already taking shape, her tracery of spars and black rigging rising above the indistinct shapes of other moored vessels. It might not have been Athena, but he knew that it was.
The bowman had boated his oar and was standing, facing forward with his boat hook and Adam had not seen him move.
The boat's coxswain swung the tiller bar, but hesitated as the lieutenant held up his hand. Anxious, nervous of making the wrong impression on the new captain.
Adam found that he could spare a thought for the man he was relieving, a man he did not know, had never met. Stephen Ritchie, a senior captain on the Navy List, who had commanded Athena for three years, in war and in peace, was now jawaiting the convenience of a court-martial' as it had been euphemistically described in the Gazette. Troubridge had been sparse with his information, but Ritchie had evidently been in serious debt, not unusual in the navy, and had made the grave mistake of falsifying accounts to obtain further credit. He must have been in very deep trouble to take such risks. He was paying for it now.
He glanced up as the bowsprit and long tapering jib boom reached up and over the boat like a lance. The figurehead, clad in armour, was still hidden in shadow.
Adam caught a slight movement above the beak head a face withdrawing, some one posted to give the first warning.
It came immediately.
'Boat ahoy! '
The lieutenant was on his feet again, hands cupped.
'Athena! ' The waiting was over.
Adam felt the ship rising over him, the fresh paint reflected on the sluggish current like white and black bars, with the gun ports creating their own checkered pattern. Masts and standing rigging, hammock nettings all neatly packed and covered; they must have piped all hands long before dawn. As a midshipman he had done it himself, going without breakfast in order that some great man would find all to his liking when he stepped aboard.
The boat was coming alongside, oars tossed and dripping, while the bowman and some figures clinging beneath the ship's entry port eased the hull into the remaining shadows.
Not much longer than Unrivalled, but she was a two-decker and seemed to tower above him like a cliff.
He had crammed his mind with the basic details. Now they seemed to revolve in confusion. One hundred and sixty feet in length, and of one thousand four hundred tons. A frigate was always busy, always crowded. It was hard to accept that Athena, when fully manned, would carry five hundred souls, officers, seamen, and a contingent of Royal Marines for good measure.
There was a sudden silence, or so it seemed. The lieutenant was facing him, pleased, worried, or merely relieved that his part was over; it was hard to tell.
Adam looked up at the ship's side, the tumble home curving away to reveal the 'stairs', and the entry port which looked a cable's length away. He was reminded of his visit to Lord Exmouth's flagship Queen Charlotte at Plymouth, when the admiral, knowing he had been wounded, had ordered him to use a bosun's chair as he left, and the sailors had cheered him for it. As Exmouth had said, 'Pride is one thing, Bolitho, but conceit is an enemy! '
He reached out for the guide rope, but turned his head as he did so, and stared over the brightening expanse of Portsmouth Harbour. Some moored ships, still merged together in the retreating shadows, and land beyond. That would be Gosport. The small note, still folded in his pocket. I was here. I saw you. God be with you.
He knew that one of the side-boys, sent down in his white gloves to offer a helping hand if need be, was staring at him, mouth half open.
Adam nodded to him and began to climb. Lowenna. If only… He heard the slap of muskets being brought to the present, a far-off bark of commands.
Then the long, drawn-out trill of calls. A salute to the captain, on this day.
The first few moments as he stepped through Athena's entry port and raised his hat to the quarterdeck and the ensign lifting lazily above the taffrail were blurred, swift impressions. The marines stiffly paraded as if on a barrack square, the pipe clay from their slings
still drifting above their leather hats, their officer with drawn sword at the present. The fading twitter of calls, Spithead Nightingales as sailors called them, and the rattle of a solitary drum.
A lieutenant, taller and older than Adam had expected, stepped from the rank of waiting officers and said, ' Stirling, sir. I am the senior here.' A hesitation. 'Welcome aboard Athena.'
They shook hands, pausing while the marines brought down their muskets in unison.
He walked slowly along the line of assembled officers, shaking hands with each one of them. Athena carried six lieutenants in all; Barclay had remained in the boat alongside, so the introductions did not take long. Young for the most part, and for the present merely faces. There were two scarlet-coated marine officers, a captain, and a lieutenant who was in charge of the guard of honour. The eight midshipmen were held at bay by a rank of senior warrant officers; as Adam had heard his uncle say more than once, the backbone of any ship.
He could feel Troubridge keeping close behind him, perhaps less assured hemmed in by this press of strangers.
Stirling, the big first lieutenant, watched each face as he made his introduction, with an occasional mention of a particular duty or part of ship.
Adam thought of Leigh Galbraith, Unrivalled'?' first lieutenant. He had been a big man too, but light on his feet at sea or in action. Never look back. It seemed to mock him.
He knew something about Stirling. He had been in Athena for three years, like her disgraced captain. Old for his rank, passed over for promotion, partly because he had been a prisoner of war in Spanish hands until that country's change of fortune, but also because he apparently had made no effort to obtain it. Unlike Galbraith.
He realized that some one had spoken his name.
It was the sailing master, a man with such a weathered face that his eyes seemed snared by the crows feet and lines of many leagues in every kind of sea. A strong face, the eyes bright blue, the mouth breaking into a smile.
Adam gripped his hand, the years falling away.
'Fraser, isn't it?'
The smile widened into a grin. 'Fancy you rememberin', sir.' He almost glanced at the other warrant officers. Almost. 'Few years that goes back, when I was master's mate in the old Achates, sixty-four, Cap'n Valentine Keen, so it was! '
'You've done well, Mr. Fraser.'
Fraser released his hand. 'I saw you leave Achates to take your first command, sir. I often think of them days.'
They moved on, but Adam could still feel the handshake. Was that all it took?
They had reached the quarterdeck rail; his shoes were clinging to fresh pitch, and he saw where tools and paint brushes had been hastily hidden under strips of old canvas. Paint, pitch and tar, spun yarn and hemp. The sailor's lot.
The big double wheel, motionless and unmanned, the compass box shining in the growing light. Marines, fifers and drummers, seamen and petty officers, midshipmen and ship's boys, all packed into this unfamiliar hull.
Thank you, Mr. Stirling. Have all hands lay aft, if you please.'
One of the young midshipmen sneezed and ducked his head to hide his embarrassment. Probably about Napier's age. He had a sudden flash of memory: the tailor's old-fashioned shop in Plymouth, Napier's face when the tape had been stretched across his slight shoulders for the first time, and the tailor had called measurements and meaningless advice to some hidden assistant. It was something he would never forget: it had been like seeing himself.
He looked up and around at the assembled ship's company. On the gangways on either side of the maindeck, above the batteries of black-muzzled eighteen pounders clinging to the ratlines and shrouds, some even standing on the boat tier and its newly painted hulls. It was hard to imagine how all these men and boys could find space to live and hope as individuals.
He stared along the length of the ship to the Union flag flying above the beak head and the armoured shoulder of the goddess Athena. Again he felt the prick of uncertainty, almost guilt. He could still see Unrivalled'?' lovely figurehead, like the girl in the studio.
'Ship's company, uncoverV
