Richard Bolitho Midshipman

by Alexander Kent

  Tregorren faced him and tried to focus a pair of angry red eyes.

  `Disturb ?'

  `Aye, sir. But we have been fighting a battle.' Starkie said calmly, `Fetch Mr Eden. I fear the lieutenant is going to be ill again!'

  9

  Without Honour

  CAPTAIN BEVES CONWAY stood by an open stern window and held one hand to his eyes to protect them from the fierce, reflected glare. Through the windows of his cabin the recaptured brig rolled untidily in the swell, her tan sails barely moving as she idled above her own reflection.

  Within a few hours of Sandpiper's hazardous dash through the reef and the complete destruction of the frigate, the wind had dropped to a mere breath, leaving the heavy Gorgon and her small consort almost becalmed.

  Like a pale yellow smear along the horizon, twisting and wavering in heat-haze, the shore was still visible, but could have been anywhere.

  Conway turned slowly and studied the group by the bulkhead.

  Tregorren, massive and red-eyed, his body swaying to the heavy motion, his face still the colour of ashes.

  The three midshipmen, and the master's mate, Mr Starkie, standing slighly apart.

  Verling, the first lieutenant, was also present, his nose disapproving as the captain's servant filled glasses of madeira for the crumpled and dishevelled visitors.

  The captain took a beautifully cut glass from a tray and held it to the filtered sunlight.

  `Your health, gentlemen.' He regarded each of them in turn. `I do not have to say how gratified I am that Sandpiper is again with the fleet.' He turned to listen to the distant tap of hammers across the water as work continued to put right the damage from Pegaso's cannon fire. `Eventually I will be sending her to report to the admiral at Gibraltar with my despatches.' His gaze rested momentarily on Tregorren. `To cut out a vessel at anchor is never easy. To do it, and to find the extra agility and skill to run an enemy frigate to ground, is worthy of their lordships' attention.'

  Tregorren stared at some point above the captain's shoulder.

  `Thank you, sir.'

  The captain's eyes moved to the midshipmen. `To have survived all this will give you scope for putting the experience to work, both for your own advancement and for the Navy in general.'

  Bolitho darted a quick glance at Tregorren. The man was still staring at the deckhead, and he looked close to another violent attack of vomiting.

  The captain said in the same matter-of-fact tone, `At first light, while you were entering the reefs, I was searching to the south'rd. Quite by chance we came on a heavy dhow, loaded to the gunwales with black ivory.'

  Starkie exclaimed, `Slaves, sir?'

  The captain regarded him coldly. `Slaves.' He gestured with his glass. `I put a boarding party into the vessel, and she is now anchored around the next headland.' He gave a thin smile. `The slaves I put ashore, although I know not if I have done them a favour.' The smile vanished.

  `We have wasted too much time, and lost too many good men. It would take an army to lay siege to the island, and even then it is doubtful how the attack would go.'

  He paused as the marine sentry beyond the door shouted, `Surgeon, sir!'

  The servant hurried to open the door as Laidlaw entered, wiping his hands carefully on a scrap of cloth.

  `Yes?' The captain sounded sharp.

  `You wished to know, sir. Mr Hope is sleeping. I took out the ball, and although I doubt if he'll ever be rid of discomfort, he'll not lose an arm.'

  Bolitho looked at Dancer and Eden and smiled. It was something. The rest was over, part of a nightmare which even Tregorren's failure to admit that he had had no hand in the final action could not spoil.

  He glanced at Starkie, who was studying Tregorren with something like hatred.

  The captain added, `At dusk, provided the wind returns, which Mr Turnbull assures me will, we will make contact with our new prize. At dawn I intend to send Sandpiper to chase the dhow towards the fortress. Gorgon will, of course, supply full support.'

  Bolitho swallowed another glass of madeira, barely realizing that the cabin servant had. refilled it more than once. His stomach was quite empty, and the wine was making him feel light-headed and dizzy.

  One fact stood out. The captain had no intention of giving in to the pirates who occupied the island. By retaking Sandpiper they had added another arm to their reach, and the watchers on the fortress's battery would have been able to see quite clearly how the brig had lured their one major vessel on to the reefs.

