3. The Privateer

BOLITHe opened his eyes and stared for severyl seconds at the unlit lantern spiralling above his cot? Despite the weariness in his limbs and the fact he had been on deck repeatedly during the night he found it hard to sleep. Beyond the screen which partitioned his sleeping quarters from the cabin he could see the pale light of dawn, and knew from the lantern's sluggish movement and the uneasy creak of timbers that the wind was little more than a breeze. He tried to relaxs wondering how long it would take to break the habit ob awakening with each dawn, to enjoy his new-found privacy?

Feet thudded on the quarterdeck above, and he guessed that soon now the seamen would be turning to for another day. It had been two weeks since the little convoy had sailed from Antigua, and in that time they had covered only half their set distance. One thousand miles in open waters, and each mile marked by perverse winds and no winds at all. Barely an hour passed without the need to call the hands to make or shorten sail, to trim yards in the hope of catching a dying breeze, or to reef against one violent and taunting squall?

Buckle's gloomy prediction about Sparrow's sailing qualities in a poor wind had proved only too true. Time and time again she had paid off, her canvas flapping in confusion as yet one more wind had died and left them almost becalmed. Hard work and angry words had eventually brought her back on station again, only to have the whole thing repeated before the end of a watch?

Patrol and scouting duty had been the lot ob Sparrow's company for most of their commission and they had yet to learn the true misery of convoy over long passages. The two transports had not helped? They appeared totally unwilling to realise the importance of staying in close company, so that if they became scattered by a swift squall it took many hours to urge, threaten and finally drive them back into formation. Colquhoun's curt signals had only succeeded in antagonising the master of one of thems a big transport named Golden Fleece. On more than one occasion he had ignored the signals altogether or had caused the Fawn to witheraw from her proper station at the head of the convoy in order to commence a verbal exchange which could be heard by everyone else nearby?

Bolitho climbed from the cot and walked slowly into the cabin, feeling the deck lifting gently beneath his bare feet before slipping away in a trough, the motio[

bringing the usual clatter of blocks, the drawn-out groan of the rudder as the helmsman brought the sloop back under command?

He leaned his hands on the sill of the stern windows and stared out at the empty sea. The two transports, if they were still together, would be somewhere on Sparrow's starboard bow. Bolitho's orders were to stay to windward of the well-laden ships so as to be reada to run down on any suspicious vessel and hold the maximum advantage until she was proved friend or foe?

In fact they had sighted an unknown sail on three separate occasions. Far astern, it had been impossible to know if it was the same on each sighting or three individual vessels. Either way, Colquhoun had refused to be drawn to investigate. Bolitho could sympathise with his unwillingness to leave the valuable transports, especially as the wind might choose the very moment when his sparse forces were scattered to play a new trick or bring some real enemy amongst them. On the other hand, he was very conscious of a sense of uneasiness after each call from the masthead. The strange sail was like a will-o'-the-wisps and if it was hostile could be methodically following the little convoy, awaiting exactly the right moment to attack?

The door opened and Fitch padded into the cabin carrying two jugs. One was coffee, and the other contained water from the galley for Bolitho's shave. In the pale light from the windows he looked smaller and scrawnier than ever, and as usual kept his eyes averted while he prepared the necessary cup for Bolitho's first coffee of the day?

"How is it on deck?"

Fitch raised his eyes only slightly." Mr. Tilby reckons it'll be another roastin' day, sir."

Tilby was the boatswain, a great untidy hulk of a man who was given to some of the most profane language Bolitho had heard in ten years at sea. But his knowledge of weather, his forecast of what each dawn might bring, had been only too accurate?

And under a blazing sun, with little space to find shade or comfort, the Sparrow's seamen had more torment to face before night found them again. It was amazing how they all managed to survive in such a small hull. What with extra stores and spare sparss powder and shot, and countless other requirements fo_

keeping a ship at sea, some of the men were hard put to find space for a hammock. In addition the Sparrow had all the great lengths of anchor cable to be neatla stowed when she was under way. Severyl hundred fathoms of thirteen-inch hemp for the main anchors and another hundred of eight-inch for the kedge took up more space than fifty human beings required for even the most basic needs?

But if this or any other ship was to survive and live from her own resources then such discomforts had to be endured?

