Command a King`s Ship

8. Madras

Bolitho stood very still by the quarterdeck rail and watched the vast spread of land which reached away on either bow. In the morning sunlight the countless white buildings seemed to rise tier upon tier, the uneven skyline decorated at irregular intervals by tall minarets and plump golden domes. It was breathtaking, and he could tell from the quiet way the seamen were moving around the decks that they were equally impressed.

He turned and looked at Herrick. Very tanned, and strangely unreachable in his best uniform.

'We did it.'

Bolitho raised his telescope and watched some high-prowed dhows scudding abeam, their gaunt sails like wings. Even they were part of the magic.

Mudge said, 'Ease off a point'. Then he, too, fell silent as the wheel squeaked over.

Perhaps he was satisfied, and so he should be, Bolitho thought. Madras, the name itself was like one great milestone for what they had achieved together. Three months and two days after weighing anchor at Spithead. Back there, Bolitho had seen disbelief on Mudge's heavy face when he had suggested they might make the voyage in one hundred days.

Herrick said quietly, 'Aye, sir. Since we quit the African coast lady luck came with us for certain.' He grinned broadly.

'You and your lady luck.' But he smiled all the same.

It had seemed much as Herrick had described. Within a few days of leaving the land, the dead and dying far astern, the wind had risen from the south-west, the fringe of the monsoon which on this occasion had acted as a friend. Day after day, with all sail set, Undine had bounded along, freely, recklessly, her forecastle never clear of bursting spray, while dolphins and other strange fish had stayed close in company. It was just as if that terrible confrontation with the war canoes, seeing the seaman being flayed alive, and all else had been one last great challenge.

He glanced up at the gently flapping topsails and forward to the solitary jib, the power barely enough now to carry them into the wide anchorage and between that impressive spread of shipping.

Madras, the most important British station on the south-east coast of another continent. A stepping-stone to advancement elsewhere, to trade and further discovery. Even the names were like fresh challenges. Siam and Malacca, south-east to Java, and beyond to a million unknown islands.

He saw a towering merchantman spreading more sail as she tacked heavily into a pale bank of sea-haze. With her chequered gunports and impeccable sail drill she could have been a manof-war. But she was one of the East India Company's ships, and three months back Bolitho would have given his right arm for just a few of her seamen. Well trained and disciplined, they were far superior to the Navy's companies in many respects. The Company could and did afford better pay and conditions for its people, while the Navy still had to depend on what it could get by other means, and in time of war that usually meant relying on the pressgangs.

Bolitho had often considered the unfairness of the system. One day, perhaps in his own life, he hoped to see the change come. When the Navy could offer the same fair inducements.

The big Indiaman's flag dipped from her peak, and Bolitho heard Keen calling to his signalling party to return the salute.

Then he looked again at his own company, knowing he would not willingly change them now, merely because it would make life easier. Browned by the sun, toughened by hard work and regular drills with sails and weapons, they were a far cry from that motley assortment at Spithead.

He glanced towards the Indiaman and smiled. Perfect or not, she had had to dip her flag to a King's ship. His Undine.

Mudge blewhis nose and called, "Bout five minutes now, sir.'

Bolitho raised his hand and saw the master's mate with the anchor party acknowledge. It was Fowlar. A man who had proved his worth, and his loyalty. Who had already earned promotion whenever an opportunity came.

Captain Bellairs was inspecting his marine drummers, and looking even more like a toy soldier in the blazing sunlight.

Davy and Soames were on the gun deck with their separate divisions, and the ship had never looked better.

He heard voices behind him and turned to see Don Puigserver and Raymond speaking together by the taffrail. Like him, they were probably eager to discover what awaited them here in Madras. Puigserver was surprisingly elegant. His clothing consisted of a lieutenant's dress-coat which had been taken apart and re-fashioned by Mrs. Raymond's maid, aided willingly by Jonas Tait, Undine's sailmaker. Tait had one eye, but was very skilful, even if he was the most villainous looking man aboard. The maid seemed to find him fascinating.

'Well, Captain, you must be pleased with yourself today?'

Mrs. Raymond stepped from the cabin hatch and crossed to his side. She walked easily, so used had she become to Undine's motions and behaviour in every sort of sea. She, too, had altered. Still aloof for much of the time, yet lacking the old veil of disinterest in shipboard life which had first irritated Bolitho. Her large stock of personal delicacies which had come aboard at Santa Cruz had long been consumed, and yet she had taken to the cabin's simple fare with little complaint.

