and then missing any sort of contact with the French squadron because of an haphazard idea would not go down at all well with Damerum or the Admiralty.
He paused as he heard Wolfe say in his harsh tones, `Now then, Mr Pascoe, what is all this I hear about you requesting a transfer for the landman Babbage? To the aftergu`ard, y' say?' He leaned forward, towering above the young lieutenant like an ungainly giant.
Pascoe replied, `Well, sir, he was pressed at Plymouth. He comes from Bodmin, and…
Wolfe growled impatiently, `And I come from bloody Bristol, so where does that get us, eh?'
Pascoe tried again. 'Mr Midshipman Penels asked for the transfer, sir. They grew up together. Babbage worked for Penels' mother when his father died.'
'Is that all?' Wolfe nodded, satisfied. `Well, I already knew that. Which is why I kept 'em separate, when I got to hear of their connection, so to speak.'
'I see, sir.'
'Oh no you don't, Mr Pascoe, but never mind. You asked, I said no. Now take some men to the foretop and attend the barricade. Mr Swale assures me that it is already cracked with strain. The devils probably used condemned timber when they built it, damn them!'
Pascoe touched his hat and strode to the gangway.
When he was out of earshot Bolitho called, Mr Wolfe. A moment please.'
Bolitho was quite tall, but Wolfe made him feel like a dwarf.
`Sir?'
`I could not help but overhear that. Perhaps you could share your information with me?'
Wolfe grinned, unabashed. 'Most certainly, sir. I met the officer in charge of the press at Plymouth when he brought some hands aboard for us. He told me about Babbage. How he had been sent to Plymouth with a message for a storekeeper there.'
'A long way from Bodmin, Mr Wolfe.'
`Aye, sir. It is that. Someone wanted him out of the way. Sent him where his capture would not be discussed or gossiped about, if you get my meaning, sir?'
Bolitho frowned. 'Penels' mother?'
'I expect so, sir. With her son at sea, and her man dead, she'd be seeking a new er, husband. Babbage could be a nuisance. Living at the house. Seeing and hearing everything. She couldn't have known Babbage would end up crossing his hawse with our young Mr Penels.'
'Thank you for telling me.'
Bolitho thought of the luckless Babbage. It was not unknown for employers and landowners to get rid of an unwanted servant in this fashion. Send him on a mission and then inform a crimp or the press-gang. The rest was easy.
Wolfe added, 'Mr Pascoe will be a good officer, sir. An' I'm not saying that to win your favours. He will learn about the wiles of women all in good time. Time enough then to bother him with such things.' He touched his hat and strode away humming to himself.
Bolitho continued his pacing. There were other sides to the ungainly first lieutenant, he thought. Not saying that to win your favours. You only had to look at him to know that!
'Deck there! Lookout in sight on the weather bow!'
Bolitho saw the officer of the watch make a note in the log about the first sighting of the day. Far beyond the sloop, Captain Rowley Peel in his Relentless would be eagerly scanning a brightening horizon. Thinking of Styx 's hard-won fight, hoping for a chance for himself and his ship. He was twentysix, and that was about all Bolitho knew of him. Yet.
There was a clatter of feet on the lee gangway and a toughlooking boatswain's mate trudged aft and knuckled his forehead to the same lieutenant who was about to cover the log with its canvas hood.
'Beg pardon, Mr Speke, sir, there's bin a fight on the lower gundeck. Man struck a petty officer with a stool, sir.'
Speke was the second lieutenant, a competent officer, according to Herrick, but inclined to lose his temper too easily.
'He said sharply, 'Very well, Jones. Tell the master-at-arms, end I will note it in the log for the first lieutenant's attention. Who is it, by the way?'
Somehow, and yet for no sane reason, Bolitho had known who it would be.
'Babbage, sir. Mr Pascoe's division.' As an afterthought he added bluntly, 'He's put the petty officer in the sick- bay, sir. Split his skull, he did.'
Speke nodded severely. 'That's it then. My compliments to Mr Swale. Tell him a grating will have to be rigged sometime today.'
Bolitho walked to the companionway, his appetite for breakfast gone.
Sailing to seek out an enemy, to die if need be, was hard enough. To have a flogging as well would not help at all.
'Have you any new orders for me, sir?' Herrick stood just inside the screen door, his hat beneath his arm, his faded sea-going coat at odds with the newly furnished cabin.
Bolitho listened to the silence,. the ship holding her breath around her company of six hundred and twenty men and boys. It was almost noon. The sky was still free of cloud and rain, and yet between-decks the air was damp and musty, with a touch of the wintry weather to come. Nothing had been reported by the frigate or the sloop, except for a fast-moving schooner which had headed away immediately. Privateer, smuggler or just some.hardworking trader trying to stay clear of trouble?
Bolitho looked at his friend, knowing what was bothering him. It was unfair on Herrick, he thought. It had been his idea to disregard the advice brought by the courier brig. His plan to quit their proper station to meet the enemy in open water. It was wrong that he had this new worry on his mind as well.
Gently he asked, 'Can I help, Thomas? It is this matter of punishment, am I right?'
Herrick stared at him. 'Aye, sir. I am fair turned-about by it. Young Adam came to me about Babbage. Takes the blame on himself. He'll think me a bloody tyrant if I don't interfere.'
'You know about Babbage?'
Herrick nodded. 'I do now. Mr Wolfe told me.' He looked up at the deckhead and added, 'I'm not blaming him, of course. He sees it as plain duty to keep such matters away from his captain.' He tried to smile. 'As I used to from you.'
'I was thinking that.'
Herrick said, 'I've looked into the matter fully. The petty officer provoked Babbage, probably without knowing it. Babbage is an orphan, which only makes it worse.'
Bolitho nodded. No wonder his nephew was upset. He was an orphan also.
'We are involved, Thomas.'
'Aye, sir. That's the curse of it. If it was any other man I'd have no hesitation. Right or wrong, I'll not have my petty officers laid low and damn near killed. I hate flogging, as you well know, sir, but this sort of thing cannot be tolerated.'
Bolitho stood up. 'Would you like me to come on deck? My presence might show that is not merely a whim but a requirement of duty.'
Herrick's blue eyes were unwavering. 'No, sir, this is my ship. If there was a fault, I should have seen it for myself.'
'Whatever you say.' Bolitho smiled gravely. 'It does you credit, Thomas, to worry about one man at a time like this.'
Herrick moved to the door. 'Will you speak with Adam, sir?'
'He is my nephew, Thomas, and very close to me. But as you said when I hoisted my broad pendant aboard your old Lysander, he is one of your officers.'
Herrick sighed. 'I shall think twice in future before I venture such remarks.'
The door closed and another opened as Yovell, the clerk, entered with one of his files.
As the calls shrilled along the gundecks and the boatswain's mates yelled, 'All hands! All handjay aft to witness punishment!' Yovell looked up at the skylight and murmured, 'Will Oi close the lower shutter, zur?'
'No.'
