Command a King's Ship (17 page)

“Welcome, Bolitho.” The thin mouth turned upwards a frac- tion, as if it hurt him to make the effort.

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

“Thank you, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quite. The wind always shakes the top of the tree, Bolitho.”

“I am not certain what I will be required to do, sir. I would have thought a fresh garrison of soldiers would be a better force than mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

Bolitho smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“I will join you shortly. Now go and take wine with my staff.”

Bolitho found Keen in the entrance hall, and passed the news to him without delay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said quietly, “I have been very fortunate, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She squeezed his arm. “I am waiting.”

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

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

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

“There will be talk, ma'am, if we walk about like this.”

“Good.” She looked at him calmly. “Do you care?”

“Well, no.”

She nodded. “And my name is Viola. Please use it in the future.”

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