Command a King's Ship (18 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taut ship, Bolitho.”

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

“Dismiss the side party. This is in informal visit.”

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

He nodded. “She looks well enough.”

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

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

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

“Given fair winds, sir, and in accordance with all I have discov- ered, I hope to make a landfall in eighteen days. Three weeks at the most. I have already been told that I am to sail ahead of the trans- port.”

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

“Then you will be coming in
Undine,
sir?”

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

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

He said, “I will inform my first lieutenant at once, sir.”

“Herrick?” He sounded indifferent. “No need!”

Bolitho stared at him. That was not like Conway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better than I had expected.”

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

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

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

“Sir?”

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

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

“I see, sir.”

“You don't. But no matter.”

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

“I would like to stay aboard, Bolitho.”

“Until we weigh, sir?”

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

“Yes.” He swung away from the windows. “D'you object?”

Just for a second it was there again. The same voice which Bolitho still remembered.

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

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

“Perhaps it has changed since—”

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

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

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

Bolitho said carefully, “Your new post will probably make you believe otherwise, sir.”

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

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

“Who is this fellow?”

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bolitho stared from it to Allday's masklike face.

“Who gave you this?”

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

Bolitho turned away to hide his expression. “Thank you.”

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

9
GIFT
FROM
A
L
ADY

O
NE
HOUR
before the morning watch was relieved Bolitho came on deck to enjoy the most peaceful time of the day. With his shirt open to his waist he crossed to the weather side and studied the set of each individual sail before going aft to consult the compass. Madras lay twelve days astern, but the wind, which had begun so promisingly, had lulled to a gentle breeze, so that even with all sails set it was unlikely they could maintain more than four knots.

Fowlar was scribbling on the slate beside the wheel, but straightened his back as Bolitho approached.

He touched his forehead and reported, “East by south, sir. Full an' bye.”

Bolitho nodded and shaded his eyes to watch the sails again. The wind, such as it was, came from the south-west, and
Undine
's yards were braced well round, laying her over to the starboard tack. About a mile abeam the brig
Rosalind
had no difficulty in main- taining station on her heavier consort, and Bolitho found himself tempted to take a telescope and examine her more closely.

Fowlar seemed to think that he was expected to add something to his report and said, “Might pick up before nightfall, sir. Mr. Mudge seems to think the wind'll freshen when once we enter the Malacca Strait.”

“Er, yes.”

Bolitho tried to compose himself. From
Rosalind
's deck
Und- ine
must make a beautiful sight under full canvas. But for once this gave him little consolation. He wanted to drive his ship faster to become involved with his mission. Ghosting along like this, even if idyllic for poet or artist, gave too much time for other thoughts.

He saw Davy hurrying towards him, frowning as he said, “I beg pardon for not seeing you come on deck, sir.” He gestured towards the main mast “I was dealing with a complaint from a marine.” He added swiftly, “Nothing important.”

“You are officer of the watch, Mr. Davy. You should know by now I don't interfere in your affairs merely to excite attention.” He smiled. “A fine day, is it not?”

“Yes, sir.”

Davy followed his gaze over the nettings. The sea was very blue, and apart from the low-hulled brig there was not a speck of land or another ship to break the emptiness, its sense of vastness.

Davy asked casually, “Is it true this sort of mission often leads to permanent appointments in the realm of colonial gov- ernment, sir?”

Bolitho nodded. “Rear Admiral Conway's appointment is such.”

He watched Davy's tanned features gravely. He was worried about something. It was showing now, just like the time when he had selected Soames and not him for the raiding party.

“I was thinking . . .” Davy faltered. “I am of course well content with life as a King's officer. It is what I want. I am the first in my family to follow the sea. My father was a city merchant and had no use for service life. He was loath to allow me to enter the Navy.”

Bolitho wished he would get on with it. He said encouragingly, “Mr. Herrick is like you. The first sailor in his family.”

“Yes.” Davy looked suddenly desperate as Soames emerged from the cabin hatch, yawning and consulting his pocket watch. “Well, it is not
exactly
what I meant, sir.”

