Free Cross of Fire by Mark Keating Page A

upwards again and Manvell jerked as if shot. ‘You wished to set up your charts for some account? Explain, if you please.’
    Manvell gingerly bent to the remainder of the papers and brass and began to gather them up.
    ‘Yes, sir. I had hoped—’ he stopped as Coxon came down to help. ‘I had hoped that I might demonstrate my diligence to my duties to the Standard by comparison of notes of her previous endeavours and—’ He rose with Coxon, who passed back pencils, rules and an ivory compass card with a kindly look as if handing a dropped handkerchief to a blushing housemaid in the street.
    ‘You know, you may find that if you took the purchase of a barber-surgeon’s etui, such for the storing of probes, you might find your tools less liable to jump from your arms, Mister Manvell.’
    ‘Of course, sir. Very good, sir.’ Manvell carefully set the instruments down. ‘I believe I did have such an item but . . . made loss of it and since—’
    ‘Made a good splash did it?’
    ‘Quite, sir . . . and since such event I have found it generously sensible to lose only one card at a time rather than the whole suit, as it were.’
    Coxon went for the coffee.
    ‘Sound reasoning. But perhaps you can explain to me why you need such a compendium?’
    Coxon poured then held out the pot for Manvell, waiting for him to notice that there was only the captain’s cup at the captain’s table.
    ‘Well, man? Do you expect me to pour it over your hands! Fetch a cup !’
    ‘Of course, sir. Very good, sir.’
    Manvell found a decanter and glasses behind a brass guard above the writing desk. Coxon grimaced as he measured a small shot of coffee into a port glass.
    ‘So what is all this?’ He waved over the sprawl of tools. ‘You are more mathematician than seaman, is that it?’
    ‘Oh no, sir, but accuracy in all things is the measure of how men’s lives are saved.’
    Coxon bowed to that with his cup as it went to his lips.
    ‘But we are on an easy run to Cape Coast Castle, land in sight all the way. Are we not?’
    The old instinct in Coxon scratched at his collar as he studied Manvell over the cup. It should be only Coxon’s knowledge of the pirate hunt; beyond the traversing to Cape Castle to resupply General Phipps with victuals and deliver post, all the crew should be ignorant. He trusted Howard; the boy had bled with him and that counted enough, but after feeling William Guinneys coil like a snake around him on The Island those years ago when Guinneys’ orders had differed, Coxon now preferred to sniff his food well before he ate. He had more officers to meet. He would test them one by one.
    Manvell bowed. ‘Of course, sir. Perhaps I just wished to show off apace. I am aware that I appear unimpressive at first sight, Captain.’ Manvell gingerly passed the scalding glass of coffee from hand to hand and finally placed it down to cool.
    ‘Modesty and duty impresses me more, Mister Manvell. I am more taken by a horse of the field than one of the course.’ He passed his cup arm over the table. ‘You have two compasses here. Why?’ Coxon could indulge the young man a little.
    Manvell picked up one wooden and brass box.
    ‘For variation of the compass, Captain. I mark one compass “A” the other “B”.’ He picked up the other compass and demonstrated the etched ‘B’ on its base to his captain, who had been at sea for over thirty years.
    ‘At the binnacle I compare the readings for all three and allow for the true north. I then take my reading of the vane outside on the chains – to allow for minimal disturbance from the movement of the ship and to be as low to the earth as possible – and take a reading for both sides of the vane so that there will be two observations for both compasses. After which I am able to ascertain that any fault that may be in the construction of the compasses can be eliminated and a true bearing calculated.’ He paused for some compliment from Coxon but he only refilled his cup