“Well, I’ll be double-damned! You skipped off the ship the minute we was paid off. Not a word out of you. What are you doing here?”
Ozzard had not changed in one way. He was as curt and abrupt as ever, the pointed features unsmiling.
He said, “Thought you’d have a corner where I could pipe down before moving on.”
Moving on. Up home in London. Ozzard had no home.
“Course you can stay, you old bugger!”
Unis observed this from the doorway, seeing all things which her beloved John did not see, or want to see. The split shoes, and the threadbare coat with its missing button, the fading hair tied back with a piece of worn ribbon. But this man was part of a world which she could only share at a distance, the life which had taken one husband and had given her another, this big, shambling man who was so glad to see one of its ghosts return. He had spoken often of Ozzard, Sir Richard’s personal servant. Like Ferguson, joined now by Yovell up at the house, he was part of the little crew.
She said gently, “I’ve some stew on the fire. Maybe you’ve not eaten yet.”
Ozzard stared at her with eyes which were almost hostile. “I haven’t come because I need anything!”
Allday said quietly, “Easy, Tom. You’re among friends here,” and frowned as voices echoed from the yard. The first of the road labourers were arriving.
Unis was aware of two things. That Ozzard was wary, even distrustful of women, and that her John’s pleasure was changing to distress.
She said, “Come into the parlour. That lot are too noisy for greeting old friends.”
Ozzard sat silently at the table, staring around the room until his eyes came to rest on the model of Hyperion in its place of honour.
Allday wanted to talk, if only to reassure him, but was afraid to break something so tentative, so fragile.
Unis was stirring the pot in the kitchen, but her mind was elsewhere.
She said over her shoulder, “Of course, you being used to Sir Richard an’ the likes of other naval gentlemen, you’ll know all about wines an’ that like.”
Ozzard said suspiciously, “More than some, yes.”
“I was thinking. With the trade improving on this road, you could be a help to us. To me. There’s a room over the tack store. You’d be more’n welcome until you want to move on again.”
She sensed Allday’s pleasure and added casually, “I can’t vouch for the money though.”
She had to say something, she thought. Anything. She had noticed the torn cuffs and broken, dirty nails. But he was one of the men who had been with her John and Sir Richard in battles she dared not even begin to imagine.
She came over with the bowl and said, “Game stew. Get that inside you, an’ think about what I said.”
Ozzard bowed his head and blindly picked up the spoon. Then he broke.
“I’ve got nowhere else,” was all he said.
Much later, when they were alone together, and the inn was quiet until the new day, Allday held her in his arms and murmured, “How did you know, Unis love?”
She pulled his shaggy head down to her breast. “Cause I knows you, John Allday. An’ that’s no error!”
She could taste the rum in his kiss, and she was content.
18. Of One Company
“HEAVE, LADS! Heave away!”
With both of Unrivalled’s capstans fully manned and every available seaman putting his weight on the bars, the cable was barely moving. Adam Bolitho stood by the quarterdeck rail, his hands clasped beneath his coat-tails, watching the strange light and the low, scudding clouds. The harbour walls, like the waterfront buildings, seemed to glow with a dull yellow texture, and although it was morning it seemed more like sunset.
The wind had risen slightly, hot against his face, and he tasted grit between his teeth, as if they were already standing off some desert shore. He heard Midshipman Sandell shout impatiently, “Start that man! Put some weight on the bars there!”
And, instantly, Galbraith’s curt, “Belay that! The cable’s moving at last!” He sounded impatient, frustrated, perhaps because of the time wasted here in Malta since Admiral Lord Rhodes had hoisted his flag, which had been followed by this sudden order to get the ships under way.
Clank. The iron pawl of the capstan dropped into position.
Clank, and then the next one.
Someone said, “Flagship’s cable is shortening, sir!”
Galbraith retorted, “They have six hundred idle hands to play with!”
Adam looked forward where Massie was peering through the beak-head to watch the bar-taut cable. All of Unrivalled’s tonnage and the pressure of wind, set against muscle and sweat.
Clank. Clank. As if to a signal he heard the scrape of a violin and then the shantyman’s quavery voice. So many times. Leaving harbour. For the sailor the future was always unknown, like the next horizon.
When first I went to sea as a lad…
Heave, me bullies, heave!
A fine new knife was all I had!
Heave, me bullies, heave!
Adam relaxed slightly. To sea again. But this time under the Flag. The fleet’s apron strings, as he had heard other frigate captains describe it.
And I’ve sailed for fifty years an’ three
Heave, lads, heave!
It was coming in faster now, the capstans turning like human wheels.
To the coasts of gold and ivory!
Midshipman Sandell hurried past, pointing out something to the new member, Midshipman Deighton.
He had heard Jago remark, “Look at ’im, will you? Cocking his chest like a half-pay admiral!”
Another memory. What Allday had often said to describe some upstart.
He thought of Admiral Rhodes’ hurried conference aboard the flagship. He had received news of another unwarranted attack on some innocent fishermen. A battery had fired on the vessels, and then chebecs had appeared as if from nowhere and had captured or massacred the luckless crews. One of the squadron’s armed schooners had been nearby and had attempted to offer assistance, only to be driven off herself. It had been a close thing, to all accounts.
Rhodes had been beside himself with anger. An example must be made, before the weather changed yet again. He would delay no longer; all available ships must be ready to sail.
The squadron had been reinforced by a bomb vessel named Atlas. She had sailed at first light with Matchless as escort.
Adam knew from experience that bomb vessels were difficult at the best of times, being clumsy and unhandy sailers. To use just one such craft without waiting for promised reinforcements would be asking for trouble, no matter how experienced her company might be.
At the captains’ conference aboard Frobisher he had said as much. Rhodes had turned on him instantly, as if he had been waiting for the chance.
“Of course, Captain Bolitho. I almost forgot! A frigate captain of your style and record would condemn the more controlled approach.”
Only Captain Bouverie of Matchless had laughed. The others had waited in silence.
Rhodes had continued, “No daring cutting-out, or some hand-to-hand skirmish with undisciplined renegades, so you consider this is not a useful undertaking!”
“I resent that, my lord.” The words had hung in the air, while Rhodes had made a point of studying one of his charts. “To break the Dey’s hold over the Algerine pirates, as he chooses to call them when it suits his purpose, a fleet action will be required.”
Rhodes had shrugged. “Knowledge is not necessarily wisdom, Captain Bolitho. I trust you will remember it.” He had looked pointedly at the others. “All of you.”
The shantyman’s reedy voice broke into his thoughts again.
And now at the end of a lucky life!
Massie yelled from the forecastle, “Anchor’s hove short, sir!”
Adam nodded, satisfied. “Loose the heads’ls!” He stared up at the braced yards. “Hands aloft and loose tops’ls!”
Midshipman Cousens, who had not lowered his telescope and was still watching the flagship, shouted, “Signal from Flag, sir!