'I shall take every care, Mr Cristie.' He tried to smile. 'But put a good leadsman in the chains if it will help to ease your mind.'
All the unemployed hands turned to watch as Midshipman Deighton jumped down from the shrouds and walked across to his captain.
Adam said, 'You did well, Deighton. Now tell me the rest. In your own time.
He saw Jago by the hatch. He would know what to do.
The midshipman said, 'I-I thought it was the sea, sir, changing colour. But it was spreading, and spreading.' He looked at the water, unable to believe it. 'It was all alive, sir.' He dropped his head and said in a small voice, 'Sullivan said they were sharks, sir. Hundreds…'
Jago was here, guiding the youth to a fire bucket, roughly and without sympathy.
'Here, spew into this!'
Deighton would have cracked if he had offered gentleness.
It seemed to take an eternity, the ship gliding through the offshore current with scarcely a ripple beneath her stem. And all the while the sea seemed to open up across the bows, stained in drifting patterns of pink with tendrils of darker red reaching up like weed to wander amongst the surface litter of flotsam. Broken spars, an upturned boat, planks and scraps of canvas, most of which were charred.
And in the centre, as if there by accident, was a drifting hatch cover, and on it a human figure, stretched out, staring at the sun, as if crucified.
Varlo said thickly, 'Must be dead too!'
And then Partridge, the boatswain, abrupt, angry. 'Don't say that, sir! Th' poor devil wears your coat!'
Adam said, 'Heave-to, if you please. Mr Varlo, take over the watch. Stand by to lower the jollyboat. Lawson, pick your crew, don't waste time asking for volunteers! It's running out!' He glanced over the nettings and saw the sea come alive again as two sharks or more broke surface, somehow lithe and graceful. Obscene in their frenzy.
He knew Midshipman Deighton was watching, nodding as if to reassure Jago, or himself.
Their eyes met and Adam smiled. He was sickened by it, but it was important, perhaps vital for this youth who would one day be a King's officer. And would remember.
Unrivalled came unsteadily into the wind, her sails scarcely flapping in protest, as if she was glad to be standing away from the invisible murders. Adam barely heard the boat pulling away from the quarter but saw Galbraith standing in the sternsheets, one arm outthrust, leaning over to speak with Lawson the coxswain.
Then he took a glass and levelled it with care. The Jollyboat, Galbraith's head and shoulders leaping into focus, one of the oarsmen squinting in the glare as he lay back on his loom. Then past and beyond, the small pieces of flotsam, and the hatch cover. Even as he watched he saw a shark thrusting against it, lifting it slightly in an effort to pitch the inert figure into the water. Partridge was right. The man was wearing a lieutenant's coat, like seeing yourself. Someone gave a gasp as the figure let his arm slip to the edge of the hatch cover. Another exclaimed, ''E's alive!'
The shark surged against the cover again, the cruel crescentshaped mouth starkly visible in the telescope lens.
A last hope or some lingering instinct, who could tell after what he must have seen and endured, But he moved his arm again, so that the shark scraped past, lashing at the misty water, turning instantly for another attack.
Adam lowered the glass and wiped his forehead. It was as if he had just climbed from the sea himself. The jollyboat was there, the sole survivor already manhandled across the stroke oarsman to the sternsheets.
Adam heard the surgeon's deep tones as he gave instructions to his assistants.
He moved to the compass box, his feet dragging on the melting pitch.
Perhaps they would discover what had happened, and why.
He shook himself impatiently. 'When we recover the boat, you may bring her back to her original course.' He glanced at the curling masthead pendant and saw Sullivan framed against the empty sky, looking down at him.
Adam raised his hand in a slow salute. Then turned towards Cristie again.
The rest would have to wait. The ship came first.
Cristie watched and was satisfied. For a short while he had been troubled; now it was past.
The captain was himself again.
And the ship came first.
Denis O'Beirne, Unrivalled's surgeon, had already rolled up his sleeves, and was gesturing unhurriedly as if to impress the need for care rather than haste.
Adam stood in one corner of the sickbay as the loblolly boys carried the survivor to the table, their faces intent but devoid of expression. They were hardened to it. They would not survive otherwise.
He hated the sounds and smells of this place; it was something he had never grown used to, in any ship. He had known men pray and plead to be left on deck to die after being wounded in battle, anything, rather than face the saw and knife on the orlop.
He half-listened to the sounds from overhead, muffled and somehow remote. Galbraith was in charge now, bringing the ship round to catch the feeble offshore airs. He had said quickly, 'Name's Finlay, sir. Lieutenant in the Paradox. He was in charge of a prize crew aboard a slaver. He kept losing track of it, delirious. I don't think he knew what was happening when we pulled him on board.'
Adam watched O'Beirne's hands, deft, busy, like extensions to his mind. A big man, awkward in many ways, but his hands were small, and very strong.
The figure on the table could already he dead, one arm hanging over the side as on the hatch cover which had saved him. Skin badly burned, a livid bruise on his forehead where he had been struck down.
Adam forced his brain to examine the few, hare facts at his command. Paradox was one of the antislavery schooners. For a few seconds he wondered why the name seemed familiar, then it came to him. She had been mentioned in Tyacke's notes, as the vessel Commodore Turnbull had been using to visit the limits of the patrol area. She was small, so this lieutenant was likely her senior officer. A rich prize, then. But where was Paradox now? And why had the captured slaver been left unescorted?
He heard a gasp and saw the man named Finlay trying to prevent O'Beirne's assistants from removing his coat. Perhaps in his tortured thoughts it represented a last link, his only identity.
O'Beirne was saying, half to himself, 'A had wound, left hip, knife. Deep, and infected.' lie laid one hand on Finlay's shoulder and said quietly, 'Easy now, you're among friends.' He nodded sharply to his men, and the uniform coat was removed.
Then Finlay spoke, his voice quite strong.
'Must tell the captain…'
O'Beirne was watching his senior assistant, the instruments gleaming in the swaying lantern light like something evil.
He said, 'The captain is here now, as you speak!' He looked at Adam. 'A few words, sir?'
Adam approached the table and saw the man trying to focus his eyes, fighting to retain his senses.
'My name is Bolitho. I command here.' He put one hand on the arm. The skin was cold, clammy.
He was naked now, and Adam did not have to look around to know that the others had taken up their positions, ready to pin him down, to hold him still, no matter what. Only their shadows moved, leaping across the white- painted timbers like ghouls.
The other man murmured vaguely, 'New out here.' He tried again, pausing while a hand came out to dab his mouth with a wet cloth. 'We ran down a slaver.' He groaned and moved his head from side to side. 'Three days back, I-I can't remember. The commodore was with us. We had struck it lucky!'
'What happened after that?'
'I took command. Boarding party, ten good hands, and young Mr Coles. His first attempt.' He closed his eyes tightly. 'Paradox had to leave us. Can't remember why. We were to make for Freetown as ordered.'
O'Beirne remarked, 'Not much longer, sir.'
Adam glanced at him. 'A minute.'
Finlay said suddenly, 'Then we saw this other vessel closing with us. A brig. Spanish colours. Nothing unusual about that.' He was remembering, seeing it. 'Then she ran up a black flag and ran out her guns. I had the slaver's crew locked up and under guard, but poor Coles must have got careless. They broke out and attacked my people. It was over in minutes.'