'I am, ma'am.' He pointed towards the bows. 'You will soon be able to shed the smells and sounds of a small frigate. I have no doubt that an English lady reigns like a queen out here.'

'Perhaps.' She turned her head as if to watch her husband. 'I hope to see you when you come ashore. Here, after all, you are king?' She laughed lightly. 'In many ways I am sorry to leave the ship.'

Bolitho watched her thoughtfully. He remembered when he had arrived aboard after the running battle with the canoes. Spent, almost asleep on his feet as weariness replaced the will to fight, and memory pushed aside his immediate relief at his own survival. She had guided him to a chair, rapping out orders to her maid, to a startled Noddall, and even to Allday as she had taken charge. She had told someone to fetch the surgeon, but when Bolitho had said harsly, 'I'm not hurt! The ball hit my damned watch!', she had thrown back her head and laughed. The unexpected reaction had angered him, then as she had gripped his hand, quite unable to stop her laughter, he had found himself joining in. Perhaps that, more than anything else, had steadied him, had released all the anxiety he had been forced to conceal until that moment.

Some of it must have shown on his face as he remembered, for she said softly, 'Can I share them?'

'My thoughts?' He smiled awkwardly. 'I was thinking of something. My watch.'

He saw her lip begin to tremble again, and wondered why he had not noticed the fine shape of her chin and throat. Until now. When it was too late. He felt himself flushing. For what?

She nodded. 'It was cruel to laugh so. But you looked-so angry, when anyone but you would have been grateful.'

She turned her face away as Herrick called, 'Ready, sir!V

'Carry on, Mr. Herrick.'

'Aye, sir.' But his eyes were on the woman. Then he. hurried to the rail yelling, 'Man the lee braces! Hands wear ship!'

Undine swung easily into the wind, her anchor splashing down into water so blue it looked like satin.

Puigserver pointed at a small procession of boats which were already moving towards the ship and said, 'A time for ceremony, Capitan. Poor Rojart would have enjoyed this part.'

He was a different man now. Steely eyed, impatient to move again. To get his plans into order.

Behind him, Raymond was watching the oncoming boats with a look of apprehension rather than excitement on his face.

With the anchor down, and all sails neatly furled, Undine's decks were bustling with life as her company prepared to take on stores, visitors, or whatever they were ordered to do. Above all, to be ready to sail again within hours, should it be required.

Bolitho knew he would be needed for a dozen things at once. Even now he could see the purser hovering to catch his eye, and Mudge, waiting to suggest or ask something.

He said, 'Perhaps I will see you on land, Mrs. Raymond.' The others were listening, and he could feel their glances, their interest. 'It has not been an easy passage for you, and I would wish to thank you for your, er,' he faltered, seeing her lip quiver very slightly, 'forbearance.'

Equally gravely she replied, 'And may I thank you in turn, Captain, for your companionship.'

Bolitho made to bow to her, but she held up her hand and said, 'Until the next time, Captain.'

He took her hand and touched the back of it with his lips. He felt her fingers give his just the merest squeeze, and when he glanced at her face he knew it was no accident.

Then it was all over as he was caught up in the turmoil of receiving visitors from the governor and handing his despatches to the officer of the guardboat.

As a brightly-canopied launch pulled clear of Undine's black shadow he saw his passengers looking astern towards him, growing smaller with each sweep of the oars.

Herrick said cheerfully, 'I expect you'll be glad to have the cabin to yourself, sir. You've waited long enough.'

'Yes, Thomas. Indeed I will.'

'Now, sir, concerning extra hands…'

Herrick had seen the lie in Bolitho's grey eyes, and decided it was prudent to change the subject immediately.

It was late afternoon when Bolitho received a summons to report in person to the governor. He had begun to think that his part of the mission had been cancelled, or that in Madras his -status had shrunk so much he would merely stay at arm's length and do as he was bid whenever it might suit the proper authority.

Accompanied by Herrick and Midshipman Keen, he was carried ashore in Undine's gig, despite a haughty equerry's insistence that a local boat would be more fitting and comfortable.

An open carriage was waiting to convey them to the governor's residence, and for the whole of the short journey they barely exchanged a word. The bright colours, the surrounding press of chattering people, the whole strangeness of the town took their complete attention. Bolitho found the people very interesting indeed. How different their skins were, ranging from pale brown, no darker than young Keen's tan, to those who were as black as the warriors he had seen in Africa. Turbans and flowing robes, cattle and dejected goats, all milled across the winding streets, in and around the curtained shops

and bazaars in an unending panorama of noise and movement.

