For a moment Evans showed the fear in his dark eyes. The men had crowded around him, their bodies rising and falling like a human tide with each roll of the ship. He could feel the menace, the sudden ice touch of terror.
Another voice cut through the shadows. `Stand aside!' Midshipman Farquhar had to stoop beneath the low beams, but his eyes were steady and bright as they settled on the frozen tableau around the end table. Farquhar's approach had been so stealthy and quiet that not even the men at the opposite end of the deck had noticed him. He snapped, 'I am waiting. What is going on here?'
Evans thrust the nearest men aside and threw himself to Farquhar's side. With his hand shaking in both fear and fury he pointed at Betts. `He struck me! Me, a warrant officer!'
Farquhar was expressionless. His tight lips and cold stare might have meant either amusement or anger. `Very well, Mr. Evans. Kindly lay aft for the master-at-arms.'
As the purser scurried away Farquhar looked round the circle of faces with open contempt. `You never seem to learn, do you?' He turned to Betts, who still stood staring at the meat, his chest heaving as if from tremendous exertion. `You are a fool, Betts! Now you will pay for it!'
Allday pressed his shoulders against the frigate's cold, wet timbers and closed his eyes. It was all happening just as he knew it would. He listened to Betts' uneven breathing and Ferguson 's quiet whimpers and felt sick. Pie thought suddenly of the quiet hillsides and the grey bunches of sheep. The space and the solitude.
Then Farquhar barked, `Take him away, Mr. Thain.'
The master-at-arms pushed Betts towards the hatch ladder adding softly, `Not a single flogging since we left Falmouth. I knew such gentleness was a bad mistake!'
Richard Bolitho leaned his palms on the sill of one of the big stem.-windows and stared out along the ship's frothing wake. Although the cabin itself was already in semi-darkness as the frigate followed the sun towards the horizon, the sea still looked alive, with only a hint of purple as a warning of the approaching night.
Reflected in the salt-speckled glass he could see Vibart's tall shape in the centre of the cabin, his face shadowed beneath the corkscrewing lantern, and behind him against the screen the slim figure of Midshipman Farquhar.
It took most of his self-control to keep himself immobile and calm as he considered what Farquhar had burst in to tell him. Bolitho had been going through the ship's books again trying to draw out Vibart's wooden reserve, to feel his way into the man's mind.
Like everything else during the past twenty days, it had been a hard and seemingly fruitless task. Vibart was too careful to show his hostility in the open and confined himself to short, empty answers, as if he hoarded his. knowledge of the ship and her company like a personal possession.
Then Farquhar had entered the cabin with this story of Betts' assault on the purser. It was just one more thing to distract his thoughts from what lay ahead, from the real task of working the frigate into a single fighting unit.
He made himself turn and face the two officers.
'Sentry! Pass the word for Mr. Evans!' He heard the cry passed along the passageway and then added, 'It seems to me as if this seaman was provoked.'
Vibart swayed with the ship, his eyes fixed on a point above the captain's shoulder. He said thickly, 'Betts is no recruit, sir. He knew what he was doing!'
Bolitho turned to watch the open, empty sea. If only this
had not happened just yet, he thought bitterly. A few more days and the damp, wind-buffeted ship would be in the sun, where men soon learned to forget their surroundings and started to look outboard instead of watching each other.
He listened to the hiss and gurgle of water around the rudder, the distant clank of pumps as the duty watch dealt with the inevitable seepage into the bilges. He felt tired and strained to the limit. From the moment the Phalarope had weighed anchor he had not spared himself or his efforts to maintain his hold over the ship. He had made a point of speaking to most of the new men, and of establishing contact with the regular crew. He had watched his officers, and had driven the ship to her utmost. It should have been a proud moment for him. The frigate handled well, lively and ready to respond to helm and sail like a thoroughbred.
Most of the new men had been sorted into their most suitable stations, and the sail drill had advanced beyond even his expectations. At the first suitable moment he intended to exercise the guns crews, but up to this time he had been prevented from much more than allocations of hands to the various divisions by the unceasing wind.
Now this, he fumed inwardly. No wonder the admiral had asked him to watch young Farquhar's behaviour.
There was a tap at the door and Evans stepped gingerly into the cabin, his eyes flickering like beads in the lamplight.
Bolitho gestured impatiently. `Now then, Mr. Eva.ns. Let me have the full story.'
He turned to stare at the water again as Evans launched into his account. To start with he seemed nervous, even frightened, but when Bolitho allowed him to continue without
interruption or comment his voice grew sharper and moreoutraged.
Bolitho said at length. 'The meat that Betts threw at you.
What cask did it come from?'
Evans was caught off guard. 'Number twelve, sir. I saw it stowed myself.' He added in a wheedling tone, 'I do my best, sir. They are ungrateful dogs for the most part!'
Bolitho turned and tapped the papers on his table. 'I checked the stowage myself, too, Mr. Evans. Two days ago when the hands were at drill!' He saw a flicker of alarm show itself on Evans' dark face and knew that his lie had gone home. A feeling of sudden anger swept through him like fire.
All the things he had told his officers had been for nothing.
Even the near-mutiny seemed to have made no impression on the minds of men like Evans and Farquhar.
He snapped, What cask was in the low stowage, was it not? And how many others were down there, do you think?'
Evans peered nervously around the cabin. 'Five or six, sir. They were some of the original stores which I..
Bolitho slammed his fist on the table. `You make me sick, Evans! That cask and those others you have suddenly remembered were probably stowed two years ago before you began the Brest blockade! They most likely leak, and in any case are quite rotten!'
Evans looked at his feet. 'I-I did not know, sir.'
Bolitho said harshly, 'If I could prove otherwise, Mr. Evans, I would have you stripped of your rank and flogged!'
Vibart stirred into life. 'I must protest, sir! Mr. Evans was acting as he thought fit! Betts struck him. There is no way of avoiding that fact.'
'So it appears, Mr. Vibart.' Bolitho stared at him coldly until the other man looked away. 'I will certainly back my officers in their efforts to carry out my orders. But senseless punishment at this time will do more harm than good.' He felt suddenly too tired to think clearly, but Vibart's anger seemed to drive him on. 'In another two weeks or so we will join the fleet under Sir Samuel Hood, and then there will be more than enough to keep us all occupied.'
He continued more calmly, 'Until then, each and every one of you will translate my standing orders into daily fact. Give the men your leadership and try to understand them. No good will ever come of useless brutality. If a man still persists in disobedience, then flogged he will be. But in this particular case I would suggest a more lenient experiment.' He saw Vibart's lower lip quivering with barely controlled anger. Betts can be awarded extra duties for seven days. The sooner the matter is forgotten, the sooner we can mend the damage!' He gestured briefly, 'Carry on with your watch, Mr. Farquhar.'
As Evans turned -to follow the midshipman Boll added flatly, 'Oh, Mr. Evans, I see -no reason for me to mention your neglect in the log.' He saw Evans watching him half gratefully, half fearfully. He finished. 'Provided I can show that you purchased the meat for your own purposes, your own mess perhaps?'
Evans blinked at Vibart and then back to Bolitho's!inpassive face. 'Purchase, sir? Me, sir?'
'Yes, Evans, you! You can make the payment to my clerk in the forenoon tomorrow. That is all.'
Vibart picked up his hat and waited until the door had closed behind the other man. 'Do you require me any more, sir?'
'I just want to tell you one thing more, Mr. Vibart. I have taken fully into consideration that you were under considerable strain during your duty with Captain Pomfret. Maybe some of the things you had to do were not to your
