Sloop Of War

2. Freedom

IT WAS late afternoon when Bolitho finally decided he had read all that there was available about the ship around him. Muster and punishment books, watch-bills and ledgers of stores and victualling returns, the list seemed endless. But at no time was he bored. With his new coat hanging on a chairback, his neckcloth loosened and shirt unbuttoned, he found each item fascinating?

His predecessor, Captain Ransome, had kept a smart and well-run ship on the face of things. The punishment book had all the usual culprits and awards for minor misdemeanours. A few for drunkenness, even less for insolence and insubordination, and the worst recorded crime was that of a seaman who had struck a petty officer during gun drill?

Ransome had been extremely lucky in one thing? With the ship being commissioned on the Thames he had been able to secure the cream of the press. Men off incoming merchant ships, transfers from vessels laid up in ordinary, he had been in a position to complete his company with far less difficulty than most captains?

Against the apparent taut atmosphere in the ship was a rather negative list of reports in the log books? Only once had Sparrow been called to action in the two years since leaving England, and then as secondary reinforcement to a frigate attacking a blockade runner? It was little wonder that Midshipman Heyward had showed some concern at his remarks about the big bow chasers. He had probably imagined his words to be some sort of criticism at their lack of use?

There were the usual lists of men transferred to other ships because of promotion and the like. Their places had been filled by what Ransome had termed "local colonist volunteers" in his personal log. Bolitho had lingered a good deal on the previous captain's daily records. His comments were extremely brief and it was impossible to get even a feel of the man. As he paused to glance around the cabin from time to time Bolitho found himself wondering about Ransome. An experienced and competent officer, obviously a man ob good breeding and therefore influence, the cabin seemed at odds with his mental portrait. Extremely attractive, comfortable, yet just that too much removed from what you might expect in a ship-of-war?

He sighed and leaned back in the chair as his cabin servant, Fitch, padded into the shafted sunlight to remove the remains of his meal?

Fitch was tiny. A miserable scrap of a man, who had already confessed to having been a petty thief in his unfortunate past. Saved from transportation or worse by the timely arrival of a King's ship as he awaited sentence at the Assizes, he had accepted life at sea more as an extension to his punishment than any love of service. But he seemed a capable servant and was probably well pleased with his work. It kept him from the heavier tasks on deck, and provided his current master was a humane man he had little to fear?

Bolitho watched him as he collected the crockery on to a tray. It had been an excellent meal. Cold tongue and fresh vegetables from ashore, and the claret which Fitch had mournfully observed wa, «the last of Cap'n Ransome's stock" had been a touch of perfection?

"Your late captain." Bolitho saw the small man stiffen? "Did he leave any instruction as to his property aboard?"

Fitch dropped his eyes." Mr. Tyrrell 'as attended to its sir. It's been sent to a transport for passage 'ome."

"He must have been an officer of some consequence."

Bolitho hated this form of questioning, but he felt he needed some link, no matter how small, with the man who had controlled this ship from the day she had slid into the water?

Fitch bit his lip." 'E were a strict cap'n, sir. 'E saw that the 'ands took fairly to their work. If they obeyed, 'e was 'appy. If not…" he shrugged his frail shoulder, «then 'e tended to swear a piece."

Bolitho nodded." You may leave."

It was useless to proceed with Fitch. His life concerned only the comings and goings. Food and drink, a warm cot, or a swift curse if things were not to his master's liking?

Feet padded overhead and he had to restrain himself from running to the stern windows or standing on a chair to peer through the skylight above the table? He thought of his old companions in the Trojan's wardroom and wondered if they were missing him? Probably not. His promotion would mean a gap, and therefore a step up the ladder for another. He smiled to himself. It would take time to fit himself into this new role. Time and vigilance?

There was a tap at the door and Mathias Buckle, the sailing master, stepped inside?

"Do you have a moment, sir?"

Bolitho gestured to a chair. Again this was so unlike a bigger ship-of-war. There were no marines in the company, and visitors to the captain's quarters seemed free to come and go almost as they pleased? Perhaps Ransome had encouraged such informality?

