more than an intrusion; it was the deprivation of his freedom to think and act.
He said, 'There will be some food very soon, sir.' He grinned uncomfortably. 'I know you told me not to use your title aboard this vessel, but it comes a bit hard.'
'It should draw us closer.' Bolitho felt his stomach contract. He was hungry, in spite of everything. Perhaps Sir Piers Blachford was wrong. It was not unknown. When he returned to England… well, perhaps then he would take Catherine's advice.
He recalled one of the transports he had visited while waiting for Miranda's return from SaldanhaBay It had been unspeakable; and a miracle some of the soldiers had not died of disease already The stench had been appalling, more like a farmyard than a vessel in the King's service. Men, horses, guns and equipment, packed deck upon deck, with less room than a convict ship.
And so they must wait and endure it, until Sir David Baird's artillery and foot soldiers fought their way to the gates of Cape Town. But suppose the Dutch were stronger than anyone realised? They might turn the English advance into a rout, in which case there was only Commodore Warren's small force to land soldiers and marines and harass the enemy from the rear. The wretched men he had seen aboard the transport would be no match for the difficult landing, let alone the fighting expected of them.
He heard Allday's deep voice beyond the door and knew he was helping one of Tyacke's men to fetch a meal for the officers.
Bolitho said, 'With your experience, you should have a larger command.' Again he saw the guard drop in the ruined face. 'Your promotion ought to have been immediate.'
Tyacke's eyes flashed. 'I was offered it, sir. I declined it.' There was something like sad pride in his tone. 'Miranda's enough for me, and nobody can find cause to complain on her performance.'
Bolitho turned as a seaman bowed through the door with some steaming dishes. A far cry from a ship of the line. From Hyperion.
The old ship's name was still hanging in his mind when he saw Allday look at him across the sailor's stooped shoulders. He murmured, 'It is all right, old friend. Believe me.'
Allday responded with a cautious grin, as if he were only half-convinced.
The door closed and Tyacke watched covertly as Bolitho cut the greasy pork on his plate as if it were some rare delicacy.
Simcox kept asking him what Bolitho was like. Really like.
How could he explain? How might he describe a man who refrained from probing with his questions, when anyone else of his rank and fame would have insisted? Or how could he begin to tell Simcox about the bond between the admiral and his coxswain? Old friend, he had just called him. It was like having a vibrant force in the hull. A new light.
He thought of Simcox's earlier remark and smiled to himself. He poured two goblets of madeira and said, 'I was just thinking, sir. Some beer would not come amiss, if we could lay hands on some.'
Bolitho held up the goblet to the lantern, his face serious for a few seconds until he realised that the glass and not his eye had misted over.
Tyacke, sensing his change of mood, exclaimed, 'I beg your pardon, Sir Rich-er-sir! '
It was the first time Bolitho had seen him in irons.
'Beer, you say? I will pass the word to the army. It is the very least they can do.' He was still holding the goblet when he asked, 'It is Saturday, is it not? So we shall call a toast.'
Tyacke took up his glass. 'Sweethearts and wives, sir?'
Bolitho touched the locket beneath his shirt and shook his head.
'To loved ones. May they be patient with us.'
Tyacke drank the toast but said nothing, as he had no one to care if he lived or died.
He glanced at Bolitho's expression and was deeply moved nonetheless. For a moment at least he was with her, no matter the many miles which held them apart.
Allday wiped his glittering razor and grunted, 'That should do it, Sir Richard. About all the water is fit for in this ship! ' He did not conceal his disgust. 'It'll be a fisherman's dory next at this pace, I'm thinking.'
Bolitho sighed and slipped into the same crumpled shirt. It was the luxury he missed the most, a clean shirt when he needed it. Like stockings; they seemed to mark his progress from midshipmen's berth to flagofficer. Even as a lowly lieutenant there had been occasions when he had but two pairs of stockings to his name. But in many ways they had been good times; or maybe they always were, in hindsight-the memories of youth.
He thought of Tyacke's brief mention of his midshipman. Something was wrong there. He glanced up at the pale glow in the skylight. Dawn already; he was surprised that he had slept without waking once.
Allday gestured to the coffee and added, 'Barely kills the taste! '
Bolitho smiled. How Allday could shave him when he could scarcely stand upright beneath the skylight was a marvel. He could never recall him cutting his face once.
He was right about the coffee. He decided to send a despatch regarding beer for the sweltering ships. It would help until they could take on fresh water.
Commodore Warren should have made some arrangements. Perhaps he no longer cared? Bolitho pushed the coffee away. Or maybe somebody wanted him out of the way. Like me.
He heard the sluice of water and the crank of a pump as the hands washed down the deck for a new day. Like everything else in the sixty-five-foot schooner, the sounds were always close, more personal than in any larger craft.
'I'll go up.' He rose from the seat and winced as his head glanced off a deckhead beam.
Allday folded his razor away with great care and muttered, 'Bloody little paintpot, that's all she is! ' Then he followed Bolitho up the short companion ladder and into the damp wind.
Bolitho walked to the compass box. How much steeper the angle of the deck seemed than when he had been below. There appeared to be people everywhere, swabbing down, working in the shrouds, or engaged in the many tasks with running-rigging and coiled halliards.
Tyacke touched his forehead, 'Morning, sir. Steady at sou'east-by-south.' He raised one arm and pointed over the bulwark. 'That's the beginning of the Cape, sir, 'bout four miles abeam.' He smiled, proud of his little ship. 'I'd not risk weathering it much closer. You have to be careful not to be deceived by the soundings hereabouts. There's no bottom according to some charts, but if you glance yonder you'll see a reef all the same! ' It seemed to amuse him. Another challenge perhaps?
Bolitho turned and saw all the watching eyes drop or return to their various tasks. Like pulling on a line of puppets.
Tyacke said quietly, 'Don't mind them, sir. The highest ranking officer who came aboard before you, begging your pardon, was the commander in charge of the guard at Gibraltar.'
Simcox joined them and said, 'Sky's clearin', sir.' It was a totally unnecessary comment and Bolitho knew that he was like the rest, nervous in his presence.
'When do you become appointed Master, Mr Simcox?'
The man shifted his feet. 'Not certain, Sir Richard.' He glanced at his friend and Bolitho could guess what was troubling him. Leaving Miranda; taking away Tyacke's only prop.
Bolitho shaded his eyes to watch the sea changing colour in the faint sunshine. Plenty of birds this morning, messengers from the land. He looked abeam and saw the mass of Table Mountain, and another across the larboard bow still wreathed in mist, with only its high, craggy ridges bathed in gold.
Simcox cleared his throat. 'The wind favours us, Sir Richard, but I've known ships caught in a gale to the south'rd o' this point, blown all the way to Cape Agulhas afore they could fight their way back! '
Bolitho nodded. Experience? Or was it a warning? Suppose there were men-of-war around the jutting tusk of the Cape? It was unlikely they would wish to reveal themselves for the sake of one frail schooner. But Supreme had been small too when the frigate had run down on her.
Tyacke lowered his telescope and said, 'Call all hands, Ben.' The first name had slipped out by accident. 'We will wear ship and steer due east.' He glanced at Bolitho. 'Into the lion's den! '
Bolitho looked up at the whipping pendant. Yes, Tyacke would miss the acting-master when he was promoted to full warrant rank. He might even see his replacement as another intruder.
He said, 'It is the only way, Mr Tyacke, but I shall not hazard the ship unduly.'
The seamen ran to the braces and halliards, fingers loosening belaying pins, casting off lines from their cleats
