was laid across the desk. Without his hat he looked even older, but there was assurance in his voice as he said, 'This wind'll freshen in the next day or so, sir. You mark my words.' He tapped the chart with his own brass dividers which he had just fished from one of his pockets. 'For now, the nor'-east trades will suit us, and we'll be up to the Cape Verde Islands in a week, with any luck.' He sat back and studied Bolitho's reactions.
'Much as I thought.'
Bolitho walked to the stern windows and leaned his hands on the sill. It was hot, like wood from a fire, and beyond the frigate's small, frothing wake the sea was blinding in the glare. His shirt was open to the waist, and he could feel the sweat running down his shoulders, a dryness in his throat like dust.
It was almost noon, and Herrick would be waiting for the midshipmen to report to him on the quarterdeck to shoot the sun for their present position. A full week, but for a few hours, since they had sailed from Santa Cruz, and daily the sun had pinned them down, had defied the light airs which had tried to give them comfort. Today the wind had strengthened slightly, and Undine was ghosting along on the starboard tack with all sails drawing well.
There was little satisfaction in Bolitho's thoughts. For Undine had suffered her first casualty, a young seaman who had fallen overboard just as darkness had been closing in the previous day. Signalling his intention to the Spanish captain, Bolitho had gone about to begin a search for the luckless man. He had been working aloft on the main topsail yard, framed against the dying sunlight like a bronze statue. Had he been a raw recruit, or some heavy-handed landsman, it was likely he would still be alive. But he had been too confident, too careless perhaps for those last vital seconds as he had changed his position. One cry as he had fallen, and then his head had broken surface almost level with the mizzen, his arms beating at the sea as he tried to keep pace with the ship.
Davy had told him that the seaman was a good swimmer, and that fact had given some hope they might pick him up. They had lowered two boats, and for most of the night had searched in vain. Dawn had found them on course again, but to Bolitho's anger he had discovered that the Nervion had made no attempt to shorten sail or stay in company, and only in the last halfhour had the masthead reported sighting her topgallant sails once again.
The seaman's death had been an additional thorn to prod at his determination to weld the ship together. He had seen the Spanish officers watching their first attempts at gun drill through their telescopes, slapping their thighs with amusement whenever something went wrong, which was often. They themselves never drilled at anything. They seemed to treat the voyage as a form of entertainment.
Even Raymond had remarked, 'Why bother with gun drill, Captain? I do not know much about such matters, but surely your men find it irksome in this damned heat?'
He had replied, 'It is my responsibility, Mr. Raymond. I daresay it may be unnecessary for this mission, but I'll take no chances.'
Raymond's wife had kept aloof from all of them, and during the day spent much of her time under a small awning which Herrick's men had rigged for her and the maid right aft by the taffrail. Whenever they met, usually at meal times, she spoke only briefly, and then touched on personal matters which Bolitho barely understood. She appeared to enjoy hinting to her husband that he was too backward, that he lacked assurance when it was most needed. Once he had heard her say hotly, 'They ride right over you, James! How can I hold up my head in London when you suffer so many insults! Why, Margaret's husband was knighted for his services, and he is five years your junior!' And so on.
Now, as he turned to look at Mudge, he wondered what he and the others were thinking of their captain. Driving them all too hard, and for no purpose. Making them turn to and work at those stubborn guns while aboard the Spaniard the offwatch hands sprawled about sleeping or drinking wine like passengers.
As if reading his thoughts, Mudge said, 'Don't mind what some o' the buggers are sayin', sir. You're young, but you've a mind for the right thing, if you'll pardon the liberty.' He plucked at his great nose. 'I've seen many a cap'n taken all aback 'cause he worn't ready when the time came.' He chuckled, his small eyes vanishing into his wrinkles. 'An' as you well knows, sir, when things do go wrong it's no blamed use slappin' yer hip an' blastin' yer eye, an' blamin' all else.' He tugged a watch the size of a turnip from an inner pocket. 'I must away on deck, if you can spare me, sir. Mr. 'Errick likes me to be there when we compares our reckonin'.' It seemed to amuse him. 'As I said, sir, you stand firm. You don't 'ave to like a cap'n, but by God you've got to trust 'un!' He lumbered from the cabin, his shoes making the deck creak as he passed.
