past. 'He shrugged. 'But the French army and navy are much nearer than they were then. '
'I agree. Nor would I expect a junior lieutenant to be used in this way.'
Farquhar watched him with new interest. 'You intend to go with Segura?'
'Under all circumstances. Yes.'
Midshipman Glasson had been right about one thing, Bolitho decided. The prize ship Segura was not only dirty, but also contained so many smells of varying ages and strength that it was hard not to retch when between decks.
It was pitch-dark by the time the new prize crew were ferried across in exchange for the remaining Spaniards, and With two good hands on the wheel and canvas reduced to a minimum for the night Segura was left to her Own devices.
Bolitho sat in the tiny cabin and munched some salt pork and iron-hard biscuits which he tried to dissolve in the ship's plentiful supply of red wine.
Farquhar had picked Lieutenant Matthew Veitch to accompany him, and he had already proved that he was. as good aboard an unfamiliar vessel.as he had. been directing Lysander's eighteen -pounders during their fight against the two Frenchmen. In his middle-twenties, Veitch appeared a good deal older and more experienced than his age suggested. He came from the north of. England, from Tynemouth, and his hard accent, added to his. normally stem features made him seem too advanced for his years. But he could wipe it away with a ready smile, and. Bolitho had noticed that his seamen liked and respected him.
Plowman, the senior master's mate, was again selected to join the expedition, and Mr. Midshipman Arthur Breen, a carrot-headed sixteen-year-old whose face was a mass of freckles, completed the vessel's senior authority.
They had been so busy settling into their new ship that. the shadowy topsails of the three seventy-fours had vanished into the gathering darkness before anyone had found time to 'comment.
Bolitho looked up as Veitch entered the cramped cabin. 'Watch yourself!'
But it was too late. Veitch gave a gasp as his head cracked violently against a deck beam.
Bolitho pointed to a chest. 'sit down and save your skull.' He pushed a wine bottle towards him. 'Is everything se- cure?'
Aye, sir. 'Veitch threw back his head and drained a metal goblet. 'I’ve got 'em standing watch and watch. It keeps 'em busy, and makes sure we don’tget pounced on by some enemy patrol.'
Bolitho listened to' the vessel's unfamiliar sounds, the rattle of rigging, the very near movements of the. rudder. Segura was roundly-built, probably Dutch originally, whenever originally had been. Her holds were spacious for her size, and packed to the seams with cargo and gunpowder. Her sail plan was austere, and manageable with the minimum amount of hands. Again, it made her almost certain to be Dutch-built. Profitable, both in space and size of crew, she had doubtless worked every coastline from the Baltic to the African shores. But she was old, and her Spanish masters had let her go badly. Plowman had already reported on the poor quality of her standing rigging and topping lifts, some of which he described as being 'as thin as a sailor's wallet.'
But Plowman was Grubb's right-hand man.' Like the master' he was not content with unreliable workmanship.
Bolitho smiled to himself. If Plowman was bothered, the seamen selected for the prize crew appeared quite the opposite. Even aboard the Lysander, as he had spoken to them briefly before they had clambered into the boats, he had noticed their grins and nudges, the cheerful acceptance of their surprise role. Escape from boredom, something to do to break the daily routine, or maybe the fact that each was hand-picked helped to extend this carefree atmosphere. The notion they had been chosen mostly for their foreign tongues had not apparently arisen.
He could hear someone singing a strange, lilting song, and a regular chorus of voices as the watch below joined in. There was an unusual smell of cooking in the damp air between decks, too, further evidence of their new identity.
Veitch grinned. 'They’ve settled in well, sir. That's Larssen singing, and the one detailed to cook is a Dane, so God knows what we’ll be eating tonight!'
Bolitho looked round as Plowman entered the cabin. He said, 'I’ve left Mr. Breen with the watch, sir.' He took the wine and regarded it gratefully. 'Well, thankee, sir.'
Bolitho glanced at them approvingly. Each, including himself, wore a plain blue coat, and a scruffier trio it would be hard to find. Typical, he hoped, of the countless hundreds of trading captains who sailed under every flag and carried any cargo they could find for a profit.
'Tomorrow we’ll run for Malta.' Bolitho watched as Plowman tamped black tobacco in a long clay pipe. 'I am Captain, ' he smiled gravely, 'Richard Pascoe. You can keep your own names. Mr. Veitch will be first mate. Mr. Plowman, second. My cox'n, Allday, will be filling the part of boatswain.'
Plowman hesitated and then thrust a great pot of tobacco across the rickety table.
'If you'd care to try it, sir? It's, well, it's fair.'
Bolitho took a pipe from a sandalwood box above the small chart table and handed another to Veitch.
'Anything once, Mr. Plowman!'
He became serious. 'I will go ashore with Allday and a boat's crew. You will appear to be preparing to open hatches. But be ready to cut the cable and put to sea if anything goes wrong, If this should happen, you can stand inshore for a further two nights. Where I have marked on the chart. If there is still no signal from me, you must rejoin the squadron at Syracuse. Captain Farquhar will act accordingly. '
The air thickened visibly with smoke, and Bolitho said, 'Fetch some more wine from the locker. Like our people up forrard, I feel strangely at peace; Tonight anyway.'
Shoes clicked overhead and Veitch smiled. 'Young Mr. Breen is alone up there. He is feeling like a post-captain, no doubt!'
Bolitho let the drowsiness move over him. He thought of Pascoe, his dark eyes eager and pleading as he had asked to be allowed to join him. He touched the old sword which lay against the table. Perhaps he should have left