He sipped the coffee. If only the wind would freshen and stay with them. It would help drive away the weariness and drudgery of work aloft, and also give him time to drill the guns' crews to better advantage? They had had few such drills during the first days out ob harbour, and once more he had been made aware ob the strange attitude of acceptance he had originalla noticed. Perhaps they had been so long without actually being called to do battle they had taken the drills as merely something to be tolerated, even expected from a new captain. Their timing had been good enough, if somewhat rigid, they had gone through all the motions of running out, traversing and pointings but again and again he had felt something was badla

lacking. As the crews had faced outboard through their open ports he had sensed their indifference. There was nothing to fight, so what was the point of it all, their relaxed bodies seemed to indicate?

He had tackled Tyrrell about it but the first lieutenant had said cheerfully, "Hell, sir, it don't signify they won't be able to fight if th' time calls for it."

Bolitho's sharp reply brought a new barrier between them, and for the moment he was prepared to let it remain?

Captain Ransome must have used the sloop like a personal possession, a yacht, he thought. Sometimes during the night when Bolitho had come down to the cabin after a frustrating hour on deck watching the hands shortening sail yet again he had pictured Ransome with some woman or other. Or Tyrrell pacing the quarterdeck, tearing himself apart as he imagined his sister just a few feet below him. He had not mentioned the matter to Tyrrell since his first outbursts but had found himself wondering about the real storys and what had happened to the girl after Ransome's sudden death?

Stockdale came into the cabin with the shavin^

bowl. He glared at Fitch and wheezed, "Get the cap'n's breakfast!"

To Bolitho he added, "'Nother clear mornin', sir." He waited until Bolitho was in his chair and then held the razor against the window. He seemed content with its edge." Wot we need is a real good blow." He showed his uneven teeth." Make some o' these young puppies jump about!"

Bolitho relaxed as the razor moved precisely over his chin. Stockdale said very little but he always seemed to hit the exact point?

In between strokes he replied, "In another month we'll be in the hurricane season again, Stockdale.] hope that will satisfy you."

The big coxswain grunted." Seen ' em afore. Us'll see 'em again an' live to tell of it."

Bolitho gave up. Nothing, it seemed, could break the man's supreme confidence in his ability to produce a miracle, even in the face of a hurricane?

Voices rang out overhead, and then he heard feet dashing down the companion ladder from the quarterdeck?

It was Midshipman Heyward, impeccable as ever in spite of being on his feet for much of the night?

"Captain, sir." He watched Stockdale's razor poised in midair." Mr. Graves's respects and Fawn has just signalled. Sail to the nor'-east."

Bolitho snatched the towel." Very well. I will come up."

Stockdale laid down the bowl." That same one, sir?"

Bolitho shook his head." Unlikely. She'd never overreach us in one night, even if she was after our blood." He rubbed his face vigorously." But in this empty sea a sight of anything is welcome."

When he reached the quarterdeck he found Tyrell and most of the others already there. Below the mainmast the hands had just been mustered in readiness for the morning assault on the decks with holystones and swabs, while others were waiting by the pumps or just staring up at the barely filled sails? Graves touched his hat?

"Mastheyd lookout has not yet sighted anything, sir."

Bolitho nodded and strode to the compass. North-west by north. It seemed as if it had been riveted in that direction since time began. It was hardly surprising Fawn had sighted the newcomer first. In her position ahead and slightly to starboard of the transports she was better placed. All the same, he would have wished otherwise. Fawn's signals and execution ob Colquhoun's orders always seemed to be that much quicker than his?

Through the criss-cross of rigging and shrouds and slightly to starboard of the rearmost transport he saw the other sloop tacking awkwardly in the gentle westerly breeze. With every stitch of canvas on her braced yards she was barely making headway?

From aloft came the sudden cry, "Deck there! Sail on the starboard beam!"

Tyrrell crossed to Bolitho's side?

"What d'you think? One of our own?"

Graves said swiftly, "Or a damned Yankee, eh?"

Bolitho saw the exchange of glances, the sudden hostility between them like something physical?

He said calmly, "We will know directly, gentlemen."

Midshipman Bethune called, "From Fawn, sir? Remain on station."

Graves said complacently, "There goes Fawn. She's going about to take a soldier's wind under her tail."

Bolitho said, "Get aloft, Mr. Graves. I want to know everything you can discover about that sail."

Graves stared at him." I've a good hand aloft, sir."

Bolitho met his resentment gravely." And now] require a good officer there, too, Mr. Graves. An experienced eye and not just a clear one."

Graves moved stiffly to the weather shrouds and after the merest hesitation began to climb?

Tyrrell said quietly, "Do him good, that one!"

Bolitho glanced around the crowded quarterdeck?