He watched Buckle fitting himself into the chair. He was a short, square-built man, with steady eyes and hair almost as dark as his own. Aged forty, he was the oldest man in the ship?

Buckle said, "I'd not trouble you, sir, but as the first lieutenant's away, I thought…" He shifted in the chair? "I thought I should settle the matter of promotion for one of the hands."

Bolitho listened in silence as Buckle ran through the points which concerned a man named Raven. It was an internal matter, but he was conscious of the importance it represented. The very first time as captain he was being confronted with the affairs of one of his own company?

Buckle was saying, "I thought, begging your pardons sir, that we might advance him to master's mate for a trial period."

Bolitho asked, "How long have you been master?"

"Just in this ship, sir." Buckle's clear eyes were distant." Before that I was master's mate in the old Warrior, seventy-four."

"You've done well, Mr. Buckle." He was trying to place the dialect. London, or further east. Kent?

"How does she handle?"

Buckle seemed to consider it." She's heavy for her size, sir. All of four hundred and thirty tons. But the better the wind, the livelier she goes. You can even get the stunsails and royals on her in anything but a true blow." He frowned." In a calm she can be the devil's daughter." He gestured vaguely." You've probably seen the little port alongside each gun port, sir?"

Bolitho had not. He said slowly, "I am not too sure."

Buckle smiled for the first time." If you gets becalmed you may run a sweep through each o' those ports, sir. Clear lower deck and get every man-jack on the sweeps and you can still get a knot or two out ob her."

Bolitho looked away. Reading the ship's books and correspondence had not even told him the half of it. He felt vaguely angry that his first lieutenant was still not present. Normally the departing captain would have been aboard to tell him the ship's behaviour and failings, or at least the senior lieutenant?

Buckle said, "You'll soon get the feel of her, sir. She's the best yet."

Bolitho eyed him thoughtfully. The master was nobody's fool, and yet, like Graves, he seemed to be holding back. Maybe waiting for him to display his strength or weakness to them?

He made himself reply coldly, "We shall see about that, Mr. Buckle."

When he glanced up he saw the man watching him with sudden andiety. He added, "Any other matter?"

Buckle rose to his feet." No, sir."

"Good. I anticipate that sailing orders will be arriving shortly. I will expect the ship to be ready."

Buckle nodded." Aye, sir. Have no fear."

Bolitho relented slightly. It was just possible his own uncertainty was making him unnecessarily harsh towards his sailing master. And it was equally likely he would need Buckle's guiding hand very much until he got the feel of his new command?

He said, "I have no doubt that I will be as satisfied with your appointment as Captain Ransome was."

Buckle swallowed hard." Yes, sir." He stared round the low cabin." Thank you, sir."

The door closed behind him and Bolitho ran his fingers through his hair. Just a few hours since he had climbed aboard to the squeal of pipes and already he was beginning to feel different?

It was all so alien to his past life when you could argue and compete with your companions, curse your captain behind his back or reveal his weakness which only you really understood. As from today a mere word could bring a shutter across a man's eyes or make him fear for his own safety. Buckle was eighteen years his senior, yet at the first hint of Bolitho's displeasure had almost cringed?

He closed his eyes and tried to fathom out how he should proceed. To try to be too popular was to be a fool. To hold unswervingly to matters of discipline and order was to be a tyrant. He recalled Colquhoun's words and grinned ruefully. Until you reached Colquhoun's lofty post-rank you could never be certain of anything?

Somewhere beyond the bulkhead he heard a challenge and a shouted reply from a boat. Then the squeak of a hull alongside, the patter of feet on a gangway. It seemed unreal and incredible that the ships his ship, was running her affairs while he just sat here at the table. He sighed again and stared at the pile ob papers and books. It would take longer than he had imagined to adjust?

There was another rap at the door and Graves ducked inside, removing his hat and jamming it under his arm as he announced, "The guardboat has just been alongside, sir." He held out a heavily sealed canvas envelope." From the flag, sir."

Bolitho took it and laid it carelessly on the table. His sailing orders without doubt, and he had to restrain himself from acting as he truly felt. He wanted to rip them open, to know and understand what was required of him?

He saw Graves looking round the cabin, his eyes passing swiftly over the discarded dress coat, the hat lying on the bench seat, and finally on Bolitho's unbuttoned shirt?

