Free The Shadow of the Eagle by Richard Woodman Page B

though age had placed him past any resentment at the affront.
    ‘Well, they ought perhaps to know His Royal Highness is already astir.’
    ‘Are we expecting orders?’
    ‘I think not yet for yourselves or the rest of the squadron, but I have to leave you in some haste and that is why I am here. Not seeing you last night led me to hope you might be still in command here, but whomsoever I found, I guessed would be willing to take home private letters for me.’
    ‘Of course, Captain, happy to oblige …’
    ‘The truth is I have no idea when the squadron will return to port. I anticipate His Royal Highness may not wish to haul down his flag until he has stretched his orders to the limit, whereas you will be returning immediately to the Thames.’
    ‘You have the advantage of me there, then.’
    ‘Huddart mentioned it last night…’ Drinkwater drew two letters from his breast pocket, checked the superscriptions and handed them to Poulter. ‘I’m obliged to you Mr Poulter.’
    ‘Glad to be of service, Captain Drinkwater. Will you take a glass before you go?’
    ‘Thank you, but no. I have to get under weigh without further delay’
    ‘Where are you bound?’
    ‘Down Channel to the westward,’ Drinkwater held out his hand.
    Poulter shook it warmly then sniffed the wind. ‘You’ll have a beat of it, then.’
    ‘Unfortunately yes.’ Drinkwater was already half over the rail, casting a glance down at the boat bobbing below.
    ‘Well, it’s fair for the estuary’ said Poulter leaning over to watch him descend, the letters, one to Drinkwater’s prize agent, the other to Elizabeth, fluttering in his hand.
    ‘And I daresay the Brethren will be anxious to be off, eh, Mr Poulter?’ and grinning complicitly Drinkwater sat heavily in the gig’s stern-sheets and allowed Mr Dunn to ferry him back to his frigate.
     

CHAPTER 4
Out of Soundings
    April 1814
    The wind settled in the south-south-west, a steady breeze which wafted fluffy, lambs-wool clouds off the coast of France. Clear of Cap Blanc Nez, Birkbeck had the people haul the fore-tack down to the larboard bumkin, and the main-tack forward to the fore chains. The sheets of the fore and main courses were led aft and hauled taut. Andromeda carried sail to her topgallants and heeled to leeward, driving along with the ebb tide setting her south and west through the Dover Strait, and while her bowsprit lay upon a line of bearing with the South Foreland high lighthouse, the tide would set her clear of the English coast.
    Periodically a patter of spray rose in a white cloud over her weather bow, hung an instant, then drove across the forecastle and waist, darkening the white planking. The sea still bore the chill of a cold winter, and set anyone in its path a-shiver, but the sunshine was warm and brought the promise of summer along with the faint scent of the land.
    ‘France smells all right,’ Drinkwater overhead Midshipman Dunn say, ‘but it don’t mean it is all right.’
    This incontrovertible adolescent logic diverted Drinkwater’s attention from the frigate’s fabric, for she would stand her canvas well, to consider the plight of the muscle and brain that made her function.
    Under any other circumstances, so fine a day with so fine a breeze would have had the hands as happy as children playing, but there was a petulance in Dunn’s voice that seemed to be evidence of a bickering between the young gentlemen. Further forward, Drinkwater watched the men coiling down the ropes and hanging them on the life-rails. From time to time one of them would look aft, and Drinkwater would catch the full gaze of the man before, seeing the eyes of the captain upon him, he would look quickly away.
    Nearer to him, Birkbeck the sailing master checked the course for the twentieth time, nineteen of which had been unnecessary. Marlowe and Ashton were also on deck, conversing in a discreet tête-à-tête, except that their discretion was indiscreet enough to reveal the subject of