Passage to Mutiny (4 page)

As he slit open the canvas envelope he found time to wonder if Borlase's part at the court martial had been as much to clear himself as to bring down his captain.

He read swiftly along the neatly written paper. All at once the stresses and anxieties of the past weeks faded, and even Borlase, who was watching him with a gentle smile on his lips, seemed to have vanished.

He said sharply, “My compliments to the first lieutenant, Mr Borlase. I'd like to see him directly.”

The lieutenant opened his mouth as if to put a question, and shut it again.

Bolitho walked to the stern windows and leaned as far out as he could, letting the sea air explore his throat and chest. He wished he had not drunk so much or dined so well on the mutton pie.

He tried to clear his mind, to concentrate on the despatch.
Tempest
was to weigh and put to sea as soon as it was prudent to work clear of the harbour limits. He felt the air cooling his hair and cheek. It felt stronger, but would it last? He checked his racing thoughts and heard Herrick coming into the cabin.

“Sir?”

“We are ordered to sea, Thomas. A transport ship is overdue, although she was reported safely on passage three weeks ago by the mail packet. The packet's master made signal contact with her south-east of Tongatapu.”

Herrick tucked his shirt into his breeches, his face frowning.

“But that's over a couple of thousand miles from here, sir.”

Bolitho nodded. “But the ship, she's the
Eurotas,
is a regular visitor. She supplies the colony and some other islands as required. Her master is well versed with these waters. It is no use deluding ourselves. She should have been here, at anchor, days ago.” He recalled the grog shops and the brazen-eyed girls at the windows. “The governor knew she was expected. He kept it a secret, even from his subordinate. The
Eurotas
is filled with guns, powder and supplies. And money to pay the military and civil authorities.”

“And you think the
Bounty
mutineers may be in that area, sir?”

Bolitho did not reply immediately. He was thinking of the governor's instructions, feeling their anger and urgency. Most of all he was remembering the last paragraphs. The
Eurotas,
apart from her valuable cargo, was also carrying more convicts, and he could almost see the rest in his mind. The newly appointed adviser and acting governor for yet another colonial project, James Raymond, and his wife were passengers.

He turned from the glittering lights and reflected stars. They had gone cold.

“Rouse the master, Thomas. Find out the first possible moment we can proceed. I'll warp her clear with boats if need be. It may be a false alarm.
Eurotas
might have put into an island for water or wood. Or she could have been becalmed as we have often enough.”

Herrick was studying him, his eyes very still.

He said, “Doubtful.”

Bolitho walked past him, touching the chairs without feeling them, and the old sword which hung on the bulkhead, where Allday watched over it like a keeper.

He continued, “Sayer will be sending the courier brig when she returns, and the governor will despatch two small schooners to the north and east.”

“Like a needle in a haystack, sir.”

Bolitho swung on his heels. “I
know
that, damn it! But we must do something!”

He saw the instant look of surprise and hurt on Herrick's homely features and added, “I'm sorry. Too much wine.” Herrick would have to know sooner or later. Bolitho thrust the papers across the table. “Read them for yourself.” He walked to the door and said to the sentry, “Call the midshipman-of-the-watch. I want all officers in the cabin without delay.” He turned aft again and saw Herrick watching him.

Bolitho said simply, “I
know,
Thomas. I even know what you have been thinking. But it was five years ago. A long while to remember.”

Herrick eyed him grimly. “Aye, sir. If you say so. I'll go and assemble the officers outside and bring them in together.” He left the cabin.

Bolitho sat down on the bench seat and after a slight hesitation drew the watch from his pocket. It was a very good timepiece, made by Mudge and Dutton, and it had a neat cylinder escapement and a firm, air-tight guard.

He saw none of these things, but clicked open the guard to read the engraved inscription on the inside.

Conquered, on a couch alone I lie,
Once in dream's deceit you came to me,
All dreams outstripped, if only thou were nigh!

He closed the guard and thrust it into his pocket. His head and mind were quite clear, and when his officers filed into the cabin they saw nothing to make them believe he was in any way different. Except for Herrick, and he could do nothing about it.

