For My Country’s Freedom

It made him feel invisible. Like one of the many ghosts this old ship must have in plenty

He stooped to peer through an open gunport, the twenty-four-pounder like ice under his fingers. Not for much longer.

Very dark, with only a few pale crests breaking away from the lower hull. Just a slight brush-stroke. The eastern horizon.

Oh dear Kate, think of me, of us!

Spray touched his skin, like an awakening, and he thought he heard her voice above the sounds of sea and ship.

Don’t leave me!

He rested his forehead on the weapon’s black breech and whispered, 'Never!'

Captain James Tyacke paused outside Isaac York’s chartroom and glanced in at the sailing-master, who was crowded against his table with his three mates.

York smiled, his sharp eye taking in the dress coat and gleaming epaulette.

'You’re about early this day, sir.'

Tyacke glanced over a master’s mate’s shoulder at the open log, and the date on the first page in York’s strong handwriting. September 12th 1812, with the time and date of today’s estimated position at the head of the column. Their eyes met. York had no doubts, either.

Tyacke nodded at the master’s mates. 'Watch well today, gentlemen. You will learn something of your enemy.'

Then he left the small space and walked towards the open deck. Silver, shark-blue, and lingering banks of shadow. Sea and sky. He could feel Scarlett walking closely behind him, could sense his uneasiness. But not fear, that was something at least.

He turned abruptly and said, 'What is wrong, man? I told you when we met, I command Sir Richard’s flagship, but I am still your captain. Speak out. I nurse the notion that we will be too busy presently!'

Scarlett licked his lips, his eyes so listless that he seemed disinterested, in spite of what the day might bring.

Tyacke was growing impatient. 'In truth I can’t help you if you remain dumb, sir. What is it, a woman? Have you fathered a child?'

Scarlett shook his head. 'I wish it were that simple, sir.'

'Money, then?' He saw the bolt strike home. 'Cards?'

Scarlett nodded. 'I am in debt, sir, serious debt!'

Tyacke regarded him without pity. 'Then you are a fool. But we shall speak later. I may be able to help you.' His tone hardened. 'Give of your best today. I am relying on it. Indomitable will make this her day!'

He strode aft and stared up at the reefed topgallants and courses, the admiral’s flag and masthead pendant whipping out in the wind with the racing grey clouds beyond them.

He could hear the scrape of grindstones as Duff, the gunner, put his men to work sharpening cutlasses and boarding-axes. It could not have been very different before Crйcy and Agincourt, he thought. He saw acting- lieutenant Blythe in earnest conversation with Protheroe, the fourth lieutenant. He still wore his midshipman’s white patches, but in a King’s ship the word would have travelled like wildfire. Blythe’s one of them now! Tyacke smiled grimly. Or soon would be, if he was prepared to listen for a change.

Allday passed him by, resting a cutlass on his hand to find the right balance. Some of the hands spoke to him but he did not seem to hear.

At the foot of the quarterdeck ladder Allday gripped the handrail while Indomitable buried her stem in a long Atlantic roller, hurling spray heavily over the figurehead, the prancing lion with bared claws.

'What are you doing here?'

His son, a cutlass thrust through his belt, looked at him and shrugged. 'The boatswain put me with the after- guard.'

Allday tried to make a joke of it. 'Old Sam probably knew

you were useless as a topman! Not so many ropes to play with down aft!' He was troubled, all the same. The quarterdeck in any ship was a target for marksmen and swivels; it always had been. The chain of command began and ended here. Many of the Royal Marines served in the after-guard too, their boots and equipment making them useless for work aloft.

Allday folded his arms. 'We may be fighting some of your lot afore long, my lad, so be warned.'

Bankart regarded him sadly. 'I wanted to live in peace, that was all. Cap’n Adam was the first to understand. Why can’t you? There always has to be a flag, or one side or t’other. I hoped to find peace in America.'

Allday said gruffly, 'When we gets home, my son, just remember what it’s cost some of us. My wife Unis has already had one man killed aboard the old Hyperion, and her brother John lost a leg in the line with the 31st Huntingdonshires. You’ll find plenty of good men who’ve been maimed in Falmouth where Sir Richard’s found work for them.'

'And what of you-' He hesitated. 'Father?'

'I’ve more’n any man could hope for. Unis, and now my little Kate. They’ll both be waiting for me. Now there’s you. John,' his eyes crinkled. 'Three Johns all told, eh?'

Bankart smiled, strangely proud of this big man who, for once, was at a loss for words.

They both gazed up at the ragged clouds as the masthead lookout called, 'Reaper in sight to the sou’-east, sir!'

The frigate must be right in the spreading cloak of silver. The first sighting of the day.

Allday saw Tyacke with Daubeny the officer-of-the-watch, conferring together, looking along the upper deck and gangways as more light spilled over the sea’s edge like water over a dam.

He heard Daubeny call, 'Aloft with you, Mr Blisset, and take a glass, you idiot!'

The bright-eyed midshipman swarmed up the ratlines like a monkey and Allday murmured, 'Cheeky little bugger, that one! Asked me what the navy was like in my day!'

They both fell silent as Blisset’s piping voice floated down from the crosstrees.

'Deck there! From Woodpecker repeated Reaper, Sail in sight to the sou-west!'

Tyacke called, 'My respects to the admiral, Mr Scarlett, and…'

'I heard, Captain Tyacke.' Bolitho waited for the deck to level off and then walked unhurriedly to the quarterdeck rail, where he and Tyacke formally touched hats to one another.

Allday watched. It always unnerved him, even though he knew Sir Richard would never suspect it from his 'oak.'

He turned to speak with his son, but Bankart was already being urged aft by the squat boatswain, Sam Hockenhull.

Allday felt the soreness in his chest come alive like a warning. It never left him completely, nor did it allow him to forget the day he had been cut down by Spanish steel, and Bolitho had been on the point of surrendering to save him.

Always the pain.

Tyacke looked for another midshipman. 'Acknowledge the signal, Mr Arlington.' He turned to Bolitho and waited for the inevitable. Bolitho glanced across the motionless figures, and those who peered up at the lookout’s lofty perch as if they expected it to prove a mistake.

He saw Allday looking at him. Remembering, or trying to forget? He smiled, and saw Allday raise one big hand like a private salute.

'When you are ready, Captain Tyacke.'

Tyacke turned on his heel, his mutilated face stark in the first pale rays of silver light.

'Beat to quarters and clear for action, if you please, Mr Scarlett!'

Avery was here too, with the new senior midshipman Carleton, the replacement for Blythe who had taken the first vital step on his ladder of promotion.