India Company's ships, and three months back Bolitho would have given his right arm for just a few of her seamen. Well trained and disciplined, they were far superior to the Navy's companies in many respects. The Company could and did afford better pay and conditions for its people, while the Navy still had to depend on what it could get by other means, and in time of war that usually meant relying on the pressgangs.
Bolitho had often considered the unfairness of the system. One day, perhaps in his own life, he hoped to see the change come. When the Navy could offer the same fair inducements.
The big Indiaman's flag dipped from her peak, and Bolitho heard Keen calling to his signalling party to return the salute.
Then he looked again at his own company, knowing he would not willingly change them now, merely because it would make life easier. Browned by the sun, toughened by hard work and regular drills with sails and weapons, they were a far cry from that motley assortment at Spithead.
He glanced towards the Indiaman and smiled. Perfect or not, she had had to dip her flag to a King's ship. His Undine.
Mudge blewhis nose and called, 'Bout five minutes now, sir.'
Bolitho raised his hand and saw the master's mate with the anchor party acknowledge. It was Fowlar. A man who had proved his worth, and his loyalty. Who had already earned promotion whenever an opportunity came.
Captain Bellairs was inspecting his marine drummers, and looking even more like a toy soldier in the blazing sunlight.
Davy and Soames were on the gun deck with their separate divisions, and the ship had never looked better.
He heard voices behind him and turned to see Don Puigserver and Raymond speaking together by the taffrail. Like him, they were probably eager to discover what awaited them here in Madras. Puigserver was surprisingly elegant. His clothing consisted of a lieutenant's dress-coat which had been taken apart and re-fashioned by Mrs. Raymond's maid, aided willingly by Jonas Tait, Undine's sailmaker. Tait had one eye, but was very skilful, even if he was the most villainous looking man aboard. The maid seemed to find him fascinating.
'Well, Captain, you must be pleased with yourself today?'
Mrs. Raymond stepped from the cabin hatch and crossed to his side. She walked easily, so used had she become to Undine's motions and behaviour in every sort of sea. She, too, had altered. Still aloof for much of the time, yet lacking the old veil of disinterest in shipboard life which had first irritated Bolitho. Her large stock of personal delicacies which had come aboard at Santa Cruz had long been consumed, and yet she had taken to the cabin's simple fare with little complaint.
'I am, ma'am.' He pointed towards the bows. 'You will soon be able to shed the smells and sounds of a small frigate. I have no doubt that an English lady reigns like a queen out here.'
'Perhaps.' She turned her head as if to watch her husband. 'I hope to see you when you come ashore. Here, after all, you are king?' She laughed lightly. 'In many ways I am sorry to leave the ship.'
Bolitho watched her thoughtfully. He remembered when he had arrived aboard after the running battle with the canoes. Spent, almost asleep on his feet as weariness replaced the will to fight, and memory pushed aside his immediate relief at his own survival. She had guided him to a chair, rapping out orders to her maid, to a startled Noddall, and even to Allday as she had taken charge. She had told someone to fetch the surgeon, but when Bolitho had said harsly, 'I'm not hurt! The ball hit my damned watch!', she had thrown back her head and laughed. The unexpected reaction had angered him, then as she had gripped his hand, quite unable to stop her laughter, he had found himself joining in. Perhaps that, more than anything else, had steadied him, had released all the anxiety he had been forced to conceal until that moment.
Some of it must have shown on his face as he remembered, for she said softly, 'Can I share them?'
'My thoughts?' He smiled awkwardly. 'I was thinking of something. My watch.'
He saw her lip begin to tremble again, and wondered why he had not noticed the fine shape of her chin and throat. Until now. When it was too late. He felt himself flushing. For what?
She nodded. 'It was cruel to laugh so. But you looked-so angry, when anyone but you would have been grateful.'
She turned her face away as Herrick called, 'Ready, sir!V
'Carry on, Mr. Herrick.'
'Aye, sir.' But his eyes were on the woman. Then he. hurried to the rail yelling, 'Man the lee braces! Hands wear ship!'
Undine swung easily into the wind, her anchor splashing down into water so blue it looked like satin.
Puigserver pointed at a small procession of boats which were already moving towards the ship and said, 'A time for ceremony, Capitan. Poor Rojart would have enjoyed this part.'
He was a different man now. Steely eyed, impatient to move again. To get his plans into order.
Behind him, Raymond was watching the oncoming boats with a look of apprehension rather than excitement on his face.
With the anchor down, and all sails neatly furled, Undine's decks were bustling with life as her company prepared to take on stores, visitors, or whatever they were ordered to do. Above all, to be ready to sail again within hours, should it be required.
Bolitho knew he would be needed for a dozen things at once. Even now he could see the purser hovering to catch his eye, and Mudge, waiting to suggest or ask something.
He said, 'Perhaps I will see you on land, Mrs. Raymond.' The others were listening, and he could feel their glances, their interest. 'It has not been an easy passage for you, and I would wish to thank you for your, er,' he faltered, seeing her lip quiver very slightly, 'forbearance.'
Equally gravely she replied, 'And may I thank you in turn, Captain, for your companionship.'
Bolitho made to bow to her, but she held up her hand and said, 'Until the next time, Captain.'
He took her hand and touched the back of it with his lips. He felt her fingers give his just the merest squeeze, and when he glanced at her face he knew it was no accident.
Then it was all over as he was caught up in the turmoil of receiving visitors from the governor and handing his despatches to the officer of the guardboat.
As a brightly-canopied launch pulled clear of Undine's black shadow he saw his passengers looking astern towards him, growing smaller with each sweep of the oars.
Herrick said cheerfully, 'I expect you'll be glad to have the cabin to yourself, sir. You've waited long enough.'
'Yes, Thomas. Indeed I will.'
'Now, sir, concerning extra hands…'
Herrick had seen the lie in Bolitho's grey eyes, and decided it was prudent to change the subject immediately.
It was late afternoon when Bolitho received a summons to report in person to the governor. He had begun to think that his part of the mission had been cancelled, or that in Madras his -status had shrunk so much he would merely stay at arm's length and do as he was bid whenever it might suit the proper authority.
Accompanied by Herrick and Midshipman Keen, he was carried ashore in Undine's gig, despite a haughty equerry's insistence that a local boat would be more fitting and comfortable.
An open carriage was waiting to convey them to the governor's residence, and for the whole of the short journey they barely exchanged a word. The bright colours, the surrounding press of chattering people, the whole strangeness of the town took their complete attention. Bolitho found the people very interesting indeed. How different their skins were, ranging from pale brown, no darker than young Keen's tan, to those who were as black as the warriors he had seen in Africa. Turbans and flowing robes, cattle and dejected goats, all milled across the winding streets, in and around the curtained shops
and bazaars in an unending panorama of noise and movement.
The governor's residence was more like a fort than a house,
with slits in the walls for weapons, and well guarded by Indian troops. The latter were most impressive. Turbaned and bearded, yet they wore the familiar red coat of British infantry set off with baggy blue pantaloons and high white gaiters.
Herrick gestured to the flag which drooped, barely moving, from a high staff and murmured, 'That, at least, is familiar.'
