would be sick.
Then the air quivered to the bark of commands, the crack and slap of muskets being brought to the present, pipe clay drifting above and around the twin ranks of gleaming bayonets.
Calls trilled, and to another shouted command the small section of fifers and drummers broke into Heart of Oak.
Troubridge scrambled up and over the steep tumble home and almost pitched headlong through the finely carved entry port.
He recovered himself and dragged off his hat in salute. The din of fifes and drums stopped, and a solitary call shrilled loudly in the silence as Bethune's flag lifted and broke free at the mainmast truck.
He saw the captain step forward from among the other officers, the formality broken by a sudden handshake, and Bolitho's smile, which he felt he had come to know better than anything else about him.
Bethune had been about to receive the usual introductions before he was released to the peace and privacy of his new quarters, when he stopped and pointed at some seamen below the boat tier.
That man! You! '
People swung round and stared, and a lieutenant almost ran to seize the offender who had caught the admiral's eye.
Troubridge relaxed, muscle by muscle. He had been through the muster book and ship's records and had discovered one man who had actually served with Bethune when he had been a captain. The man in question was standing exactly where he had been told, still unaware of the reason.
Bethune swung round and exclaimed, 'Grundy? Tom Grundy, isn't it? In the old Skirmisher, remember?'
The man was grinning, as others craned forward to witness this extraordinary encounter.
'Yes sir, that's me! God bless you, sir! '
Bethune patted his arm. 'Good to see you again, Grundy! ' He strode on, smiling and nodding to the assembled officers.
Troubridge watched the ranks breaking up, crowding around the astonished Grundy to slap him on the back, or share a grin or a joke with the one seaman who had been recognized by the admiral.
Troubridge gazed up at the new flag whipping out at the fore.
There was a lot they all had to learn about the man who flew it.
Vice-Admiral Sir Graham Bethune leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlocked behind his head while he surveyed the broad expanse of his day cabin. His secretary, Edward Paget, sat opposite him behind a little table, his pen poised by the pile of letters already completed.
Bethune said, The last is for the First Lord's eyes only, Paget. You know what to do.' He frowned as something clattered across the deck, accompanied by the squeal of a block as the unknown object was hauled away. It seemed to take a long time. He would have to get used to it. He glanced over his shoulder at the hazy green of the land, a sail passing between it and the anchored flagship like the fin of a shark.
His servant Tolan had entered by another door, a list in one hand.
'All the wine is stowed, Sir Graham. Separate from the special delivery which came aboard in Portsmouth.'
Paget looked up severely.
'All checked? Good wine can easily walk in a ship this size, you know! '
Tolan ignored him. Paget was good at his work; he would not still be serving Bethune otherwise. He was short and had a low forehead, and an unusually wide mouth; Tolan had long ago decided that he must have been a frog in a previous life.
He said, The captain is coming aft to see you, Sir Graham.'
'I know. I'm ready, ' and to his secretary, 'I want all those sent ashore today, no matter what time you've finished them.'
Paget's wide mouth opened and closed without comment. He was used to it.
Bethune sighed and rubbed his stomach.
'Well, Tolan, any regrets?' He did not expect an answer. 'We sail tomorrow, come what may. The Indies again. Antigua.' Seeing it in his mind. No more walks in the park, or riding his favourite mount down to the river. Where he had last seen Catherine Somervell. Where he had felt like a conspirator. But he must be careful. Very careful.
The screen door was open and Captain Adam Bolitho was standing by an empty gun port where an eighteen- pounder had once been positioned. Much had changed during Athena's last refit, less armament giving more room for storage. And additional space for an admiral's quarters.
'Ah, Adam. I trust you satisifed the curiosity of the wardroom? We shall weigh at high water. Your sailing master Impatiently, he snapped his fingers.
Adam said, 'Fraser, Sir Graham.'
'Of course.' He grinned at his flag lieutenant. 'Another Grundy, eh?'
Adam said, 'I just heard about Captain Ritchie. The verdict at his court-martial
'I intended to mention it, Adam. But things have been moving quickly since I came aboard yesterday.' He pressed his fingertips together, his head slightly on one side. 'Does it disturb you?'
'The verdict was not proven, Sir Graham. That means he may be entirely innocent of the charges.'
He saw Troubridge half raise a hand, as if to warn him. Bethune smiled.
'Equally, it might mean he was guilty as charged.'
Adam persisted, 'But he would still be in command of this ship! '
'While you, Adam, would be on the beach, with no ship at all.'
That is not what I meant, Sir Graham.'
Bethune stood up without effort, his hair almost brushing the deck head
'When I was given this mission, for that is what it is fast becoming, I wanted a good flag captain. I can think of another one or two, but I wanted you, do you understand? Your record is enough, but there are other reasons, too. I will not insult you by parading them for inspection.' He had raised his voice slightly, but appeared calm, even relaxed. 'As far as I am concerned, Captain Ritchie can '
He swung round as Tolan said, 'Beg pardon, Sir Graham, but there is a message for the captain.'
Bethune nodded slowly, in control again.
'Very well.'
It was Evelyn, the sixth and most junior lieutenant, his hat crushed under one arm, trying not to be seen staring at the admiral and the splendid cabin.
'I am s-sorry, sir.' He gulped. 'But I was told that you wanted to know immediately when Audacity was shortening her cable.'
Bethune remarked, 'The old frigate Audacity I thought she was due for the ship breakers! ' He chuckled, and added, 'Captain Munro. Friend of yours, is he?' And waved his hand. 'I was forgetting. You sponsored a midshipman for Audacity. Somebody's favourite son, was he?'
Adam said, equally casually, 'He served with me in Unrivalled.' Like walking into a trap. Bethune knew all about it, just as he knew about Athena's last captain.
Bethune was opening another sheaf of papers.
'Carry on, Adam. You will be dining with me tonight, eh?'
'Thank you, Sir Graham.'
Troubridge followed him to the door and out.
'I am very sorry for that, sir.'
Adam touched his arm. 'Rest easy.'
On deck, it seemed cool after the admiral's cabin. He loosened his neck cloth and drew several deep breaths. This was a Bethune he did not recognize.
He glanced at the flag above the foremast and took a telescope from the midshipman of the watch.
For an instant their eyes met. A young, pouting face with an upturned nose… it fell into place. He was Blake, an admiral's grandson, who had been at the centre, if he was not the actual cause, of Hudson 's flogging. And his death.
I should have known. Prevented it.
Lieutenant Evelyn called, 'Starboard quarter, sir! ' He seemed quite recovered from his attack of nerves in the