  Verling snapped, `Understood?'

  Bolitho exclaimed, `They'll think we're chasing a cargo of slaves, and be too busy firing at Sandpiper to watch the dhow, sir?'

  The captain looked at him and then glanced across at Tregorren.

  `What d'you think, Mr Tregorren?'

  The lieutenant seemed to come out of a trance. `Yes, sir. That is . . .'

  The captain nodded. `Quite.'

  He walked aft again and studied the brig for some time.

  `Mr Starkie will return to his ship and be prepared to assist whichever officers I appoint to take charge, and to sail eventually with my despatches.' He swung round, his eyes hard in the light. `Had I thought that you had any part in losing Sandpiper in the first place, by negligence or lack of courage, I can assure you that you would not be here now, and your chances of advancement would have been smashed.' He smiled, the effort making him older rather than the opposite. `You did very well, Mr Starkie. I only wish I could keep you in my command. But I think that when you reach higher authority your efforts will be better rewarded.' He nodded. `Carry on, gentlemen.'

  They left the cabin in a daze, the captain already in conference with Verling and the surgeon.

  Bolitho shook Starkie's rough hand and exclaimed, `I'm glad for you ! But for your skill, and accepting an idea which to most people would have seemed quite mad, we would not be here at all!'

  Starkie studied him gravely, as if searching for something he could not understand.

  `But for you, I'd still be in irons and awaiting death.'

  He turned as Tregorren strode to the companion ladder on his way down to the wardroom.

  `I wanted to speak out.' Starkie's eyes were bitter. `But as you said nothing, I thought it best to hold my peace. He is without honour!'

  Eden stammered, `It's n-not r-right, D-Dick! H-he'll get the c-credit !' He was almost weeping. `He j -just stood th-there and t-took it all!'

  Dancer smiled. `I think the captain knows more than he's prepared to admit. I watched him. He is balancing the value of the victory against damaging it with envy and shame.' He grinned at Eden. `And midshipmen who go round trying to poison their betters!'

  Bolitho nodded. `I agree. Now let us go and eat. Anything, even a ship's rat, will do for me.'

  They turned towards the companion ladder and froze.

  A figure in an ill-fitting uniform, that of a lieutenant, blocked their way.

  He said, `Nothing to do, eh? Midshipmen are not what they were in my day!'

  They crowded round him, and Bolitho said, `John Grenfell ! We thought you dead!'

  Grenfell gripped his hand, his face very grim. `When City of Athens was destroyed, some of us managed to find safety on drifting spars. We hauled them together like a little raft, not knowing what was happening.' He dropped his gaze. `Most of our people were killed. The lucky ones in the cannon fire, the rest when the sharks tore amongst us. The third lieutenant, oh, so many old faces, were slashed to fragments before our eyes.' He shrugged, as if to free himself of the memory. `But we drifted ashore, and as we made our way along the coast, there, as large as life, was the ship standing in to the beach, and Dewar's bullocks with a dhow full of screaming slaves, an Arab crew and two Portuguese merchants who were so terrified that I think they believed their end had come.' He plucked at his borrowed coat. `So I have been made acting sixth lieutenant. It will do no harm when my examination is called.' He looked into the distance. `But I got the chance at a price I would dearly repay
if it were possible.'

  Bolitho said quietly, `But you are safe.'

  Starkie yawned. `I could sleep for a year.' He grinned at Grenfell. `Sir.'

  Grenfell walked with them to the ladder. `I suggest you all get some rest. I have a feeling it will be all the hotter tomorrow, in more ways than one!'

  Mr Turnbull's knowledge of weather did not desert him. By the time the first dog watch had run its course both vessels were under way again, their sails filling to the breeze. An hour later the wind had steadied to a fresh northerly, and when the hands were assembled aft the air was like a tonic after the sweaty furnace between decks.

  The lieutenants and marine officers were by the poop ladder, watching the captain, who was conferring with Verling and the sailing master.

  Petty officers moved amongst the assembled seamen, checking their muster lists and calling out names, while from the lower gundeck Bolitho could hear the screech of a grindstone as the gunner's mates attended to the sharpening of cutlasses and boarding axes. The very sound made him shiver, as it always had.