2
I
SOLATION

B
OLITHO
paused on the companion ladder and allowed his eyes time to adapt to the harsh glare.

It was almost eight bells, with the men of the forenoon watch listlessly assembled below the quarterdeck rail to make the changeover.

Bolitho had been on deck two hours earlier, as was his habit. Then, even with the sure knowledge of another scalding day to come, it had seemed refreshing and alive. There had been a dampness on canvas and rigging to add to the deception, but now the sun's heat had expanded and magnified, and as he stepped on to the quarterdeck he found himself wondering just how long they could continue searching for the
Eurotas.

Since leaving Sydney they had made good two thousand five hundred miles. Nearer three thousand with all the changes of tack and the maddening perversity of the wind. Herrick had remarked that it
felt
twenty times that much.

Three weeks of searing heat and endless, empty miles.

Bolitho squinted his eyes to try and see beyond the gently pitching bowsprit, but the glare was already so fierce that the sea appeared as polished silver without division between it and the sky.

Slowly he examined the set of each sail. Drawing, but only just, with the yards braced round to hold the vessel on a starboard tack.

He heard the master's mate report to Lieutenant Borlase, “The watch is aft, sir.”

Then Borlase's heels squeaked as he crossed the deck, his shoes clinging to the hot pitch between the seams.

Both he and Keen, who was relieving him, were well aware that their captain was present, but were used enough to his ways to know he would not interfere with the routine of changing the watch.

Bolitho heard Keen say, “Aye, sir. Nor'-east by east. Full and bye.”

Then Borlase, curt and impatient. “As usual, nothing to report. I have logged Peterson for insolence. The first lieutenant can deal with him later.” He wiped his streaming face and neck. “Relieve the wheel, if you please.” Then with a nod he vanished through the companionway.

The hands went about their allotted duties and the watch began another long four hours.

Bolitho had seen Herrick right forward with the boatswain and some working parties. The tasks were unending. The ship, like any other, was like a finely tuned instrument, with every inch of rigging and canvas designed and arrayed to play its part. Splicing and stitching, painting and blacking-down rigging,
Tempest
took a lot of sweat and backbreaking effort.

Herrick saw him and strode aft along the weather gangway, his stocky frame barely angled to the sun-dried planking. It was hardly surprising, for even with courses and topsails set to the wind the hull was hardly heeling to its thrust.

Herrick observed, “Another hard one, sir.” He looked at each mast in turn. “I've had the hands turned-to early. It'll save them from the worst of it. Mr Jury has some heavier tasks on the orlop for this afternoon.”

Bolitho nodded, watching Keen as he moved restlessly around the wheel and compass. Like the other officers he was dressed only in shirt and breeches, and his fair hair was plastered across his forehead with sweat.

He said, “Good, Thomas. I know they'll curse us for the heavy work, but it will save them from other troubles.”

Herrick knew as well as any officer that too much leisure under these conditions could lead to arguments and worse. In cabin and wardroom it was bad enough. For the company crammed together in their screened quarters or messdecks it would be like part of hell.

Herrick watched him, judging the right moment.

“How much longer, sir?” He stood his ground as Bolitho turned towards him. “I mean, we have covered the full distance. That mail packet reported
Eurotas
in these waters, safe and on passage. She must have run into trouble. We could barely miss her at this snail's pace.”

Bolitho walked to the quarterdeck rail and gripped it with both hands. The heated woodwork helped to steady his mind, hold back his uncertainty.

He saw Jacob Twig, the cook, walking purposefully beneath the shadow of a gangway, on his way to see the purser, no doubt. The fresh food and extra stores they had obtained from Sydney had to be eked out within the usual issue of meat from the cask. Salt beef, salt pork, some so hard it was like the ship's teak. Twig was very dark and extremely tall. When he was in his evil-smelling galley he loomed over the pots and platters like some kind of sorcerer brewing potions.

Bolitho said slowly, “I agree that we have run the full course.” He tried to picture the missing ship, guess what could or might have befallen her.

In the whole three weeks they had spoken with only two other vessels, small Dutch trading schooners. They had been a week apart, but neither of the masters had reported sighting anything except the usual clusters of native craft amongst the many islands. And it was always prudent to give them a wide berth.

