I see no reason to make a storm out of thisЦ what do you say?"
Monteith nodded curtly. "It was my duty to bring the matter to you first."
Vincent was reaching for his hat but stopped in mid movement.
"First?"
Monteith stepped back from the table, almost casually.
"I shall see the captain, sir."
Vincent waited until the cabin was empty again. Something stupid and unnecessary had caused this to happen. And I should have seen it.
There was another tap at the door.
"I said I was coming up!"
But it was Prior, the half smile apologetic.
"I saw Mr. Monteith leaving, and I thought…"
"Forgive me, the cabin is yours again. I am learning a lot of things today. Mostly about myself."
They both looked up as the first echo of a gun salute quivered against the hull. The newcomer, paying her respects to the governor and to the flag.
Vincent hurried up the ladder and into the hard sunlight.
Another bang. Onward was a new ship. She had no memories.
He saw Julyan standing by the compass box, arms folded, staring across the anchorage. He was surrounded by some of the duty watchkeepers, and others who had come on deck to pass the time and gaze at the incoming ship. But Julyan could have been completely alone. He did not even blink at the next crash and the echo that followed it.
Vincent shaded his eyes. When he reached him, Julyan was speaking as though to himself.
"She's the Nautilus, forty guns. Maybe more now."
"So you know her?"
"I did. "He glanced up at the ensign, which was barely moving. "New frigate, she was. First commission, an' her last, under this flag."
A ship taken by the old enemy. It was common enough in the war at sea, on both sides. Like Maddock the gunner: the Spartiate, in which he had served at Trafalgar, had been a French prize taken by Nelson at the Nile.
Julyan unfolded his arms.
"The new flag won't change things, y "know. Or people."
He might have said more, but a midshipman called, "Gig's shoved off from the jetty, sir! With the captain!"
Vincent touched his hat.
"Thank you, Mr. Deacon. Warn the side party and the master-at-arms."
When he looked again, the French frigate was partly hidden by a big two-decker, sails still moving slowly beyond the rigging and furled canvas.
So the captain was coming back, and life would be on course again.
But all he could hear was Julyan's voice. The new flag won't change things. Or people.
Perhaps he was still brooding over Monteith's arrogance, or his own inability to deal with it. But it sounded like a threat.
Adam Bolitho slumped down in the green leather chair and kicked off his shoes.
"When I bought these in Plymouth, the shoemaker swore they would suit every sort of wear. Damned fellow had never heard of Gibraltar!"
He leaned back in the chair and tried to relax. To recover.
Luke Jago was at the stern windows, both hands resting on the bench seat.
"Glad that lot's behind us, Cap'n. "His jaw cracked into a grin. "Don't know how you do it, an' that's a fact."
Adam stifled a yawn. "Go ashore if you want to, Luke.
You've earned it ten times over."
Jago jerked his thumb at the screen door. "I'll pipe for Morgan. He'll fetch you something. "The yawn was infectious, and he did not trouble to hide it. "Sounds like another busy day tomorrow. Feet up with a tot of somethin "will do me!"
Adam undipped his sword and laid it on the deck beside the chair. Through the windows he could see the lights ashore, and those on vessels at anchor. After the activity and urgency it was strangely peaceful now, with no boats moving. And if there were, they would be carrying senior officers or their guests. He thought of all the faces he had seen, hands he had shaken, and names he had tried to remember, since Jago's gig had first taken him ashore.
He stood up, swinging both legs from the chair, impatient with himself. There were stars above and below the Rock, and he knew he would fall asleep if he broached to now.
The skylight was partly open and he could hear a violin playing somewhere, then laughter and feet tapping in some lively jig. Were the French aboard Nautilus also enjoying some sailors "dance, and warning with their mates like these men? We are at peace now. With a stroke of the pen, and an ocean of blood. What was it like for the Frenchman's ship? Hemmed in by all the old foes…
It took more than a pen to make peace.
He moved to the desk and touched the paper he would use for his next letter. How long had it been? He could see her holding it, opening it. Would it bring them closer, or would their still unreachable horizon withdraw even farther? The door opened and Morgan padded into the cabin.
He said cheerfully, "I expect you can still find a space for something, sir? "and placed a tray carefully on the desk. "Does me good to see you back aboard, sir. We all wonderedЦ"
Adam walked slowly through the cabin, the deck cool under his stockinged feet after the stairs and steep, cobbled streets, the hours of standing, the endless formalities.
"Some wine, I think. The first lieutenant is coming shortly."
Vincent had met him at the entry port on his return. Eager to know the news, and Onwards fresh orders. Or was he? Morgan opened his little pantry and pretended to examine some of the bottles he had selected earlier. The captain looked drained. What did they find to argue about, when all these top officers put their heads together? Now, when I get ashore… He was still smiling to himself when the sentry rapped on his grating and announced Vincent.
Adam sat by the desk and gestured to another chair.
"Rest easy, Mark. You've been doing all the work in my absence."
Vincent looked around the cabin.
"It feels right now, sir."
Adam nodded. Then, "I'd better tell you. We are sailing the day after tomorrow, in company with Nautilus. A matter of diplomacy, if you like."
"Is that an order, sir? From the commodore?"
"Far higher than him, I'm afraid!"
Morgan was replacing the cognac with wine.
"Thank you. You can go and pipe down now. "Then he said, "When I was in Unrivalled and we took part in the Algiers attack under Lord Exmouth, we learned quite a lot about another enemy stronghold. Aboubakr, some two hundred miles further along the coast. The French have always had a lively interest in the place, to base their own ships for use against us, and to control the local rebels. And now we are to support them. "He shrugged. "Better the devil you know."
He stood up and paced restlessly to the windows. "A show of solidarity, nothing more."
Vincent said, "A dangerous game at the best of times."
Adam looked at him keenly.
"Is something wrong, Mark?"
Vincent took a book from his pocket and said, "A complaint has been made by Lieutenant Monteith, sir."
Adam moved closer and touched his sleeve.
"Tell me. This is our ship. What we make her."
Vincent kept the book in his hand. "It was more than likely a simple misunderstanding. Squire countermanded an order after Monteith told one of the hands to reeve some new halliards."
"And Monteith jumped to the wrong conclusion. Then it was a misunderstanding. Squire has a blunt way of doing things. It happens. "He smiled. "Whatever they say on the lower deck about their officers, we can all make mistakes in our haste."
Vincent said stiffly, "It was a formal complaint, sir. I had no choice."
"As first lieutenant, you did as you thought fit. Loyalty and obedience are yours by right. But respect is something else, and much harder to achieve."
Vincent stood up.
"If that is the end of the matter, sir?"
"In two days "time we shall be at sea. Many will envy us. So let's remember that, shall we? "He walked back to the desk.
"We are the fortunate ones!"
But the door had closed. He knew he had failed.
Luke Jago nodded companionably to the sentry and pushed his way past the screen door. He was never questioned or refused entry. He could not even recall how or when it had begun; it remained something unspoken.