember., When you meet Argus's captain, keep your personal feelings to yourself. He is doing his own work as best he can. You would do the same if so ordered. If Le Chaumareys is still in command, and not killed by one of your guns, he will be eager to meet you also. He is older than you, but I think you may have something in common.' His lines deepened as he added dryly, 'A disrespect for your superiors, if nothing else!'

Bolitho picked up his hat. You could never be sure about Conway. Where the warmth ended and the steel began.

Conway said, 'Please come ashore tonight and dine with the rest of…' he waved one hand around the room, '… the castaways.'

Bolitho recognised the dismissal and walked from the room.

Beyond the palisades the jungle was as thick and as overpowering as ever, and yet already the place felt familiar, lasting.

He found Allday lounging in the shade below the main entrance. He was watching some native women who were washing clothes in a large wooden trough. They were small and olive-skinned, and although well covered, displayed supple charm which Allday apparently admired greatly.

He straightened his back and said, 'All done, Captain?' He saw Bolitho's glance and nodded. 'Fair little wenches. We will have to watch our people, Captain.'

'Only the people?'

Allday grinned. 'Ah, well now…'

At that moment Bolitho saw the surgeon emerge from the makeshift hospital, wiping his hands on a rag and squinting into the slanting sunlight.

He saw Bolitho and nodded. 'Two of the men wounded in your battle can return to work, sir. Two more died, as you know, but the rest stand a good chance of survival.' He looked away. 'Until the next time.'

Bolitho considered his words. A total of twelve had died because of Argus. Despite the luck at there being few in comparison to the fierceness of the battle, it was too many. He sighed. Perhaps Herrick had got some more 'volunteers' from the other ships.

Whitmarsh said, 'Your coxswain did a good job, by the way. The boy should have died by rights.' He looked at Allday. 'Wasted. You should make something of your life.'

Bolitho said quietly, 'I am glad you thanked him for his efforts on Mr. Keen's behalf. But I am sure he will decide his own future.'

Allday could have been stone-deaf for all the notice he paid to their comments.

Whitmarsh said, 'Well, anyway, sir, I've cleaned up a bit here. Most of them will heal, although a few more will die before they reach Spain. Disease mostly, of course.'

'Of course?'

Whitmarsh looked him full in the eyes. 'Rotten with it. Just as they have given it to these poor ignorant savages, too. If any one of your sailors comes to me with that damned pox, I'll make him wish he'd never touched a woman in his life!'

'They are your sailors, too, Mr. Whitmarsh.'

Bolitho regarded him searchingly. Despite his usual attitude where naval matters were concerned, he looked a great deal better. Or perhaps there was little to drink here? Either way, he was nothing like the drunken hulk who had tumbled aboard in England.

'So there you are, Captain!'

He turned and saw her watching him from the entrance. She was almost covered by a white smock, and wore the same straw hat she had brought from Santa Cruz. Her eyes were in shadow, but there was no doubting the warmth of her smile.

He replied, 'I am grateful for what you have done, ma'am.'

Whitmarsh nodded. 'She is the one who took charge here. Organised the whole hospital from top to bottom.' His admiration was genuine.

She smiled at Allday and then slipped her hand through Bolitho's arm.

'I'll walk with you to the beach, if I may. It is so refreshing to have you back again.'

Bolitho could feel Whitmarsh and Allday watching them.

He said, 'You are looking, er, very well.'

Her hand tightened very slightly. 'Say Viola.'

He smiled. 'Viola.'

'Better.'

When she spoke again her voice was different. 'I saw your ship dropping anchor and was half mad with anxiety. I wanted James to take me out to her by boat. He refused. He would, Then I saw you with a telescope. It was like being there with you. And today I have spent a little time with Valentine.'

'Valentine?' Bolitho looked at her profile. 'Who is that?'

She laughed. 'Of course, you would never remember a thing like a mere name. Why, I am speaking of your Mr. Keen.' The mood changed again. 'The poor boy. He looks so ill, yet can speak of no one but you.' She gripped his arm hard. 'I am almost jealous!'