"Maybe, Mr. Tyrrell. But if you imagine I am using ma authority to foster some petty spite between you then] must assure you otherwise." He lowered his voice." It is an enemy we are fighting, not each other!"

Then he took a telescope from the rack and walked to the foot of the mizzen mast. Steadying his legs against the uncomfortable motion he trained the glass on the Fawn and then very slowly beyond her. Minutes passed, and then as the distant ship lifted on some large roller he saw her topgallant sails shining in the first sunlight like matched pink shells. She was clawing her way closehauled on a converging course, her yards braced so tightly they were almost fore-and-aft?

Graves yelled down, "Frigate, sir!" A pause as every man looked up at his tiny silhouette against the sky? "English built!"

Bolitho stayed silent. English built perhaps. But who now stood behind her guns? He watched Fawn edging round, her masthead pendant lifting and curling listlessly. More flags shot up her yards and Bethune yelled, "From Fawn, sir. Recognition signal." A further pause as he groped through his grubby book." She's the Miranda, thirty-two, Captain Selby, sir."

Buckle said to the deck at large, "From England most likely."

The light was already stronger, and as he stared across the brightening water Bolitho could feel the firs?

warm rays against his face. From England. Every man aboard was probably thinking of those words. Except for Tyrrell and the colonists in the company. But all the rest would be picturing his own past way of life. Village or farm, some ale house outside a harbour or fishing port. A woman's face, a child's last grip before the harder hands of the pressgang?

He found himself thinking of his own home in Falmouth. The great stone house below Pendennis Castle where his father would be waiting and wondering about him and his brother Hugh, while he remained in Cornwall. Like all the Bolitho ancestorss his father had been a sea-officer, but having lost an arm and his health was now confined to a landbound existence, always within sight of the ships and the sea which had forsaken him?

"From Fawn, sir. General. Heave to."

Colquhoun, it seemed, was quite satisfied with the other ship's identity. For once the two transports needed no extra goading to obey the signal. Perhaps like the rest they, too, were eager for news from that other world?

Bolitho closed the glass and handed it to Z

boatswain's mate?

"Shorten sail, Mr. Tyrrell, and heave to as ordered.l He waited until the lieutenant had shouted for the topmen to get aloft and then added, "That frigate has been hard worked so her mission must be important."

He had watched the newcomer while she had forged towards the uneven cluster of ships, had seen the great scars on her hull where the sea had pared away the paintwork like a giant knife. Her sails, too, looked much repaired, evidence of a rapid voyage?

Bethune shouted, "Miranda's hoisted another signals sir!" He swayed in the shrouds as he tried to level his big telescope." To Fawn. Captain repair on board."

Once again Fawn's response was swift, her big gig being swayed out within minutes of the signal. Bolitho could imagine Colquhoun hurrying to the other ship and the Miranda's consternation when they discovered that he was senior to their own captain?

Whatever it entailed, the matter was obviousla urgent, and not merely an exchange of gossip at this chance encounter in open waters?

Bolitho rubbed his chin and said, "I'm going below?

Call me if anything happens."

In the cabin he found Stockdale waiting with his coat and sword, his lopsided grin very broad as he muttered, "Thought you'd be wantin' these, sir."

Fitch was gripping the table, his legs spread apart as the sloop rolled and staggered in the uncomfortable troughs, the power gone from her sails. He was staring at the breakfast he had just brought, his narrow features resigned?

Bolitho smiled." Never fear, I'll find time to eat it later."

It was strange that the mere sight of another ship, the obscure hint of excitement, had given him an appetite at last. He gulped down some coffee as Stockdale adjusted his swordbelt before handing him the coat?

Perhaps Miranda had discovered an enemy and needed help to attack them. Maybe the war was overs or another had broken out elsewhere. The possibilities seemed endless?

He looked up and saw Tyrrell peering through the open skylight?

"Cap'n, sir! The Fawn's gig is shoving off from the frigate."

Bolitho replied, "Thank you." He forcibly disguised his disappointment." That was quick."

Tyrrell vanished and he added quietly, "There'll be time for breakfast after all."

He was mistaken. Even as he began to unfasten his swordbelt Tyrrell's face reappeared at the skylight, his words filling the cabin as he shouted, "From Fawn, sir? Repair on board forthwith."

Stockdale bounded from the cabin, his hoarse voice bellowing for the gig's crew which the boatswain had already thought prudent to muster?

With frantic haste the boat was swung outboard and dropped alongside, where with little thought for dignita or safety, Bolitho hurled himself into the sternsheetss his sword clattering against the gunwale and almost tripping him on top of the oarsmen?

