in frigates or similar vessels. This would probably be the last, he thought. A fine ship, and as a senior post-captain he had every chance of promotion to flag rank when Valkyrie had completed her commission. It had not been a definite promise, but Trevenen had been in the navy long enough to recognise the unwritten parts of his orders.
He was thickset rather than heavily-built, with a strong jaw and crows' feet to mark the years of standing watch under all conditions. His hair was a gingery chestnut colour, cut short, but not short enough to conceal the streaks of grey. He was forty but looked much older. He stood now, hands clasped behind him as if he could penetrate the full length of his command. Valkyrie was a true reward, when properly handled, for any captain. One hundred and eighty tons displacement, she could still respond like a four-in-hand. The sailing master had been astonished when the ship had logged over eighteen knots, despite her size and her forty-two guns and carronades.
Trevenen closed the door as if to shut the coming vice-admiral from his thoughts. He could not allow him to intrude. It was too dangerous. He heard the marine sentry tap his musket on the deck outside the screen door and prepared himself for his visitor.
It was Lieutenant Urquhart, his senior, an alert, quietly spoken man who had already been a first lieutenant in another frigate. Trevenen knew that, like some of the others, Urquhart had not yet got his captain's measure on so short an acquaintance.
Nor would he, he thought. He almost smiled. Almost.
He heard the tap at the door and said, 'Come! '
Urquhart glanced round the day cabin as he strode aft, his cocked hat pressed under one arm. It was as if he expected to discover some identity here, a clue to the man who next to God would hold the lives of two hundred and twenty souls in his hands.
Trevenen did not miss it. 'You are early, Mr. Urquhart. Is something amiss?'
The lieutenant said, 'It is the surgeon, sir. He wishes to have an interview with you.' He flushed as Trevenen's eyes came to rest on him. They were dark and deepset, yet managed to dominate even his strong features. Urquhart added awkwardly, 'About the punishment, sir.'
'I see. Tell him I do not wish to discuss it. I want it over and done with before the admiral comes aboard.' He turned to the great stern windows as a yawl, tilting deeply as she tacked, passed dangerously close to the frigate's counter, then he snapped his fingers even as the first lieutenant turned to leave. 'No! Belay that, Mr. Urquhart! I shall see him! '
Urquhart closed the screen door and found that his hand was snaking. In his previous ship the captain had called him by his first name when it was an informal occasion. If Trevenen ever did it to him, he would likely die of shock.
He found the surgeon waiting by the wardroom, his battered hat gripped in both hands. An untidy man, with sprouting grey hair and a face ruined by an excess of drinking. But they said he was a good surgeon; it was to be hoped they would not discover otherwise.
'It's no use. The punishment goes ahead.' He shrugged helplessly. 'But he will see you.'
The surgeon stood his ground, his eyes angry. 'The cap'n insists on the bosun's mates using the lash with the heavier knots! No man can stand up to that! '
Urquhart said, 'I can do nothing.' Secretly he agreed with him, but to show what amounted to disloyalty at the beginning of a commission was nothing short of madness. This ship was luckier than many, and the captain must know it. She had fewer pressed men than most, and had been fortunate in collecting some twenty new hands who, although not seamen, were tough and fearless Cornish tin miners who had been thrown out of work by a pit collapse.
The sentry brought his heels together and called, 'Surgeon, sir! '
The door was opened by the cabin servant and closed instantly.
'You wish to see me?' Trevenen was standing with his broad shoulders towards the windows and the glistening panorama of water and shipping beyond.
'Aye, sir. About the land man Jacobs. I'll not vouch for his surviving punishment. It's his second flogging in two weeks, sir.'
'I am aware of it. The man is an ignorant lout. I'll not tolerate insubordination nor will I see my subordinates' authority undermined.' The servant padded over the black and white checkered deck covering and placed a tall glass of wine within reach of his captain.
The surgeon said, 'He is an ignorant lout, sir, I'm not defending his…'
The captain held up one hand. 'I have something to ask you.' He saw the surgeon's raddled face watching the tall glass and added, 'You were surgeon at one time in the Hyperion, Sir Richard Bolitho's flagship, I believe?'
George Minchin stared at him, caught completely off balance by the question.
'Well, yes, sir. I was in Hyperion when she went down.' Some of his weary despair seemed to vanish as he said with a certain pride, 'I was one of the last to leave the old lady.'
'It is confidential, of course, but we shall weigh anchor once our passengers are on board. To suit the purpose of admiralty this will no longer be a private ship. Your Sir Richard Bolitho is hoisting his flag over us.'
He saw the emotions chasing each other across the surgeon's face. How could a man allow himself to decay like this?
Trevenen asked, 'How did you find him?'
Minchin looked into the distance, so far now beyond the cabin and the ship. The thundering roar and recoil of the old seventy-four's artillery, the unending stream of wounded and dying who had been dragged down to him on the orlop deck, the 'wings and limbs' tubs as the Jacks termed them overflowing with grisly relics of saw and knife. Arms, legs, pieces of men Minchin had once known, and all the while the deck had shivered to the fury of the battle above and around them.
'The finest man I ever met. A gentleman, but only in the true sense. I've seen him shed a tear when some poor lad lay dying. He was not too proud to stoop and hold his hand for his last minutes.' He glared at the captain with sudden dislike. 'Not like some! '
'Very commendable. But the punishment will be carried out at four bells this forenoon and you will attend it, sir. I have long discovered that authority and severity must often go hand in hand! '
He waited for the door to close after Minchin's shabby figure. The man was a fool. As soon as possible he would try to have him replaced, although surgeons with experience and the stomach for their butcher's work were difficult to find.
He touched the wine with his tongue. His hardest task would be to conceal and suppress the old animosity born when his father and Captain James Bolitho had become enemies. Trevenen came from Truro and he resented hearing Bolitho proclaimed Cornwall 's greatest son. He frowned, his mouth setting in a thin line.
We shall see about that.
At exactly four bells the calls trilled between decks and along Valkyrie's gangways while the marines took up their station across the quarterdeck.
'All hands! All hands! Hands lay aft to witness punishment! '
The first lieutenant came to the cabin again but Trevenen said calmly, 'I heard, Mr. Urquhart. This is a quiet ship and I intend it should remain so! '
Then he picked up the folder that contained the Articles of War, and after a slow scrutiny of his quarters walked out.
Unmoved? Urquhart sighed. It was not that. There was no sign of feeling at all.
Lady Catherine Somervell stood by the tall windows of the room they had shared for only one night. The windows opened on to a small balcony and faced south across Plymouth Sound. It looked as if it might remain fine for her journey to Falmouth. She felt a shiver run through her. Perhaps she should have returned to London, the city she had once known so well. In the same breath she knew she needed to go to the old grey house below Pendennis Castle. She could keep busy amongst people who, for the most part, kept to themselves and did not stare at her wherever she went. She would always be a foreigner in Cornwall; even Yovell was, and he came from no further than Devon. But they respected her now, and she found that it mattered. Most folk probably thought she was above it, that she was used to the gossip and the lies, but she was not. And the man she loved more than life itself, who was prepared to risk everything for her and because of her, would soon be gone. Back to that other world which she had shared for a while at the mercy of the sea's cruelty, and the danger which had drawn them even closer, if that
