Alexander Kent - Midshipman Bolitho and the Avenger

Bolitho heard his mother sob and wanted to go to her.

He heard Hugh add, `A matter of honour.'

`Did you kill someone in a duel? Oh, Hugh, what will your father say?'

Hugh gave a short laugh. `No, I did not kill him. Just cut him a trifle.'

He must have taken her in his arms for the sobs were quieter and muffled.

`And Father will not know: Unless you tell him, eh?'

Dancer waited at the top of the stairs.

`What is it?'

Bolitho sighed. `My brother has a quick temper. I think he has been in trouble over an affair.'

Dancer smiled. `In St James's there is always someone getting nicked or killed in duels. The King forbids it.' He shrugged. `But it goes on just the same.'

They helped each other to pack their chests again. Mrs Tremayne would only burst into tears if they asked her to do it, even at the promise of a quick return.

When they went downstairs again Hugh had disappeared.

Bolitho kissed his mother, and Dancer took her hand before saying gently, `If I never returned here, ma'am, this one visit would have been a great gift to me.'

Her chin lifted. `Thank you, Martyn. You are a good boy. Take care, both of you.'

Two seamen were at the gates, waiting to carry their chests to the boat.

Bolitho smiled to himself. Hugh had been that certain. Confident as ever. In control.

As they crossed the square by the inn Dancer exclaimed, `Look, Dick, the coach!'

They both stopped and stared at it as it rumbled off the cobbles and the horn gave a lively blare.

Back to Plymouth. It was even the same coachman and guard.

Bolitho gave a great sigh. `We had best get aboard the Avenger. I am afraid Mrs Tremayne's cooking has blunted my eagerness for duty.'

They turned towards the sea, and heads bowed made their way on to the jetty.

Midshipman Bolitho and the `Avenger'

After a lively crossing to the anchored cutter Bolitho found the Avenger surprisingly steady for her size. Holding his hat clapped to his head in the icy wind, he paused by the small companionway while he studied the vessel's solitary mast and the broad deck which shone in the grey light like metal. The bulwarks were pierced on either beam to take ten sixpounders, while both forward and right aft by the taffrail he noticed additional mountings for swivel guns. Small she might be, but no slouch in a fight, he decided.

A figure loomed through a busy throng of working seamen and confronted the two midshipmen. He was a giant in height and girth, with a face so weatherbeaten he looked more like a Spaniard than any Briton.

He said loudly, ' 'Eard about you.' He thrust out a big, scarred hand. `Andrew Gloag, actin' master o' this vessel.'

Bolitho introduced Dancer and watched them together. The slim, fair midshipman, the great, unshakable figure in the patched blue coat. Gloag may have begun life in Scotland with a name like his, but his dialect was as Devonian as you could imagine.

`Better lay aft, young gennlemen.' Gloag squinted towards the shore. `We'll be weighin' presently, if the cap'n is anything to judge by.' He grinned, revealing several gaps in his teeth. `I 'opes you're not too much like 'im. I can't stand a brace o' you!' He laughed and pushed them towards the companion. `Get below an' see to yer gear.' He swung away, cupping his hands to bellow, `Look alive, you idle bugger! Catch a turn with that line or I'll skin you for supper!'

Bolitho and Dancer clambered breathlessly down a short ladder and groped their way to a small stern cabin, banging their heads more than once on the low deckhead beams. The Avenger seemed to enfold them with her own sounds and smells. Some familiar and some less so. She felt like a workboat more than a man-of-war. In a class all of her own. Like Andrew Gloag, whose loud voice carried easily through wind and stout timbers alike. A master's mate and acting master. He might never command the quarterdeck of a ship like Gorgon, but here he was a king.

It was hard to picture him working with Hugh. He thought suddenly of his brother, wondering, as he often did, why he felt that he never really knew him.

Hugh was changed in some ways. Harder, more confident, if that were possible. More to the point, he was unhappy.

Dancer pushed his chest into a vacant corner and sat on it, his head almost reaching one of the deck beams.

`What do you make of it all, Dick?'

Bolitho listened to the creak and groan of timbers, the rattle and slap of wet rigging somewhere overhead. It would get more lively once they cleared the Roads.

`Wrecking, smuggling, I believe the two always go hand in hand, Martyn. But the port admiral at Plymouth must have heard more than we, if he's so willing to send the Avenger.'

`I heard your brother say that he had lost his senior by putting him in a prize, Dick. I wonder what happened to the cutter's last commander?' He smiled. `Your brother seems to have a way of getting rid of people.' The smile vanished. `I am sorry. That was a stupid thing to say!'

Bolitho touched-his sleeve. `No. You're right. He does have that way with him.'

Oars thrashed alongside, accompanied by more curses and threats from Mr Gloag.

`Jolly boat's away again.' Bolitho grimaced. 'Hugh'll be coming aboard now.'

It took Lieutenant Hugh Bolitho longer than expected to return to his command. When he did arrive he was drenched in spray, grim-faced and obviously in ill humour.

In the cabin he threw himself down on a bench and snapped, `When I come aboard I expect to be met by my officers.' He glared at the midshipmen. `This is no ship of the line with ten men for each trivial task. This is…' He swung round on the bench as a frightened looking seaman peered in at them. `Where the hell have you been, Warwick?' He did not wait for a reply. `Bring some brandy and something hot to go with it.' The man fled.

