Bolitho smiled for the first time. “I was born here, sir.”
The admiral eyed him calmly. “Now there is an admission.”
Bolitho made to leave the cabin but paused and said, “May I order the guns to be secured, sir?”
“You are her captain, Bolitho, as well as mine.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You do not approve of my action?”
“It is not that exactly, sir.” It was starting again, but he could not halt the words. “I have been with this ship for eighteen months. This matter of the frigate is bad enough, without their having to fire on their own kind into the bargain.”
“Very well.” Broughton yawned. “You really do care, do you not?”
Bolitho nodded firmly. “About trust, sir? Aye, I do.”
“I really must take you to London with me, Bolitho.” Broughton walked back to the windows, his face in shadow. “You would be something of a novelty there. Unique in fact.”
Bolitho reached the sunlit quarterdeck without seeing a foot of the journey.
Keverne touched his hat and asked anxiously, “Any orders, sir?”
“Yes, Mr Keverne. Pass the word for the purser and then . . .” He paused, still thinking of the Auriga and Broughton’s quiet amusement.
“Then, sir?”
“Then keep out of my way, Mr Keverne, until I say otherwise!”
The master watched him stride to the side and begin to pace back and forth, his brows set in a frown of concentration.
To the baffled Keverne he said quietly, “More squalls, I’m thinkin’. An’ not for the better.”
Keverne glared at him. “When I need your opinion, Mr Partridge, I’ll damn well ask for it!” Then he too hurried away towards the quarterdeck ladder.
Partridge glanced up at the new flag at the fore. Young puppy, he chuckled unfeelingly. Wrath went with rank. Things never changed in the Navy. He turned, realising that the captain had stopped his pacing and was studying him gravely.
“Sir?”
“I was just thinking, Mr Partridge, how nice it must be to have nothing to do in the whole world but stand in the sun grinning like some village idiot.”
The master swallowed hard. “Sorry, sir.”
Surprisingly, Bolitho smiled. “Continue to stand if you wish. I have a feeling that this peace is to be shortlived.” He turned on his heel and walked briskly beneath the poop towards his cabin.
Partridge sighed and mopped his chins with a red handkerchief. A flagship could often make life hard on a sailing master. Then he looked across at the anchored frigate and shook his head sadly. Still, he thought, others were worse off. A whole lot worse.
4
AN EXAMPLE TO ALL
THE SMART, maroon-painted berlin rattled busily over a humpbacked bridge and swung left on to the main coach road for Falmouth.
Richard Bolitho put out one hand to steady himself against the swaying motion as the wheels bounced into the steep ruts and watched the dust pouring back from the horses’ hoofs and from beneath the carriage itself. He was only half aware of the passing countryside, the different shades of green and occasional clumps of sheep in the fields adjoining the narrow, twisting road. In his best dress uniform and cocked hat he was hot and uncomfortable, and the berlin’s violent motion was worse than any small boat in a choppy harbour, yet he hardly noticed any of these things.