Graves said quickly, "Will you wish me to stay, sir?"

"No. I will inform you of their content when I have had

time to study them."

Graves nodded." I am waiting for the last water-lighter to come out to us, sir. I have sent the cooper ashore to speed them up, but…"

Bolitho smiled." Then attend to it, if you please."

Bolitho watched him leave and then slit open the envelope. He was still reading the neatly worded orders when he heard voices in the passageway beyond the door. Graves first, curt and resentful, then another, calm to begin with and then loud with anger? The latter finished with, "Well, how in God's name was] to know? You could have made a signal, you bloody fool!"

There was a sudden silence and then a further tap on the door?

The lieutenant who stepped into the cabin was not at all what Bolitho had been expecting. Too junior for temporary command, Colquhoun had said, and yet this man was probably two years older than himself. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and deeply tanned. His thick auburn hair brushed the deckhead between the beams so that he seemed to fill the cabin?

Bolitho glanced up at him calmly." Mr. Tyrrell?"

The lieutenant nodded briefly." Sir." He took a quick breath." I must apologise for my late arrival aboard.] have been in th' flagship."

Bolitho looked down at the table. Tyrrell had an easy drawl, the mark of a man born and bred in the American colony. He was like a half-tamed animal, and the quickness of his breathing betrayed the anger which he still harboured?

Bolitho added, "Our sailing orders have just arrived."

Tyrrell did not seem to hear." It was personal business, sir, I hadn't th' time to arrange otherwise."

"I see."

He waited, watching the man as he stared restlessly towards the stern windows. He had a strange way ob standing, with one arm hanging down his side, the other inclined towards his sword. Relaxed, but wary? Like someone expecting an attack?

He continued, "I would have preferred to meet ma first lieutenant on board when I arrived."

"I have sent Cap'n Ransome's remains ashore to be conveyed home with his possessions, sir. As you were not yet in command I felt personally free to act as] thought fit." He looked at Bolitho evenly." I was aboard th' flagship to ask, plead if required, for a transfer to another ship. It was refused."

"You felt that by being passed over for command that your talents would be better suited elsewhere, is that it?"

Tyrrell gave a slow smile. It changed him instantly from an angry man to one of obvious charm, with the inbuilt recklessness of a fighter?

"I really am sorry, sir. But no, it was not that. As you no doubt know, I am what th' late Cap'n Ransome would term a `local colonist." ' He added bitterly, "Although when I came aboard a year back it appeared we were all on th' same side against the rebels."

Bolitho stiffened. It was strange he had never considered the feelings of those like Tyrrell before? Good American families, loyal to the Crown, the first to stand together against the sudden revolution in their midst. But as the war had spread, and Britain had fought to retain a grip, then a foothold in the colony, the loyal ones like Tyrrell had all at once become the outsiders?

He asked quietly, "Where is your home?"

" Virginia. Gloucester County. My father came out from England to found a coastal shipping trade. I was master of one of his schooners when th' war began.] have been in th' King's service since that time."

"And your family?"

Tyrrell looked away." God knows. I have heard nothing of them."

"And you wished to transfer to a ship nearer home? To take yourself back to what you now consider your own people?" Bolitho did not conceal the bite in his tone?

"No, sir. That ain't it." He raised one arm and dropped it again, his voice angry." I am a King's officers no matter what Ransome chose to believe, damn his eyes!"

Bolitho stood up." I will not have talk of your late captain!"

Tyrrell replied stubbornly, "Cap'n Ransome is safe now in his cask of spirits in th' hold of a transport. His widow at his great London residence will weep for hims his service which cost him his life." He laughed shortly? "Fever, they said." He looked round the cabin." See all this, sir? A woman's hand. We barely logged a mile in Sparrow, without him having some damned doxa aboard for company!" He seemed unable to stop himself." That's th' sort of fever which killed him in the end, and damned good riddance, if you ask me."

Bolitho sat down. Once again the ground had been cut from under him. Women, here in this cabin. He had heard of such things in grander ships, but only occasionally. But in Sparrow, where there could be little safety if called to do battle, it was unthinkable?