Bolitho turned and faced him. “Mr. Davy, I would be obliged if you would come to the point. In an hour it will be an oven again. I would like to take my walk before breakfast, and not wait until after dinner tonight.”

Davy bit his lip. “I am sorry, sir.” He nodded firmly. “Yes, I will try to explain.” He lowered his eyes. “May I speak of your brother, sir?”

Bolitho tensed “My
late
brother?”

“I did not mean to offend.” Davy looked up and allowed the words to come out in a flood. “I heard somewhere that he quit the Navy.”

Bolitho waited. Always it seemed to catch up with him. Now even his second lieutenant was risking a rebuke to satisfy his own curiosity. But he was wrong in Davy's case.

Davy said quietly, “It was because of his gambling I was told?”

He looked so strained, so pleading, that Bolitho forgot his own bitterness and asked, “Is that what bothers you? Gambling?”

“Yes, sir. Like a fool. I tried to win back my losses in London. With my father dead I am responsible for my mother's welfare, and that of the estate.” He looked away. “In time of war I might have gained early promotion, and all the prize-money which went with it.”

“You could have just as easily been killed.” Bolitho added gen- tly, “Am I to be told how much you owe?”

“Twenty, sir.”

Bolitho stared at him. “In God's name, you could pawn your dress-coat for more, man!”

Davy gritted his teeth. “Twenty
thousand,
sir.”

Bolitho ran his fingers through his hair. “
Undine
and the brig yonder would cost about that sum. And I thought you had more sense.”

“Perhaps I should have kept my secret, sir.” Davy was shame- faced. Wretched.

“No. It is better shared. At least you are safe from your credi- tors out here.” He watched Davy grimly. “But twenty thousand. It is a small fortune.”

Soames clumped past and beckoned to a bosun's mate. “Have the watch piped aft, Kellock.” He was careful to keep to the lee side of the deck.

Davy hurried on, well aware that Soames was waiting to re- lieve him. “You, see, sir, I thought that on a voyage such as ours I might gain some new standing.”

“I see. However, this is a mission of protection, not of discov- ery, or the capture of Spanish gold.” He nodded to Soames and added softly, “But I will keep it in mind.”

He began to pace the deck while the two lieutenants conversed over the compass.

Undine
had gathered all sorts within her slender hull. It was not only the lower deck which sported its fortune-hunters, it seemed. He saw Midshipman Keen walking along the larboard gangway with Armitage, and prayed he would never be left in Davy's predicament, or in one such as his brother Hugh's.

In family background Davy and Keen were similar. Both had wealthy parents who had gained promotion in trade rather than in the King's service. Davy's father had died leaving his son and heir totally unprepared for the temptations which he had managed to overcome. Keen on the other hand had been sent to sea
because
of his father's riches and influence. Herrick had said that Keen had confided in him during a night watch in the Indian Ocean.
To make a man of me.
It had seemed to amuse him, Herrick had said. But Keen's father must be a remarkable man, Bolitho thought. There were not many who would risk a son's life or limb for such a goal.

He saw Noddall scurrying aft along the gun deck with a can of boiling water from the galley. Conway must be up and about, wait- ing to be shaved. It was surprising how little Conway's presence aboard had interfered with daily life. He had explained it himself.
Informal.
That did not mean he was disinterested. Quite the re- verse. Whenever a ship had been sighted, or the hands had been called to reef or make sail, he had been there, watching. Once, when becalmed for half a day, the seamen had streamed a seine net in the hopes of getting some fresh fish, just a few flounders, and some flatheaded fish which Mudge had knowingly described as “foxes” were the entire result of their efforts, but Conway could not have been more pleased if they had caught a whale.

It was as if he was living out every hour, like a prisoner await- ing sentence. It was not pleasant to watch.

Bolitho was not quite twenty-eight years old, but as a post- captain with two previous commands behind him he had learned to accept, if not agree, with many of the Navy's judgements.

