Sword of Honour

10. A Ship of War

His Britannic Majesty's Ship Frobisher lay at her anchor, unmoving above the perfect twin of her reflection in the blazing sunlight. The ensign at her stern and the admiral's flag at the mainmast truck were equally motionless, and between decks, in spite of the awnings and wind sails the air was like an open kiln.

The crash of Malta 's noonday gun echoed across the water like an intrusion, but only a few gulls rose from their torpor, squawking in protest before settling down again.

In the great cabin Sir Richard Bolitho, coat less his ruffled shirt open almost to the waist, shaded his eyes to stare at the land, the craggy battlements where, occasionally, he could see a red coat moving slowly on patrol. He pitied the soldiers in their thick uniforms as they paced up and down in the heat.

Frobisher was a well-built ship, and the sounds which reached Bolitho's quarters were muffled and remote, as if they, too, were stifled by the heat. But in many ways he envied the life and movement from which he was separated, protected, as his secretary Yovell had once described it. Even here, right aft, he could catch the heady smell of rum, and imagine the ship's community of some six hundred seamen and Royal Marines preparing for their midday meal.

He sighed and sat at his table again, to the litter of signals and local correspondence awaiting collection. Since their arrival here in Grand Harbour, the ship had scarcely moved. Such inactivity was bad for any fighting ship, and for one with a company far from home, with no immediate prospect of discharge or action, the strain on discipline and routine was becoming evident.

He had received two letters from Catherine; they had arrived together in a courier brig from Plymouth. It was the shortest time they had ever been parted, and yet the uncertainty of the future and the strange, lingering sense of loss he felt seemed to make it worse.

She wrote of things she knew would please him, of the house and the estate. Of the garden, her garden, and the roses which gave her so much pleasure.

She touched on her feelings for him, but was careful not to trouble him with her own pain of separation.

There had been one ugly note; she had mentioned it in case he should hear it from someone else. There had been a riot in Bodmin, the county town, although he found it hard to imagine in that sort of community; a local regiment had been disbanded, and the men had mounted a protest to demand work after their service to their country.

If it had happened in Falmouth, Bolitho wondered what Lewis Roxby would have done. He might well have put some of the men to work on his own large estate, and encouraged other landowners to do the same. In Bodmin, a magistrate had read the Riot Act, and called out the dragoons from Truro.

She had told him that she was going to London to see the lawyers again.

She would think of him. Dearest of men… always.

He heard Ozzard's sharp voice from the pantry, and then Allday's. They were bickering about something, as usual. Without them and their concern over his welfare, he sometimes thought that the inactivity would drive him mad.

There were receptions, for him and his officers, and for visiting ships, old enemies who were now classed as allies. That would take a long, long time to accept.

He had seen little otherwise of the island itself, and although he had been offered facilities ashore with as many servants as he might need, he had remained in his flagship. As if it were a last link with the only life he knew and understood.

Malta was full of history, and as one senior officer had described it, 'the stronghold of Christianity'. When the French had been forced to withdraw because of the naval blockade, the Maltese had requested British protection, and a restoration of their rights and privileges. The island, small though it was, had once again become a stronghold. Now, with Napoleon's surrender and his incarceration on Elba, it was assumed by some that Malta would be allowed to resume its own self-government, not so different from that of the old Knights of Malta.

That same senior officer had laughed outright when Bolitho had suggested it. He had exclaimed, "Have you ever known the flag hauled down after a victory, Sir Richard? If a place is worth dying for, it's worth holding on to, in my opinion!"

He heard the marine sentry's heels click together, and then Ozzard hurrying to the outer screen door.

It was Captain Tyacke, his scarred face very deeply tanned above the whiteness of his shirt. He was so used to the heat and the sun of Africa that he scarcely noticed it.

"Officer-of-the-Guard has just brought a message, Sir Richard." He glanced around the cabin, made still more spacious by the removal of the eighteen- pounder guns which would otherwise have occupied even an admiral's quarters. They had been replaced by short wooden replicas, quakers as they were termed, so that, outwardly at least, the ship would appear fully armed.

Bolitho slit open the envelope. It bore a military seal on the outer flap. Another visitor… He said, "We shall have a major-general coming aboard during the dogs, James. His name is Valancy, although it does not give a reason for this honour."

"I shall deal with it, sir."

Bolitho looked at him, aware of the change in him; he had seen it develop during their passage into the Mediterranean, and these dragging weeks in harbour. Perhaps he had found the challenge of the new command stimulating; he had performed miracles with some of the inexperienced hands and the junior officers. But that was only a part of it.