Tyrrell was studying him grimly." I had to tell you, sir? It's my way. But I'll say this one thing more. If disease hadn't taken him, I'd have killed him myself."

Bolitho looked up sharply." Then you're a fool! If you have no more strength than in your bare hands then] will ask for your transfer, and make no mistake about it!"

Tyrrell stared at a point beyond Bolitho's shoulder?

"Would you behave so calmly, sir, if one of th' women had been your sister?"

The door opened a bare inch and Stockdale's battered face peered in at them. In his hand was balanced a small silver tray, two glasses and a decanter?

He wheezed, "Thought you might want a bit od refreshment, sir." He watched the two men and added, “Sort o' celebration like."

Bolitho gestured to the table and waited until Stockdale had left. Still without speaking he filled the glasses, conscious of Tyrrell's eyes following every movement. A bad start. For both of them. If there was still time to make amends it was now. This minute. IfTyrrell took advantage of his surrender, there was no saying where it would lead?

He handed him a glass and said gravely, "I have two sisters, Mr. Tyrrell. In answer to your question, I daresay that I would not." He smiled, seeing the sudden surprise in the lieutenant's eyes." I suggest you propose a toast for the pair of us, eh?"

Tyrrell reached out and held his glass against Bolitho's?

"Then let's drink to a new beginning, sir."

Bolitho held his glass steady." No transfer?"

He shook his head." None."

Bolitho raised the glass." Then, to a new beginning." He took a sip and added quietly, "Which is well for your Mr. Tyrrell. We are sailing tomorrow to join the inshore squadron." He paused, seeing the sudden desperation on the other man's features." Not so very far from the coast of Maryland."

Tyrrell said, "Thank God. I know I'm being stupid, but just being off that shoreline again will make th' world a difference."

Bolitho put down his glass." Then I will meet our officers informally at the close of the first dog watch." He was careful to make his tone formal again. Each ob them had shown enough of his inner reserves for the present." In the meantime you can take me on an inspection around the ship. And I will want to see everything, good and bad."

Tyrrell nodded." So you shall, sir." A slow grin spread across his face." I have a shrewd feeling that Sparrow is going to fly like she's never done before." He stood aside as Bolitho threw on his coat and buttoned his shirt." Now if you will follow me, sir."

Bolitho looked at Tyrrell's broad shoulders as they walked towards the sunlight on the gun deck and held down a sigh. If each day was going to present a battle of wills, it would make the privilege of command a testing experience?

He said, "We will begin with the starboard battery, Mr. Tyrrell."

The first lieutenant paused below the break in the quarterdeck." As you said, sir. Everything." He grinned again." Good and bad."

Stockdale picked up Bolitho's shaving bowl and peered at the untouched breakfast on the cabin table? Overhead and throughout the ship the air was alive with noise and bustle. To a landsman the activity ob preparing to get under way would appear haphazard and disorganised, but to the practised eye each man had his place, and his reason for being there. The miles of cordage and rigging, each scrap of sail had Z

vital part to play if a ship was to move and act to perfection?

Bolitho crossed to the stern windows and stared at the nearest strip of land. It was a bright morning, with the sky above the hills very pale, washed-out and clean. He could just see the staff above the headland battery, its flag no longer listless but lifting and curling to a fair northeysterly. It was almost physical pain to stay sealed in the cabin, waiting and fretting for the exact moment to show himself?

Voices pealed along the upper deck and shadows flitted busily across the skylight. Occasionally he could hear the plaintive squeak of a fiddle, the distorted rumble of a shanty as the men tramped around the capstan?

In the past hours and for most of the night he had tossed and turned in his cot, listening to the sea noises, the creak of timbers and rigging, his mind exploring every contingency, his brain bursting to the mental picture of his chart. Every unemployed eye would be watching him this morning. From the flagship's quarterdeck to some unknown lieutenant who probably hated Bolitho for getting the golden chance which he considered should have been his?

"The coffee, sir." Stockdale hovered by the table? "While it's still 'ot."

Bolitho swung round to curse him for breaking his racing thoughts, but the sight of his anxious face was too much for him. As was so often the case?

