Free To Glory We Steer by Alexander Kent Page A

others you have suddenly remembered were probably stowed two years ago before you began the Brest blockade! They most likely leak, and in any case are quite rotten!”
    Evans looked at his feet. “I—I did not know, sir.”
    Bolitho said harshly, “If I could prove otherwise, Mr Evans, I would have you stripped of your rank and flogged!”
    Vibart stirred into life. “I must protest, sir! Mr Evans was acting as he thought fit! Betts struck him. There is no way of avoiding that fact.”
    â€œSo it appears, Mr Vibart.” Bolitho stared at him coldly until the other man looked away. “I will certainly back my officers in their efforts to carry out my orders. But senseless punishment at this time will do more harm than good.” He felt suddenly too tired to think clearly, but Vibart’s anger seemed to drive him on. “In another two weeks or so we will join the fleet under Sir Samuel Hood, and then there will be more than enough to keep us all occupied.”
    He continued more calmly, “Until then, each and every one of you will translate my standing orders into daily fact. Give the men your leadership and try to understand them. No good will ever come of useless brutality. If a man still persists in disobedience, then flogged he will be. But in this particular case I would suggest a more lenient experiment.” He saw Vibart’s lower lip quivering with barely controlled anger. “Betts can be awarded extra duties for seven days. The sooner the matter is forgotten, the sooner we can mend the damage!” He gestured briefly, “Carry on with your watch, Mr Farquhar.”
    As Evans turned to follow the midshipman Bolitho added flatly, “Oh, Mr Evans, I see no reason for me to mention your neglect in the log.” He saw Evans watching him half gratefully, half fearfully. He finished, “Provided I can show that you purchased the meat for your own purposes, your own mess perhaps?”
    Evans blinked at Vibart and then back to Bolitho’s impassive face. “Purchase, sir? Me, sir?”
    â€œYes, Evans, you! You can make the payment to my clerk in the forenoon tomorrow. That is all.”
    Vibart picked up his hat and waited until the door had closed behind the other man. “Do you require me any more, sir?”
    â€œI just want to tell you one thing more, Mr Vibart. I have taken fully into consideration that you were under considerable strain during your duty with Captain Pomfret. Maybe some of the things you had to do were not to your liking.” He waited, but Vibart stared woodenly across his shoulder. “I am not interested in the past, except as a lesson to everyone of what can happen in a badly run ship! As first lieutenant you are the key officer, the most experienced one aboard who can implement my orders, do you understand?”
    â€œIf you say so, sir.”
    Bolitho dropped his eyes in case Vibart should see the rising anger there. He had offered Vibart his due share of responsibility, even his confidence, and yet the lieutenant seemed to accept it like a sign of weakness, of some faltering uncertainty. The contempt was as plain in his brevity as if he had shouted it to the ship at large.
    It could not be easy for Vibart to take orders from a captain so junior in age and service. Bolitho tried once more to soften his feelings towards Vibart’s hostility.
    The latter said suddenly, “When you have been aboard the Phalarope a little longer, sir, then maybe you will see it different.” He rocked back on his heels and watched Bolitho’s face with a flat stare.
    Bolitho relaxed his taut muscles. It was almost a relief that Vibart had shown him the only way to finish the matter. He eyed him coldly. “I have read every log and report aboard this ship, Mr Vibart. In all my limited experience I have never known a ship so apparently unwilling to fight the enemy or so incapable of performing her duty.” He watched