Bolitho looked past her to where the gig lay beached on the sand, the small breakers hissing and receding around it. The boat's crew were engaged in noisy conversation with some seamen from the brig, and it was plain they were describing what they still saw as their victory over the Argus and the schooners.

He smiled, despite his earlier bitterness and disappointment. Perhaps they were right. To remain alive under such circumstances could well be seen as a victory.

She was looking at him, standing slightly apart as if searching for something.

'You smile, Captain? At me? At my boldness perhaps?' He reached out and took her hand. 'Not that. Never.' She tossed her head. 'That is better, Captain.'

He heard Allday's shoes on the sand, the sudden silence from the gig.

'The name is Richard,' he said gravely.

Allday heard their combined laughter and felt suddenly worried. This was a danger he could recognise well enough, far better than his captain, he thought.

He removed his hat as Bolitho walked down the beach towards the gig, and heard him say, 'I will be ashore later, ma'am.' She held the hat brim to shade her eyes. 'Until then, Captain.' But Allday had seen the look on her face before it was hidden in shadow. That, too, was something he could recognise. He glanced quickly at the tower above the fort and took a deep breath. Squalls ahead, he decided, and not too far away. Bolitho looked at him. 'Well?'

Allday's face was rigid. 'So it would appear, Captain.'

Three days after returning to Teluk Pendang His Majesty's frigate Undine weighed anchor again and put to sea. By late afternoon of that day she stood well out in the glittering expanse of the Java Sea with not even a cormorant for company.

To any casual observer who might have watched her departure there was little to betray her mauling from Argus's cannon, but as Bolitho came on deck he was well aware of it.

Shrouds and stays which had been cut by grape and catus shone brightly in their fresh tar. Deck planking, hastily placed, looked duller than the well-tried and holystoned W,,')6f which had been in the ship since she had been built. The s;,,, maker and his mates had been busier than most, and even nccr, as he walked slowly along the weather side, Bolitho saw Jots Tait squatting with some helpers, his one eye gleaming watdr fully as with needles and palms they continued with th;' patching.

Fowlar, who was master's mate of the watch, touched forehead and reported, 'South-west by south, sir.' He gestwcd abeam. 'A bit of a swell, and Mr. Soames has gone forrard check the gun lashings.'

Bolitho glanced at the compass and then the set of each,,',' by turn. He had already noticed the steep, sickening motion but it was too early to gauge its importance. The barornett, was unsteady, but that was usual in these latitudes, and wl' he had consulted Mudge he had chosen his words carefully,

'Could be in for a storm, sir. You never know in these waters

He nodded to Fowlar and walked to the quarterdeck feeling the sun lingering on his shoulders and face. It was a wind, he thought, but sultry, and somehow depressing.

He saw Herrick speaking with Soames by the starboard twelve-pounders. The boatswain was there, too, pointing various repairs yet to be done, and through the main hatch he heard the lively sounds of a jig from the ship's fiddler. Normal, everyday sights and noises. He shifted wearily and began,o pace up and down the weather side.

From one corner of his eye he saw Soames climb from th. gun deck, make as if to approach him, and then return to the opposite side of the deck. Bolitho was relieved. Soames had proved himself a tower of strength in a fight, but as a conversationalist he was heavy and limited.

And Bolitho needed to be left alone. To think. To examine the rights and the wrongs of what he had done. With the laj,d left far astern, and once more abandoned to his own resources! he could view everything much more clearly. Now, as his shadow bobbed and swayed above the black six-pounders, he decided there were far more wrongs than rights.

Inevitable? Something which either of them could have stopped in a second merely by a word, a hint even? He recalled the way she had watched him across the table while the others had talked and chattered the night away. Capitan Vega had entertained them with a song so sad it had brought tears to his eyes. Puigserver had spoken of his adventures in the South Americas and the West Indies before the war. Raymond had become steadily drunk after getting into a fruitless argument with Major Jardine on the possibilities of a lasting peace with France.