Bolitho sat down and tugged at his open shirt. It was a beginning.
Allday peered into the cabin. 'Can I send your servant in now, Captain?' He darted a glance at the table. 'He'll be wanting to get your meal laid.'
Bolitho smiled. 'Very well.'
It was stupid to let small things prey on his mind. But with Mudge it was different. Important. He had probably sailed with more captains than Bolitho had met in his whole life.
They both looked round as Midshipman Keen stood in the doorway. Already he was well tanned, and looked as healthy and fresh as a veteran sailor.
'Mr. Herrick's respects, sir. Masthead has just reported sighting another vessel ahead of the Spaniard. On a converging tack. Small. Maybe a brig.'
'I will come up.' Bolitho smiled. 'The voyage appears to agree with you, Mr. Keen.'
The youth grinned. 'Aye, sir. Though I fear my father sent me away for other reasons but my health.'
As he hurried away Allday murmured, 'Young devil, that one! Got some poor girl into trouble, I'll wager!'
Bolitho kept his face impassive. 'Not like you, of course, Allday.'
He strode out past the sentry and climbed quickly to the quarterdeck. Even though he was expecting it, the heat came down on him like the mouth of an open furnace. He felt the deck seams sticking to his shoes, the searing touch on his face and neck as he crossed to the weather side and looked along his command.
With her pale, lightweight canvas bent on, and her deck tilting to the wind, Undine was moving well. Spray leapt up and round the jib boom at irregular intervals, and far above his head he saw the pendant streaming abeam like a thin whip.
Mudge and Herrick were muttering together, their sextants gleaming in the sunlight like gold, while two midshipmen, Armitage and Penn, compared notes, their faces screwed in worried concentration.
Soames was by the quarterdeck rail and turned as Bolitho asked, 'About this newcomer. What is she, do you reckon?'
Soames looked crushed with the heat, his hair matted to his forehead, as if he had been swimming.
'Some trader, I expect, sir.' He did not sound as if he cared. 'Maybe she intends to ask the Spaniard for her position.' He scowled. 'Not that they'll know much!'
Bolitho took a glass from the rack and climbed into the mizzen shrouds. Moving it gradually he soon found the Nervion, far ahead on the larboard bow, a picture of beauty under her great spread of canvas, her hull gleaming in the sun like metal. He trained the glass further to starboard and then held it steady on the other vessel. Almost hidden in heat haze, but he could see the tan-coloured sails well enough, the uneven outline of her rig. Square on the fore, fore-and-aft on the mainmast. He felt vaguely angry.
'A brigantine, Mr. Soames.'
'Aye, sir.'
Bolitho looked at him and then climbed back to the deck. 'In future, I want a full report of each sighting, no matter how trivial it might appear at the time.'
Soames tightened his jaw. 'Sir.'
Herrick called, 'It was my fault, sir. I should have told Mr. Keen to pass a full description to you.'
Bolitho walked aft. 'Mr. Soames has the watch, I believe.'
Herrick followed him. 'Well, yes, sir.'
Bolitho saw the two helmsmen stiffen as he moved to the compass. The card was steady enough. South by west, and with plenty of sea room. The African coast lay somewhere across the larboard beam, over thirty leagues distant. There was nothing on their ocean but the three ships. Coincidence? A need to make contact perhaps?
Soames's indifference pricked at his mind like a burr and lie snapped, 'Make certain our watchkeepers know what they are about, Mr. Herrick.' He saw Keen leaning against the nettings. 'Send him aloft with a glass. An untried eye might tell us more.'
Mudge ambled towards him and said gruffly, 'Near as makes no difference, sir. Cape Blanco should be abeam now.' He rubbed his chin. 'The most westerly point o' that savage continent. An' quite close enough, if you ask me!'
His chest went up and down to a small wheezing accompaniment. It was as near as he ever got to
