Free Badge of Glory (1982) by Douglas Reeman Page A

place for felons and pressed men. It’s become something they
want
to join and to put their skills into.’ He grinned. ‘I’m just saying this before Mr Lascelles tells you, Major. Because when we get to Tenerife and coal ship, everyone turns to and lends a hand.’ His grin broadened. ‘Even the marines. Understood?’
    Blackwood smiled. ‘Officers included?’
    ‘
Everyone.
’ The door had almost closed as he added, ‘Except the captain.’
    Deacon,
Satyr
’s lean first lieutenant, handed his telescope to Blackwood as he joined him at the quarterdeck rail.
    ‘There it is, Major. We made landfall at first light.’ Like Tobin, he did not conceal his pride.
    Blackwood levelled the glass and studied the great sprawl of coastline. Tobin had promised Slade a fourteen-day passage. They had stayed for one day in Tenerife and had thrust out of port with the decks covered in black dust. Despite that, Tobin had made his landfall in only thirteen days. What an unhappy-looking coast, he thought. Humps of clay-coloured rock and steep hills, with a hint of high ridges further inland. A shimmering mist and probably blown sand made the picture in the lens vague and without substance.
    The steam frigate had reduced speed and her decks were crammed with seamen and a sprinkling of marines, the old hands telling the new ones what it was like. The stories never changed. Only the tellers.
    The great twenty-six-foot paddles were thrashing almost quietly at the blue water, a far cry from the din and bedlam of the past days.
    Blackwood glanced along the upper deck and picked out some of his own men among the rest. It was hard to believe that some two hundred men could vanish into so crowded a hull. Almost a third of the ship was taken up by engines and boilers, and the warrant officers and the bulk of the complement had to fit in as best they could forward of the paddles. Aft, in comparative comfort, the officers, and of course the captain, had greater space, while below them on the orlop the odds and ends of the ship’s company lived like owls with never a glimpse of natural light.
    And yet, in spite of the overcrowding, machinery and coal before human beings, there was a real sense of camaraderie which Blackwood knew he would be loath to lose. During the discomfort of coaling ship he had seen it at work. In blazing sunlight, choking in clouds of grit and dust, the men had toiled back and forth to the bunkers with baskets of coal until Hamilton, the chief engineer, was satisfied. There had not been a uniform to be seen, and the blackened, almost nakedfigures had bumped against one another with a total disregard for rank and authority.
    Even at sea, with the decks once more washed clean and the brasswork on the narrow bridge all agleam, it felt different. Not a cocked hat or epaulette in sight, and with Tobin usually in view somewhere on deck, Blackwood had shared the sailors’ respect for a true seaman.
    Blackwood had seen little of Slade after leaving Tenerife. He had been ashore during their short stay and had returned grim and unsmiling. .
    There was still no news of the missing patrol vessel. She was an armed schooner named
Kingsmill
and commanded by a young lieutenant. His first commission on the Slave Coast, so almost anything might have happened.
    The first lieutenant tensed slightly and Blackwood knew that Tobin had joined them. For such a powerful man he could move like a cat.
    ‘Well, there it is, damn it. That round-shouldered hill is the headland. The river winds inland to the south’rd of it. At this time of year it’s too risky to head far up-river. But I’ll close the land and anchor as near as I can.’ Without turning his head he said, ‘Alter course four points, Mr Oliver. Steer east by south.’
    Blackwood turned to watch the order relayed by voice-pipe to the engine-room, and as the helm went over he saw the sudden increase of power on the nearest paddle-wheel. It was hot on the open quarterdeck. What it must