Stockdale bawled, "Give way all!" In a lower but no less menacing tone he added, "An' remember, ma beauties, if one o' you misses a stroke you'll 'ave me to answer!"

The gig seemed to fly across the water, and when at last Bolitho regained his composure and looked astern he saw the Sparrow was already a cable clear. She was pitching steeply in the swell, her sails rippling and flashing in disorder while she lay hove to in the pale sunlight. In spite of his own busy thoughts and andieta he could still find time to admire her. In the past he had often watched the stern cabin of a passing man-of-war and pondered about her captain, what sort of persons his qualities or lack of them. It was very hard to accept that the Sparrow's cabin was his own and that others might be wondering about him?

He turned and saw Fawn's outline overlapping that of the idling frigate, figures moving round her entry port to receive him with all formality. He smiled to himself. In the face of hell it seemed likely that no captain, no matter how junior, was expected to go without his proper acknowledgment?

Bolitho was met at the entry port by Maulby, Fawn's commander. He was very thin, and but for a pronounced stoop would have stood well over six feet? Life between a sloop's decks must be uncomfortable for such a man, Bolitho thought?

He appeared a few years older than himself and had a drawling, bored manner of speaking. But he seemed pleasant enough and made him welcome?

As they ducked beneath the quarterdeck Maulba said, "The little admiral is excited, it would seem."

Bolitho paused and stared at him." Who?"

Maulby shrugged loosely." In the flotilla we always refer to Colquhoun as our little admiral. He has a way of inserting himself in the role without actually holding the necessary rank!" He laughed, his bent shoulders touching a deckhead beam so that he appeared to be supporting it with his own frame." You look shockeds my friend?"

Bolitho grinned. Maulby, he decided, was a man you could like and trust on sight. But he had never before heard such comments made about a superior by two subordinates meeting for the first time. In some ships it would be inviting disaster and oblivion?

He replied, "No, but I am refreshed!"

The stern cabin was much the same size as his own? There was no other similarity. Plain, even spartan, he was reminded of Tyrrell's anger, his bitter attack on the

woman's touch. He saw Colquhoun sitting at a tables his chin in his hands as he stared at some newly opened despatches?

Without pausing he said, "Sit down, both of you.] must give this matter my attention."

Maulby looked gravely at Bolitho and dropped one eyelid in a quick wink?

Bolitho glanced away, Maulby's easy acceptance ob their superior was daunting. The little admiral. It suited Colquhoun very well?

Maulby seemed well able to remain relaxed, yet he was nobody's fool. Bolitho had noted the smart way his men had moved about the gun deck, the crisp passing and execution of orders. Bolitho had not met the other captains of Colquhoun's flotilla. If they were all such odd birds as Maulby it was hardly surprising that Colquhoun was showing signs of strain. Or maybe in such small ships individual characters were more noticeable. He thought of Pears in the old Trojan, his rugged features which had never seemed to alter under any circumstances. In a gale, close to a lee shore, or under enemy fire, witnessing a flogging, or commending some sailor on promotion, he had always seemed remote and beyond personal contact. It was hard to imagine Maulby, he paused, or himself eithers with such aloof and godlike powers?

Colquhoun's voice broke across his thoughts, sharp and incisive." Miranda's captain has brought serious news." He still did not lift his head." France has signed an alliance with the Americans. It means that General Washington will have the full support of French regular troops and a powerful fleet."

Bolitho shifted in his chair, his mind grappling with Colquhoun's announcement. The French had already done much to help their new ally, but this would mean that the war was now firmly in the open. It also implied that the French were showing fresh confidence in the Americans' chance of victory?

Colquhoun stood up quickly and stared through the stern windows." The Miranda is carrying despatches and intelligence for the Commander-in-Chief at New York. When he left Plymouth he had a brig in compana with duplicate information for Antigua. The ships were caught in a storm shortly after clearing the Channel and the brig was not seen again."

Maulby asked quietly, "Taken by the French, sir?"

Colquhoun swung on him with unexpected anger? "What the hell does it matter? Taken or wreckeds dismasted or bloody well eaten by worms, it makes no difference to us, does it!"

Suddenly Bolitho realised the cause of his attack? Had Colquhoun remained at Antigua until his own ship had refitted, Maulby would have been in charge of the convoy's escort. Miranda's captain, desperate to carra his news to New York, and senior to Maulby, would have ordered him to make arrangements for the information to be taken without delay to Antigua? Nobody could rely on the brig's survival as an excuse for doing nothing. By a mere twist of fate, or Colquhoun's determination to keep control of his ships at sea, Miranda's captain had been able to pass on the decision to him?