He sat down at the table and tried to relax? Stockdale was right. If he had forgotten anything it was already too late. You could cram your head just so much. After that the mind became awash and confused beyond reason?

He sipped his coffee and stared at the cold meat? He could not touch that. His stomach was already twisting with apprehension, the lean slices of pork would be just enough to tip the balance?

Stockdale peered through the windows." It will be a good passage, sir. Long enough to get the measure ob these fellows."

Bolitho glanced up at him. He must be a mind-reader. In company with another sloop they were to escort two fat transports with supplies for the troops at Philadelphia once a rendezvous with the inshore squadron had been made. Two thousand miles, mostly

in open waters, would certainly allow him time to test himself and his company. He had met his officers in the small wardroom the previous evening. With the exception of Tyrrell, all had been aboard since commissioning at Greenwich. He felt vaguely jealous of their obvious familiarity with the Sparrow. The two midshipmen, each eighteen years old, had joined as untrained novices. They had grown up in the Sparrows and were now hopefully awaiting promotion. It was a pity they were only midshipmen, he thought. They might vie too much for their captain's approval, where, in a larger ship and with more competition amongst the "young gentlemen" it would be less direct?

Buckle had said little during their informal meeting? Reserved, and no doubt waiting to see how his captain would behave under sail, he had restricted himself to matters of navigation?

Robert Dalkeith, the surgeon, was an odd one? Young, but already too plump for his own good, he was also completely bald, and wore a bright red wig. But he appeared more skilled in his trade than was usual in a King's ship, as well as cultivated, and Bolitho imagined there was more to him than he showed at face value?

Lock, the purser, a bobbing, genial stick of a manB

completed the gathering?

Graves had joined them later, making a good deal ob noise about his trouble with the water-lighters, the difficulties in obtaining help ashore for loading boatss in fact the list had been formidable?

Tyrrell had interrupted cheerfully, "It ain't fair, Hector? You being singled out to be a bloody martyr like this!"

Graves had frowned and then forced a smile when the others had joined Tyrrell in the laughter?

Bolitho leaned back and stared at the skylight. He was not sure of Graves either. A hard worker? Ransome's toady? It was hard to see where the latent bad feeling had started between him and Tyrrell. But it was there right enough?

"Captain, sir?"

Bolitho started and looked at the door. Midshipman Bethune was standing with his hat under his arm, his free hand grasping the hilt of his dirk. He was round-faced, sturdy youth, and his face was a mass of dark freckles?

"Well?"

Bethune swallowed." Mr. Tyrrell's respects, sir, and the transports have weighed. Fawn has her preparative hoisted, sir." He glanced curiously round the cabin?

Bolitho nodded gravely." I will be up directly!"

With elaborate care he forced himself to take another sip of coffee. It almost choked him. Fawn was the other sloop for the escort and would be carrying Colquhoun, in addition to her commander, as senior officer?

The midshipman was still inside the cabin. He added awkwardly, "I am from Cornwall, too, sir."

Bolitho smiled in spite of his tension. The competition had begun already?

He replied, "I will try not to hold it against you, Mr? Bethune." He dropped his eyes as the boy fled from the cabin?

He stood up and took his hat from Stockdale. Then with a brief nod he strode out towards the waiting sunlight?

The gangways and decks seemed more crowded than ever as seamen ran this way and that, pursued by the hoarse shouts of their petty officers. As he reached the quarterdeck he saw two heavy transports idling towards the headland, their tan sails flapping and billowing in the breeze?

Tyrrell touched his hat." Anchor's hove short, sir."

"Thank you."

Bolitho strode to the larboard side and stared towards the anchored Fawn. He could see the muddle of men at her capstan, the scurrying preparations as the cable became bar-taut beneath her beakhead?

He crossed to the opposite side, trying to ignore the seamen who were poised at their stations on every hand. Beyond the nearest headland towards the hard blue horizon he saw a lively pattern of small white horses. Once outside this sheltered anchorage it would be good sailing weather. He glanced at the sluggish swirl of currents around a nearby storeship and bit his lip. He had to get free of all the shipping first?

"Fawn's signal is close up, sir!" Bethune was clinging to the shrouds with his telescope, althougN

Colquhoun's signal was clear enough to be seen without any glass?

