“Are you in trouble, Taylor?”
He looked up, his eyes suddenly defensive. “That will depend on you, sir. I was chosen to speak with you, an’, an’, knowin’ you as a fair an’ just captain, sir, I thought maybe you’d listen to . . .”
Bolitho stood up and studied him calmly. “Your ship, where is she lying?”
Taylor jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Long the coast to th’ east’rd, sir.” Something like pride crossed his tanned face. “Frigate, thirty-six, sir.”
“I see.” Bolitho walked slowly to the empty fireplace and back again. “And you, and men like you, have seized control, is that it? A mutineer?” He saw the man flinch and added harshly, “If you knew me, really knew me, you’d realise I’d not parley with those who betray their trust!”
Taylor said thickly, “If you’d ’ear me out, sir, that’s all I ask. After that you can ’ave me seized an’ ’anged if you so wish it, an’ well I knows that fact.”
Bolitho bit his lip. It had taken courage to come here like this. Courage and something more. This Taylor was no freshly pressed man, no lower deck sea-lawyer. He was a professional seaman. It could not have been easy for him. At any moment during his journey to Falmouth he might have been seen anyway by someone wishing to ingratiate himself with the authorities, and a patrol might even now be marching to the gates.
He said, “Very well. I cannot promise to agree with your views, but I will listen. That is all I can say.”
Taylor relaxed slightly. “We ’ave bin attached to the Channel Fleet, sir, an’ in regular commission for two years. We’ve ’ad little rest, for the fleet is always short o’ frigates, as you well knows. We was at Spit’ead when the trouble started last month, but our cap’n put to sea afore we could show our support with the others.” He bunched his hands tightly and continued bitterly, “I must say it, sir, so’s you’ll understand. Our cap’n’s a ’ard man, an’ th’ first lieutenant’s so taken with abusin’ the people there’s ’ardly one aboard whose back ’as not bin ripped open by th’ cat!”
Bolitho gripped his hands behind him. Stop him now, before he says any more. By listening so far you have implicated yourself in God knows what.
Instead he said coldly, “We are at war, Taylor. Times are hard for officers as well as seamen.”
Taylor eyed him stubbornly. “When the trouble broke at Spit’ead it was agreed by th’ delegates of the Fleet that we would go to sea an’ fight if th’ Frogs came out. There’s not a single Jack who’d be disloyal, sir. But some o’ the ships ’ave bad officers, sir, there’s none can say otherwise. There’s some where no pay or bounty ’as bin paid for months an’ the ’ands near starvin’ on foul food! When Black Dick,” he flushed, “beg pardon, sir, I mean Lord ’Owe, spoke to our delegates it was all settled. ’E agreed to our requests as best ’e could.” He frowned. “But we was at sea by then an’ ’ad no part in the settlement. In fact, our cap’n ’as bin worse instead o’ better! An’ that’s God’s truth, on my oath!”