ALEXANDER KENT - TO GLORY WE STEER

'I'll tell you the point!' Onslow slid from the gunwale like a cat. `Soon we'll be at sea again. You've seen the fleet mustering here. There'll be no rest for the likes of us. The buggers always need an extra frigate.' He pointed at the Phalarope as she swung gently at her anchor. `There is our chance, lads! The price of our future!' He lowered his voice again. 'We could take the ship.' He spoke very slowly to allow each word to sink, in. `Then we could use her to bargain for our own price!' He looked around their grim faces. `Just think of it! We could parley with the other side and name our own amount! Then with the money and a free passage we could split up and go our own ways, every one of us richer than he ever thought possible!'

Pochin sat up with a jerk. 'That's mutiny! You mad bugger, we'd all be caught and hanged!'

Onslow grinned. 'Never! After the war is over, who will have time to care about us?'

Pook added gleefully, 'He's right! We'd be rich!'

Allday said, 'And we'd never see England again!'

'And who cares about that?' Onslow threw back his head. 'Do you think we have any chance at present? You saw what they did to Kirk? You've seen men die week by week from disease or the lash. From battle or falling from aloft! And if you escape all that, it's more than likely you'll get shipped off in some other ship, as I was!'

Allday felt a chill at his spine as the uneasiness and resentment moved through the boat like a threat. He said quickly, 'Do you think Captain Bolitho would stand for your ideas?' He looked at the others. 'I've been through the mill, but I trust the captain. He's a brave and a fair man. He'll not let us down!'

Onslow shrugged. 'Suit yourself.' He added tightly, 'Just so long as you keep your thoughts to yourself, mate! If what I said gets out, we'll know where to come a'hunting!'

There was a scattered murmur of assent from the boat, and Allday realised with sudden shock that Onslow's little speech had already gone deep. It was strange that nobody had noticed before how Onslow had persisted in his efforts to rouse the men to mutiny. Perhaps because his words were carefully chosen and without the blind malice of a wronged sailor. The latter was too common to rouse much more than jeers.

He thought too of Mathias's death in the hold and Onslow's careful manoeuvring to get Ferguson the job as captain's clerk. The pattern was like a slow but deadly disease. When the symptoms came to light the victim was already beyond hope.

He said, `You'll find me ready enough, Onslow! Just you keep out of my way!'

Pochin muttered, `Watch out! 'E's comin' back!'

Packwood stood at the top of the steps, his face sweating profusely from a hasty tankard of rum. `Right, my babies! Stand by to take on some more casks!' He swung his rattan casually. `After this trip you can go to your sty and get cleaned up. The admiral is coming to see you all this evening!'

Pook nudged his friend. `That Allday! Is he safe?'

Onslow ran his fingers around the loom of his oar. `The men like him. It must be handled carefully. It needs thinking about.' He watched Allday's naked back rippling in -the sunlight. 'But handled it must be!'

Punctual to the minute, Rear-Admiral Sir Robert Napier stepped through the. Phalarope's entry port and removed his hat to receive his due respects. As the shrill pipes faded into silence- and the marine guard presented arms- the frigate's small drummer, accompanied by two reedy fifes, broke into a frail but jaunty march, and with a final glance around the upperdeck Bolitho stepped forward to meet his admiral.

Sir Robert nodded curtly to the assembled officers, and as the marines banged their muskets to the deck he carried out a brief but searching inspection of the guard, followed at a discreet distance by Rennie and Captain Cope of the Cassius.

Bolitho tried to gauge the admiral's mood or his real reason for his visit from the man's profile, but Sir Robert's pinched face remained sphinxlike and unchanging, even when he fired the occasional question or comment to Rennie about the bear

ing of the marines.

At the end of the double line of men he paused to survey the maindeck. 'You keep a smart ship, Bolitho.' There was nothing in his dry tone to suggest either praise or suspicion.

'Thank you, sir.' Bolitho wished that he was alone aboard the flagship in the great stem cabin. There he could face and deal with anything Sir Robert chose to say. These circumstances kept every comment on a formal and controlled level which made his nerves raw with uncertainty.

Whatever the admiral really thought of the ship, Bolitho was certainly satisfied with her appearance. Long before a frantic messenger had reported a flurry of activity aboard the flagship and the smartly crewed barge had pulled swiftly towards the Phalarope's side, Bolitho had been round his ship to make absolutely sure that Sir Robert would find no fault with her at least.

The ship's company had manned the side, every eye on the small, gold-laced figure in the stern of the barge, and now as the admiral stood in silent contemplation there was an atmosphere of nervous expectancy which defied even the fifes and drum on the quarterdeck.

The admiral said, 'You may dismiss the hands, Bolitho.'

At the prearranged signal the men poured from the maindeck, and with a clash of weapons the marines wheeled and followed suit.

Then he said, 'I have read the report, Bolitho. It had a great deal to say.' His wintry eyes drifted across Bolitho's set features. 1-was particularly interested in the part about the Andiron's captain.' He -saw Bolitho stiffen and continued calmly, 'As a matter of fact I had received information as to his identity, but I thought it best to let you carry out your task.' He shrugged, the movement painful beneath his heavy uniform. 'Of course, what I did not know was that you were in fact already a prisoner at his hands.'