We are so alike in many ways. He will share it with me, when he is ready.

Tyacke said, "Perhaps we shall be told something, sir."

"Soon, I trust." He stood up and walked to the quarter gallery and watched a small boat being pulled across the harbour. A boy and an old man; they did not even glance up as Frobisher's big shadow passed over them.

He said quietly, "If it does not happen, James, I shall write a suitable report to their lordships."

Tyacke watched him, the set of his shoulders, his hair still as black as the day they had first met. And later, when Bolitho had asked him to be his flag captain. Not ordered or demanded, as most flag officers would have done, as, indeed, they were entitled to do. He had asked. And had said, because I need you. No wonder they spoke of the legend, the charisma, but it was both and neither of them. It was the man himself.

Tyacke said, "If we can get to sea……"

Bolitho turned towards him. "I know. Drive her if we must, fight if we have to, but get to seal'

He saw Tyacke glance down at the wine cooler, made for him after the other had been lost in Hyperion. Even here, Catherine was very close. He saw the disfigured side of Tyacke's face in the reflected glare from the skylight. Like melted wax, the flesh burned from the bone, the eye, miraculously un blinded as clear and blue as the other. Even that seemed different…… From the moment the ship had left Spithead Tyacke had gone about his duties, explaining his standards to his lieutenants and senior warrant officers without flinching beneath the scrutiny of strangers. Landsmen and some of the younger midshipmen still could not meet his gaze without dropping their eyes; Tyacke had endured this every hour and every day since he had been smashed down at the Nile. Was it possible that he had accepted it? Or was there some other, deeper reason?

He had spoken of his feelings concerning Malta to Tyacke. The reply had been blunt, uncompromising, like the man.

"We'd be fools to let it go, sir. It may be only seventeen miles by nine, a landsman might say the same as the Isle of Wight. But it stands here, and who commands it holds the key to the Mediterranean. Every trading nation knows that well enough!"

Bolitho said, "Perhaps this commission will be shorter than we thought possible." He touched his eye as the sunlight found its mark. The cruel reminder. Which I cannot accept. "Will you still go back to Africa?"

Tyacke smiled faintly. "I would have to think on it." He seemed to consider it. "Yes, I would have to give it a deal of thought." He looked at the deck head as a call twittered,

and feet padded across the under-dry planking. "I must see the first lieutenant, if you will excuse me, sir."

Bolitho watched his hand hesitate on the door, and said, "If there is anything you wish to talk about, James, I am here."

Tyacke paused with his hat halfway to his head. Then he smiled fully, and seemed suddenly young again.

"If you were not, sir, then neither would I be."

Allday entered as the door closed, and glanced at the two swords on their rack.

"Might be another courier vessel soon, Sir Richard."

So he was fretting, too. Needing to be here, but thinking of his newfound life with Unis and his daughter.

Bolitho gestured toward the cupboard. "Have a wet, old friend. We are both all aback, it seems."

Allday stooped beside the cupboard, and said over his shoulder, "Get this little lot over, an' maybe we can make sail for home."

Bolitho rubbed his eye. He must have missed something.

Allday held up a glass of rum and grinned.

"To us, Sir Richard!"

"What have you heard?"

Allday looked at the high-backed chair in green leather, which she had given Bolitho. Like the wine cooler, and the locket he always wore when they were apart from one another. A sailor's woman. There was no higher compliment.

He said, "I was talkin' to the men in the guard boat just now, Sir Richard. There's a yarn goin' around about an attack on some local merchantmen. Pirates, they says."

He felt something like a chill against his damp spine. How they had first met, all those years ago. Barbary corsairs.

He said, "The officer-of-the-guard left no such message."

Allday put down the empty glass, careful not to leave any wet mark, which would cause more trouble with Ozzard.

"With respect, Sir Richard, the Royals are all well an' good, in their place." He tapped his forehead. "But their officers don't know it all."

Bolitho smiled. "Off with you. And don't fret over Unis. She is in good hands."

Allday went out, un reassured and found Ozzard in his pantry. He sniffed suspiciously, and said, "Been at the grog again!"

Allday ignored it. "Sir Richard's troubled. He worries about Cap'n Tyacke, an' about me, an' about everybody but himself!"

Ozzard regarded him scornfully. "Captain Tyacke? Don't you know, for God's sake?"

Allday sighed inwardly. He could kill the stooping servant with one blow, and he sometimes wondered why they had remained friends. Of a sort.