  A lookout bawled, `Deck there! Vessel at anchor off the larboard bow!'

  Dancer had been peering across at Sandpiper's sails. They were creamy in the fading light, and there was nothing visible of the shot holes and patches.

  Dallas, the second lieutenant, had taken charge of her for the attack. A man Bolitho knew nothing of, and had barely heard utter more than a few necessary orders since he had joined the ship. But the captain's choice showed that he trusted Dallas for the task. It also suggested he was not entirely satisfied with Tregorren's part in the cutting-out.

  When Bolitho had seen Starkie over the side to be taken back to the brig, the master's mate had stared aft towards the captain's slowly pacing figure. He had grinned.

  `It's how you gets to be a post-captain, young feller, knowing them things!'

  `All midshipmen lay aft to the quarterdeck!'

  They hurried along the gangway and found Verling waiting by the lee nettings, one foot tapping with impatience.

  `Three of you will be required for the attack.' He scowled as Marrack made to speak. Not you. You will be needed for the signal party.' His cold eyes rested on Bolitho. `As you have just returned to your proper duties with us, I cannot order you to take part either. Mr Pearce,' he turned to the sulky looking midshipman from the lower gundeck, `and ...'

  Bolitho glanced at Dancer who gave the briefest nod.

  He called, `Mr Dancer and I would like to volunteer, sir. We sailed very close to the island. It might be of some use.'

  Verling smiled wryly. `Now that Mr Grenfell has placed his foot on the bottom rung of promotion, you three, apart from Mr Marrack, are the oldest. So I suppose I'd better allow you to go.'

  Eden stepped smartly from the rank of midshipmen.

  `S-sir! I'd 1-like to v-volunteer, too!'

  Verling glared down at him. `Don't you stutter at me, you urchin! Get back in line and hold your noise!'

  Eden retreated, beaten before he had started. Verling nodded, apparently satisfied.

  `Boats will be lowered as soon as we heave-to. All

  the marines and sixty seamen will transfer to that

  floating hell yonder.'

  Dancer whispered, `The captain is sending everyone he can spare.'

  Verling rasped, `After the raid, should you be spared, Mr Dancer, you will be awarded five days extra duty. Be silent!'

  The captain walked aft towards the poop, as if on a stroll ashore.

  He paused and asked evenly, `All well, Mr Verling??

  'Aye, sir.'

  The captain glanced at the three midshipmen who stood where they had been called.

  `Be vigilant.' He looked at his first lieutenant. `Mr Verling will command the attack, so he will expect your best support, as will I.' He leaned forward, seeking out Eden's small shape. `You, er, Mr er, will probably be useful assisting the surgeon in your new and er, surprising capacity.'

  Neither he nor Verling gave even the hint of a smile.

  It was almost dark by the time the transfer of men and weapons had been completed.

  Even before they reached the large dhow Bolitho could smell the stench of slavery. Once on board

  it was almost overpowering as the seamen and marines clambered below, stooping beneath the crude deck beams and slithering on filth and broken manacles.

  Major Dewar's corporals were spaced at intervals along the hull to lead or push the new arrivals into the proper places where they would remain until the actual moment of attack. It was as well Eden had been left behind, Bolitho thought. This stench, and the cramped journey, would have made him as sick as a dog.

  Several swivel guns were swayed up from the longboats and mounted on the bulwarks and aft by the high poop.

  There was a smell of rum in the air too, and Bolitho guessed that the captain had thought it prudent to give the attackers something to sustain them.

  Bolitho and the other two midshipmen made their way aft to the poop to report that all the extra seamen and marines were crammed below like pork in a barrel.

  In the half-darkness the marines' cross-belts stood out very white, their coats merging with the background.

  Hoggett, the Gorgon's leather-lunged boatswain, was in charge of the dhow's sails and steering, and Bolitho heard one seaman mutter unkindly, ' 'E'd be right at 'ome on a blessed slaver, 'e would!'

  Verling snapped, `Break out the anchor and get this vessel under way, Mr Hoggett ! Perhaps the. wind will take the stench out of herV

  He turned as another shadowy figure climbed to the poop.

