He replied, 'Our old enemy John Paul Jones had the answer, Roger. He who will not risk, cannot win! '
Jago had stopped by the mizzen shrouds. He had heard none of it, but he recognized the signs only too well.
It went against all his rules, but he was almost relieved.
'Ship cleared for action, sir. Galley fire doused.'
That was Ellis, the first lieutenant, clipped and formal. Adam could scarcely distinguish him from the other shadowed figures, moving to a familiar pattern. A strange feeling, as if he himself were invisible, or imagining it. The same drill he had seen and been a part of so many times.
It was uncanny in small ships; sailors could feel their way about, above or below deck in a way which no landsman would ever understand. They were in complete darkness, with only the broken water surging back from the stem and marking their wake astern to betray their progress. Lotus leaned over, close hauled on the starboard tack, swinging her jib boom like a pointer toward the invisible horizon, and the unknown ship. Adam could sense the tension around him. The stranger was still there when first light found them. She might be an innocent merchantman, staying near a man-of-war for her own security and to ensure a safe passage. It was probably common enough in these disputed waters. How different from all those years, of open warfare, when a merchant captain would go out of his way to avoid a King's ship, fearful that she might board him and press some of his most experienced hands before he could find any means of protesting. People were taking shape now, a face here, an arm or a fist gesturing to some one in the shrouds, and another shadow sliding silently down a backstay, feet soundless as they hit the deck.
The first lieutenant was with Pointer, speaking quietly, while the sailing master showed his teeth in the gloom as one of them said something that amused him. Lotus carried one other lieutenant; the rest of the ship's backbone was comprised of warrant officers. And a solitary midshipman. A small, close-knit company.
Adam thought of David Napier, somewhere at sea in the frigate Audacity. Would he be able to cope with the brutal humour usual in most ships?
He remembered the shy pleasure when he had thanked him for his gift, the shining new midshipman's dirk. Like a bond. A talisman.
Jago must have been standing very close. He said, 'Masthead, sir.' Even he was whispering.
Adam looked up and realized he could see the reefed topsail, and high above it the long pendant, red and white, streaming in the wind, somewhere above all the darkness, holding the frail light as if it were free and unattached.
Pointer was saying, 'There may be nothing in it. But we shall load all guns in good time.' Nobody spoke, as if he were talking to himself. Or to Lotus.
Adam heard the boatswain calling out names, telling some one to shift yerself, like an old woman this morning! Then another sound, and he remembered that most sloops carried sweeps, long oars which could be run outboard and manned by all spare hands to give the vessel steerage way if they were suddenly becalmed. They could give her one or two knots in a dead calm. Enough to save her in an emergency.
There was a small oar-port beside each gun, and Adam recalled the galleys they had fought at Algiers. He realized he was touching his side, the wound which she had tended when he had been thrown from his horse. Which she had kissed in that last embrace.
Pointer was beside him. 'The sweeps might help if I need to cross her stern.' He walked away again. He was obviously in little doubt of today's outcome.
Lotus's only midshipman hurried aft, his white collar patches very clear against the sea's dark backdrop.
He held out a telescope, and said, 'First lieutenant's respects, sir.'
Adam could feel the youth staring at him. It would probably go in his next letter home. Midshipmen wrote notoriously long letters, never knowing when they would be collected by some passing courier, or indeed if they would ever be finished.
He said quietly, 'When will you stand for lieutenant? Soon, I trust?'
He heard the quick intake of breath. Today the admiral's flag captain spoke to me.
'Two years, sir, perhaps less.' He turned his head this way and that, and faltered, 'But I don't want to leave this ship.'
Adam put his hand on his arm and felt him jump. 'I know the feeling. But look ahead. When the chance comes, grasp it! '
He saw the midshipman's eyes gleam in the growing light as he looked up as if to see the invisible lookout.
'Deck there! Sail, fine on th' starboard bow! '
Pointer exclaimed, 'Still there, same course, by God! ' He swung round, his voice sharper now. 'More sail, Mr. Ellis get the t' gallants on her if she'll wear it! '
Calls shrilled, and figures scampered to halliards and braces while top men like scurrying monkeys dashed up the ratlines, faintly visible at last as the first yellow edge ran along and over the horizon.
The lookout's voice again, rising without effort above the banging canvas and squealing blocks.
'Deck there! She's a barque! '
'Steady she goes, sir. Nor' east by north! Full an' by! '
Adam relaxed his body, sinew by sinew. A converging tack. Pointer had done well to bide his time. If the stranger went about and made a run for it, they might still out sail him.
'What's your lookout's name, Roger?'
Pointer stared at him, his mind grappling with several things at once.
'Er, Jenkins, sir.' It sounded like a question.
Adam slung the telescope over his shoulder. 'I'm going aloft.' He felt the smile on his lips, as if he had no control over it. 'I'll not cross your bows! '
Jago followed him to the weather shrouds. 'You sure about this, Cap'n?'
Adam climbed on to the ratlines, feeling the spray cold against his hands, his face.
'They want evidence I intend to give it to them! '
Jago stood his ground. 'It's your neck, Cap'n.'
Adam lifted his foot to test the next ratline. All those years ago, running up the shrouds with other 'young gentlemen', sometimes barefoot; no fear of heights, or danger.
He recalled Pointer's expression when he had quoted John Paul Jones. But the words still made sense.
Jago took his silence for something else. 'We've a few leagues to sail yet, sir.'
Adam looked down at him. His face was still in shadow, but he did not need to see it.
He said, 'I've seen enough men killed for a flag, Luke. I'll not stand by while more of them die simply because of greed! '
Ellis, the first lieutenant, commented, 'A man of strong beliefs, Cox'n.'
Jago shook his head, rarely at a loss except for certain moments.
He answered harshly, 'Second to none, sir! '
He peered up again and saw Bolitho's shadow swinging out and around the put tock shrouds. Like a true seaman. There were few officers who would or could do it.
Why do we do it, then? He thought of the painting in the captain's sleeping cabin, hundreds of miles astern by now, the lovely, half naked woman held captive above the sea. And of the reality in that shabby room when the captain and young Troubridge had smashed down the door. And I was with them.
The captain should be with her right now, not risking his life all over again for some poxy slaves.
He heard a voice shout, 'All guns load, but do not run out! ' Bloody officers.
Jago stared up once more but the captain had vanished. Past the maintop and upwards to the topgallant yard. If the ship changed tack again, or even if he slipped, it would be over in seconds.
He readjusted the heavy blade at his belt and looked for the dawn.
The voice seemed to answer him. It is what we are.
Adam threw his leg over the lookout's dizzy perch on the cross trees and seized a stay for support. A very long climb from Lotus's main deck, and he could feel his heart pounding against his ribs like a hammer. He was pleased that he was not completely breathless.
It was a sight which had always impressed him. Midshipman to post captain, it made no difference. The hull heeling hard over to the thrust of topsails and topgallants, each section of mast quivering and jerking to the press of