Ozzard snapped, "It's a woman, you blockhead! It's always a bloody woman when trouble's at the door!"

Allday left the pantry, touching the little man's shoulder as he passed. If he stayed, he knew he would make matters worse.

It was like sharing a terrible secret. It was not Captain Tyacke's pain Ozzard was describing. It was his own.

Major-General Sir Ralph Valancy stepped into the stern cabin and glanced around while Ozzard took his hat. Bolitho noticed that he showed no sign of discomfort and that his uniform was perfectly pressed, his boots like black glass, although if he had been dressed in rags one would have known him to be a professional soldier. He must keep his orderly very busy, to appear so untroubled by Malta's heat and the dust.

Valancy took a chair. "I could never have been a sailor, Sir Richard. Too confined, even for an admiral!"

Bolitho waited while Ozzard fetched wine, and wondered why this man reminded him of someone. Then it came to him. Halifax, where he had met the young captain from the King's Regiment, who had been at the siege of York, and had given a miniature of herself back to the girl, Gilia St. Clair, who would soon marry Valentine Keen.

That young captain would be very like this major-general, if he lived long enough.

Valancy sipped the wine and made a sound of approval.

Bolitho said, "It's a mite warm, but cooling anything is not easy with the ship at anchor."

Valancy's face broke into a grin. "Any wine tastes good to me, sir! I've ridden, marched and damned well crawled over every kind of territory, and like my men, I've had most dislikes steamed out of me!" He became serious. "You've heard about the missing transport vessel, the GaliciaT

Bolitho recalled Allday's scorn for the military in general, and the marines in particular.

"I have not had an official signal as yet."

Valancy shrugged. "I only heard myself this morning. The Galicia was under charter to the army, on passage for Malta. A fisherman reported seeing her attacked by a heavily-armed vessel. He made off before he became another victim."

"Algerine pirates?"

Valancy nodded. "Sailing too close to the Saracen coast, as they call it. The Dey of Algiers will have had a hand in it. The whole North African coast would be part of the Turkish empire if he and the Bey of Tunis could find enough ships."

Bolitho thought of his time as a flag captain, when he had been involved with that same coast and the notorious port of Djafou to the west of Algiers. Slavery, cruelty and torture; he had seen even his most experienced seamen sickened by what they had found. Piracy was common in these waters, and when the fleet had been fully employed against the French and maintaining a blockade, some of those same pirates had even flouted all authority to prey as far north as the Channel and the Western Approaches.

If the Mediterranean was to become stable again, this menace to trade would have to be removed. If peace and mutual trust were not restored, Britain's new allies would soon look for other means of enforcement.

Bolitho said, "I have six frigates, and a few smaller vessels." He glanced at the nearest quaker. "And my flagship. Not a great force, but I have worked with far less in the past."

"Indeed, I know, Sir Richard. You won't remember me, but I was aide to the general at Good Hope when you came to our aid." He gave a faint smile, remembering. "I was with the Sixty-First then. It was a fine regiment."

It was the smile, exactly like the captain who had fought at York. The professional soldier.

"I remember." He recalled that other general. They would not give the Cape of Good Hope back to the Dutch, either.

The soldier said, "Yes, we'd not long heard about Trafalgar. And Nelson's death. Such a shock, although inevitable, I suppose. I often wonder what happened to his mistress after his death. Shunned by everyone, I suppose."

Then he looked directly at Bolitho. That was a stupid remark. I apologise, Sir Richard."

Bolitho said, "It is something I think on myself, Sir Ralph." He stood up abruptly, thinking now of Catherine, how they had first met, the deadly chebecks closing in under sail and oars, ready to fire into any larger vessel's vulnerable stern. When Catherine's Spanish husband had died. And we lost one another… He said, "I shall send the only frigate I have in harbour. Frobisher will remain here, as she must, until more men-of-war arrive." He could already hear Tyacke's disagreement, and his doubt.

Valancy nodded slowly, surprised, perhaps, at this sudden decision, but careful not to show it.

The frigate's captain." He hesitated, as he might before leading a charge. "Will he know the instability of these people? They have countless sailors and fishermen, thrown into their rotten jails, and for no other reason than that they are Christians! Barbarians!" He became very earnest. "And the Dey of Algiers has some six hundred guns, according to our latest intelligence……"

"May I ask you something? If this matter were to be entrusted to the army, who would you send?"

Surprisingly, Valancy laughed. "A mission like this, which might fan the flames of another war? I'd go myself! Right or wrong, it would be my responsibility."