Conway had remained terribly sober, or if not, Bolitho

thought he must be a better actor than he had imagined. When then, had the actual moment of decision arrived? He had found himself on the upper rampart with her at his side, leaning over the rough timber to look at the anchored ships in the bay. They had made a fine picture. Tiny lights reflected on the uneasy water, the pale splash of oars as a guardboat patrolled monotonously around its heavier charges. Without looking at him she had said, 'I want you to stay on shore tonight. Will you?'

Perhaps that had been the moment? He had felt reckless, dangerously so.

'I'll send a message to my first lieutenant.'

He turned to stare along the deck. Herrick was still talking to Shellabeer, and he wondered if he had guessed what had occurred.

He could remember the room exactly. More like a cell, with fewer luxuries than a lieutenant's cabin in a man-of-war. He had lain on the bed, his fingers locked behind his head, listening to the strange noises beyond the walls and the rapid beats of his own heart.

Cries from the jungle, the occasional call of a picket challenging one of the sergeants of the guard. Wind murmuring around the square tower without response from deck or rigging which was his normal life.

Then he had heard the sound of her footstep in the passageway, a quick whisper to her maid before she opened the door and shut it quickly behind her.

It was becoming harder to remember in perfect sequence. The continuity was confused. He could recall holding her tightly against his body, the warmth of her mouth on his, the sudden, overwhelming, desperate need which threw all last caution to the winds.

There had been no light in the tiny room, but that from the moon. He had seen her only briefly, her bare shoulder and thigh shining like silver before she had climbed on to the bed, pulling him down and down, until at last, spent and gasping with the extent of their desire they had lain together as one.

He could not remember sleeping at all. Just holding her, needing her, tortured by the realisation it could not last.

Once during the night and towards dawn she had whispered in his ear, 'Do not reproach yourself. It is not a question of honour. It is a part of life.' She had put her lips to his shoulder and had added softly, 'What a lovely smell you have. Of the ship. Salt and tar.' She had giggled quietly. 'I must have it, too.'

Then the nervous tap on the door, the quick scramble to pull on her gown as her faithful maid warned of the coming of another day.

But for Bolitho it had been different from all other days. He felt totally unlike anything he had been before. Alive, yet restless. Replete, but needing more.

He heard steps on the deck and saw Herrick watching him.

'Yes, Mr. Herrick?'

'Wind's freshening again, sir. Shall I call the hands to reef tops'ls?' He ran his eyes across the ship. 'Rigging's straining a'piece by the sound of it.'

'We'll give her her head a while longer. Until eight bells if possible, when we -change tack and run to the west'rd. No sense in tiring the hands when one operation will suffice.' He leaned back, hands on hips as he stared at the main topgallant masthead, the long pendant undulating in the wind. 'She's a lot of power to offer us yet.'

'Aye, sir.' Herrick sounded tired.

'Is anything wrong?'

Bolitho walked to the weather rail and out of earshot of Soames and two seamen who were splicing halliards.

Herrick said quietly, 'You know already, sir. I've said my piece. What's done is done.'

Bolitho watched him gravely. 'Then let us leave it well alone.'

Herrick sighed. 'Very well, sir.' He looked at the helmsmen.

'I'm sorry I could only get four extra hands. Neither Bedford nor the Rosalind were eager to part with any more. And those I did obtain are troublemakers by the cut of them.' He gave a slow smile. 'Although Mr. Shellabeer assures me they will change their ways before another dawn.'

Midshipman Armitage ran up the ladder and touched his hat.

To Herrick he stammered, 'Mr. Tapril's respects, sir, and would you join him in the magazine.'

Herrick asked, 'Is that all?'

The boy looked uncomfortable. 'He said you'd promised, sir.' 'And so I did, Mr. Armitage.'

As the midshipman hurried away Herrick said, 'I was going to arrange to have the powder casks inspected and marked again. No sense in losing good powder.' He lowered his voice. 'Look, sir, are you sure you cannot see the folly of what you are doing? There is no telling what damage it might do to your career.'