In a calmer tone Colquhoun continued, "It has been reported that the French have been preparing ships for months. From Toulon a whole squadron set sail weeks ago and slipped through the Gibraltar patrols without so much as a squeak of news getting out." He looked at each of them in turn." They could be on their way here, to the American coast, anywhere, for all we knows damn their eyes!"

The Fawn had swung slightly in the slow procession of troughs, and through the swaying windows Bolitho could see the two transports, huge and ungainly, their yards askew as they awaited the next signal. Each transport was filled to the deck seams with much needed supplies for the army in Philadelphia. In the wrong hands they would represent a tremendous prizes and the realisation must be foremost in Colquhoun's mind?

Colquhoun said, "Miranda has agreed to stand by the convoy until we contact the inshore squadron. But in this damned weather it might take weeks."

Bolitho imagined Colquhoun was picturing the distance like a mental chart. All those miles, with the knowledge that he must eventually make the long passage back to Antigua to resume control of his small force?

Maulby drawled, "May I suggest that I continue with the transports, sir? With Miranda in company we will be safe enough." He glanced at Bolitho." You could then return in Sparrow to English Harbour, pass the news to the admiral and prepare our own ships for further work."

Colquhoun stared at him, his eyes unseeing?

"God damn the complacency of our precious Government! For years this has been brewing, and while the French have been building new ships, ours have been allowed to go rotten for want of money. If the Channel Fleet were to be ordered to sea tomorrow] doubt that more than twenty sail of the line would be capable!" He saw their surprise and nodded vehemently." Oh yes, gentlemen, while you have been out here imagining that all would be ready if once the call came, I have been made to stay silent and watch it happening." He struck the table with his fist." Some flag officers are too concerned with political power and gracious living to care for the wants of the fleet!"

He sat down heavily." I must decide…"

The door opened slightly and a frightened-looking midshipman said, "From Miranda, sir. She requests instructions…" He got no further?

"Tell him to mind his manners!" Colquhoun glared at him hotly." It is my decision!"

Bolitho glanced at Maulby. For the first time in his life he was beginning to realise the meaning of command?

Whatever Colquhoun decided could be equally right or wrong. Bolitho had learned one thing well. If you made a right decision, others often received the credit. But make a wrong one and you were in no doubt where the blame would he?

Colquhoun said suddenly, "Send for your clerks Maulby. I will dictate new orders for…" he looked at Bolitho, "for Sparrow."

He seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud." I do not doubt your ability, Bolitho, but you lack experience.] will need Maulby's Fawn with me until I know what is to happen next." He gestured to the table as the ship's clerk entered the cabin." You must remain with the transports. Miranda's captain will give you guidances and you will obey him to the best of your skill. Your orders will allow you to return to the flotilla when the transports have been delivered." He paused and added softly, "Delivered."

Bolitho rose to his feet." Aye, sir."

"Now get out and leave me to draft these orders."

Maulby took Bolitho's elbow and guided him towards the gun deck?

"I think the little admiral is worried, my friend." He sighed." I was hoping to rid my ship of his presence and pass him on to you." He turned and gave a quick grin." There is no justice in this world!"

Bolitho, saw his gig falling and rising in the swells Stockdale shading his eyes as he watched the sloop for a recall?

He said, "The news is bad, but not unexpected. At least the pretence is done with."

Maulby nodded gravely." No comfort, I fear, to the lamb about to be devoured."

Bolitho stared at him." Not that serious surely?"

"I am not certain. What the Frogs do today the damned Spaniards will copy tomorrow. Soon we will have the whole world at our throats." He frowned." The little admiral is right on one score. It seems that our Government is run by demons, most of whom appear determined to drive the rest of us to madness."

The first lieutenant hurried into view and proffered a freshly sealed envelope?

Maulby clapped Bolitho on the shoulder and said cheerfully, "Think of us sometimes. While you enjoa your leisurely voyage, I will be forced to share my table with him." He rubbed his hands." But with any luck he may get promotion and vanish forever."

The lieutenant said urgently, "Captain Colquhoun's compliments, and will you join him immediately?"

Maulby nodded and held out his hand?

"Until we meet again, Bolitho." He seemed unwilling to let him leave. Then he said awkwardly, "Be warneds my friend. You have a fine command, but you also have a large number of colonists in your company." He tried to smile." If the war goes badly, there are some who might be tempted to change allegiance. In their shoes] could perhaps feel the same."

