years old, and these last long months following the signing of peace with France and the recognition of American independence had been his first experience of being away from the one life he understood and trusted.
Unlike many of his contemporaries, Herrick had nothing but his own resources to sustain him. He came of a poor family, his father being a clerk in their home town of Rochester in Kent. When lie had gone there after paying off the Phalarope and saying his farewell to Bolitho, he had discovered things to be even worse than he had expected. His father's health had deteriorated, and he seemed to be coughing his life away, day in, day out. Herrick's only sister was a cripple and incapable of doing much but help her mother about the house, so his homecoming was seen in rather different ways from his own sense of rejection. A friend of his father's employer had gained him an appointment as mate in a small brig which earned a living carrying general cargo up and down the east coast and occasionally across the channel to Holland. The owner was a miserly man who kept the brig so shorthanded that there were barely enough men to work ship, let along handle cargo, load lighters and keep the vessel in good repair.
When he had received Bolitho's letter, accompanied by his commission from the Admiralty charging him to report on board Undine, he had been almost too stunned to realise his good fortune. He had not seen Bolitho since that one last visit to his home in Falmouth, and perhaps deep inside he had believed that their friendship, which had strengthened in storm and under bloody broadsides, would be no match for peace.
Their worlds were, after all, too far apart. Bolitho's great stone house had seemed like a palace to Herrick. His background, his ancestry of seafaring officers, put him in a different sphere entirely. Herrick was the first in his family to go to sea, and that was the least of their differences.
But Bolitho had not changed. When they had met on this same quarterdeck a month ago he had known it with that first glance. It was still there, The quiet sadness, which could give way to something like boyish excitement in the twinkling of an eye.
Above all, Bolitho too was pleased to be back, keen to test himself and his new ship whenever a chance offered itself.
A midshipman scuttled over the deck and touched his hat.
'Cutter's returning, sir.'
He was small, pinched with cold. He had been aboard just three weeks.
'Thank you, Mr. Penn. That'll be some new hands, I hope.' He eyed the boy unsympathetically. 'Now smarten yourself, the captain may be returning today.'
He continued his pacing.
Bolitho had been in London for five days. It would be good to hear his news, to get the order to sail from this bitter Solent.
He watched the cutter lifting and plunging across the whitecaps, the oars moving sluggishly despite the efforts of the boat's coxswain. He saw the cocked hat of John Soames, the third lieutenant, in the sternsheets, and wondered if he had had any luck with recruits.
In the Phalarope Herrick had begun his commission as third lieutenant, rising to Bolitho's second-in-command as those above him died in combat. He wondered briefly if Soames was already thinking of his own prospects in the months ahead. He was a giant of a man and in his thirtieth year, three years older than Herrick, He had got his commission as lieutenant very late in life, and by a roundabout route, mostly, as far as Herrick could gather, in the merchant service and later as master's mate in a King's ship. Tough, self-taught, he was hard to know. A suspicious man.
Quite different from Villiers Davy, the second lieutenant. As his name suggested, he was of good family, with the money and proud looks to back up his quicksilver wit. Herrick was not sure of him either, but told himself that any dislike he might harbour was because Davy reminded him of an arrogant midshipman they had carried in Phalarope.
Feet thumped on deck and he turned to see Triphook, the purser, crouching through the drizzle, a bulky ledger under his coat.
The purser grimaced.. 'Evil day, Mr. Herrick.' He gestured to the boats alongside. 'God damn those thieves. They'd rob a blind man, so they would.'
Herrick chuckled. 'Not like you pursers, eh?'
Triphook eyed him severely. He was stooped and very thin, with large yellow teeth like a mournful horse.
'I hope that was not seriously meant, sir?'
Herrick craned over the dripping nettings to watch the cutter hooking on to the chains. God, their oarsmanship was bad. Bolitho would expect far better, and before too long.
He snapped, 'Easy, Mr. Triphook. But I was merely reminding you. I recall we had a purser in my last ship. A man called Evans. He lined his pockets at the people's expense. Gave them foul food when they had much to trouble them in other directions.'
Triphook watched him doubtfully. 'What happened?'
'Captain Bolitho made him pay for fresh meat from his own purse. Cask for cask with each that was rotten.' He grinned. 'So be warned, my friend!'
'He'll have no cause to fault me, Mr. Herrick.' He walked away, his voice lacking conviction as he added, 'You can be certain of that.'
Lieutenant Soames came aft, touching his hat and scowling at the deck as he reported, 'Five hands, sir. I've been on the road all day, I'm fair hoarse from calling the tune of those handbills.'
Herrick nodded. He could sympathise. He had done it often enough himself. Five hands. They still needed thirty. Even then it would not allow for death and injury to be expected on any long voyage.
Soames asked thickly, 'Any more news?'
'None. Just that we are to sail for Madras. But I think it will be soon now.'
Soames said, 'Good riddance to the land, I say. Streets full of drunken men, prime hands we could well do with.' He hesitated. 'With your permission I might take a boat away tonight and catch a few as they reel from their damn ale houses, eh?'
They turned as a shriek of laughter echoed up from the gun deck, and a woman, her breasts bare to the rain, ran from beneath the larboard gangway. She was pursued by two seamen, both obviously the worse for drink, who left little to the imagination as to their intentions.
Herrick barked, 'Tell that slut to get below! Or I'll have her thrown over the side!' He saw the astonished midshipman watching the spectacle with wide-eyed wonder and added harshly, 'Mr. Penn! Jump to it, I say!'
Soames showed a rare grin. 'Offend your feelings, Mr. Herrick?'
Herrick shrugged. 'I know it is supposed to be the proper thing to allow our people women and drink in harbour.' He thought of his sister. Anchored in that damned chair. What he would give to see her running free like that Portsmouth trollop. 'But it never fails to sicken me.'
Soames sighed. 'Half the bastards would desert otherwise, signed on or not. The romance of Madras soon wears off when the rum goes short.'
Herrick said, 'What you asked earlier. I cannot agree. It would be a bad beginning. Men taken in such a way would harbour plenty of grievances. One rotten apple can sour a full barrel.'
Soames eyes him calmly. 'It seems to me that this ship is almost full of bad apples. The volunteers are probably on the run from debt, or the hangman himself. Some are aboard just to see what they can lay their fingers on when we are many miles from proper authority.'
Herrick replied, 'Captain Bolitho will have sufficient authority, Mr. Soames.'
'I forgot. You were in the same ship. There was a mutiny.' It sounded like an accusation.
'Not of his making.' He turned on him angrily. 'Be so good as to have the new men fed and issued with slop clothing.'
He waited, watching the resentment in the big man's eyes.
He added, 'Another of our captain's requirements. I suggest you acquaint yourself with his demands. Life will be easier for you.'
Soames strode away and Herrick relaxed. He must not let him get into his skin so easily. But any criticism, or even hint of it, always affected him. To Herrick, Bolitho represented all the things he would like to be. The fact he also knew some of his secret faults as well made him doubly sure of his loyalty. He shook his head. It was stronger even than that.
He peered over the nettings towards the shore, seeing the walls of the harbour battery glinting like lead in the