The governor's residence was more like a fort than a house,

with slits in the walls for weapons, and well guarded by Indian troops. The latter were most impressive. Turbaned and bearded, yet they wore the familiar red coat of British infantry set off with baggy blue pantaloons and high white gaiters.

Herrick gestured to the flag which drooped, barely moving, from a high staff and murmured, 'That, at least, is familiar.'

Once through the gates and into the cool shadows of the house it was another world again. The noise of the streets was sealed off as if by a great door, and all around was an air of watchful elegance. Fine rugs and heavy brass ornaments, barearmed servants who moved noiselessly like ghosts, and tiled passageways which led away in every direction as in a maze.

The equerry said smoothly, 'The governor will see you at once, Captain.' He eyed the others without enthusiasm. 'Alone.'

Bolitho looked at Herrick. 'Mr. Keen will remain here in case I need to pass a message to the ship. You can make good use of your time as you will.' He turned to hide his face from the equerry. 'Don't forget to keep an eye open for extra hands.'

Herrick grinned, relieved perhaps at being spared yet another set of questions and answers. The visitors to the ship had kept him on his feet since the anchor had been let go. The sight of an English frigate seemed to attract far more interest than the comings and goings of merchantmen. A link with home. Some word or hint of what these people had left behind in their search for empire.

He said, 'Good luck, sir. This is a far cry from Rochester!'

The equerry watched him leave and then glanced at Keen. To Bolitho he said, 'I'll send the young gentleman to the troops' quarters if you wish.'

Bolitho smiled. 'I am sure he will be happier here.'

Keen met the man's stare calmly and replied, 'Indeed I will, sir.' He could not resist adding, 'My father will be glad to learn of your hospitality when next I write.'

Bolitho turned away. 'His father owns quite a large portion of your trading agency here.'

The equerry said no more, but led the way down the grandest of the passages. He opened some double doors and an pounced with as much dignity as he still retained, 'Captain Richard Bolitho of His Britannic Majesty's Ship Undine.'

Bolitho already knew the governor's name, but little else about him. Sir Montagu Strang was almost hidden behind a great desk, the sides of which appeared to be made of ebony, with feet fashioned of massive silver claws. He was a frail, grey-haired man, with a pallid complexion which told its own story of some past fever. Hooded eyes, a thin, unsmiling. mouth, he was studying Bolitho's approach along a strip of blue carpet as a hunter might examine a possible victim.

'Welcome, Bolitho.' The thin mouth turned upwards a fraction, as if it hurt him to make the effort.

It was then and only then Bolitho realised that Strang's attitude was not one of disdain, for as he moved around the desk he saw that the governor had been standing to receive him, and not in a chair as he had first thought.

'Thank you, sir.'

Bolitho tried not to show surprise, or worse, pity. Down to his waist Sir Montagu was a normal if slight figure. Beyond that his legs were tiny, those of a dwarf, and his neat hands hung seemingly to his knees.

Strang continued in the same crisp tone, 'Please select a chair. I have a few things to say before we join the others.' He let his gaze move over him before adding, 'I have read your report, and those of certain onlookers. You did well, and have made a fast passage. Your action in trying to save Nervion's people, your attack on the slave-ship, if only partly successful, are the two better pieces of news today.'

Bolitho sat down on the edge of a throne-like chair and then realised for the first time that the great overhead fan was being worked by a tiny Indian who was squatting in a far corner, apparently asleep, his bare foot jerking a cord to keep it in regular motion.

Strang returned to his desk and sat down. Bolitho guessed he always behaved in this manner with a new visitor. To get it over with and avoid embarrassment. He had heard that Strang had spent many years in India, as a representative of government, as an adviser on trade and native affairs. A very important man. No wonder he had chosen power out here rather than suffer the constant humiliation of gaping eyes in London.

He said calmly, 'Now, Bolitho, to business. I have been waiting too long for despatches, wondering if my original suggestions have been accepted. Nervion's loss was a serious blow, but your apparent determination to continue with the voyage without further advice cancels it out in some ways. You have Don Puigserver's admiration, it seems, although whether that is good or bad remains to be seen.' His hooded eyes flashed angrily. 'The Spaniards lost great opportunities in Teluk Pendang. As a race they are stealers rather than builders. The sword and the crucifix are about the most they can offer.'