Bolitho swung towards him and then saw the anxious concern on Herrick's face.

He replied, 'I am relying on your lady luck, Thomas!'

He walked towards the cabin hatch, adding for Soames's benefit, 'Call me the moment there is a change.'

Soames watched him go and then walked aft to the compass.

Fowlar watched him warily. Once back in England, he, too, would get the chance to obtain a commission as lieutenant. The captain had said as much, and that was good enough. But if he did make that first all-important step up the ladder, he hoped he would be happier about it than Lieutenant Soames appeared to be.

Soames rasped, 'Mr. Fowlar, your helmsmen are wandering off a point or so! Damn my eyes, I don't expect that from you!'

Fowlar watched him move away and smiled to himself. There was nothing wrong with the helm, and Soames knew it. It was part of the game.

He said, 'Watch your helm, Mallard.'

Mallard transferred a plug of tobacco from one cheek to the other and nodded.

'Aye, Mr. Fowlar, sur.'

The watch continued.

Before the last dog watch had run its course it was obvious the rising wind made it necessary to reef topsails.

Bolitho gripped the hammock nettings and faced along his ship's length as he watched the petty officers checking their men in readiness for going aloft, while Shellabeer and his own hands were already busy scrambling about the boat-tier with further lashings.

Herrick shouted above the wind, 'A second reef within the hour, sir, if I'm any judge!'

Bolitho turned aft and felt the spray as it hissed freely above the weather quarter. The wind- had backed rapidly and now blew lustily from the south-east, making the motion both violent and uncomfortable.

He replied, 'We will steer due west once we have reefed. On the larboard tack she will be steadier.'

He watched the great, steeply banked swell, like serried lines of angry glass hills. When the wind got up further, those rounded rollers would break into heavy waves.

Bolitho heard Mudge shout, 'We're in for a blow right enough, sir!' He was'clinging to his misshapen hat, his small eyes watering in the wind. 'The barometer is poppin' about like a pea on a drum!'

Davy shouted, 'All mustered, sir!'

'Very well. Hands aloft.' Herrick held up his hand. 'Keep them from racing each other, and stop the bosun's mates from using their rope's-ends.' He glanced at Bolitho. 'One slip, and a man would go overboard without a chance of recovery.'

Bolitho agreed. Herrick always remembered things like that.

He said, 'I hope this doesn't last too long. If we have to ride it out it will upset Admiral Conway's other arrangements, I have no doubt.'

He looked up as faint shouts and curses told him of the struggle the topmen were having with the violent, unruly canvas. Fisting and kicking, pitching this way and that, with the deck far below, the very sight of their efforts made him feel queasy.

It took the best part of an hour to master the sails to Herrick's satisfaction, and by then it was time to take in yet another reef.

Spray and spindrift whipped across the weather side, and every timber and stay seemed to be groaning in a protesting chorus.

Bolitho shouted, 'Lay her round another point, Mr. Herrick! We will steer west-by-south!'

Herrick nodded, his face running with spray. 'Afterguard to the mizzen braces!' He shook his speaking trumpet angrily. 'Keep together, damn you!'

A marine had slipped and fallen in a scarlet heap, knocking several of his comrades into confusion.

Bolitho pointed abeam, to the first glitter of white crests as the wind did its work.

'She's steadier, Mr. Herrick 1' He relaxed as the experienced seamen rushed aft to help the marines and less skilled hands on the mizzen braces. 'And not a man hurt, by the looks of it!'

Undine had paid off stiffly to the wind, her shrouds and ratlines shining jet-black against the rising swell. But with her yards comfortably braced, and canvas reduced to topsails and jibs, she was making the best of it.

Davy panted on to the quarterdeck, his shirt wringing and sodden.

'All secure, sir!' He lurched backwards, tottered and then reeled against the nettings, adding savagely, 'By the Lord, I'd forgotten what a real gale felt like 1'

Bolitho smiled. 'Dismiss the watch below. But tell the boatswain to make regular inspections. We can't afford to lose precious gear for want of a good lashing.' He turned to Herrick. 'Come below with me.'