'And if you had known, sir?' Bolitho tried to keep his tone relaxed.

'I am not sure. Your first lieutenant is apparently capable in many ways, but I fear he will always be a man who takes orders. A born subordinate!'

From the corner of his eye Bolitho saw Captain Cope being ushered below by his own officers, and waited for the admiral to continue. He did not have long to wait.

'Andiron is finished. Her very existence was a challenge and an insult to every man in our fleet. I have already passed my views on the matter to the Commander-in-Chief, and I have no doubt you will receive due recognition.' He faced Bolitho squarely. 'However, the fact that your own brother once commanded he? and" is obviously still alive may in some quarters be taken as some sort of connivance on your part.' He walked to the side and stared at the Cassius. 'I do not happen to take that view myself, Bolitho. I gave you the task, not in spite of the Andiron's captain but because of him! You and your ship behaved very well indeed. I have told Sir George Rodney as much.' He added slowly, 'But had your brother been killed it might have been better all round.'

'I think I understand, sir.'

'Of course you do!' The admiral's old testiness was breaking through. 'To be killed is to be forgotten. But if he is taken in the future, he will have no defence. A public trial and hanging will follow. And I think you realise that such disgrace can smear a whole family!'

'Yes, sir.'

Sir Robert rubbed his hands. `Well, enough of that. You carried out your orders as best you could. That will have to suffice for the present. You did in fact find out about the enemy's intentions. If it is true, it will weigh heavily in your favour.'

He looked up at the gently moving flag and murmured, 'We could do with a little good fortune at the moment!'

Sir Robert lapsed into silence until Bolitho had guided him below to his cabin where the other officers were already seated. With the table fully extended and ten officers already crammed round it, the cabin seemed to be full to capacity, and Bolitho found time to wonder why the admiral had bothered to make this journey away from the comparative luxury of his own quarters.

The officers rose to their feet and then sank expectantly into their seats again as Bolitho and the admiral squeezed around the head of the table.

Bolitho also realised for the first time that this was the only occasion he had sat down to dine with all his officers. As Atwell and two hastily recruited messmen began to serve dinner he glanced round the table marking the strange difference which seemed to have come over the familiar faces. They were like embarrassed strangers, he thought vaguely.

Apart from his lieutenants and Captain Rennie he had arranged for the three midshipmen to be present also. As representatives of the ship's warrant officers Proby, the master, and Tobias Ellice, the surgeon, sat in stiff discomfort, their eyes on their plates.

Still the admiral gave no sign of relaxing. In almost complete silence the dinner went on. But with it came the wine, this time brought by the admiral's personal steward, a tall, disdainful man in a scarlet jacket. It was then that Bolitho began to realise what Sir Robert was doing. Coupled with the tension and the unaccustomed richness of the excellent dinner, the wine began to take effect. When Bolitho noticed that the admiral had hardly eaten more than a bird's share of the food and made a point of keeping the same glass of wine at his elbow, he fully understood.

Voices grew louder, and while Sir Robert sat calmly at Bolitho's side the officers began to talk more freely. Bolitho did not know which he felt more. Annoyance or admiration. Not content with a bald report, no matter how concise, Sir Robert was here to hear for himself. From the men who until now had been mere names from Bolitho's pen.

Some of the strain seemed to drain out of him. Right or wrong, the admiral's sly methods were now beyond his control.

Slowly the story began to unfold. Each phase being taken up and polished by a different officer. The attack on Mola Island and the taking of the battery. The more eloquent elaborated on the plan as a whole, the less capable ones contenting themselves on painting the smaller parts to the overall picture.

There was humour too in some of the recollections. Like the story of Parker, the master's mate, who had commanded the jolly boat during the attack on the Andiron. Separated from the other boats by the rising sea, he had returned to the

Phalarope only to have his discomfort further increased by a volley of musket fire from some vigilant marines. And the story of Captain Rennie conducting the retreat from Mola Island with his sword in one hand and half a chicken pie in the other. But this sort of reminiscence did not last.

Sir Robert snapped suddenly, 'And you, Mr. Farquhar, were left behind with the Spanish prisoner?'

Farquhar eyed him carefully, and for a moment Bolitho felt the tension returning to the crowded table. But Farquhar kept his head. Even the fact that it was well known that Sir Robert normally made a point, of never addressing anyone below the rank of lieutenant failed to ruffle him.

'Yes, sir. I joined the captain and together we went into captivity.'

The admiral swung round in his chair and peered at Okes, who until now had remained almost silent. 'Your part in this business seems to have kept you very busy, Mr. Okes?'

The lieutenant looked up startled. 'Er, yes, sir. I did what I had to do. There was no other way!'

Sir Robert sipped his wine and eyed him coolly. 'For an officer who has gained nothing but glory you sound remarkably guarded, Mr. Okes. A modicum of modesty is welcome these days, but not when it sounds remarkably like guiltl' For a second longer he held Okes' pale face with his cold eyes, and then he laughed. It was a humourless sound, but it helped to beak the sudden and unhappy silence.