The Flag Captain

was still steady. “You have taken a King’s ship. That is an act of mutiny as well as one of treason if you persist with the rest of your plan.”

Strangely, the man seemed more satisfied than angry. He looked at the others and said, “You see, lads! There’s no bargaining with the likes of him. You should have listened to me in the first place instead of wasting time.”

A grizzled petty officer replied quickly, “Easy! Mebbe if you was to tell ’im the other things like we agreed?”

“You’re a fool!” He turned back to Bolitho. “I knew this would happen. The lads at Spithead won their cause because they stood together. Next time there’ll be no damn promises strong enough to break us!”

The petty officer said gruffly, “Would you look at this book, sir.” He pushed it over the table, his eyes on Bolitho’s face. “I bin at sea man an’ boy for thirty years. I’ve never bin in anything like this afore, an’ that’s God’s truth, sir.”

“You’ll hang just the same, you fool!” The spokesman eyed him with contempt. “But show him if it makes you feel better.”

Bolitho opened the canvas-covered book and leafed past the first few pages. It was the frigate’s punishment book, and as he ran his eyes down the neatly written records he felt the revulsion twisting his stomach like fever.

None of these men could have known the effect it would have on him. They were merely trying to show him what they had suffered. But in the past Bolitho had always inspected the punishment book of any ship of which he had just taken command. He believed it gave a better picture of her previous commander than any other testimony.

He could feel them watching him, sense the tension surrounding him like a physical thing.

Most of the offences listed were trivial and fairly typical. Disorderly behaviour, disobedience, carelessness and insolence. Many of them he knew from experience would mean little more than ignorance on the part of the man involved.

But the punishments were savage. In one week alone, while the Auriga had been patrolling off Le Havre, her captain had awarded a total of one thousand lashes. Two men had been flogged twice in the same period, one of whom had died under the lash.

He shut the book and looked up. There were so many questions he wanted to ask. Why the first lieutenant had done nothing to prevent such brutality? He checked the thought instantly. What would Keverne have done in the past if his own captain had ordered such punishment? The realisation made him suddenly angry. He had seen often enough the way men looked at him when things went wrong, as they often did in the complex matters of working a ship-of-the-line. Sometimes it amounted to real terror, and it never failed to sicken him. A captain, any captain, was second only to God as far as his men were concerned. A superior being who could encourage advancement with one hand and order the most vicious punishment with the other. To think that some captains, the Auriga’s amongst them, could abuse such power was nothing but abhorrent to him.

He said slowly, “I would like to come aboard and speak with your captain.” As several of them started to speak at once he added, “Otherwise I can do nothing.”

The chief delegate said, “You may have fooled the others, but I can see through your deception well enough.” He gestured angrily. “First a show of sympathy, and the next thing we’ll know is the gibbet on some sea wall where every passing sailor can see what value there is in trusting the word of an officer!”

Allday gave a savage oath and half rose to his feet, but looked

helplessly at Bolitho as he said, “Rest easy, Allday. When a man thinks that righting a wrong is a waste of time, there is little point in argument.”

One of the seamen said thickly, “Aye, what’s wrong in the cap’n comin’ aboard? If ’e breaks ’is faith with us we can take ’im along as ’ostage.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and for an instant Bolitho saw the leader caught off guard.

He decided to make another move. “If on the other hand you had no intention of seeking justice, and merely wanted an excuse to hand your ship to the enemy,” he let his voice drag over the word, “then I should warn you that I have already made certain arrangements to forestall you.”

“He’s bluffing!” But the man’s voice was less assured now. “There’s no ship within miles of us here!”

“There will be another mist at dawn.” He thrust his hands under the table knowing they were quivering with excitement or worse. “You will be unable to make sail before the forenoon. I know this bay well and it is too dangerous.” He hardened his tone. “Especially without the help of your officers.”

The petty officer muttered, “’E’s right, Tom.” He craned forward. “Why not do like ’e says? We got nowt to lose by listenin’.”

Bolitho studied the leader thoughtfully. His name was Tom. It was a beginning.

“Damn your eyes, the lot of you!” The man was flushed with sudden anger. “A batch of delegates, are you? More like a pack of old women!”

The anger calmed as suddenly as before, and Bolitho was reminded of Keverne.

He said harshly, “Right then, so be it.” He gestured to the old petty officer. “You will remain here with one lookout.” He glanced at Allday, his eyes hostile. “And you can keep this lackey as hostage. If we make the signal I want him dead. If there’s some

sort of attack we will kill the pair of them and hang them beside our own precious lord and bloody master, right?”

The petty officer flinched but nodded in agreement.

Bolitho looked at Allday’s grim features and forced a smile. “You wanted a rest and a tankard. You have both.” Then he rested his hand briefly on his shoulder. He could almost feel the man’s tension and anger beneath it. “It will be all right.” He tried to give value to his words. “We are not fighting the enemy.”

“We shall see!” The man named Tom opened the door and made a mock bow. “Now walk in front of me and mind your manners. I’ll not pipe my eye if I have to cut you down here and now!”

Bolitho strode into the darkness without answering. The night was still before them, but there was a lot to do before dawn if there was to be any hope of success. As he hurried down the steep track his mind returned to the punishment book. It was surprising that men driven and provoked by such inhumanity had bothered to try to seek justice by channels they only barely understood. It was more surprising still that the mutiny had not broken out months earlier. The realisation helped to encourage him, although he knew it was little enough to sustain anything.

3. Salute the Flag

“Boat ahoy!” The challenge seemed to come from nowhere.

A man in the bows cupped his hands and replied, “The delegates!”

Bolitho tensed on the thwart as the anchored frigate suddenly grew out of the darkness, the crossed yards and gently spiralling masts black against the stars. While the jolly boat manoeuvred alongside he noted the carefully spread boarding nets above the

ship’s gangway, the dark clusters of figures crowding around the entry port. He could feel his heart racing, and wondered if his own apprehension was matched by the waiting mutineers’.

A hand thrust at his shoulder. “Up you go.”

As he swung himself up through the port, a lantern was unshuttered, the yellow beam playing across his epaulettes while the press of seamen pushed closer to see him.

A man said, “’E came then.”

Then Taylor’s voice, brittle and urgent. “Stand aside, mates. There’s work to be done.”

Bolitho stood in silence as the head delegate whispered further instructions to the watch on deck. The ship seemed under control, with no sign of argument or drunkenness as might be expected. Two of the guns were run out, and he guessed they were loaded with grape, just in case some suspicious patrol boat came too close for safety.

A petty officer stood watch on the quarterdeck, but there was no officer in view. Nor were there any