'I was about to tell you, sir. He is with the surgeon,' He looked at the deck. 'A slight accident, but, thank God, no real harm done.'
Bolitho replied, 'The truth, Thomas. Is my nephew ill?' Herrick looked up, his blue eyes suddenly angry. 'A stupid argument with his opposite number in the Osiris, sir. Her sixth lieutenant gave some sort of insult. They went ashore on their separate duties but arranged to meet and settle the matter.'
Bolitho made himself walk slowly to the stem windows and stare down at the swirling water around the rudder. 'A duel?'
Just the sound of the worn made him feel sick. Despairing. Like father like son? It was not possible.
'High spirits more like.' Herrick sounded unconvinced. 'Neither was badly hurt, though I gather Adam nicked the other fellow the worse.'
Bolitho turned and regarded him calmly. 'I will see him directly.'
Herrick swallowed. 'With your permission, sir, I should like to deal with the matter myself.'
Bolitho nodded slowly, feeling a great gap yawning between him and his friend.
He said quietly, 'Of course, Thomas. Adam Pascoe is my nephew. But he is one of your officers now. '
Herrick tried to relax. 'I am deeply sorry to trouble you in your first hour, sir. Not for the whole world would I wish that. '
'I know.' He smiled gravely. 'It was foolish of me to interfere. I was a flag-captain and often resented my superior's hand in my own affairs.'
Herrick looked around the big cabin, eager to change the subject.
'I hope everything is to your liking, sir. Your servant is preparing a meal, and I have had some hands detailed to stow your chests for you. '
'Thank you. It seems most satisfactory.'
He stopped. It was happening again. The formal tones.
The offering and an acceptance. When they had always been used to sharing.
Understanding.
Herrick asked suddenly, 'Will we be putting to sea soon, sir?'
'Aye, Thomas. Tomorrow forenoon if the wind stays favourable.' He pulled the watch from his pocket and snapped open the guard. 'I would wish to see my officers' He faltered. Even that was changed. He added, 'To see the other captains as soon as is convenient. I received some more despatches from the governor here, but after I have read them I should like to tell the squadron what we are about.'* He smiled. 'Don’t look so troubled, Thomas. It is as hard for me as for you.'
For a brief moment Bolitho saw the old light in Herrick's eyes. The warmth and trust which could so easily turn to hurt.
Herrick replied, 'I feel like an old foot in a new shoe.' He smiled, too. 'I’ll not let you down.'
He turned and left the cabin, and after a discreet pause Allday and two seamen carrying a large case strode through the door. Allday glanced swiftly round, the cabin and seemed to approve.
Bolitho relaxed very slowly. Allday was always the same, and for that he was suddenly grateful. Even his new blue jacket with the large gilt buttons, the nankeen trousers and buckled shoes which Bolitho had purchased for him to reveal his new status as a commodore's own coxswain did little to hide his thickset, rugged individuality.
Bolitho unfastened his sword and gave it to him. 'Well, Allday, what do you make of her, eh?'
The man eyed him calmly. 'A well-found ship,' he hesitated over the word, 'sir'
Even Allday had been made to alter his ways. Never in the past had he called him anything but 'Captain'. It was their own unrehearsed arrangement. The new rank had changed that, too.
Allday read his thoughts and grinned ruefully. 'sorry about that, sir.' He glared at the two seamen who were watching them curiously, the case balanced between them. 'But I can wait. It’ll be Sir Richard afore long, and that's no error!'
Allday waited until the seamen had gone and said quietly, 'I reckon you'd like to be left alone now sir. I’ll see that your servant is warned about your customs. '
Bolitho nodded. 'You know me too well.'
Allday closed the door behind him and glanced coldly at the ramrod-stiff marine sentry outside the cabin. To himself he murmured, 'Better'n you’ll ever know.'
On the quarterdeck once more, Herrick walked slowly to the nettings and Stared at the other ships. It had been a bad beginning. For both of them. Perhaps it was all in his own mind, like his dislike for Farquhar. The latter obviously did not give a damn for him, so why should he get so easily ruffled?
Bolitho had looked exactly as he had known he would. The same gravity which could alter in an instant to a youthful exuberance. His hair was as black as ever, his slim figure no different, apart from the obvious stiffness in his right shoulder. He counted the months. Nearly seven it must be now, when Bolitho had been marked down by a musket ball. The lines at the comers of his mouth were a little deeper. Pain, responsibility? Parts of each, he decided.
He saw the officer of the watch eyeing him cautiously and called, 'We will signal the squadron, Mr. Kipling. All captains repair on board when I so order.'
He pictured them putting on their best uniforms. Inch in his tiny cabin, Farquhar in his lavish quarters. But each and all would be wondering, as he was. Where bound? What to expect? The price for both.
Alone in his cabin Bolitho heard feet thudding along the deck overhead, and after a momentary hesitation threw off his dress coat with its solitary gold stripe and seated himself at his desk. He slit open the large canvas envelope