Bolitho gripped his hands together and tried not to let his mind drift on Strang's words. So the mission was still in being. Undine would be going to Teluk Pendang.

Strang said sharply, 'I can see that you are ahead of me, Bolitho 1 Allow me to fill in a few small chinks, eh?' Then he smiled. 'But it is refreshing to find one still able to think at all.'

Beyond the cool room Bolitho heard the distant call of a bugle. It sounded strangely sad.

Strang saw his expression and said, 'We were hard put during the war. Hyder Ali, the ruler of Mysore, and one with a real hatred for us, had plenty of support from the French. But for the Navy, I fear the Fleur de Lys and not the Union Flag would fly above here today.' He continued in an almost matter-of-fact tone. 'But that is not your concern. The sooner we can install a British governor in Pendang Bay the better I will be pleased. Since the end of the war, the Spanish garrison there, which comprised mainly of native soldiers, has been in a state of confusion. Fever and some sort of mutiny made their work impossible. I am hardly surprised that the King of Spain is so willing to rid himself of the station.' His voice hardened.

'However, under our protection it will prosper. The local native ruler is harmless enough. He must be, to allow the Spanish garrison to be alive. But further to the west is a vast area, almost uncharted, and plundered by another, less charitable prince, Muljadi. If we are to extend our gains, he must be contained, is that understood?'

'I think, so, sir.' Bolitho frowned. 'Yours is a great responsibility.'

'Quite. The wind always shakes the top of the tree, Bolitho., 'I am not certain what I will be required to do, sir. I would have thought a fresh garrison of soldiers would be a better force than mine.'

'I know otherwise.' His voice was scathing as he added, 'Native troops for the most part, with British officers whose minds have become numbed by heat and other, er, local attractions. I must have mobility. Your ship, in fact. The French, as you are now aware, are very interested. They have a frigate somewhere in those waters, and that, too, you know. Which is why I cannot afford open conflict. If we are to succeed, we must be in the right.'

'And if this Muljadi opposes us, or those showing friendship, sir?'

Strang walked to a wall tapestry and touched it lightly. 'You will crush him.' He swung round with surprising agility. 'In the King's name.'

He picked up a small bell and shook it impatiently. 'I am arranging a transport for the troops, and all the stores required. The East India Company will provide a suitable vessel in due course. The rest will be up to you. Under the new governor's hand, that is. Rear Admiral Beves Conway has made many of the arrangements.' He darted a quick glance at him. 'You know him then?'

'Why, yes, sir.' Bolitho's mind grappled with a dozen memories at once. 'He commanded the Gorgon, seventy-four. My second ship.' He smiled, despite Strang's set features. 'I was sixteen.'

'It will be an interesting reunion, no doubt.' Strang glared at the open door where a servant stood watching him anxiously.

'Take the captain to the chamber. And next time I ring this bell I want you here at once!'

As Bolitho made to leave, Strang added, 'You saw a Company ship leaving harbour as you entered today?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Homeward bound. A rich cargo for England.' He smiled gently. 'No, I am not full of regrets or pining for the homeland, which in any case is Scotland. I merely wished you to know that the vessel's crew had a long night's celebration, too much to drink, a way sailors have.' He turned his back. 'Some twenty of her hands were too drunk to return on board. They are in the care of my officers. They have enough to do without the trouble of drunken oafs who, had they been in a naval vessel, would no doubt have been flogged for desertion. I do not wish to know about it further, but should your lieutenants care to take over the responsibility, I am certain you could make better use of some extra men.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Thank you, sir.'

'I will join you shortly. Now go and take wine with my staff.' Bolitho found Keen in the entrance hall, and passed the news to him without delay.

The midshipman's eyes widened: and he said, 'I'll tell Mr. Davy at once, sir. Though I doubt if "John Company" will thank you for taking hands from an Indiaman.' He chuckled. 'Nor will they, sir!'

Bolitho hurried along the passage where he had seen the servant waiting for him, his mind returning to Strang's other news. Beves Conway, then the captain of a two-decker, had always been something of a hero to him. Cold and remote in many ways, but a superb seaman, and not one given to undue harshness, even with his midshipmen.

He had left the Gorgon before Bolitho, having held the command for several years. After that he had disappeared completely, which was unusual in the Navy. Faces, like ships, came and went repeatedly, like the sea and wind which governed their lives. With Conway in control of things there would be little tolerance for failure, he thought.