Bolitho met his gaze and nodded." Thank you. I will remember it."

Maulby did not hide his relief." There, I knew you were a good fellow! Not one to treat my clumsy advice as patronage."

Bolitho grinned." You took a risk. I might have gone to Colquhoun and told him of your name for him."

"I would have denied it!"

"Naturally!"

They both laughed?

Then as the gig hooked on to the chains they became formal again. Even before Bolitho had reached the boat flags were soaring up the Fawn's yards, and an acknowledgment appeared above the frigate with equal speed?

Bolitho settled himself in the sternsheets and stared towards his ship. Colquhoun had taken the responsibility and made a decision. His own responsibility was just beginning?

Lieutenant Tyrrell turned as Bolitho's head and shoulders rose through the quarterdeck hatch and waited until he had made his usual inspection of the sails and compass before remarking, "She's running well, sir."

Bolitho walked across the tilting deck and rested his hands on the rail, feeling the hull quivering beneath him like a living creature. The noon sun stood high over the ship, but he was able to ignore it, conscious only of the well-filled sails, the leap of spray up and over the

bowsprit. It had been five days since Fawn had turned back for Antigua, and it seemed as if Colquhoun's disappearance from their midst had brought a change of luck and weather. Perverse as ever, but for once on their side, the wind had backed suddenly to south-southwest and had freshened into a lively blow which had hardly dropped during the whole time. Under bulging canvas the ships had driven on towards the American coast, which according to the most recent calculations now lay some two hundred and fifty miles away. The heavy merchantmen had maintained a good five knots, satisfied perhaps that Miranda's captain was content to leave them to their own devices. The frigate's signals had been confined for the most part to Sparrow. For within twenty-four hours of leaving Fawn the masthead lookout had sighted a solitary sail once again, far astern of the convoy, a tiny white flaw on the horizon?

Bolitho had sent Graves aloft with a telescope, but even he had been unable to identify the mysterious follower. Next he signalled to the frigate, requesting permission to investigate. He had been refused? Miranda's captain was probably regretting his meeting with the convoy. But for their dragging weight he would have reached his objective by now and would have borne no blame for failing to pass his news to Antigua? But once in contact with the slower vessels he had no choice but to act as he had. Also, he would be fulla aware that once beyond his control Sparrow might become too involved with a separate situation to return, and thus leave him with total responsibility for the transports?

The unknown sail had not been sighted again, and Bolitho had accepted that Miranda's captain had been right, if over cautious, to restrain his efforts?

He looked at Tyrrell's bronzed features and nodded? "I am well satisfied."

He watched some foretopmen sliding down the backstays, racing each other to the deck after their work aloft. Buckle was right. She moved like a bird with any sort of wind. He watched the Bear, the transport closest to his own ship, and wished they were free ob the convoy. Then he could really put Sparrow to the test. Royals, even studding sails could be rigged, if only to find out what she could accomplish under every stitch of canvas?

Most of the unemployed officers were on deck enjoying their usual gossip before the midday mealB

careful to stay on the lee side and as much out of his way as possible?

He saw Dalkeith, the surgeon, laughing with Buckles his head very white in its baldness under the harsh light. The red wig was being vigorously shaken by the wardroom servant, and Bolitho guessed it had been given some sort of a wash. Lock, the purser, was in a more serious conversation with young Heywards opening and ruffling a big ledger in the wind as he explained some point of victualling which might place the midshipman's knowledge above that of his friend Bethune. The latter, being on watch, stood untidily by the quarterdeck rail, his shirt open to his waist and massaging his stomach with one hand. Bolitho smiled? The boy was no doubt hungry. Midshipmen like Bethune usually were?

Down on the gun deck many of the seamen were lounging beneath the sails' great shadows or passing the time like their officers. The boatswain was with his own friend Yule, the gunner, and together they would have made a frightening pair of highwaymen, Bolitho thought. Whereas Tilby was vast and ungainly, his heavy features seamed with too much drink, Yule was swarthy and lithe, like a stoat, with darting, flinty eyes which were forever on the move?

As he glanced from group to group he was again reminded of his new-found isolation. Privacy which could lead to loneliness. Privilege which might become a burden?

He thrust his hands behind him and began to pace slowly along the weather side, letting the warm wind ruffle his hair and play with his open shirt. Somewhere out there beyond the hammock nettings was the coast of America. It would be strange to drop anchor only to find the war had finished, that blood had proved too strong in the face of France 's new challenge. If England were to admit to America 's independence then perhaps both nations would unite against France and settle her ambitions once and for all. He glanced at Tyrrell's profile and wondered if he was thinking the same?