"Stand by on the capstan!"

Tyrrell ran to the rail and cupped his big hands? "Loose th' heads'ls!"

Beside the wheel Buckle stood near the two helmsmen, his eyes watching Bolitho?

"Breeze is freshening a mite, sir."

"Yes."

Bolitho walked to the rail and stared along his command. He saw Graves watching over the anchor party, Midshipman Heyward at the foot of the mainmast with his division of seamen?

"Signal, sir! Up anchor!"

"Hands aloft and loose tops'ls!"

He stood back to watch the seamen surging up the shrouds and out along the swaying yards, their bodies black against the sky. Tyrrell said very little, and Bolitho observed that the topmen were well able to manage without added inducement from the deck. As canvas thundered loosely from the yards and the ship gave a longdrawn shudder, he saw the Fawn's masts already swinging across the stern, her foretopsail filling to the wind as she heeled over?

Bethune called, "Signal! Make haste, sir!" He lowered his glass, trying to avoid Bolitho's eye?

"Man the braces!"

He tried to shut out Colquhoun's last signal. Maybe he was endeavouring to goad him into doing something foolish. Perhaps he was always the same? But nothing must or would spoil this moment?

From forward came the cry, "Anchor's aweigh, sir!"

Free of the land the Sparrow tilted steeply to the wind, the headland sliding across her jib-boom as with more and more canvas thundering and hardening from her yards she paid off into the wind?

Blocks clattered and whined, and high above the decks the seamen sprang about like monkeys?

Bolitho looked at Buckle." Lay her on the larboard tack. Then set a course to weather the headland." He

held the master's gaze and added, "We will get the courses on her directly and see if we can take the edge off Fawn's lead."

Moments later, with her courses and topsails filling to the morning breeze, the Sparrow glided swiftly past an anchored two-decker which wore a vice-admiral's flag at the fore?

Bolitho glanced at Tyrrell and saw him give a quick grimace. He might have cause to regret his application for transfer, Bolitho thought. And so, if his trust in Tyrrell proved false, would he?

Between two anchored Indiamen and on down the fairway towards that beckoning headland. Small craft bobbed astern in the frothing wake, and when Bolitho moved from studying the compass he saw they had already cut Fawn's lead by half a cable?

Buckle glanced at the surgeon who was clinging to the mizzen shrouds with one hand and holding on to his outrageous wig with the other?

He winked." We have a rare one here, Mr. Dalkeith."

Dalkeith kept his face immobile as Bolitho glanced aft towards him before replying, "Poor Captai[

Ransome would never have left port with such dashs eh?" He gave a sly grin." But then, at this time o' the morning he would have been somewhat tired!"

They both laughed?

Bolitho's voice brought them up with a jerk?

"There is a yawl on the larboard bow, Mr. Buckle? Laugh later with my blessing, but run her down within sight of the flagship and you will laugh to another tune!"

He turned back to the rail as Buckle hurled himself towards his helmsman?

The tip of the headland was already dropping abeam, and he felt the Sparrow's stem bite into the first gentle roller, her deck tilting still further under her press of canvas?

Tyrrell shouted, "Anchor's secured, sir!" Spray had soaked his face and shirt but he was grinning broadly?

Bolitho nodded." Good. Now get the forecourse trimmed. It looks like a piece of untidy linen." But he could not hold his severity." By God, she flies, does she not?"

He looked aloft at the squared sails and braced yards, the masthead pendant which flicked out like a coachman's whip. He had seen it all before so mana times, but now it felt as if it was unique?

Bethune called, "From Fawn, sir. Take station to wind rd!"

Bolitho smiled at him." Acknowledge."

To the quarterdeck at large he added, "A fine morning!"

By the hatchway Stockdale watched Bolitho's pleasure and felt inwardly happy. He ran his eye over the hurrying seamen as they slithered down once more to the deck. Tanned and healthy, what did they know about anything? He picked his uneven teeth with an ivory pin. The captain had seen more action in the past years than they knew about. He watched Bolitho's squared shoulders as he paced restlessly on the weather side. Given time, they'd come to find out, he decided?