mebbee?' Dancer opened his mouth to answer but Bolitho said, 'Aye, aye, sir.' The lieutenant called after them, 'No skimping now! ' On the darkening gangway by the weather shrouds Bolitho said quietly, 'I wonder if I'm always to be cursed by a fear of heights?' They stood looking up at the black criss-cross of rigging, the braced foretopsail yard, and the one above it, deep pink in the dying light which had already gone from the decks below. ' Dancer said, Til go, Dick. He'll never know.' Bolitho smiled grimly. 'He'll know, Martyn. It would be just what he wanted.' He removed his coat and hat and wedged them under a rack of boarding pikes. 'Let's be about it then. At least it will give us an appetite! ' Aft by the big double wheel the helmsmen watched the flickering compass light and eased the spokes very slightly, their bare feet planted on the deck as if they were part of it. The officer of the watch moved restlessly along the weather side, glancing occasionally to the opposite beam where the barquentine's solitary lantern made a small glow on the sea's face. From beneath the poop Captain Conway strode past the wheel, his hands behind him, his body angled to the deck. The senior helmsman nudged his mate and called, 'Steady as she goes, sir! Sou'-east by south! ' The captain nodded and waited for the lieutenant on watch to hurry discreetly to the lee side and leave him the privacy he needed for his nightly walk. Up and down the weather side, his shoes tapping on the smooth planking. Once he paused to glance through the mainmast rigging to two shadowy figures high up on the foretopgallant yard, like birds on a perch. But he soon forgot them as he continued pacing and thinking of tomorrow. On this particular morning all hands were called early from their hammocks to an even hastier meal of oatmeal gruel and toasted ship's biscuit, washed down with a tankard of ale. As one elderly seaman commented gloomily, 'To get such a good fill-up this early means the cap'n's expectin' trouble! ' Then, as the first hint of dawn showed itself in the eastern sky, and the cooks doused the galley fires, the pipe came from aft, 'Hands to quarters! Hands to quarters and clear for action! ' Urged on by the frenzied tattoo of the drummer boys as they beat to quarters from the poop, by the additional shouts and threats from warrant officers and senior hands alike, Gorgon's company went into one more drill, one which they had practised and practised until their limbs had ached through sleet and boiling sun alike until they knew where every man, each piece of equipment, every line and halliard should be when the ship was called to action. Some of the seasoned men took greater care this time, perhaps they expected that today's drill meant more than it showed. Others, and the very young like Eden, went to their stations like excited children, unquenched even by curses from exasperated lieutenants and threats from their companions. Down on the lower gundeck Bolitho felt his own heart beating faster than usual. In the near-darkness of the low- beamed deck he could see seamen ducking and clambering around each great thirty-twopounder, heard their bare feet grating on the sand which some ship's boys had sprinkled liberally around the decks to stop them slipping or falling during the drill.' Some light filtered down from the companion on the upper deck, and he was able to see the gun crews checking their gear and casting off the breechings to check the training tackles and test their handspikes.
High overhead they could hear the muffled squeal of blocks as nets were rigged above the deck and its guns to protect the men underneath from falling spars and broken rigging. How many times had they done it over the four thousand miles? He felt men hurrying past, guided by the boatswain's thick voice. Screens were still being torn down, chests, tables and unwanted clutter being taken below to the orlop. Tregorren's voice boomed in the gloom, 'Lively, you scum! It's taken far too long already! ' On the lower gundeck, apart from the mass of seamen needed to work the double battery of thirtytwo-pounders, were two lieutenants, Tregorren being in charge, and Mr Wellesley, the ship's junior lieutenant, his assistant, and four midshipmen. The latter were evenly placed along the various divisions of guns, and were supposed to relay orders, fire independently if need be, and carry messages to the quarterdeck. Bolitho and Dancer shared the larboard side, and a sulky youth named Pearce and little Eden had the starboard battery. Halfway along the deck Tregorren stood with his back to the mainmast trunk, arms folded, his head bent down to peer along his domain. Nearby a marine sentry stood by the companion ladder, as did others at every hatch, so that in the event of battle he could prevent the less brave from running below to hide. Wellesley, the sixth lieutenant, hurried down the larboard side, his sword flapping against his thigh as he paused by each gun captain just long enough to hear the man snap, 'Ready, sir! ' At last it was all still, and only the gentle heave of the deck, the regular creak of tackles as the guns tugged or nudged to the ship's roll broke the silence. Bolitho could smell the tension, the men around him, the hull deeper still under his feet. He tried not to think of the midshipmen's berth on the orlop, the after cockpit as it was called, which too had been transformed. There now would be the surgeon and his assistants. Lanterns lit, instruments gleaming in the open cases. Just as they had done it to Captain Conway's orders on countless occasions. Tregorren yelled, 'Mr Wellesley! What kept you?' The sixth lieutenant scuttled towards him and almost went sprawling across a ring-bolt. He gasped, 'Lower battery cleared for action, sir! ' On the deck above they heard a whistle and someone calling, 'Cleared for action, sir! ' Tregorren swore savagely. 