The shadow of the eagle

It took Marlowe four or five turns of the deck to master his queasiness and imbalance. Drinkwater made inconsequential conversation. 'Damned pumps woke me up, then Birkbeck reported the water rising in the well. 'Tis one confounded thing after another, but no doubt we'll weather matters. Saw two petrels astern of us this morning. Odd little birds; I found myself wondering where the deuce they disappear to during moderate weather.'

'I guess they settle on the surface and feed when they're swimming. They only have to take to the air when the waves begin to break and come up under the stern where the sea is smooth.'

'Good heavens, Mr Marlowe, I think you've a point there.' Drinkwater's astonishment was unfeigned. Perhaps Marlowe was not the dullard he had been taken for!

'Perhaps you can help on the matter of the leak. The problem is that I was new into the ship last autumn and Tom Huke, her regular first luff, was killed, so only old Birkbeck and the standing warrant officers know the ship well.'

'That's only to be expected, sir.'

'True, but it don't help us fathom the reason for the leak.'

'She's an old ship.'

'I agree entirely; indeed I suspect she's lost some copper sheathing and maybe some caulking, she's been working enough.'

'How much has she been leaking.'

'Birkbeck reported three feet in three hours.'

'A foot an hour.' Marlowe fell silent for a moment. Drinkwater's sidelong glance suggested he was calculating something, then he said, 'Although she's been working, if she's lost sheathing and caulking, I'd have reckoned on a greater depth in the well.'

Drinkwater considered the matter. He realized Marlowe's logical approach had produced a more realistic assessment than his own sudden apprehension over the effect of the leak on Andromeda's task. This had diverted him from any real consideration of its cause. Unless it worsened considerably, additional pumping would contain it; it was no concern of his, he chid himself ruefully, to what extent that simple but irksome drudgery would occupy his hapless crew.

They had reached the taffrail and turned forward again. 'Go on, Mr Marlowe. I scent an hypothesis.'

'I have two actually, sir. A wasted bolt in one of the futtocks ...'

'Very possible. And two ...'

'You were in heavy action against the, er... Pardon me, I have forgotten the name of the ship you captured ...'

'The Odin.'

'Ah yes, the Odin. Well perhaps ...'

'Shot damage!' Drinkwater broke in.

'Exactly so, sir. Maybe a loose plug. May I ask which side you were engaged?'

'The starboard side.'

'Then I shall start looking there.'

'Mr Marlowe, I congratulate you. That is famously argued; if you can only match reality to theory ...' Drinkwater left the sentence unfinished and changed tack. 'But not immediately. First you shall breakfast with me.'

'Thank you, sir.'

They had reached the windward hance and Drinkwater paused. 'Is that a patch of blue sky there?'

'Yes, sir. And I think the wind is tending to moderate.'

'D'you know, Mr Marlowe,' Drinkwater said, pleased with the way things had fallen out, 'I believe you are at least right about that.'

As Drinkwater led Marlowe below to eat, he caught Ashton's eye and was quite shocked by the look he saw there.

'I fear we must get used to skillygolee and burgoo if we are to cruise off the Azores for as long as possible,' said Drinkwater, laying his spoon down with a rattle and dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

'I had better take a look at the hold, sir, if you'll excuse me.'

'I will in a moment, Mr Marlowe, but first a moment or two of your time.' Drinkwater waved the hovering Frampton away. 'Mr Marlowe,' he said, fixing the first lieutenant with a steady stare, 'please forgive me, but I was troubled by the accident that occurred off the Isle of Wight...'

'Sir, I ...' Marlowe's face assumed an immediate expression of distress.

'Hear me out.' Drinkwater paused and Marlowe resigned himself to what he anticipated as cross- examination. 'Tell me, have you ever taken a longitude at sea?'

'Of course, sir,' said Marlowe, taken aback. 'Surely you don't think me incapable of that?' he frowned.

'What method do you use?'

'Well I can take lunar observations, but you have a chronometer...'

'But you can take lunars?'

'Oh yes. I used to amuse myself on blockade duty aboard Thunderer by taking them.'

'Some officers would consider that a tedious amusement, even on blockade duty'

Marlowe shrugged and the ghost of a smile passed across his features. 'Sir, I am not certain why you are asking me these questions, but I have a certain aptitude for navigation.'

'But not for seamanship?'

Marlowe flushed brick red, caught Drinkwater's eye, looked away, then back again. 'Very well, sir, let me explain. It is true, I do not have a natural aptitude to handle a ship. I find ... I found it difficult to ... Damn it! I found it difficult to resolve on the right thing to do first when I found myself in the situation I did the other day'

'Yet by relieving Ashton, you put yourself in an exposed position,' Drinkwater said, puzzled. Marlowe remained silent and Drinkwater nudged him. 'Come, come, I have seen many officers in my time, Mr Marlowe, and many have made mistakes. Some were foolish, some incompetent and some just made simple miscalculations. You are my first lieutenant and I am seeking an explanation as to why such a thing happened. I do not seek to condemn you, merely to understand.'

Marlowe swallowed and moved uncomfortably in his chair. 'I wished to subject myself to a test, sir.' He produced the words with a faltering diffidence, as if they were torn from him, one by one. Drinkwater watched Marlowe struggle with a detached sympathy, and the complexities inherent in any human being struck him once again.

'You see, sir, I hoped that I might vindicate myself; that I might prove to myself that I was quite as capable as any other officer to tack ship.'

'And prove it perhaps to others, other than myself?' asked Drinkwater shrewdly, the light of perception dawning. 'You have been responsible for some accident, perhaps?'

Marlowe nodded.

'Well, we need not go into that now, but I take it the court-martial acquitted you?'

'There was no court-martial, sir. The matter was not that serious.'

'Not that serious?' Drinkwater queried.

'No ship was lost, sir ...'

'Go on.'

'Two men were lost overboard.' Marlowe expelled a long breath; the unburdening of confession seemed to release him. 'I was ashamed of myself, sir, robbed of my confidence. I wanted to make amends and then ... Well, I have another man's life to answer for now'

'And Mr Ashton was a witness to all this, eh? And is consequently your, how do the French say it? Bête-noire?'

Marlowe nodded again.

Drinkwater sighed. Poor Marlowe's superciliouness and his apparent lack of wit and subtlety were the consequences of self-deceit, of attempting to live with failure in the presence of someone who knew all about the cause. And was capable of compounding that knowledge, Drinkwater knew from Frey's scuttlebutt. The unborn bastard was another life to lay to the lieutenant's account. Drinkwater now understood that it was not only