In a calmer tone he continued, `In a King's ship, no matter how small, you must always keep up an example.'

Bolitho said, `I'm sorry. I thought as we are only attached to your command…'

Hugh smiled. `Attached, pressed, volunteered, I don't care which. You're both my officers until the word says otherwise. There's work to do.'

He looked up as Gloag came through the door, his great frame doubled over like a weird hunchback.

`Sit you down, Mr Gloag. We'll take a glass before we set sail. All well?'

The master removed his battered hat, and Bolitho saw with surprise he was quite bald, like a brown egg, with the hair at his neck and cheeks as thick as spunyarn as if to compensate for his loss.

Hugh said, `You will assume duties of second-incommand, Richard. Mr Dancer will assist you. Two halves to make the whole, eh?' He smiled at his joke.

Gloag seemed to sense the atmosphere and rumbled, `I 'eard that you took command of a brig, the pair of you, when your lieutenants were too sick or injured to be of use?'

Dancer nodded, his eyes shining. `Aye, sir. The Sandpiper. Dick took command like a veteran!'

Hugh said, `Good, here's the brandy.' Half to himself he added, `We want no heroes cluttering these decks, thank you.'

Like a Bird

Bolitho looked at his friend and winked. They had scored a small victory over Hugh's sarcasm.

He asked, `What about the smugglers, Mr Gloag?'

`Oh, this an' that. Spirits and spices, silks and other such nonsense for them with too much money. Mr Pyke says we'll soon 'ave 'em by the 'eels.'

Dancer looked at him. 'Pyke?'

Hugh Bolitho pushed some goblets across a low table. `Pyke's my boatswain. Used to be a preventative officer himself before he got more sense and signed to wear the King's coat.' He held up his goblet. `Welcome, gentlemen.'

The nervous seaman named Warwick, who was also the cabin servant, carried in a lighted lantern and hung it carefully on a beam.

Bolitho had his goblet to his lips when he saw Dancer's eyes flash a quick warning. He looked down and saw a dark stain on Hugh's stocking. He had seen too much of it in the last year not to recognize blood. For an instant longer he imagined Hugh was injured, or had snared his leg climbing aboard. Then he saw his brother meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and need.

Feet thudded overhead, and then Hugh placed his goblet very carefully on the table.

`You will work watch-and-watch. Once we have cleared the headland we will run to the south'rd and find some sea-room. I have information, but not enough. Show no lights and pass no unnecessary commands. My people know their work, and most of them are ex-fishermen and '-'he like, as sure-footed as cats. I want to run these smugglers or wreckers to ground without delay, before it becomes catching hereabouts. It has happened in the past. Even in times of war the trade has been busy in both directions, they tell me.'

Gloag groped for his hat and went stooping towards the.door. `I'll get things ready, sir.'

Hugh glanced at Dancer. `Go with him. Learn your way around the deck. She's no Gorgon.' As Dancer made his way towards the door, his shadow swaying about with the pitching lantern, he added softly, `Or Sandpiper either, for that matter!'

Alone for the first time the brothers studied each other.

Bolitho thought he could see through Hugh's scornful guard. He was stiff with the authority of his first, if perhaps temporary, command. But at twentyone, with only himself to answer, that was understandable. But there was anxiety there also, a defensive hardness in his eyes.

He did not-have to wait for long.

Hugh said offhandedly, `You saw this stain? Pity. But can't be helped, I suppose. I can trust you to stay silent?'

Bolitho matched his mood, keeping his face and tone level and impassive.

`Need you ask?'

`No. I'm sorry.' He reached for the brandy and poured another goblet, the movement without conscious thought. `A matter I had to settle.'

`Here? In Falmouth?' Bolitho almost got to his feet. `What about Mother?'

Hugh sighed. `It was partly because of her. It was

Like a Bird

some fool who wanted revenge over another affair.'

`The aiair which had you removed from Laertes?T

'Yes.' His eyes were distant. `He wanted money. So I answered his insults in the only honourable way.'

`You provoked him.' He watched for some hint of guilt. `Then you killed him.'

Hugh took out his watch and held it to the lantern.

`Well, the second part is correct, damn him!'

Bolitho shook his head. `One day you'll put a foot wrong.'

Hugh smiled fully for the first time. It was as if he were glad, relieved to have shared his secret.

`Well, until that sad day, young Richard, there is work to be done. So get yourself on deck and rouse the hands. We'll up-anchor before we lose the light. I don't want to end up in splinters across St Anthony Head because of you!'

The weather had worsened considerably, and as Bolitho climbed up through the hatch he felt the punch of the wind like a fist. Figures bustled this way and that, bare feet slapping on the wet planking like so many seals. Despite the wind and soaking spray, the men wore only their checkered shirts and white, flapping trousers, and were apparently unmoved by the bitter weather.

Bolitho ducked aside as the jolly boat was swayed up and over the lee bulwark, showering the men who worked the tackles with more icy water. He saw the boatswain, Pyke, directing the operations until the boat was securely made fast on her tier, and could well imagine him as a revenue man. He had a furtive,

even sly, look, and was quite unlike any boatswain he had ever seen.

It would take some getting used to, he thought. Men everywhere, loosening belaying pins and checking the many flaked lines arid halliards as if expecting them to be frozen.