Bolitho smiled, and tapped his glass with a paper-knife. "Another glass, Sir Ralph?"

When Ozzard appeared to pour the wine, Bolitho said to him. "Ask Allday to find Captain Tyacke, and have him lay aft." He noticed that Ozzard did not lift his eyes, nor did he show any surprise.

As he left the cabin, Bolitho said quietly to Valancy, "I thought you would say as much." He sipped the wine, and added, "I shall go in Halcyon." He recalled her captain's face when he had described his fear and helplessness aboard Majestic at the Nile, when Tyacke had given him back his courage and his pride.

Frobisher, or a larger group of ships would invite disaster… Allday entered by the other door and paused, as if uncertain. That, in itself, was unusual.

Bolitho said, "Well?"

"Cap'n Tyacke is with the purser, Sir Richard." He refused to look at the major-general. "I left a message, but I thought.

Bolitho sat again. "It is why we are here. Why I was sent." He smiled. "My compliments to the captain, and ask him to come aft."

Allday departed, and Valancy said, "Remarkable fellow. Although I don't see that it is possible for anyone to know what you intend."

Bolitho touched his eye. "Remarkable, yes. Your general said as much at Good Hope. He also said that he could use a few thousand more like him."

The soldier got to his feet. "I shall detain you no longer, Sir Richard."

Bolitho shook his hand. Tonight Valancy would probably regale his staff with tales of the strange ways of the navy, and how an admiral had taken the time to reassure a common seaman.

And yet, somehow, he knew he would not.

Tyacke entered the cabin as soon as the major-general had been seen safely into his boat.

Bolitho said, "Have Halcyon's, captain repair on board, James. There is something I wish to discuss with you." He saw the immediate signs of argument. "It is a matter of some urgency."

"You're leaving Frobisherl Your flagship?"

"Presently. While I am away, I would be pleased if the guns were replaced in my quarters."

Tyacke left the cabin without asking another question; there was no need.

The sunshine and the brightly painted boats meant nothing to him. His was still a ship of war.

Lieutenant George Avery put down his pen and passed the finished letter across his small table. There. I hope it does justice to your thoughts." He watched as Allday, who had been squatting on a chest in the hutch-like cabin, made his mark carefully and deliberately at the bottom of the page. Avery had asked him once what the distinctive symbol meant, and Allday had told him that it was like the stone Cornish cross that stood outside the church in Fallowfield where he and Unis had been married.

Allday cocked his head to listen to a bosun's call, very clear and shrill in the evening stillness. "Won't be long now," he said.

A very glanced around the cabin. A hutch indeed, but private when he needed to withdraw from the ship's general life and routine.

"How do you feel about it?"

Allday looked at him thoughtfully. Once he would have shown instant caution, if not mistrust.

"I've been with Sir Richard long enough to take things as they comes, but this time, I ain't so sure. Them devils ain't to be trusted an' never were. We should wait until the rest of the squadron is joined here."

Avery thought of Halcyon's young captain. A good officer, as Tyacke had confirmed, but one twenty-eight-gun frigate against well-sited batteries and, no doubt, ships ready to repel any unwanted visitors, was hardly a bargaining point.

He said, "At least your letter will be on its way."

Allday stood up; he had heard somebody outside the door. Avery had not written or received any letters himself, but to mention it might be pushing things too far. It was a pity, he thought. Avery was better than most of his kind. He smiled. But he was still an officer.

"I'll be ready when they calls us, sir."

Avery got to his feet as Kellett, the first lieutenant, stepped to one side while Allday departed.

"Come in!"

They both laughed as Kellett eased his way around the screen door; the cabin was a twin of his own.

"I won't detain you." He sat on the same chest and glanced un curiously at the pen and paper. Avery thought he probably knew about the letters he wrote for the admiral's coxswain, but he would never remark upon it.

He knew Kellett no better than when he had joined the ship at Plymouth. Tall, about twenty-five, and obviously respected by the more seasoned hands and warrant officers; Tyacke had implied that he had carried the ship for most of the time during Frobisher's lengthy overhaul. He was loyal, too; he had never complained to Tyacke about how he had been left with most of the duties, as some would, if only to ingratiate themselves with the new lord and master.

Kellett said, "I would that I were coming with you. Or that Frobisher were carrying the flag into Algerine waters."

Avery waited. Kellett was not here to waste his time before they transferred to Halcyon. He wanted to talk.

Avery said, "You've been in this ship for three years."

