Now, when I get ashore… He was still smiling to himself when the sentry rapped on his grating and announced Vincent.
Adam sat by the desk and gestured to another chair.
'Rest easy, Mark. You've been doing all the work in my absence.'
Vincent looked around the cabin.
'It feels right now, sir.'
Adam nodded. Then, 'I'd better tell you. We are sailing the day after tomorrow, in company with Nautilus. A matter of diplomacy, if you like.'
'Is that an order, sir? From the commodore?'
'Far higher than him, I'm afraid!'
Morgan was replacing the cognac with wine.
'Thank you. You can go and pipe down now. 'Then he said, 'When I was in Unrivalled and we took part in the Algiers attack under Lord Exmouth, we learned quite a lot about another enemy stronghold. Aboubakr, some two hundred miles further along the coast. The French have always had a lively interest in the place, to base their own ships for use against us, and to control the local rebels. And now we are to support them. 'He shrugged. 'Better the devil you know.'
He stood up and paced restlessly to the windows. 'A show of solidarity, nothing more.'
Vincent said, 'A dangerous game at the best of times.'
Adam looked at him keenly.
'Is something wrong, Mark?'
Vincent took a book from his pocket and said, 'A complaint has been made by Lieutenant Monteith, sir.'
Adam moved closer and touched his sleeve.
'Tell me. This is our ship. What we make her.'
Vincent kept the book in his hand. 'It was more than likely a simple misunderstanding. Squire countermanded an order after Monteith told one of the hands to reeve some new halliards.'
'And Monteith jumped to the wrong conclusion. Then it was a misunderstanding. Squire has a blunt way of doing things. It happens. 'He smiled. 'Whatever they say on the lower deck about their officers, we can all make mistakes in our haste.'
Vincent said stiffly, 'It was a formal complaint, sir. I had no choice.'
'As first lieutenant, you did as you thought fit. Loyalty and obedience are yours by right. But respect is something else, and much harder to achieve.'
Vincent stood up.
'If that is the end of the matter, sir?'
'In two days 'time we shall be at sea. Many will envy us. So let's remember that, shall we? 'He walked back to the desk.
'We are the fortunate ones!'
But the door had closed. He knew he had failed.
Luke Jago nodded companionably to the sentry and pushed his way past the screen door. He was never questioned or refused entry. He could not even recall how or when it had begun; it remained something unspoken.
It was cool in the great cabin, or so it seemed after the dusty offshore wind. Even out in the anchorage, you could still taste sand in your teeth.
There had been all the usual bustle and argument of preparing for sea: the purser and his crew bringing aboard fresh stores and fruit from the harbour, with lists to be checked and a few clips with a rope's end or starter to move things along. Now the working parties were resting, enjoying a stand easy, with a welcome smell of rum in the air. And tomorrow..
Morgan was leaning inside his pantry, sipping something from a mug. They were comfortable with one another now.
Jago remarked, 'The Cap'n's in the chart room. Don't want to make a bloody mess of things in front o 'the Frogs, do we?'
Morgan considered it. 'Bit of a goer, isn't he? 'and Jago grinned.
'You won't find him draggin 'his feet when a mob o' forriners is watchin 'every move!'
Morgan judged the moment, and put a mug down in front of him: it was raw rum.
'What about women? He's a post captain, after all, and not married, is he? 'He wagged a finger. 'I've seen that painting he keeps so safely stowed in his sleeping quarters. Enough to make your hair curl!'
Jago took time to swallow his drink.
'The Cap'n's goin 'to tie the knot when they gets a minute.'
Morgan looked across the cabin and dropped his voice.
'Not like some I've known. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but Richmond, 'he jerked his head, 'you know… he was a real woman-hunter and no mistake. And one lady in particular, I was told.'
'Local girl?'
'Not she. Her husband was always away. A shipbuilder. 'He patted his counter. 'Built this fine lady, for one. 'There were voices from the skylight, and the marine sentry clearing his throat. 'She got what she wanted, right enough. 'He laughed coarsely. 'In more ways than she bargained for!'
Then he hurried to the door and for a few seconds longer Jago was alone in the great cabin, remembering that first day aboard, when he had seen Richmond's effects packed and ready to be sent home to his widow.
Dead man's shoes.
He saw Bolitho walk into the cabin, and that he was limping slightly.
Also, that he was quite alone.
The morning was clear, with none of the haze which had obscured the Rock. Onward's decks, swabbed clean at dawn, were already bone-dry, and the air was hot.
David Napier stood watching the hands being mustered beneath the mainmast truck, where the tackles and falls for hoisting boats were laid out in readiness. The twenty-eight foot cutter, their biggest boat, was about to be brought aboard for the last time before sailing.
Napier plucked at his heavy coat and wished he could strip off his uniform, like the men around him. He knew it was not so much the heat but something else in the air: excitement, the thrill of being part of it. Something he could still not explain.
He saw Huxley, the other midshipman stationed here, staring at the shore, perhaps hoping for some final boat to come with mail. Was his father still awaiting the court martial, or had its verdict been passed? He caught his eye and gave Napier a strained smile. Little enough, but it meant something to each of them.
He shivered, tasting the fat pork and biscuit crumbs from that early midshipman's breakfast. Even that had been part of the adventure: their ship being ordered to some strange place named Aboubakr, of which nobody seemed to have heard and which nobody could spell, although July an the master had assured them they would all know it beyond endurance when he had made them memorize the charts. Deacon, the senior midshipman, had suggested Julyan was as much in the dark as any of them.
He could hear Guthrie the boatswain rapping out orders to the cutter's crew alongside. Working parties and individuals seemed to revolve around him like the bars of a human capstan, although the bars themselves were still lying in ranks, waiting for the command.
Napier stared up at the braced yards, their sails still neatly furled as if trimmed to an invisible measure. He saw figures on the quarterdeck; they too were looking aloft, one gesturing as if to make a point. Vincent, the first lieutenant, seemed to be everywhere. Friendly enough with the midshipmen, and encouraging when it occured to him, but sometimes you had the feeling that he was never really listening. As Hotham, the clergyman's son, had said, 'You don't need to listen when you're next in command!'
He thought of the captain. The hardest part was getting used to the screen which was now a physical and figurative barrier between them. He was able to appreciate and accept it; it was necessary, for both their sakes.
He often thought of Falmouth, which he had been encouraged to regard as his new home, and of the girl who had helped him overcome his fear and the nightmare of Audacity. He thought, too, of Elizabeth, which was stupid of him, he had told himself often enough. But he did think of her.
