it in Lysander. If anything happened to him, the sword would probably disappear forever. And it was important in some strange way that Pascoe should have it. One day.
He did not see Veitch give a wink-to Plowman, who rose and said, 'I’d better go an' relieve Mr. Breen, sir.'
Veitch nodded. 'And I must go forrard and see that all is well.'
He stood up and cracked his head again.
'Damn these stingy shipbuilders, sir!' He grinned ruefull y. 'A ship of the line maybe is crowded, but she keeps a man' s head on his shoulders!'
Alone once more, Bolitho leaned over his chart and studied it beneath a spiralling lantern. He removed his blue coat and loosened his neckcloth, feeling the sweat running freely down his spine. It was stiflingly hot, and the wine had not slaked his thirst.
Allday entered the cabin. 'I’m bringing something to eat in a minute, sir.' He wrinkled his nose. 'This hull stinks like Exeter market!'
'The heat is no help to us.' Bolitho threw down his dividers. 'I will go on deck for a breath of air directly.' 'As you will, sir.' Allday watched him pass. 'I will send word when your meal is ready.'
He looked round the untidy cabin and shrugged. Damp, dirty and smelly it certainly was'. But after the oppressive heat of the day it felt almost cool. He saw the empty wine bottles and-chuckled. The commodore's heat was probably an inner one.
'Brail up the fores'l.'
Bolitho shaded his eyes to examine the untidy sprawl of sand-coloured fortifications which protected every entrance to Valletta harbour. As they had made their slow approach, and had watched the sun rise behind Malta 's weather-worn defences, it had been hard for some of the seamen to see it for anything but a fortress.
'steady as you go.' Plowman shifted his sturdy frame around the helmsmen, a pipe jutting from his jaw.
Bolitho knew that he, like most of the others, was finding it difficult to act in this casual and slack fashion after the rigid discipline of a King's ship. And at no other time was there anything more important about a ship's appearance than when entering harbour.
Bolitho ran his eye along the littered deck. Seamen lounged against either bulwark, pointing at landmarks, some with genuine interest, others with elaborate pretence.
Midshipman Breen said, 'I’ve heard of this island many times, sir. I never thought I’d ever see it.'
Plowman grinned. 'Aye. Valletta was so named after the Grand Master of the Knights in honour of 'is defence of it against the Turks.'
'Were you here then?' Breen watched the master's mate with undisguised awe.
'Ardly, Mr. Breen. That was over two 'undred years back!' He looked at Veitch and shook his head. 'Was I 'ere indeed!'
The nearest fortress was gliding abeam now, its upper rampart crowded with colourful figures. It was apparently used as much as a thoroughfare as a bastion. Beyond it, Bolitho saw the glittering water opening up to receive the Segura. The harbour was busy with shipping and tiny oared boats which scurried back and forth from vessels to jetties like water-beetles. There were a few schooners, gaunt Arab dhows, and the more common feluccas with their huge lateen sails. Two painted and gilt-encrusted galliasses lay beside a flight of stone steps. Like things from the past. They might have looked not too much out of place when the Romans had conquered England, Bolitho thought. The Knights of Malta had used them very successfully over the centuries for harrying Turkish ports and shipping, and had done much to drive the Turks' influence away from the West, it was hoped for good.
But now, Malta 's role had changed again. It had with- drawn on to its own resources, combing revenue and trade from ships which came to the harbour, or anchored out of sheer necessity through storm or attack by corsairs.
'stand by the anchor.'
Bolitho strode to the foot of the mainmast and watched for any sign of a challenge. In fact, there was little interest, so he guessed that Segura was not the first vessel to enter wearing the American flag.
Allday whispered, 'By God, it will take Mr. Gilchrist a year to get these lads to jump like seamen again.' He grinned as one of the men spat deliberately on the deck and then grinned somewhat sheepishly at his companions. Such an act would have cost him a dozen lashes in Lysander.
Veitch called, 'Hands wear ship!'
Bolitho took a brass telescope and trained it on the longest stone jetty; Boats were already shoving off, laden to their gunwales with fruit, basketware and probably women as well. For despite the original Christian standards and guidance within these stout walls, the core had long since deteriorated, and it was hinted that even the Knights themselves looked more to personal enjoyments than to heaven.
'Helm a'lee!'
The Segura tilted above her shadow, the patched sails barely moving as she headed into the wind, and her rusting anchor splashed into clear water. 'Mr. Veitch. If you allow these bumboats alongside, I suggest you make certain their occupants stay in them. You can let a few aboard at a time. They’ll get out of control otherwise. '
Veitch gave a rare smile. 'Aye, sir. It'd be a powerful combination, eh? A hold full of wine, some British tars and whatever mischief these traders are about to offer!'
Allday was already mustering a small but fearsome looking anchor watch. Each man was armed with a cutlass, and in addition a heavy wooden stave.
'Lower the boat.'
Bolitho wiped his face and throat. It was more stifling in the harbour than below decks.
The first craft were already alongside, the merchants and boatmen standing upright to display their wares, and