He was ushered into the vaulted room described as the chamber, and was surprised to find it filled with a variety of people, including a number of women.

He saw Puigserver, still dressed in his makeshift clothes, and Raymond in close conversation with a heavy-jowled major. Raymond left his companion immediately, and with barely a nod of recognition, guided Bolitho around the chamber, making introductions, hardly able to hide his impatience if someone asked about England, or what the latest fashion was at home. 'Home' was somewhat vague, but for the most part seemed to be London.

Raymond paused while Bolitho took a glass of wine from a bowing servant.

'Like a lot of damned farmers!' He smiled at a lady as she passed, but added savagely, 'But they live well enough here!'

Bolitho watched him curiously. Raymond had tried to show his contempt, but had sounded only envious.

Then he heard a familiar voice, and when he turned observed Mrs. Raymond talking with someone he had not so far met.

She saw him immediately and called, 'Come and join us!' Her smile faded slightly as she noticed her husband. 'We have been talking about local customs.'

Raymond said abruptly, 'Rear Admiral Conway, the new governor of Teluk Pendang.'

Conway had been standing with his back to Bolitho. He was dressed in a dull bottle-green coat, his shoulders sloping badly so that he seemed to be leaning forward. He turned to face Bolitho, his eyes moving rapidly, noting all that they saw.

Bolitho said, 'It is good to see you again, sir.'

He did not know how to continue. If he had met Conway in Plymouth or anywhere else he would have walked past him. Could anyone change so much in twelve years? He looked thin and very intense, with two deep lines running from his hooked nose to his jaw, so that the mouth appeared to be suspended between them. Only the eyes were familiar. Cool, calculating.

Conway held out his hand. 'Richard Bolitho, eh.' The handshake, like his tone, was dry. 'And a post-captain, no less. Well, well.'

Bolitho tried to relax. It was like seeing someone looking through a mask. A rear admiral, but seniority apart, he was only one rank higher than himself. And no title, no proud knighthood to mark his climb to success.

He said quietly, 'I have been very fortunate, sir.'

Mrs. Raymond touched Conway's sleeve with her fan. 'He is too modest by far. I have had good opportunity to watch the captain at his duties, and listen to his past exploits.'

Conway's glance darted between them. 'Did he relate them well, ma'am?'

'I heard them from others.' Her eyes regarded him coldly. 'To drag self-praise from the captain is to try and open an oyster with a feather!'

Conway picked a thread from his waistcoat. 'I am relieved to hear it.'

Raymond said, 'It seems I am to accompany you to the new station, sir.' He did not hide his haste to distract Conway's attention from his wife's sudden anger.

'That is so.' Conway looked at Bolitho. 'The captain will tell you I am not one to tolerate mistakes. I require everyone connected with the hand-over of governorship within reach.' He glanced at the chattering people around him. 'Not here, living in spoiled unreality.'

Behind his shoulder Mrs. Raymond looked at Bolitho and pouted.

Conway said, 'I must go and speak to the military.' He bobbed his head. 'If you will excuse me, ma'am.'

Raymond waited just a few seconds, then exploded. 'Do you have to make a scene, Viola? In God's name, Conway could be important to me. To us!'

She looked at Bolitho. 'He is a pompous…' she sought for a word, '… bore!' To her husband she added, 'And it makes me sick the way you grovel to his kind. You always seem to throw yourself after the failures.'

Raymond stared at her. 'He is the new governor! What are you suggesting?'

She flashed a smile to someone across the room. 'You do not know anything. He is a failure. You have only to look at him!'

Strangely enough, Raymond appeared relieved. 'Is that all? I thought you had heard something.' He stared after Conway. 'I had better go to him. Sir Montagu Strang has instructed me to give all my experience to aid him.'

She held her fan across her lips and whispered, 'That should take very little time.' She slipped one hand through Bolitho's arm. 'And now, Captain, you can escort me, if you will.'

Bolitho was still thinking of that rapid exchange between them. Most of all of Conway, and what he had become.

She squeezed his arm. 'I am waiting.'

'An honour.' He smiled at her impatience. 'And thank you for your defence just now.' He shook his head. 'Although I cannot imagine what has happened to Conway.'

Her fingers dug into his arm. 'One day, some stupid officer will say that about you.' She tossed her head. 'Anyway, it was true. The pompous old bore!'