Despite the din of sea and strained timbers it seemed warm and inviting in the cabin. Bolitho watched the spray making diagonal patterns across the stern windows, heard the rudder grinding and squeaking while the helmsmen held the frigate on her new course.

Noddall pattered into the cabin, his small body steeply angled as he fetched goblets for the two officers.

Herrick wedged himself in a corner of the bench seat and regarded Bolitho questioningly.

'If we have to run before the wind, would it make so much difference, sir?'

Bolitho thought of his written orders, Conway's brief but lucid instructions.

'It might.' He waited until they both had goblets and said, 'To what we can achieve, Thomas!'

errick chuckled. 'I'll share that toast.'

Bolitho sat at the desk, feeling the deck tilting and then sliding into yet another trough.

He was glad he had insisted that Keen and some of the other wounded had been left at Pendang Bay. Too much of this sort of motion would burst open even the finest stitches.

He said, 'Admiral Conway intends to let Bedford put to sea as soon as we are on our way to the Benua Islands. I think he wishes to get rid of the Spanish troops and dependents as soon as possible.'

Herrick watched him. 'Bit risky, isn't it, sir? With the damned Argus still at large?'

Bolitho shook his head. 'I think not. I am certain the French or Muljadi will have agents watching Conway's settlement. They will have seen us weigh anchor. Argus will know we are coming well enough.'

Herrick looked glum. 'They are as clever as that, eh?'

'We must assume so. I think Conway is right. Better to get Bedford away with her passengers and despatches for Madras before things get any worse.'

'If there's a real storm, it'll put paid to everything.' Herrick cheered up somewhat. 'The Frogs don't like bad weather.'

Bolitho smiled at Herrick's confidence. 'This one may not care. He has been in these waters a long time, I believe. He is not one of the hit-and-run kind who used to dash out of Brest or Lorient and flee for home again at the sight of an English ship.' He rubbed his chin. 'This Le Chaumareys interests me, I would like to know more of him than his record in battle.'

Herrick nodded. 'He appears to know a lot about you, sir,,

'Too much.'

A steep roller cruised beneath the quarter, holding the ship up and tilting her forward at a steeper angle before freeing her again to sidle into the next rough. Beyond the closed door them heard the marine sentry slip and fall, his musket clattering away while he cursed and fought to regain his composure.

Bolitho said slowly, 'When we meet with Argus's captain ve must keep our eyes well opened. If he agrees to parley, we may learn something. If not, we must be ready to fight.'

Herrick frowned. 'I'd rather fight, sir. It's the only way l know how to be at ease with a Frenchman.'

Bolitho thought suddenly of that room at the Admiralty, the calm features of Admiral Winslade as he had given a brief outline of Undine's mission. Four months back. A time of peace, yet ships had foundered, and men had been killed or crippled for life.

But even the lordly power of admiralty, the guile and experience of politics were useless out here. A solitary, wind-swept frigate, minimum resources, and no guiding hand when one might be needed.

Herrick took Bolitho's quiet mood as a signal. He placed his goblet inside the table fiddles and rose carefully to his feet.

'Time to do my rounds, sir.' He cocked his head to listen as water gurgled and sluiced along the quarterdeck scuppers. 'I have the middle watch, and may snatch a cat-nap before I face the breeze.'

Bolitho pulled out his watch and felt Herrick looking at it. 'I will turn in now. I have a notion we may all be needed before long.'

In fact, it felt only minutes after his head had touched the pillow that someone was clinging to the cot and tapping his shoulder. It was Allday, his shadow rising and falling like a black spectre as the cabin lantern swung violently from the deckhead.

'Sorry to wake you, Captain, but it's getting far worse up top.' He paused to allow Bolitho's brain to clear. 'Mr. Herrick told me to pass the word.'

Bolitho stumbled out of the cot, instantly conscious of a new, more uneven motion. As he pulled on his breeches and shoes and held out his arms for a heavy tarpaulin coat he asked, 'What time is it?'

