Free A Ship for The King by Richard Woodman

strength from his new status. He felt a slight pressure from her hand as she stepped across the deck and the great ship moved slightly as she trimmed herself to the wind and tide.
    â€˜I shall hope so, sir,’ he heard her say as she looked about her apprehensively, ‘for I find this shipboard world a most confusing universe.’
    The turn of phrase struck him as apt and the intimacy somewhat disarmed him. ‘Indeed, ma’am, so it seems at first, so it seemed to me but a month ago . . .’
    â€˜Then you are no seaman?’ she asked, her tone astonished, and stopped, compelling him to stop and face her. He felt foolish, confused, and then he mastered himself. It was pointless to act otherwise than truthfully. Besides, he felt compelled to tell this girl who he was and he knew it was unlikely he would have another chance like this moment.
    â€˜You misunderstand, ma’am; I am but newly commissioned into the Prince Royal but have been bred to the sea since boyhood. As a flagship this is said to be the largest man-of-war in the world and she awes us all . . .’
    â€˜Awes us all . . . why there is a nautical pun there, sir, if I am not mistaken.’ She smiled and walked on, and Faulkner felt stupidly irradiated by her regard.
    â€˜I did not intend it so . . .’
    They were under the poop, now, entering the subdivided space and encountering servants and others fluttering around the influx of grandees. A ladies’ maid bobbed a curtsey at his charge and she withdrew her hand. ‘I am Katherine Villiers, Lieutenant Faulkner,’ she said, meeting his eyes and smiting him with her deep, level gaze, ‘and I hope to see more of you during the voyage.’
    Stunned into silence, his heart leaping foolishly in his breast, Faulkner footed the most elegant bow he could muster and returned, reluctantly, to the drab duties about the deck.
    And yet they were not so drab for it now seemed his every movement might be scrutinized by those beguiling eyes, his every order heard by her. It did not matter that in revealing her name he learned that she was associated with the King’s catamite, or that her social standing was lunar to his earthly ambition. He carried himself with new authority, gave orders with a crisp clarity and found himself eager to be on deck, attentive, conspicuous.
    Brenton caught him an hour later as they drew breath with the hoisting in of the last of the interminable portmanteaux. ‘You had the best of the advantages there, Kit, I think. What a pretty girl and related to the Lord High Muckingham. You are playing with fire, don’t you know, for she will break your heart or pox thee – perhaps both, I shouldn’t wonder.’
    â€˜Hold your damned tongue, Harry,’ he responded sharply, at which Brenton merely went off laughing. ‘Come, we must dine before we labour further,’ he called, over his shoulder.
    Not during the several days that followed her boarding did Faulkner set eyes upon Katherine Villiers and yet he constantly fancied that hers never left him.
    The fleet weighed on 25th August and headed west with a favourable tide, but the easterly wind proved fickle and the following day the ships rode again at their anchors off Weymouth. Two days later, however, the wind came away from the east and the fleet headed down Channel. Faulkner, high upon the Prince Royal ’s quarterdeck, stood amazed at the ponderous progress of the great ship which contrasted with the swift, weatherly wallow of the little Swallow . She lolled at the end of every roll and she hung before coming back, so that her topgallant yards were not hoisted if the wind was anywhere forward of her quarters. Nor, it was clear to him as they had worked to sea to gain an offing from the Isle of Wight, was she handy; sufficient time and sea-room had to be allowed for any manoeuvre, a liability complicated by the proximity of the