Free Badge of Glory (1982) by Douglas Reeman

one thing in common. Officers never spoke at breakfast unless absolutely essential. The wardroom was only yards away, and that too was silent.
    Slade got up suddenly. He looked less at ease in the reflected sunlight.
    ‘Are we making good time, Captain?’ He smiled despite his inner worries. ‘I know we have only been at sea for a matter of hours, however . . .’
    Tobin watched him calmly. ‘My officers are well aware of the importance of this passage, Sir Geoffrey. The chief engineer is confident enough. We shall put into Tenerife for more coal, although I
can
manage without it. But we might hear something useful.’
    Slade nodded slowly, his mind moving on again. ‘I hope so.’ He moved to the door. ‘I shall go and discover if mysecretary has managed to overcome his nausea. He’s here to work, not lie abed!’
    As the door closed Tobin gave a slow grin. ‘He seems worried. I’m damn grateful to him all the same. I’d still be anchored at Gib but for his insistence.’
    ‘Why do you think so many senior officers object to steam, sir?’
    Tobin gestured to the steward to refill his cup. ‘They’ve never learned to handle it, to understand it. Lines of ships, thousands of men, those they do understand. But God help us when we go to war again, unless we’ve a steam-minded Nelson somewhere!’
    Blackwood made to leave the table but Tobin waved him down again.
    ‘A moment, Major. I asked you to mess with me and Sir Geoffrey and not join my wardroom officers, for several reasons. I think we might learn from each other. In my heart I have little doubt that we are set on something dangerous. Sir Geoffrey would not be here otherwise. And neither would you.’
    He stood up and walked to a scuttle, his broad shoulders balanced to his ship’s persistent motion.
    Almost dreamily he said, ‘I worked the West African coast for five years. On anti-slavery patrols mostly. I once commanded a little sloop down in the Gulf of Guinea when I was very young and raw. God, what days! Most of the slavers were better armed than we were, and they could show us a clean pair of heels if they got the chance. If I’d had
Satyr
then it would have been a different story.’
    Blackwood waited. He could feel the man’s powerful restlessness. Something like his own.
    Tobin said, ‘Ever seen a slave-ship?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘If there is really a hell that must be it. Men and young girls, babies even, chained like animals to lie in their own filth until they reach a suitable market. And it’s still going on, believe me, even though their lordships look the other way when it suits ’em. But now it’s something worse. As our patrols draw the net tighter the rush for quick cargoesof black ivory, as they call them, are amounting. The whole coast will be in flames unless we can do something. All the trading missions we used to protect will have to be withdrawn. It will turn the clock back fifty years.’ He pounded his palms together forcefully. ‘We must act now, or a lot of people are going to get massacred.’
    Blackwood tried not to think of the girl’s face, or picture her going to search for her father. Perhaps one of Slade’s subordinates would prevent her, but in his heart he knew she would get her way.
    He said, ‘And you think this new uprising is a part of it?’
    ‘I do. I used to know Mdlaka, the king Sir Geoffrey was speaking about when he came aboard. Bloody pirate, cannibal too, I’ve heard, but loyal to the Crown?
Bought
might be a better word.’
    When Blackwood grinned he said, ‘Testing you, Major. You’re my sort of man, I think!’
    Calls trilled overhead and Tobin made to leave.
    ‘Both watches of the hands to exercise. I like them to know I’m about.’ He hesitated by the door. ‘What makes this ship special is that she is new, and I don’t just mean in timber and iron. Here, everyone has to learn something extra. It gives him pride, in the ship and himself. The Navy’s no longer a