Free Command a King's Ship by Alexander Kent Page B

how much larger the cabin looked without the guns there.
    He groaned as his head found some new ache to offer him. He would not see much of it though. He turned his face to the pillow, the sweat running across his chest with the effort. One thing was certain. He had rarely had better incentive for a fast passage.
    He was up and about at first light, eager to get his work done before the heat of the day made thinking more difficult. In the afternoon, to the distant strains of a military band and the cheers of a crowd along the waterfront, Undine weighed anchor, and with Nervion in the lead, her great foresail displaying a resplendent cross of scarlet and gold, worked clear of the roads before setting more canvas to the wind.
    Some small craft followed them across the glittering water, but were soon outpaced by the graceful frigates. By dusk they had the sea to themselves, with only the stars for company.

4
DEATH OF A S HIP
    E ZEKIEL M UDGE , Undine ’s sailing master, sat comfortably in one of Bolitho’s chairs and peered at the chart which was laid across the desk. Without his hat he looked even older, but there was assur- ance in his voice as he said, “This wind’ll freshen in the next day or so, sir. You mark my words.” He tapped the chart with his own brass dividers which he had just fished from one of his pockets. “For now, the nor’-east trades will suit us, and we’ll be up to the Cape Verde Islands in a week, with any luck.” He sat back and studied Bolitho’s reactions.
    â€œMuch as I thought.”
    Bolitho walked to the stern windows and leaned his hands on the sill. It was hot, like wood from a fire, and beyond the frigate’s small, frothing wake the sea was blinding in the glare. His shirt was open to the waist, and he could feel the sweat running down his shoulders, a dryness in his throat like dust.
    It was almost noon, and Herrick would be waiting for the midshipmen to report to him on the quarterdeck to shoot the sun for their present position. A full week, but for a few hours, since they had sailed from Santa Cruz, and daily the sun had pinned them down, had defied the light airs which had tried to give them comfort. Today the wind had strengthened slightly, and Undine was ghosting along on the starboard tack with all sails drawing well.
    There was little satisfaction in Bolitho’s thoughts. For Undine had suffered her first casualty, a young seaman who had fallen overboard just as darkness had been closing in the previous day. Signalling his intention to the Spanish captain, Bolitho had gone about to begin a search for the luckless man. He had been working aloft on the main topsail yard, framed against the dying sunlight like a bronze statue. Had he been a raw recruit, or some heavy- handed landsman, it was likely he would still be alive. But he had been too confident, too careless perhaps for those last vital seconds as he had changed his position. One cry as he had fallen, and then his head had broken surface almost level with the mizzen, his arms beating at the sea as he tried to keep pace with the ship.
    Davy had told him that the seaman was a good swimmer, and that fact had given some hope they might pick him up. They had lowered two boats, and for most of the night had searched in vain. Dawn had found them on course again, but to Bolitho’s anger he had discovered that the Nervion had made no attempt to shorten sail or stay in company, and only in the last half-hour had the masthead reported sighting her topgallant sails once again.
    The seaman’s death had been an additional thorn to prod at his determination to weld the ship together. He had seen the Spanish officers watching their first attempts at gun drill through their telescopes, slapping their thighs with amusement whenever some- thing went wrong, which was often. They themselves never drilled at anything. They seemed to treat the voyage as a form of enter- tainment.
    Even Raymond