Free The Shadow of the Eagle by Richard Woodman Page A

in a lower tone, ‘I should have a quick look at them, Drinkwater, to ensure they are what you want.’
    Drinkwater broke the seal and scanned the single page. For a moment the two captains stood silently, then Drinkwater looked up, folding the paper and thrusting it into his breast pocket. He held out his hand to Blackwood.
    ‘I declare myself perfectly satisfied, Blackwood, and thank you for your help.’
    ’ Carte blanche ,  eh?’ Blackwood smiled.
    ’ Carte blanche   indeed.’ They shook hands warmly.
    ‘Good fortune, Drinkwater,’ Blackwood said and turned away. ‘Mr Colville! Call Captain Drinkwater’s gig alongside.’
    A few moments later Drinkwater was seated in the boat. Midshipman Dunn stood upright in the stern, anticipating Drinkwater’s order to return to Andromeda .
    ‘The Trinity Yacht, Mr Dunn,’ Drinkwater said, seating himself in the stern-sheets.
    ‘The Trinity Yacht sir,’ piped Mr Dunn and turned to Wells the coxswain, and Drinkwater caught the look of incomprehension that he threw at the older man.
    ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Wells responded imperturbably, ordering the bowman to shove the boat’s head off, and the vertically wavering oars came down and dipped into the sea. As they came out of the huge flagship’s lee, a gust of wind threatened to carry Drinkwater’s hat off and he clapped his hand on its crown. A little chop was getting up and the oar-looms, swinging forward before diving into the grey-blue water, sliced the top off the occasional wave. Casting round to orientate himself, Drinkwater realized the wind was from the south-southwest. He was going to have a hard beat to windward.
    The Trinity Yacht lay anchored close to the Royal Sovereign , the smallest vessel in the squadron, but rivalling the royal yacht in the splendour of her ornamentation. Cutter-rigged, she bore an ornate beak-head beneath her bowsprit, upon which a carved lion bore a short-sword aloft. Her upper wales were a rich blue, decorated with gilded carving, each oval port being surrounded by a wreath of laurel. Her stern windows and tiny quarter galleries were diminutives of a much larger ship. Across the stern these windows were interspersed with pilasters and in the centre were emblazoned the unsupported arms of the Trinity House.
    These arms, a red St George’s cross quartering four black galleons, were repeated on a large square flag at the cutter’s single masthead and in the fly of her large red ensign which fluttered gaily over her elaborately carved taffrail. Drinkwater was familiar with her and the device; many years earlier he had served in several of the Trinity House buoy yachts.
    ‘Boat ‘hoy!’
    ’ Andromeda ?
    Dunn’s treble rang out, forestalling Wells’s response and indicating by the ship’s name, the presence of that ship’s captain.
    The boat ran alongside the yacht’s side and a pair of man-ropes covered in green baize and finished with Matthew Walker knots snaked down towards him. Grasping these he scrambled quickly up the side and on to the deck.
    ‘Good morning,’ he said dusting his hands and touching the fore-cock of his hat as an elderly officer in a plain blue coat responded. ‘I am Captain Drinkwater of the Andromeda …’
    ‘You are only a little changed, Captain Drinkwater …’
    ‘Mr Poulter?’
    ‘The same, sir, the same, though a little longer in the tooth and almost exhausting my three score and ten.’
    ‘Are you, by God? Well, you seem to thrive …’
    ‘Captains Woolmore and Huddart are aboard, sir, but neither have yet put in an appearance on deck.’
    ‘I met them last night and spoke at length to Captain Huddart, but best let the Elder Brethren sleep, Captain Poulter,’ Drinkwater said, giving Poulter his courtesy title. ‘They dined exceeding well last night. I was sorry not to see you there. You were the only commander not present last night.’
    ‘You know the Brethren, Captain Drinkwater, you know the Brethren,’ Poulter said resignedly, as