Conway's experience had come out at dinner, one evening. It was the second day out of Madras, and Bolitho had told Noddall to fetch some of his special wine to make it an occasion. It was madeira, the most expensive he had ever purchased in his life. Conway hardly seemed to notice. Had he been offered cider, Bolitho doubted if he would have remarked on it. But he had be- come very drunk. Not slowly, or by accident, or even out of bravado. But with the firm determination of one who has been too often alone, and wishes to blur the realisation without delay.

It had all happened two years back in these same waters, when the French admiral, Suffren, had captured Trincomalee and very nearly toppled Britain's power in India for good. Conway had started to tell his story as if Bolitho had not been there. As if he just wanted to make sure he could still remember it.

He had been in command of an inshore squadron and em- ployed on the protection of supply ships and military convoys. A sloop had brought news of a French squadron off the coast of Ceylon, and without ado he had set off to engage or cripple the enemy ships until help arrived to complete the victory.

Unbeknown to Conway, another sloop was already search- ing for him, sent by the Commander-in-Chief with new orders for the defence of Trincomalee. Conway reached the area where the French had been sighted, only to find them gone. Fisher- men informed him they had sailed towards the very position he had just left, and with an anxiety which Bolitho could only imagine, he had put his ships about once again. He managed to find and bring the French rear to a brief but unsatisfactory action before losing contact in the night. When dawn united his small squadron again, Conway found the supply ships which he had been guarding had been captured or destroyed, and when the admiral's sloop contacted him, she, too, had fresh news to cancel all previous instructions. Trincomalee had been taken.

In the silence of the cabin Conway's voice had risen suddenly, like a dying man's cry.

“Another day and I'd have brought them to grips! Not Suffren, nor any other admiral, could have got us out of Ceylon then!”

Bolitho looked up as the first working parties swarmed aloft for the constant round of repairs, splicing and stitching. It was all too plain. Conway could have emerged a hero. Instead, he was seized upon as a scapegoat. He must still have influence some- where, he thought. A governorship, no matter where it was, represented reward rather than a continuance of disgrace.

He halted in his stride, his mind suddenly very alert. But suppose there was a second, more devious reason? Another scape- goat perhaps?

He shook his head. What would be the point of that?

Bolitho turned as Allday walked along the quarterdeck to- wards him.

“Breakfast's ready, Captain.” He squinted his eyes towards the brig. “Still with us then?” He smiled calmly at Bolitho's steady gaze. “That's good.”

Bolitho watched him and wondered. It was the same look he had given when he had brought the gig for him at Madras.

“Thank you.” He added coldly, “And
what
is amusing you now?”

Allday shrugged. “Hard to put a name to it, Captain. It's a sort of glow I get inside sometimes.” He massaged his stomach. “Comforting.”

Bolitho strode past him towards the hatch. His morning had been badly interrupted.

As he stepped into the cool shadows between decks he imag- ined Viola Raymond just a mile abeam in the brig. Her husband would be watching her.
Mister Pigsliver
would be watching both of them.

It was still hard to know what she really thought about him, or if she saw his attraction as some sort of game. There had been several visitors staying at the residence, soldiers, Company officials, but she had been determined to keep him to herself. It had not been anything she had actually said. It had been more of an excitement, a sense of recklessness. A dare which he found impossible to ignore.

She had no longer stayed at arms' length, and several times had allowed her hand to linger on his, even when Raymond had been close by.

When he had made to return to the ship she had followed him on to a shaded terrace below the inner wall, and had held out a small box.

“For you.”

She had made light of it, but he had seen the hot eagerness in her eyes, the thrust of her breasts beneath her gown as he had opened the box.

It was a gold watch.

While he had turned it over in his hands she had gripped his, arm and had whispered, “I will always remember your face that day . . .” But she had not laughed that time. “Do not refuse my little gift,
please.
”

He had taken her hand and kissed it, his mind grappling with what he was doing, seeing all the dangers, and yet dismissing them.

“It is as well you are sailing in another ship, Captain!” She had laughed and then had pulled his hand below her breast. “See how my heart beats now! A week, a day even, and who can say what might occur!”

Bolitho walked past the sentry and into the cabin, his mind still hanging on to that moment.