Bolitho and Dancer clambered breathlessly down a short ladder and groped their way to a small stern cabin, banging their heads more than once on the low deckhead beams. The Avenger seemed to enfold them with her own sounds and smells. Some familiar and some less so. She felt like a workboat more than a man-of-war. In a class all of her own. Like Andrew Gloag, whose loud voice carried easily through wind and stout timbers alike. A master's mate and acting master. He might never command the quarterdeck of a ship like Gorgon, but here he was a king.
It was hard to picture him working with Hugh. He thought suddenly of his brother, wondering, as he often did, why he felt that he never really knew him.
Hugh was changed in some ways. Harder, more confident, if that were possible. More to the point, he was unhappy.
Dancer pushed his chest into a vacant corner and sat on it, his head almost reaching one of the deck beams.
`What do you make of it all, Dick?'
Bolitho listened to the creak and groan of timbers, the rattle and slap of wet rigging somewhere overhead. It would get more lively once they cleared the Roads.
`Wrecking, smuggling, I believe the two always go hand in hand, Martyn. But the port admiral at Plymouth must have heard more than we, if he's so willing to send the Avenger.'
`I heard your brother say that he had lost his senior by putting him in a prize, Dick. I wonder what happened to the cutter's last commander?' He smiled. `Your brother seems to have a way of getting rid of people.' The smile vanished. `I am sorry. That was a stupid thing to say!'
Bolitho touched-his sleeve. `No. You're right. He does have that way with him.'
Oars thrashed alongside, accompanied by more curses and threats from Mr Gloag.
`Jolly boat's away again.' Bolitho grimaced. 'Hugh'll be coming aboard now.'
It took Lieutenant Hugh Bolitho longer than expected to return to his command. When he did arrive he was drenched in spray, grim-faced and obviously in ill humour.
In the cabin he threw himself down on a bench and snapped, `When I come aboard I expect to be met by my officers.' He glared at the midshipmen. `This is no ship of the line with ten men for each trivial task. This is…' He swung round on the bench as a frightened looking seaman peered in at them. `Where the hell have you been, Warwick?' He did not wait for a reply. `Bring some brandy and something hot to go with it.' The man fled.
In a calmer tone he continued, `In a King's ship, no matter how small, you must always keep up an example.'
Bolitho said, `I'm sorry. I thought as we are only attached to your command…'
Hugh smiled. `Attached, pressed, volunteered, I don't care which. You're both my officers until the word says otherwise. There's work to do.'
He looked up as Gloag came through the door, his great frame doubled over like a weird hunchback.
`Sit you down, Mr Gloag. We'll take a glass before we set sail. All well?'
The master removed his battered hat, and Bolitho saw with surprise he was quite bald, like a brown egg, with the hair at his neck and cheeks as thick as spunyarn as if to compensate for his loss.
Hugh said, `You will assume duties of second-incommand, Richard. Mr Dancer will assist you. Two halves to make the whole, eh?' He smiled at his joke.
Gloag seemed to sense the atmosphere and rumbled, `I 'eard that you took command of a brig, the pair of you, when your lieutenants were too sick or injured to be of use?'
Dancer nodded, his eyes shining. `Aye, sir. The Sandpiper. Dick took command like a veteran!'
Hugh said, `Good, here's the brandy.' Half to himself he added, `We want no heroes cluttering these decks, thank you.'
Like a Bird
Bolitho looked at his friend and winked. They had scored a small victory over Hugh's sarcasm.
He asked, `What about the smugglers, Mr Gloag?'
`Oh, this an' that. Spirits and spices, silks and other such nonsense for them with too much money. Mr Pyke says we'll soon 'ave 'em by the 'eels.'
Dancer looked at him. 'Pyke?'
Hugh Bolitho pushed some goblets across a low table. `Pyke's my boatswain. Used to be a preventative officer himself before he got more sense and signed to wear the King's coat.' He held up his goblet. `Welcome, gentlemen.'
The nervous seaman named Warwick, who was also the cabin servant, carried in a lighted lantern and hung it carefully on a beam.
Bolitho had his goblet to his lips when he saw Dancer's eyes flash a quick warning. He looked down and saw a dark stain on Hugh's stocking. He had seen too much of it in the last year not to recognize blood. For an instant longer he imagined Hugh was injured, or had snared his leg climbing aboard. Then he saw his brother meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and need.
Feet thudded overhead, and then Hugh placed his goblet very carefully on the table.
`You will work watch-and-watch. Once we have cleared the headland we will run to the south'rd and find some sea-room. I have information, but not enough. Show no lights and pass no unnecessary commands. My people know their work, and most of them are ex-fishermen and '-'he like, as sure-footed as cats. I want to run these smugglers or wreckers to ground without delay, before it becomes catching hereabouts. It has happened in the past. Even in times of war the trade has been busy in both directions, they tell me.'
Gloag groped for his hat and went stooping towards the.door. `I'll get things ready, sir.'
Hugh glanced at Dancer. `Go with him. Learn your way around the deck. She's no Gorgon.' As Dancer made his way towards the door, his shadow swaying about with the pitching lantern, he added softly, `Or Sandpiper either, for that matter!'
Alone for the first time the brothers studied each other.
Bolitho thought he could see through Hugh's scornful guard. He was stiff with the authority of his first, if perhaps temporary, command. But at twentyone, with only himself to answer, that was understandable. But there was anxiety there also, a defensive hardness in his eyes.
He did not-have to wait for long.
Hugh said offhandedly, `You saw this stain? Pity. But can't be helped, I suppose. I can trust you to stay silent?'
Bolitho matched his mood, keeping his face and tone level and impassive.
`Need you ask?'
`No. I'm sorry.' He reached for the brandy and poured another goblet, the movement without conscious thought. `A matter I had to settle.'
`Here? In Falmouth?' Bolitho almost got to his feet. `What about Mother?'
Hugh sighed. `It was partly because of her. It was
Like a Bird
some fool who wanted revenge over another affair.'
`The aiair which had you removed from Laertes?T
'Yes.' His eyes were distant. `He wanted money. So I answered his insults in the only honourable way.'
`You provoked him.' He watched for some hint of guilt. `Then you killed him.'
Hugh took out his watch and held it to the lantern.
`Well, the second part is correct, damn him!'
Bolitho shook his head. `One day you'll put a foot wrong.'
Hugh smiled fully for the first time. It was as if he were glad, relieved to have shared his secret.
`Well, until that sad day, young Richard, there is work to be done. So get yourself on deck and rouse the hands. We'll up-anchor before we lose the light. I don't want to end up in splinters across St Anthony Head because of you!'
The weather had worsened considerably, and as Bolitho climbed up through the hatch he felt the punch of the wind like a fist. Figures bustled this way and that, bare feet slapping on the wet planking like so many seals. Despite the wind and soaking spray, the men wore only their checkered shirts and white, flapping trousers, and were apparently unmoved by the bitter weather.