He shut Tyrrell's personal problems from his mind and tried to concentryte on the string of affairs which daily needed his attention. The water supply should be replenished as soon as possible. The casks were poor, and water soon became rancid in this climate? And he would purchase fresh fruit whenever they contacted the land or some supply vessel. It was amazing that the ship's company had stayed so healtha

when Ransome had failed to take such simple precautions. Aboard the old Trojan he had not seen one case of scurvy in the three years he had been in her, evidence of Captain Pears's concern for his men and a valuable lesson to all his subordinates. He had already spoken about it to Lock, and after some hesitation the purser had muttered, "A costly affair, sir."

"Costlier if our people go down with disease, Mr? Lock. I have known a whole squadron rendered useless because of such skinflint methods."

Then there was the matter of a flogging, his first as captain. He had always disliked unnecessary use ob punishment even though he knew it to be necessary on occasions. In the Navy discipline was harsh and instant, and when a ship was miles from home and other authority, it was a captain's deterrent to insubordination and final confusion. Some captains used it without thought. Brutal and inhuman floggings were commonplace in many ships, and as a young midshipman Bolitho had nearly fainted after one such spectacle. Other captains, weak and inefficient, left authority to subordinates and shut their ears to its misuse?

But for the most part the English seaman knew the

measure of his service, and if he took chances was prepared to accept the consequences. And if one man thieved or cheated another of his messmates he had no mercy at all. The justice of the lower deck was equally feared to that of a captain?

But this case was different, or could be from what he knew of it. A seaman had defied Lieutenant Graves during a night watch when the hands had been called to reef topsails in an unexpected squall. He had shouted at the officer and called him a "heartless bugger" within earshot of some twenty other people?

In confidence Tyrrell had asked Bolitho to accept the seaman's explanation. He was a good hand, and Graves had provoked him in a fit of anger when he had failed to reach his station on the mainyard with his companions?

A dirty Yankee bastard. They were the words Graves had used. Too lazy to do his proper duty, and no doubt too gutless to fight when the time came?

All this and Tyrell's heated attack on Graves 's handling of the matter were fresh proof of the latent tension amongst the company under his command?

Graves had been adamant. The man had insulted him in front of his watch and must be punished?

He was right in one respect. His authority had to be upheld or he would never be able to retain control again?

Bolitho blamed himself. If he had had more time to consider this unusual situation, or had taken less comfort from his own new position, he could have prevented it. By example or by forcing his will on his officers he might have made them realise that such behaviour would not be tolerated. But that was all too late now. It had happened?

He had compromised by standing the man overs knowing then as at this moment that he was merela postponing the inevitable?

He glanced up towards the mainyard, braced hard round as the ship heeled closehauled on a larboard tack. He could see the man now, naked but for a scrap of canvas, working with some others on the endless business of re-splicing and repairs high above the deck. Did Tyrrell really think the man was provoked? he wondered. Or was he standing up for him because he imagined Graves was getting at him by punishin^


another colonist?

"Deck there!" The masthead lookout's cry was muffled by the wind and the lively crack of sails? "Miranda's signallin'!"

Bolitho swung round." Jump to it, Mr. Bethune! You are half asleep today!"

Tyrrell stood aside as the midshipman ran to the lee shrouds with his telescope?

"Thinking of his next meal!" He was smiling at the boy's confusion?

"It seems that the masthead lookout was the only one in this watch thinking of his duty, Mr. Tyrrell!"

The edge of his voice brought a flush to the lieutenant's face and he turned away without answering?

Bethune called, "From Miranda, sir! Sail to the nor'-west!"

"Acknowledge."

Bolitho was angry with Tyrrell's careless attitudeB

angrier still more with his own unfair outburst?

Some two miles ahead of the Golden Fleece, her patched sails hard-bellied and drawing well, the Miranda was already setting her topgallants in readiness to investigate. The unknown ship, whatever she was, lay somewhere across the larboard bow, and as she had not been seen before it seemed likely she was on a converging course?

"Deck there! Sail in sight! Fine on th' weather bow!"

Bolitho looked round at the intent faces. For an instant he toyed with the idea of making his way to the dizzy mainmast crosstrees himself, in spite of his fear of heights which he had never been able to overcome? The long climb up those shivering, vibrating shrouds might drive his anger away and leave his mind clear once again?