'Beaten us again, damn them! ' He added harshly, 'Mr Eden! Pass the word, at the double! ' Eden returned, his breath wheezing as he reported, 'The first lieutenant's compliments, sir, and the ship cleared for action in twelve minutes.' He hesitated. 'But -' 'But what?' The boy gulped. 'It took us longer than anyone else, sir.' More orders were being piped, the calls of the boatswain's mates shrilling like birds on a Norfolk fen. 'Open ports! ' Bolitho leaned forward to restrain one of the gun crews. It was stiflingly hot between decks, but he knew that every port should open as one, here and on the deck above. As the port lids were hoisted upward he felt the cooler air fanning around him, saw the men nearest him take on personality and meaning, their bodies stripped to the waist and shining faintly in the strange dawn light. He glanced aft and saw Dancer give him a quick wave. During the morning watch Gorgon had altered course slightly and was now steering east-south-east, the wind having shifted to the north and held there. The hull tilted and felt steady, and with the wind coming across the larboard quarter, Bolitho's section of guns was pointing high and free from spray. He saw the lively whitecaps, some strange fish leaping like birds along the ship's wash and keeping level with their slow approach. By leaning out and around a gun muzzle he saw a darker shape on the water and guessed it to be the City of Athens. He tried to guess what was happening on deck. The prize vessel was obviously leaving her station downwind of her protector and was beating across their line of advance to place herself between Gorgon and the land, wherever that was. A young seaman asked, 'Can you see the land, sir?' He was a good-looking youth who had come from Devon to join the ship. During the night watches and the sweating drill at this same gun he had explained that all his family had worked for their local squire. A hard man, and one taken with abusing the daughters of his tenant farmers and labourers.
That was all he had confided, but Bolitho guessed it likely that he had given the squire a beating and then run to join a ship, any ship, to escape punishment.
Bolitho replied, 'Very near, I'd say, Fairweather. I can see some sea-birds now. Coming out to take a look at us, I shouldn't wonder.' 'Silence on the gundeck! ' Tregorren's anger seemed to spread itself to officers and seamen alike. Someone gave a yelp of pain as a gun captain used a rope's end, and from right aft Wellesley 's rather ineffectual voice called, 'Take that man's name, I say! ' Nobody knew what man, or to whom the order was directed, and Bolitho guessed that the lieutenant was merely trying to avoid Tregorren's tongue. It was strange how cut off from the rest of the ship it felt. More light was painting the sea in black and yellow patterns, but the horizon and sky were still as one. The square gunport cut in the ship's massive oak side was like a picture, Bolitho thought, but as the light strengthened and spilled down the long barrel of the thirty-two-pounder they all seemed to become part of it. Colour stood out now inside the gundeck. The dark red paint which was used on the ship's side, and much of the deck beneath them, showed itself for the first time. It was there to disguise the blood of dead and wounded men, everyone knew that. Bolitho glanced down the sloping deck to the opposite side. Those open gunports were still in darkness, broken here and there by some leaping feathers of spray or a crest breaking close to the hull. He looked towards Tregorren who was speaking quietly with Jehan, the gunner, silent in his felt slippers which he always wore to prevent striking sparks when he was working in his beloved magazine. He vanished down the nearest ladder by the marine sentry, and Bolitho wondered if Dancer was thinking of the fact that the most dangerous mass of gunpowder in time of action was directly beneath his feet. There was something like a sigh as the first sheen of sunlight filtered across the water and through each open port. Bolitho leaned on the gun's breech and watched it transform the horizon into something real and solid. The land. Fairweather asked excitedly, 'Be that Africa?' The gun captain showed his uneven teeth. 'Don't matter to you where it be, lad. Just attend to old Freda 'ere and keep 'er fed, no matter what! That's all you need to know! ' A midshipman pattered down from the next deck and sought out Tregorren. 'Mr Verling's compliments, sir.' It was a midshipman named Knibb, a boy as small and as young as Eden, but for a month's difference. 'And we will not be loading just yet.' Tregorren snapped, 'What's happening then?' Knibb blinked around him, seeking out his friends. 'The masthead has reported sighting two vessels at anchor around the point, sir.' His confidence was growing, aided by the knowledge that every shadowy figure was listening to him, trying to discover what was going on in that other world above. 'Our captain has ordered the barquentine to make more sail and investigate, sir.' The gun captain beside Bolitho was explaining
