right age and in the right time to avert the latter.'
Bolitho could find no answer than, 'Thank you, sir.'
Cavendish suddenly became grave and severe. 'I hear you have married?' He glanced at the old sword on Bolitho's hip. 'I recall your father wearing that. Maybe your son willl carry it one day.' He followed him to the door, adding quietly, 'See that it goes to him with the same honour it came to you, eh?'
Bolitho walked on to the quarterdeck, his mind in a whirl. It was the same scene as when he had come aboard, yet so very different. Even the air tasted cleaner, and it was all he could do to stop himself from running down to his barge.
The frigate's captain was waiting beside the entry port and glanced at him curiously. 'Will you have any mail for me to take, sir?'
Bolitho stared at him. 'Yes. I will send it across directly.'
The sudden implication of the question brought him back to reality. He had worried about being so far from Cheney. Now he was going to the other side of the Atlantic. It was close on five thousand miles to that part of the Caribbean. It could be months, even years before he returned. If ever.
He touched his hat and climbed down to the barge.
Allday studied his grave features. 'Back to the ship, sir?'
Bolitho looked at him and then smiled. 'There's nowhere else to go.'
As the boat pulled strongly towards the Hyperion he tried to, apply his mind to all the countless details and alterations he would have to make in his plans and daily routine. There were problems and shortages, and not least of his worries would be having Pelham-Martin as his constant companion.
But again and again his thoughts returned to the house in Falmouth, the feeling of distance mounting up and up, until it seemed like part of another world.
Allday rested his fingers on the tiller and kept an eye on the stroke oar. Buring Bolitho's stay with the vice- admiral Allday had not been idle. A frigate was too small and cramped to hold an important secret, and the lower deck always knew about a change of plans almost as soon as the wardroom.
The Caribbean again, he thought. And all because of that bloody-minded Frog admiral who had hanged helpless prisoners. It would mean sun and sweat, rancid water, and the constant threat of disease. It might mean a whole lot worse before they were done, he decided.
Then he studied the set of Bolitho's shoulders and smiled slightly. But at least they still had the captain with them. And to Allday, that was just about all that really mattered.
Lieutenant Inch sat awkwardly on the edge of a chair, his hat crushed between his knees as he listened intently to Bolitho's news.
Bolitho said, 'So you see, it seems as if your marriage will have to be postponed for a while?'
Inch nodded, his face screwed into a mask of concentration as if to memorise every word.
'You may inform the officers of the destination and possible purpose, but I will tell our people as soon as I have a spare moment.'
Bolitho heard the bellow of orders and scrape of feet on the gangway, and guessed that the last of the commodore's personal possessions were being hauled aboard.
He added, 'Pelham-Martin is used to a smart ship, Mr. Inch. Even at short notice he will rightly expect the proper honours.'
Inch came out of his thoughts with a jerk. 'I have told Captain Dawson, sir. The guard and bandsmen are already assembled.'
'Good.' Bolitho glanced round the cabin. He had already had his own things removed to the chartroom, and Pelham-Martin would enjoy the comfort of these quarters. And the view from the stem windows, too, be thought sadly.
He continued, 'As soon as we get under way I want to see the purser. A full and detailed account of fresh water and lime juice will also be required. It may be months before we can expect to replenish stores with fresh food and fruit, and some of our people will find it hard enough without being plagued with scurvy or worse.'
Inch stood up, his thin body swaying loosely to the uncomfortable motion. 'I am very sorry, sir, but I neglected to tell you. We have a new midshipman aboard.'
Bolitho stopped leafing through his neatly written orders and stared at him. 'Did he fall from heaven, Mr. Inch?'
The first lieutenant flushed. 'Well, sir, when you were aboard the admiral's frigate I was so troubled that I forgot about it. He was sent across from the frigate with some mail and medical stores. He is straight out of Plymouth, and never before in a King's ship.'
Bolitho leaned back at the desk. 'Well, one more midshipman will be very useful later on, no matter what experience at his disposal.'
There was a loud thud from the main deck and Tomlin's voice shattered the air with a stream of curses.
'Very well, Mr. Inch. Send the young gentleman in, and then go and watch over the commodore's possessions, eh?' He smiled dryly. 'It would be an even worse beginning if they were damaged.'
He turned back to his orders again, thinking of what lay ahead, and of the remarks Vice-Admiral Cavendish had privately voiced to him.
New methods, and a new type of sea officer. It was strange but true that men like Rodney and Howe, names once revered throughout the Navy, were now openly criticised by younger and more zealous officers. Like the young Captain Nelson whom Bolitho had seen over a year back off Toulon, whose personal initiative and daring had taken Bastia from under the very noses of the French army.
At the right age and at the right time, Cavendish had said. Bolitho shut the desk drawer and locked it firmly. We shall see, he thought.
There was a hesitant tap at the door, and when he swung round in the chair Bolitho saw the new midshipman standing uncertainly at the far end of the cabin.
'Come over here so that I can see you.' Bolitho could hardly spare the time to meet the newcomer, but knew from bitter experience what it was like to join a ship already in commission, alone and with no familiar faces to ease the first jolts and scrapes.
The boy stepped forward and halted within feet of the desk. He was tall for his age, slim and dark eyed, with hair as black as Bolitho's. He had a wild, restless appearance about him, which reminded Bolitho of an untrained colt.
He took the heavy envelope from the midshipman's hands and slit it open. It was from the Port Admiral at Plymouth, with the bare facts of the approved appointment to the Hyperion. The boy's name was, it appeared, Adam Pascoe.
Bolitho looked up and smiled. 'A fellow Cornishman, eh? How old are you, Mr. Pascoe?'
'Fourteen, sir.' He sounded taut and on guard.
Bolitho studied him. There was something strange about Pascoe, yet he could not place it. He noted the poor quality of the boy's uniform coat, the cheap gilt on his dirk.
Pascoe did not falter under his scrutiny but dived one hand inside his coat and produced another letter. Quickly he said, 'This is for you, sir. I was told to give it to no one else.'
Bolitho slit open a crumpled envelope and turned away slightly. It was common enough to get a private letter under these circumstances. An unwanted son being sent away to sea, a request for special privilege, or merely a fond mother's personal plea for his care in the world she could never share.
The paper quivered in his fingers as he gripped it with sudden force. The letter was from his own brother-in- law, Lewis Roxby, Falmouth landowner and magistrate, and married to Bolitho's younger sister. The sprawling writing seemed to swim as he read the middle.paragraph for the second time.
When the boy came to me for my protection it was of course necessary to investigate the value of documents he brought with him. There is no doubt that the claims made on his behalf are genuine. He is the son of your late brother Hugh. There are letters from him to the boy's mother, whom it appears he had some intent upon marrying before he quit the country. He never saw his father of course, and lived until recently with his mother, who was little more than a common whore to all accounts, in the town of Penzance.
There was more, quite a lot more, all of which spoke of excuses and reasons for getting the boy away from Falmouth without delay.
Bolitho swallowed hard. He could well imagine the consternation the boy's sudden appearance must have