Bolitho saw the heavy-jowled major watching him and then turning to murmur to a fellow soldier.

'There will be talk, ma'am, if we walk about like this.' 'Good.' She looked at him calmly. 'Do you care?' 'Well, no.'

She nodded. 'And my name is Viola. Please use it in future.'

True to his word, Sir Montagu Strang lost no time in putting his long-standing plan into operation. Two days after Undine's arrival at Madras the Bedford, a heavy transport wearing the flag of the East India Company, dropped anchor nearby and began to take in stores and equipment for the new station.

After his first visit to the governor's residence, Bolitho had had no time for relaxation. So little was known of Teluk Pendang, except by those who had been engaged with local trade there, that it was some while before he was satisfied with his calculations. Mudge, who knew the waters well, gave his cautious approval, and when Bolitho had paid a visit to the Bedford's captain, he had been quick to praise not merely his work, but also his readiness to consult an officer of the Company.

'Not like a King's officer!' He had been greatly amused. 'Most of 'em would rather drive aground than enquire from the likes of us!' Bolitho wondered what his attitude might have been had he known about the twenty extra seamen he had poached from the all-powerful E.I.C.

Before he had left the transport he had caught his first sight of the troops who were being sent to replace the Spanish garrison. They looked as if they intended to make their new station a permanent home, for they were accompanied by as many wives and children, varied livestock, and a great mass of pots and pans, which made him wonder where they could all be stowed. Bedford's captain was unimpressed, so he guessed it was the normal way of doing things out here.

He was in his cabin writing his readiness report when Herrick arrived to announce that a launch was approaching. Its only passenger was Rear Admiral Beves Conway.

Bolitho hurried on deck, half wondering why Conway had stayed away from him since Undine's arrival, and partly concerned at the lack of notice.

To his surprise he saw that Conway was still dressed in his green coat, devoid of decorations or sword. He was not even wearing his hat as he stepped through the entry port and bowed curtly to Bellairs' guard of honour and to the quarterdeck at large.

'Taut ship, Bolitho.'

The eyes flitted this way and that, and Bolitho tried to dispel his sudden resentment at Conway's attitude. Perhaps he had always been like this, even in the Gorgon when Bolitho had watched his regular appearances on the quarterdeck or poop with something like awe.

'Dismiss the side party. This is an informal visit.'

Conway walked to a six-pounder and ran his hand across the breech. Then he looked aloft where some hands were blacking down the rigging, making it shine like ebony.

He nodded. 'She looks well enough.'

He turned his attention to the Bedford, at the booms which swayed back and forth above the boats and lighters moored around her.

Bolitho was able to watch him less cautiously, and saw the thinness of his hair, which was completely grey.

Without turning, Conway asked, 'What is your estimated time of arrival at our destination?'

'Given fair winds, sir, and in accordance with all I have discovered, I hope to make a landfall in eighteen days. Three weeks at the most. I have already been told that I am to sail ahead of the transport.'

'My idea.' Conway turned and looked at him searchingly. 'No sense in dragging our feet with that damned hulk.'

'Then you will be coming in Undine, sir?'

'Disappointed?' Conway shrugged. 'Of course I shall. I have made arrangements for my baggage to be sent out this afternoon.'

Bolitho's picture of his cabin faded. He had thought of it often since arriving at Madras. Somewhere he could examine his mistakes and assemble his advantages. Puigserver was one thing. Conway another entirely. It would be like being Conway's junior officer again.

He said, 'I will inform my first lieutenant at once, sir.' 'Herrick?' He sounded indifferent. 'No need.' Bolitho stared at him. That was not like Conway.

He tried again. 'At least we shall have a rear admiral's flag at the mizzen when we reach Teluk Pendang, sir.'

The effect was startling. Conway spun round, his features working with sudden anger.

"'Was that slur intended? Does it give you some twisted pleasure to sneer? If so, I will damn soon break you for your insolence!'

Bolitho kept his voice calm, aware of Herrick watching nearby with obvious concern. 'I am sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect.'

Conway took a deep breath. 'No flag, Bolitho. I am the governor-elect of Pendang Bay, a place neither you nor most of the world has ever heard of until now.' The bitterness had put a new edge to his voice. 'To all intents I am out of naval service. What respect I receive at your hands will be arranged accordingly.'

