showing pride, but only briefly. 'Gun captain, I was, sir.'
Davy interjected, 'I am most sorry, sir. I did not realise the fellow was crippled. I will have him sent ashore.'
Bolitho said, 'You intended to sign the articles with your left hand. Is it that important?'
Turpin nodded. 'I'm a seaman, sir.' He looked round angrily as one of the recruited men nudged his companion. 'Not like some!' He turned back to Bolitho, his voice falling away. 'I can do anything, sir.'
Bolitho hardly heard him. He was thinking back to the Chesapeake. The smoke and din. The columns of wheeling ships, like armoured knights at Agincourt. You never got away from it. This man Turpin had been nearby, like hundreds of others. Cheering and dying, cursing and working their guns like souls possessed. He thought of the two fat merchants on the coach. So men like that could grow richer.
He said harshly, 'Sign him on, Mr. Davy. One hand from the old Barfleur will be more use to me than many others.'
He strode aft beneath the quarterdeck, angry with himself, and with Davy for not having the compassion to understand. It was a stupid thing to do. Pointless.
Allday was carrying one of the chests aft to the cabin, where a marine stood like a toy soldier beneath the spiralling deckhead lantern.
He said cheerfully, 'That was a good thing you just did, Captain.'
'Don't talk like a fool, Allday!' He strode past' him and winced as his head grazed an overhead beam. When he glared back at Allday his coxswain's homely features were quite expressionless. 'He could probably do your work.'
Allday nodded gravely. 'Aye, sir, it is true that I am overtaxed!'
'Damn your impertinence!' It was useless with Allday. 'I don't know why I tolerate you!'
Allday took his sword and walked with it to the cabin bulkhead.
'I once knew a man in Bodmin, Captain.' He stood back and studied the sword critically. 'Used to hammer a block of wood with a blunt axe, he did. I asked him why he didn't use a sharper blade and finish the job properly.' Allday turned and smiled calmly. 'He said that when the wood was broken he'd have nothing to work his temper on.'
Bolitho sat down at the table. 'Thank you. I must remember to get a better axe.'
Allday grinned. 'My pleasure, Captain.' He strode out to fetch another chest.
Bolitho pulled the heavy sealed envelope towards him. With some education behind him Allday might have become almost anything. He slit open the envelope and smiled to himself. Without it he was quite bad enough.
Herrick stepped into the cabin, his hat tucked under one arm. 'You sent for me, sir?'
Bolitho was standing by the great stern windows, his body moving easily with the ship's motion. Undine had swung her stern to the change of tide, and through the thick glass Herrick could see the distant lights of Portsmouth Point, glimmering and changing shape through the droplets of rain and spray. In the pitching deckhead lanterns the cabin looked snug and inviting. The bench seat around the stern was covered with fine green leather, and Bolitho's desk and chairs stood out against the deck covering of black and white checked canvas like ripe chestnut.
'Sit down, Thomas.'
Bolitho turned slowly and looked at him. He had been back aboard for over an hour, reading and re-reading his orders to ensure he would miss nothing.
He added, 'We will weigh tomorrow afternoon. I have a warrant in my orders which entitles me to accept 'volunteers' from the convict hulks in Portsmouth. I would be obliged if you would attend to that as soon after first light as is convenient..'
Herrick nodded, watching Bolitho's grave features, noting the restless movements of his hands, the fact that his carefully prepared meal lay untouched in the adjoining dining space. He was troubled. Uncertain about something.
Bolitho said, 'We are to sail for Teneriffe.' He saw Herrick stiffen and added quietly, 'I know, Thomas. You are like me. It comes hard to tack freely into a port where months back we could have expected a somewhat different welcome.'
Herrick grinned. 'Heated shot, no doubt.'
'There. we will embark two, maybe three passengers. After replenishing whatever stores we lack, we will proceed without further delay to our destination, Madras.' He seemed to be musing aloud. 'Over twelve thousand miles. Long enough to get to know one another. And our ship. The orders state that we will proceed with all haste. For that reason we must ensure our people learn their work well. I want no delays because of carelessness or unnecessary damage to canvas and rigging.'
Herrick rubbed his chin. 'A long haul.'
'Aye, Thomas. A hundred days. That is what I intend.' He smiled, the gravity fading instantly. 'With your help, of course.'
Herrick nodded. 'May I ask what we are expected to accomplish?'
Bolitho looked down at the folded sheets of his orders. 'I still know very little. But I have read quite a lot between the lines.'
He began to pace from side to side, his shadow moving unevenly with the roll of the hull.
'When the war ended, Thomas, it was necessary to make. concessions. To restore a balance. We had captured Trincomalee in Ceylon from the Dutch. The finest naval harbour and the best placed in the Indian Ocean. The French admiral, Suffren, captured it from us, and when war ended gave it back to Holland. We have returned many West Indian islands to France, as well as her Indian stations. And Spain, well, she has been given back Minorca.' He shrugged. 'Many men on both sides died for nothing, it seems.'
Herrick sounded confused. 'But what of us, sir? Did we get nothing out of all this?'
Bolitho smiled. 'I believe we are about to do so. Hence the extreme secrecy and our vague orders concerning Teneriffe.'
He paused and looked down at the stocky lieutenant.
'Without Trincomalee we are in the same position as before the war. We still need a good harbour for our ships. A base to control a wide area. A stepping-stone to expand the East Indies trade.'
Herrick grunted. 'I'd have thought the East India Company had got all it wanted.'
Bolitho's mind returned to the men on the coach. Others he had met in London.
'There are those in authority who see power as the essential foundation of national superiority. Commercial wealth as a means to such power.' He glanced at a twelve-pounder gun at the forward end of his cabin, its squat outline masked by a chintz cover. 'And war as the means to all three.'
Herrick bit his lip. 'And we are to be the 'probe', so to speak?'
'I may be quite wrong, Thomas. But you must know my thinking. Just in case things go against us.'
He remembered Winslade's words at the Admiralty. The task I anm giving yon would be better handled by a squadron. He wanted someone he could trust. Or did he merely need a scapegoat should things go wrong? Bolitho had always complained bitterly about being tied to too strict orders. His new ones were so vague that he felt even more restricted. Only one thing was clear. He would take on board a Mr. James Raymond at Teneriffe, and place the ship at his disposal. Raymond was a trusted government courier, and would be carrying the latest despatches to Madras.
Herrick remarked, 'It will take some getting used to. But being at sea again in a ship such as Undine will make a world of difference.'
Bolitho nodded. 'We must ensure that our people are prepared for anything, peace or no peace. Where we are going they may be less inclined to accept our views without argument.'
He sat down on the bench and stared through the spattered glass.
'I will speak with the other officers at eight bells tomorrow while you are in the hulks.' He smiled at Herrick's reflection. 'I am sending you because you will understand. You'll not frighten them all to death!'
He stood up quickly.
'Now, Thomas, we will take a glass of claret.'
Herrick leaned forward. 'That was a goodly selection you had sent from London, sir.'
Bolitho shook his head. 'We will save that for more trying times.' He lifted a decanter from its rack. 'This is more usual to our tastes!'
They drank their claret in comfortable silence. Bolitho was thinking how strange it was to be sitting quietly