Allday had to shout as the sea thundered against the hull and surged angrily along the upper deck.

'Morning watch is about to be called, sir!'

'Tell Mr. Herrick! Call them now!' He gripped his arm and together they lurched half across the cabin like two tipsy sailors. 'I want all hands directly! I'm going to the chart space.'

He found Mudge already there, his lumpy figure sprawled across the table while he peered at the chart, blaspheming quietly as the lantern went mad above his head.

Bolitho snapped, 'How is it?'

He glanced up at him, his eyes red in the feeble glow.

'Bad, sir. We'll 'ave the canvas in shreds unless we lie to for a bit.'

Bolitho peered at the chart. Plenty of sea-room. That was the only consolation.

He hurried towards the quarterdeck ladder and almost fell as the ship swayed and corkscrewed in two separate motions. He fought his way to the wheel, where four helmsmen, their bodies lashed firmly to prevent their being caught unawares by an incoming wave, were fighting the spokes, their eyes glowing in the flickering compass light.

Herrick shouted, 'I've called all hands, sir! And I've put extra ones on the pumps!'

Bolitho peered at the jerking compass card. 'Very well. We will lie to under shortened maintops'l. Get Davy to put the best men aloft at once!'

He turned as a sound like gunshot echoed above the shriek of wind and sea, and saw the mizzen topsail rip itself apart, the fragments tearing yet again into ragged streamers, pale against the low, scudding clouds.

He could hear the dismal clank of pumps, hoarse cries as men blundered to their stations, dodging below the gangways as more frothing water flooded amongst them.

Fowlar shouted, 'The sailmaker has only just repaired that cro'jack, sir!' He was grinning, in spite of the confusion. 'He'll not be pleased!'

Bolitho was watching the black shapes of the topmen as they climbed cautiously up the vibrating ratlines. The wind flattened them occasionally against the shrouds, so that they hung motionless before starting up again for the topsail yards.

Mudge yelled, 'Th' quarter boat 'as carried away, sir!'

No one paid any heed, and Herrick spluttered in spray before saying, 'There goes the foretops'l, sir! Those lads are doing fine.'

Something dropped amongst the taut rigging before falling to the gun deck with a sickening thud.

Herrick shouted, 'Man from aloft! Take him to the surgeon!'

Bolitho bit his lip. It was unlikely he could live after such a fall.

Fighting every yard of the way, Undine came round into the wind, her hull awash from quarterdeck to beakhead, and with men clinging to tethered guns or stanchions as each wave surged and broke across her reeling deck.

Mudge bellowed hoarsely, 'She'll ride it out now, sir!'

Bolitho nodded, his mind cringing from the onslaught, the very vehemence of the storm.

'We'll set the spanker if the tops'! carries away. Tell the boatswain to have his hands ready, there'll not be time for regrets if that one goes!'

He felt a bowline being bent around his waist, and saw Allday's teeth bared in a grin.

'You look after us, Captain. This'll take care of you.'

Bolitho nodded, the breath knocked out of him. Then he clung to the dripping nettings, peering through the painful needles of spray as he watched over his command. A lucky ship? Perhaps he had spoken too soon. Tempted fate.

Herrick gasped, 'Could be over by first light, sir.'

But when dawn did come, and Bolitho saw the angry, copper-coloured clouds reflected upon the endless, jagged wavecrests, he knew it was not going to give up so willingly.

High above the deck, torn and broken cordage floated to the wind like dead creeper, and the solitary braced topsail looked so full-bellied that it could follow the fate of the other at any second.

He looked at Herrick, seeing the angry sores on his neck and hands where the blown salt had done its work. The other crouching, battered figures nearby were no better. He thought of the other frigate, probably snug in a protected anchorage, and felt the anger welling up inside him.

'Get some hands aloft, Mr. Herrick! There's work to be done!'

Herrick was already clawing his way along the nettings towards the rail.

Bolitho wiped his face and mouth with his arm. If they could weather this one, he thought, they would be ready for anything.