For My Country’s Freedom

The whole ship’s company had been standing-to since the

early hours. Peering around in the darkness, trying to remember who was where. Seeking out friends, perhaps, or maybe looking out for a boatswain’s mate, ready to use his starter on anyone who was slow to move when the orders came.

James Tyacke was pacing from one side of the broad quarterdeck to the other. Suppose daylight found Indomitable with the ocean to herself? It would be a bad beginning for him as captain, Allday thought.

He felt the wind against his neck and shivered. It had shifted, as York had predicted. The ship was as close- hauled as she would bear, the canvas cracking overhead, losing the wind until the vigilant helmsmen brought her back under command again.

Allday heard someone speaking hoarsely to Eli Fairbrother, the gun captain selected to be the captain’s coxswain. He moved into the deeper shadows by the nettings. He was in no mood to chat with the man. He might prove to be a good hand, given time, but at the moment he was so overwhelmed by his unexpected promotion that he would not stop talking about it.

Allday glanced up again into the darkness. He could see some of the shrouds and ratlines now, and far above, a flapping white movement, like a seabird trapped in the rigging. The admiral’s flag at the mainmast truck.

All the years, the pain and the danger. Friends and enemies wiped away, lost like smoke in the wind. To serve with Bolitho had been all he had ever wanted, needed. They had both taken a few bad knocks over their years together, and Allday had shared the best and the worst of it. His oak, Bolitho called him, and the name meant much to Allday. It gave him a sense of belonging that few Jacks were lucky enough to enjoy

Now they were off again. He rubbed his chest where the Spanish blade had nearly killed him. Always the pain. Sir Richard with his wounded eye; he needed his oak more than ever now.

He sighed. But now there was Unis. Ever since Indomitable

had put out from Falmouth he had thought of her. In so short a while Unis had become precious, so dear to him. Once he might have laughed at anybody else who had claimed such an attachment. Not any more. Even Ozzard, who was quick to find fault with most women, had held his peace.

It had been a difficult parting. Ferguson had come over to Fal-lowfield with his little trap to collect him. They had agreed it would be better so, instead of saying goodbye in Falmouth. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her like all those other women who sometimes stood for hours, days even, to stare at some man-of-war in the hope of catching a glimpse of their loved ones.

He had held her very gently. With her he was always gentle, protective, careful not to offend, and she had pressed her face into his blue coat.

'I’ll not break, John. Harder, hold me harder-then kiss me and go.' Then she had looked up at his face, as if to hold every detail. 'I love ’ee, John Allday You’ve brought peace and purpose to my life.'

Allday had said awkwardly, 'I’ve not much to offer, my lass. But I’ll be back, you see if I’m not!'

'I’ll not forgive you if you stay away!' Then there had been tears on her cheeks and she had dashed them away, angry with herself. 'Now be off with you!' Then she had hesitated, as if uncertain what to do.

'What is it, lass?'

She had answered, 'I put a few things in your bag. I don’t want you depending on ship’s victuals.'

Then she stood on tip-toe and kissed him hard on the mouth. 'I’ll pray for you, John.'

Allday had grasped the side of the trap. He knew she could not see him, even though she was smiling and waving. Her eyes were blinded by tears.

He had found himself beside Ferguson and the trap had moved

away. Once he had looked back. Unis had been staring at the road, while the Old Hyperion inn sign swung relentlessly above her head.

He thought she had been going to tell him something. When Lieutenant Avery read her next letter to him, maybe she would explain what it was.

All Ferguson had said was, 'You’re a lucky man, John.'

Allday heard voices nearby. The admiral was coming up.

He heard the new coxswain, Fairbrother, exclaim, 'An’ not only that, but the cap’n calls me by my first name!'

Allday sighed again. Lucky'? When I could be with Unis? He stared into the dark water alongside. But for once he could find no comfort in the familiarity of his world.

Bolitho was wearing his old seagoing coat without the proud epaulettes, and was hatless.

He saw Allday by the side and asked, 'How goes it today, old friend?'

Allday glanced towards Tyacke’s coxswain. 'He calls me by my first name.' He can put that in his pipe and smoke it! He answered, 'Well enough, Sir Richard.'

Bolitho found Tyacke by the quarterdeck rail with the first lieutenant. Allday could hide nothing from him. They had been together too long for that. He was missing Unis, the first real love he had ever known. As I miss you, Kate.

Tyacke remarked, 'We’ll soon know, sir.' He turned to the first lieutenant. 'Check each mast, Mr Scarlett. The lieutenants must be certain of every man in their divisions when we come about, even if it takes a mite longer. I don’t want the ship in irons, nor do I want to see anyone lost overboard.'

Scarlett had already done it, but knew better than to argue or explain. As he moved forward along the weather gangway he glanced aloft. The flag and masthead pendant were much lighter. He thought of Tyacke and the admiral beside him: so different,

and yet not so different. He saw Avery with a telescope tucked under one arm. In the wardroom several of the others had tried to pry information out of him concerning the admiral and what he was really like. He had seen Avery’s strange tawny eyes flash like a tiger’s, watched him deflect each question like an experienced duellist.

Faces took on shape and identity and then the first pale sunshine ran down the upper spars, and revealed to many that the wind had indeed shifted.

Tyacke cupped his hands. 'Ready ho!'

Figures scampered to braces and halliards, while each lieutenant and midshipman checked his men, very aware of the two figures silhouetted against the paling sky by the quarterdeck rail.

'Put the helm down!'

Bolitho could feel the quarterdeck rail quivering under his hand as the straining seamen let go the headsail sheets, so that the sails could lose the wind and yet not prevent the ship’s head from swinging.

'Off tacks and sheets!' Scarlett’s voice boomed through his speaking-trumpet even as the shadowy bows began to stagger into the eye of the wind.

'Mains’l haul! Haul, lads! Put your bloody backs into it!'

Hockenhull, the squat boatswain, sounded fierce but was grinning as the ship around and above him fought to answer the demands of sail and rudder.

'Mains’l haul!'

Bolitho watched the hands hauling at the braces to swing the great yards around, the sails in wild confusion until, with something like a roar, they refilled and the ship heeled right over, canvas taut and bulging, lines being turned expertly on to belaying pins, while the landmen tried to keep out of everybody’s way. Bolitho shaded his eyes and stared up again. Big though she was, and with a partly-trained company, Tyacke had brought

the ship about to lay her on the opposite tack.

The helmsman yelled, 'Steady she goes, sir! West by north! By an’ large!'

Even he sounded excited, and when Bolitho looked at York, the master, he was grinning hugely like a midshipman with a fresh apple pie.

'Deck, there!'

The masthead lookout, the man who saw everything before anyone else. Bolitho saw Tyacke’s brown hand tighten on the rail. If there was anything to see.

'Sail, fine on the lee bow, sir!'

Tyacke turned to the signals midshipman. 'Aloft with you, Mr Blythe, and take a glass with you!'