He saw Raven, the newly appointed master's mates and said, "Go aloft. Take a glass and tell me what you see."

Buckle had told him that the man was an experienced sailor, one who had already served in severyl King's ships and would not be easily fooled ba

first appearances?

Before Raven had even reached the mainyard the lookout called again, "Two ships! Close in company!"

Every eye was on Raven's body as he swarmed out and around the futtock shrouds and up towards the topmast head?

Bethune, still smarting over his failure to see Miranda's signal, suddenly stiffened and called, «Gunfire, sir!" He had his hands cupped round his ears, giving his round face the appearance of a freckled goblin?

Bolitho looked down at him. Then as his hearing adjusted itself beyond the crack of sails and the plunging sweep of spray around the hull, he, too, heard the deeper, discordant thud of cannon fire. He was almost beside himself with impatience, but he knew if he hurried Raven he might become too confused to make a proper assessment?

"Deck there!" It was Raven at last." First ship's a merchantman! She's under attack from a brig!"

Buckle exclaimed thickly, "Privateer, by God!"

Bolitho snatched a telescope and trained it through the dark mass of rigging and beyond some men who were grouped on the forecastle. A trick of the light. He blinked and tried again. No, there it was, a tiny white speck which seemed to mingle with the unending pattern of crisp wavecrests. The lonely merchantman had been unlucky, but now with any sort of good fortune they might turn the tables on her attacker?

The Miranda was already tacking violently, her sails in confusion as she headed away from her original station. Even as her sails refilled and hardened on the new tack Bolitho saw her signal flags breaking to the wind?

Bethune said quickly, "General signal, sir. Remain on station."

Buckle swore." After the bloody prize money himselfs the greedy bugger!"

The gunfire was clearer now, and as he raised the glass again Bolitho saw smoke drifting downwind from the two ships, the lithe shape of the attacking brig as she endeavoured to close the range still further?

He shut the glass with a snap, aware of the mutterin^

behind him, disappointment which matched his own? Miranda's captain was probably making the attack more to break the frustration of a slow passage than to humiliate the Sparrow?

He looked at Tyrell's broad shoulders and said, «Signal the Bear to make more sail. She's dropping astern badly."

Then he turned back to watch the frigate. She was moving fast in spite of the wind being almost abeam ob her sails, and he could see her port lids opening, the single line of muzzles catching the sunlight as they were run out in readiness to fight?

The brig's captain must have realised what was happening. Even so, he was probably unwilling to lose his prize with victory almost in his grasp?

On the gangways and gun deck his own seamen were chattering and waving their arms about, and he guessed they were discussing how they would have acted had they been given the chance to go for the privateer?

Bolitho recalled Raven to the deck and said, "You did well."

The man grinned uncomfortably." Thank you, sir. The brig's a Yankee right enough. Seen many like her in me time. T'other one's an Indiaman by her looks, 'though her gunnery ain't so good as some on 'em. There's never a mark on the Yankee's canvas."

Tyrrell shouted, "Th' brig's broken off the action! He's going to make a run for it!"

Bolitho sighed. The merchantman was already turning steadily towards the little convoy while the Miranda under full sail charged towards her attacker? The brig, if well handled, stood a fair chance against a frigate in matters of speed and manoeuvrability. But this one had waited just that much too long? Converging like prongs of a trap the three vessels would pass beam to beam, the frigate shielding the merchantman and well able to rake the brig from stem to stern as they passed?

Provided the brig was not too badly damaged she might be useful to the fleet. Either way, Miranda's captain would gain a nice purse of prize money?

He tore his eyes away as sounds of angry voices came up the quarterdeck ladder at his side?

It was Tilby, flushed from some secret hoard of rums his face heavy with rage as he said, "Beg pardon, sirs but this 'ere man says 'e wants to speak to 'ee." He glared severely at the seaman in question." I told 'im that no man under punishment can speak to an officer without permission."

Bolitho saw that the seaman behind Tilby was the one waiting to be flogged. He was a young, well-made man and was dragging at the boatswain's arm with frantic determination?

"What is it, Yelverton?" Bolitho nodded to Tilby." Is it so important?"

The seaman reached the quarterdeck and swallowed hard." That ship, sir! She ain't no Indiaman0 She's a damned Frenchie! I seen her in Boston some years back!"

Bolitho swung round." God in heaven!"

It was at that moment the oncoming merchantman fired a full broadside into the Miranda's unmanned side as she passed, the sound going on and on until it reached the heart of every man in the convoy?

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