and had never wanted to follow the family tradition. Never.
He had intended to tell his mother on that last leave, when she had taken him to London to stay with some of her friends. They had clucked over him like hens. So sweet in his uniform as one of them had exclaimed. That had been when he had heard them discussing Nelson and another name, Richard Bolitho.
Now the unthinkable had happened. Brave Nelson was dead. And the other name was here, with the squadron.
Before he had left for Portsmouth to take passage to the Mediterranean, he had tried to explain to his mother.
She had hugged him, and then held him at arm's length. She had sounded hurt. 'After all the Admiral has done for you and the family-' It was strange, but Segrave could never recall his uncle being called by name. He was always the Admiral.
'Be brave, Roger. Make us proud of you! '
He tensed as the captain turned aft towards him. If only his face were not like that. Segrave was not too immature not to know how Tyacke must hate and loathe his own appearance. And yet he could not stop himself from staring at his disfigurement, even when he was trying to prevent himself from doing so.
If he passed his examination… Segrave ducked as a curtain of spray soaked into him again. If-he would be appointed as a lieutenant, the first real step, to share a wardroom with other officers who would see him as the weak link, a danger whenever they were called to action.
But suppose-he found he was clenching his fists until they ached-he ended up with a terrible wound like Tyacke? He felt the bile in his throat, choking him.
Simcox slapped him on the shoulder. 'Let her fall off a point. Steer sou'-sou'-west.' He watched as Segrave relayed his order to the helmsman, but saw the senior hand at the tiller glance at him, not the boy, to make certain it was correct.
'Deck thar! She's standin' away, sir, an' makin' more sail! '
Tyacke tucked his thumbs into his belt. 'So he wants to play games, does he?' He cupped his hands and called, 'Would you take a glass aloft, Mr Jay?' As the master's mate hurried to the shrouds he said, 'Hands aloft, and loose tops'l, Ben! ' He gave a rare grin. 'I'll wager he'll not outreach Miranda! '
Then he appeared to notice the midshipman for the first time. 'Go with him and learn something! ' He dismissed him immediately as the topsail suddenly boomed out from its yard and then hardened like a breastplate.
Simcox eyed the set of the sails. 'We must catch him afore dusk. Sir Richard Bolitho'll not thank us for keepin' him waiting! '
Segrave finally reached the top of the quivering ratlines and joined the master's mate by the foot of the fidded topmast. Heights did not trouble him, and he gazed across the endless dark blue desert with its ranks of yellow- crested waves. The ship was momentarily forgotten; he stared wide-eyed at the spray as it drifted up from the plunging stem, felt the mast shaking and jerking, every brace and shroud catching the wind in a wild chorus which drowned out the men on the deck far below.
'Take a look.' Jay handed him the telescope before bellowing to the deck, 'Schooner, sir! Flies no flag! '
Tyacke's voice carried effortlessly from aft. 'She running?'
'Aye, sir! '
They heard the squeal of a block, and seconds later a huge White Ensign floated from Miranda's gaff.
Jay chuckled. 'That'll show the buggers! '
But Segrave was peering at the other vessel as she heeled over to an angle that matched Miranda's. The vessel seemed to leap out of the distance so that he could see the patched and dirty sails, even some loose trailing cordage awaiting repair, Irish pendants as he had heard the old sailors call them. The hull was originally black but was scored, and in places worn bare by wind and weather. It would not be tolerated in a King's ship, no matter how hard she was worked.
'What d'you think, Mr Jay?'
The man looked at him before raising the glass again. 'At a guess she's a bloody blackbirder.' He saw the uncertainty on the youth's face. 'Slaver, lad.'
Segrave looked away and did not see the other man's pitying stare. 'Will we catch her?'
Jay was watching the other vessel with professional interest. 'We'll catch the bastard right enough.'
There was a hail from the deck. 'Clear for action! Mr Archer, lay aft if you please! '
Archer was the gunner, so there could be little doubt about it now.
Tyacke's voice seemed to be right beside him.
'Mr Segrave! Down here at the double! '
Jay watched him clambering down the ratlines, his fair hair rippling in the wind.
There was nothing to dislike about the midshipman, but Jay knew the dangers. In small ships like Miranda it was one hand for the King, t'other for yourself. There was no room for passengers and mother's boys.
Simcox faced Segrave as he reached the bulwark. 'Keep with Mr Archer. He will personally lay and point a four-pounder. You will do well to watch him! '
The tub-like boatswain grinned and showed him broken teeth.
'I knowed Elias Archer knock an apple off a tree at a 'undred paces! '
The other man who waited by halliards and braces grinned as if it was a huge joke.
Segrave saw Tyacke turn to speak with the helmsmen. In the sun's angry glare his face looked as if it had just been clawed away. Then he followed the gunner to the foremost starboard side port and tried not to think about it. He felt like running below to hide, anything but being made to bare his fear before the others.
Elias Archer, Miranda's master gunner, was a grizzled little man and stood effortlessly on the pitching foredeck, his arms folded while he waited for his men to clear away the four-pounder nearest to the bows.
'Done much of this, 'ave yer?' He glanced briefly at the midshipman, then returned his gaze to the other vessel. She was larger than Miranda, and might yet outsail them until nightfall made a further chase impossible.
Segrave shook his head. His body was like ice in spite of the sun's high glare across his neck and shoulders; and each time the schooner dipped her stem the bursting spray made him shiver uncontrollably.
He replied, 'Not like this. My last ship engaged a French two-decker, but she ran aground and caught fire before we could take her.'
'This is different.' Archer took a shining black ball from the shot garland and felt it in his hard palms. 'Ships like this 'un 'ave to be quick an' nimble. But without the likes o' us the fleet would be all aback fer news, an' without that even Our Nel couldn't move.' He nodded to one of his crew. 'Right, Mason, open the port.'
Segrave watched as other men ran to the halliards and braces and the deck canted over again. The other schooner must have headed away a point or so, but it was hard to tell from where they stood now, here in the eyes of the ship.
Archer leaned over to supervise as the charge was carefully tamped home. He said, 'Some 'otheads double- shot their guns. But not me. Not in a little piece like this 'un.'
Segrave heard the captain call, 'Signal that bastard to heave-to! '
Archer chuckled, ''E won't take no notice! '
Segrave was puzzled. 'Maybe he cannot read our signals?'
A seaman with the rammer grinned and pointed at the gun. 'He'll understand this, right enough.'
The other schooner was showing her bilge as she heeled over to the press of canvas. There were several heads above her bulwark, but there was no response to the signal.
Lieutenant Tyacke shouted, 'Load and run out! '
The shot was thrust down the muzzle with a wad to keep it secure. Then, with the hands hauling on the tackles, the little gun was run up to the open port.
Archer explained, 'Y'see, my lad, that bugger yonder has the wind-gage, but it will help us to put a shot down where we wants it.'
Jay, the forgotten master's mate, called from the foremast: 'They've just pitched a corpse over the side, sir! There goes another! '
Tyacke lowered his telescope, his eyes hard. 'That last one was still alive, Mr Simcox.' The sudden formality seemed to add menace to the moment.