Kellett looked at him, his mild eyes very steady. "I was appointed as second lieutenant, but my immediate superior was transferred." He shrugged. "I thought, ah, my future is brighter already!" But there was no humour in his voice.

Avery prompted, The previous first lieutenant was promoted?"

"Transferred. To some miserable, rat-infested bomb-vessel. I did not like him much, but he deserved better for all that."

Avery considered it. The first lieutenant was the Honourable Granville Kellett, and the son of an admiral. His future, war or no war, should be assured. Unless… "What was the captain like? I understand that he was removed because of illness, although the surgeon claims he had no part in it."

Kellett's smile was genuine. "I'm surprised you got anything out of that one. He wouldn't tell you he was taking off your leg, until afterwards!" He nodded his thanks as Avery poured two glasses of cognac. "Captain Oliphant was rarely aboard during our time in the dockyard. He was ill, but he was receiving treatment ashore." He paused. "But not in Haslar Hospital, as you might expect." He swallowed some of the cognac. "I discovered that for myself."

"Was it sudden?"

"I thought so at first. Now, looking back, I can see that he suffered some kind of discomfort… pain. It affected his moods, his temper. We received the news about Frobisher's appointment as Sir Richard's flagship, and I thought he was delighted about it. He would have been the flag captain, and, as Lord Rhodes' cousin, his prospects seemed excellent." He dropped his voice. "But I can tell you now, I thank God that Captain Tyacke is in command. I have never seen such a change in a ship, the life he's put into her!"

Avery smiled. "I was in awe of him when we first met. I am closer to him now. But he still frightens me more than I'd care to admit!"

Kellett put down his empty glass. That was welcome, sir."

Avery got carefully to his feet. Strange to think of French officers sitting here as they had done, discussing the prospects of battle, promotion, or perhaps love.

Kellett seemed to come to a decision. "Captain Oliphant was very fond of women. He would get into debt because of them, if it suited. My predecessor was "transferred" because he refused to help him. I suspect I was retained merely because of my illustrious father." He forced a smile. "I would deny every word in court, of course!"

Avery said gravely, "Of course."

They both laughed, and Kellett shook his hand. "Be careful on this mission. I would not wish to lose a friend, one so newly gained." Then he was gone.

Avery thought about it. Rhodes had been the one who had arranged for Frobisher to become Sir Richard's flagship. It would have been the making of Oliphant, no matter what the future held. He heard a boat being warped alongside. It was time.

But. related or not, Rhodes would never have suggested Oliphant for flag captain if there had been even the faintest hint of scandal, especially as he valued his own prospective appointment to First Lord.

Captain Oliphant was very fond of women. Kellett's words seemed to linger in the humid air.

It was not their concern. James Tyacke's decision to join them had changed everything, and from what Kellett had said, not only for Sir Richard's little crew.

He thought he could hear Tyacke's voice through the after screen, even before he reached the great cabin. The Royal Marine sentry remained expressionless, his eyes fixed on some point at the opposite end of the ship as he rapped his musket on the deck and shouted, "Flag lieutenant, sir]'

Bolitho looked up from his table and smiled at him.

"I know, George. It is almost time." If he were glad of the interruption, he gave no sign of it.

He turned to Tyacke and said, "You have my written orders, James. You are captain-in-charge until our return, unless despatches to the contrary direct you. The ship is in good hands. None better." He held out his own hand, and Avery knew that although Allday, too, was present,

for Bolitho, the cabin was empty but for himself and his captain.

He said, Trust me. This is something that must be done. If I wait for a full show of force, it might be too late. You know that."

Tyacke sounded very calm again, but he was not resigned. "I worked too long with slavers. I know these scum, no matter what they call themselves. It matters to me that we finish our work here." He hesitated. "And go home."

Ozzard had insisted on joining them aboard Halcyon, and when he had finished supervising the lowering of the admiral's bag into the boat, he snapped, "He can't manage his own, can he?"

Allday was still thinking about Tyacke, his mention of home, something previously unknown.

He ventured cautiously, "About Cap'n Tyacke, an' what you said, Tom. I thought

Ozzard peered up at him, in the first shadows of evening.

"Thought? Leave thinking to horses, they've got bigger heads!"

Allday watched him bustle away, and was troubled by it. Tyacke's talk of home remained uppermost in his mind. For all of us.

As sunset touched the ancient battlements like blood, Bolitho and his companions were pulled across to the frigate Halcyon. There was a promising breeze, and the capstan was already manned, the sails loosened in readiness to leave.

Within the hour, it was as if she had never been.