Bolitho stared at him. It was suddenly all too clear. Conway had been putting off this moment, not out of haughtiness or from any sort of envy at Bolitho's steady promotion since their first meeting, but because he was a broken man.

'Then it will be done well, sir. That I can promise you.' He looked away. 'I have been fortunate in the Navy, in many cases I have been aided by sheer chance, or luck, as my first lieutenant would say. But I have never forgotten where I first gained the value of experience, and the patience of my own captain.'

Conway fumbled with his waistcoat, apparently oblivious to the sun across his neck and shoulders.

'That was kindly said.' He looked at his hands and then thrust them behind his back. 'May we, go below?'

In the cabin he moved about restlessly, touching the furniture, peering into corners without saying anything.

Then he looked at one of the wooden quakers and snapped, 'This was done for that woman, eh?'

'Yes, sir. But I will see that they remain until you are settled in your new command.' He had meant to say residence, but the word just slipped out.

Conway watched him, his thin face expressionless. Then he said, 'No. Have the guns replaced. I need no bloody pampering. I want this ship ready for anything. A few missing guns might make a world of difference.' He did not explain, but asked in the same abrasive tone, 'That woman? Mrs. Raymond. How did she stand up to three months in a fifth-rate, eh?'

'Better than I had expected.'

'Hmm.' He studied Bolitho grimly, his features in shadow. 'Watch yourself with her. She is three years older than you, but the gap in experience is immeasurably wider.'

Bolitho said hastily, 'Might I ask when sailing orders will arrive, sir?'

'Tomorrow probably, but I can tell you now. You will weigh the day after you receive your orders. No delays. Maximum haste. We will have company on the passage.'

'Sir?'

Bolitho was certain that Conway's thoughts were elsewhere, even though his ideas came out in perfect order.

'Brig. Don Puigserver has chartered her for his own use. Partly my suggestion. It is too close to the war for me to take a Don as a friend.'

'I see, sir.'

'You don't. But no matter.'

He walked to the stern windows and stared at the shoreline, at the countless tiny craft which jostled the waterfront like busy insects.

'I would like to stay aboard, Bolitho.' 'Until we weigh, sir?'

Bolitho looked around the cabin. Tiny compared with the residence ashore.

'Yes.' He swung away from the windows. 'D'you object?' Just for a second it was there again. The same voice which Bolitho still remembered.

'No, sir.' He smiled. 'I have been waiting to broach some wine I have brought from London, I '

'London?' Conway sighed. 'That cursed place. I've not set foot there for five years. A plague on it and its selfishness!'

'Perhaps it has changed since-'

'People do not change, Bolitho.' He touched his breast. 'Not here, inside. You, of all people, should know that. When I learned who commanded my transport, I knew you would be as you are. Not so merry-eyed and trusting perhaps, but you've not altered.'

Bolitho stayed silent, watching the emotions on the other man's face, each one perhaps representing a memory.

'Gorgon seems an eternity back in time. The best moments were with her, although I did not realise it was so.'

yBolitho said carefully, 'Your new post will probably make ou believe otherwise, sir.'

'You think that?' Conway smiled, but no humour touched his eyes. 'It is given to me because I will succeed. I must. There is nothing else left. When you make a slip, Bolitho, you sometimes get one final chance to redeem yourself.' He pounded one hand against the other. 'And I intend to succeed!'

There was a tap at the door and Allday stepped into the cabin.

'Who is this fellow?'

'My coxswain, sir.' Bolitho had to smile at the incredulous look on Allday's face.

'I see.'

Allday said, 'Mr. Herrick's respects, and could you come on deck to receive Bedford's captain.'

Bolitho excused himself to Conway and followed him from the cabin.

Allday muttered, 'Fellow, Captain? He was a trifle hard, I thought.'

Bolitho grinned. 'I am sure that when he knows you better he will call you by your first name!'

Allday faced him guardedly and then chuckled. 'No doubt, Captain.' He lowered his voice. 'A message has been sent aboard.' He held out an engraved card, tiny in his broad palm.

She had written across the back, Eight o'clock. Please come.

Bolitho stared from it to Allday's masklike face.

'Who gave you this?'

'A servant, Captain.' His eyes did not even flicker. 'The lady knows she can trust me.'

Bolitho turned away to hide his expression. 'Thank you.'

Allday watched him hurry up the quarterdeck ladder and grinned. 'It will do him good.' He saw the marine sentry watching him and snapped, 'Who are you gaping at?' He grinned again. 'My good fellow?'