  `All ready, Mr Tregorren?'

  Dancer said, `So he's coming too, damn him!' `Anchor's aweigh, sir!'

  Bolitho watched the two seamen using the great sweep oar which stood in place of wheel or tiller. The strange lateen sails creaked up the masts, the sailors slipping and cursing with unfamiliar, and to them, crude rigging.

  Verling had brought a small boat's compass, and handed it to the boatswain.

  `We will take our time. Stand well offshore. I'd rather not finish the attack like that frigate ended her life, eh, Mr Tregorren? It must have been quite a moment.'

  Tregorren sounded as if his breathing was hurting him.

  He replied thickly, `It was, sir.'

  Verling dropped the matter.

  `Mr Pearce, show the lantern to Gorgon.'

  Bolitho saw the light blink briefly as Pearce lifted the shutter. Captain Conway would know they had started. In the small glow from the compass Bolitho saw Verling's beaky profile, and was suddenly glad he was in command.

  He wondered what Tregorren would say to him when next they spoke. If he would continue his deception, or admit that he was not responsible for Pegaso's destruction.

  Verling's voice bit into his thoughts.

  `If you have nothing to do, I suggest you sleep

  until you are called. Otherwise I will discover a task of some enormity for you, even in this vessel!'

  Hidden by the deepening darkness, Bolitho grinned broadly.

  `Aye, aye, sir. Thank you, sir.'

  He settled down against an ancient bronze cannon and rested his chin on his knees. Dancer joined him, and together they stared up at the tiny, pale stars, against which the dhow's great sails showed like wings.

  `Here we go again, Martyn.'

  Dancer sighed. `But we kept together. That's the main thing.'

  10

  A Name to Remember

  'WIND'S backed again, sir!'

  The boatswain's hoarse voice made Bolitho nudge Dancer with his elbow and rouse him.

  He saw Verling and Tregorren consulting the compass, and when he looked up at the ragged mainmast pendant he saw it was lifting and whipping to a new thrust of wind. The sky was paler, and as he struggled to his feet he felt every muscle throbbing with cramp.

  Verling commented flatly, `We will beat clear of the headland nevertheless.' His arm shot out, black against the sky. `There ! I can see surf b
elow the point!' The arm darted round. `You midshipmen, get below and rouse the people. My compliments to Major Dewar, and tell him we will pass very close inshore. I want no marine or seaman on deck who has not been so ordered.'

  A block squeaked, and Bolitho saw a large flag jerking up to the foremost lateen sail. In daylight it would be seen as a black one, similar to that worn

  by the Pegaso. He shivered, despite his excitement.

  `Come on, Martyn, we'd better hurry.'

  He retched and covered his mouth with his sleeve as he plunged down into the fat-bellied hold. In the glitter of a solitary lantern the crowded seamen and marines could have been another slave cargo. The realization came like an ice-cold shock. If this attack failed, the survivors would end as no better than the poor wretches released by Captain Conway. Although the corsair, Rals Haddam, recruited many white mercenaries to man his ships and expand his grip across the trade routes, he had little love or respect for them. If half of what was said of him was true, it was more than likely he would keep captured British seamen to replace those very same slaves.

  Dewar listened to his message and grunted.

  "Bout time. I'm aching like a sick cow.'

  Dancer coughed and gasped, `I am glad we were on deck, sir.'

  The marines exchanged glances and Dewar said, `Spoiled young devils! It is the discomfort I object to. The smell is no worse than any field of battle.' He grinned at Dancer's nausea. `Especially after a few days, when the crows have been at work, eh?'

  He stood up, ducking under the beams. `Marines, stand-to! Sar'nt Halse, inspect the weapons!'

  Bolitho returned to the poop, and found to his surprise that it was already bright enough to see the land drifting abeam, the dancing spray amongst some angry-looking rocks.

  Dancer murmured, `A lee shore. If the first

  lieutenant had taken an hour longer we'd have been hard put to beat clear.'

  `Sir! I can see someone on the point!'

  Verling raised a telescope. `Yes. He's gone from view now. Probably a lookout of some kind. He won't get across to the island, but the cosair may have a sort of signalling arrangement.' He was thinking aloud.