He added, “According to the chart, we are once again due south of Tongatapu. If we come about and steer to take advantage of this wind, I think we could sight land early tomorrow.”

Herrick waited. Reading his mind.

Bolitho said, “I'll not hazard the ship amidst the reefs, but we can put boats ashore. The local chief is alleged to be friendly. Our ships are not unknown to him, according to Mr Lakey.”

Herrick grimaced. “I'll take a loaded brace of pistols with me nevertheless, sir! There have been too many good sailors cut down without warning.”

Bolitho turned to watch a sudden flurry in the sea alongside. A shark falling upon a smaller fish, the incident over in a second. Then the surface was smooth again, with just the occasional pointer of the shark's fin to reveal their patient escort.

He replied, “Some of these islands have had good reason to hate us.” He unconsciously touched the lock of hair which hung above his right eye.

Herrick saw the movement. It was as familiar as Bolitho's level grey eyes. Beneath the lock of hair was a deep, savage scar which ran right up his forehead. As a junior lieutenant Bolitho had been struck down and all but killed by a native when he had been on an island with his ship's watering party.

Herrick persisted, “I'll shoot first, all the same, sir. I've come too far to have my brains spilled with a war club!”

Bolitho was suddenly impatient. The thought that the
Eurotas
might have been overrun by warring islanders appalled him.

“Call the master, Thomas. We'll lay off a new course and decide what we must do.”

Herrick watched him stride towards the poop, his face completely absorbed.

He said to Keen, “Keep an eye on your watch. We will be needing all hands within the hour.”

Keen did not answer. He remembered Viola Raymond. She had nursed him when he had been put ashore after being wounded. Like some of the others he knew about the captain's involvement and what Herrick thought about it all. Keen was fond of them both, but especially so of Bolitho. If he was going to search for Viola Raymond, and more risk was to come from their reunion, then it was their business. He watched Herrick's troubled face. Or was it?

In the small chart room beneath the poop and adjoining the master's cabin Bolitho leaned over the table watching Lakey's fingers busy with brass dividers and rule.

“If the wind holds. Noon tomorrow.” Lakey looked up from the table, his lean face silhouetted against an open port.

Beyond it the sea was glittering and painful to look at. How much worse in a big transport loaded with convicts. If the
Eurotas
was aground somewhere, then the first fear would soon change to something more dangerous. The desire to escape, to be free with even the tiniest chance of survival, could make men do the impossible.

If the wind holds.
It must be engraved on every sea officer's heart, Bolitho thought.

He eyed Lakey thoughtfully. “So be it. One hundred and forty miles to Tongatapu. If we can log five knots and no more once we have changed course, I think your estimate a fair one.”

Lakey shrugged. He rarely rose to either praise or doubt. “I'll feel happier when I've examined our noon sights, sir.”

Bolitho smiled. “Very well.”

He turned on his heel and hurried to the quarterdeck, knowing Lakey would be there when he was needed.

“Ah, Thomas, we will bring her about on the half-hour and steer nor'-west. That will allow us sea room when we are closer to the reefs. Also, if the wind veers we will be better placed to select one of the other islands in the group.”

When a ship's boy turned the half-hour glass beside the binnacle the hands manned the braces and hauled breathlessly at the frigate's great yards.

As
Tempest
wallowed round and allowed herself to be laid on the opposite tack Bolitho was very aware of the time it took to perform the change. Even allowing for the poor wind, he had every available man employed on deck and aloft. He knew the folly of allowing slackness and taking short-cuts even on routine work. In battle, with the biggest proportion of seamen required at the guns and repairing damage, the ship would have to be handled by far fewer. And yet
Tempest
had answered helm and canvas more with the slow dignity of a ship of the line than a frigate.

It was so easy to get complacent, to put off the back-breaking and thankless work of gun and sail drill with a battle in mind. Out here, with sometimes months on end and no sight of any other man-of-war, it was hard to build up enthusiasm for such drills, especially when it was only too easy to turn your own back upon it.

Bolitho had one bitter reminder, however. In the years when he had commanded
Undine
he had been forced into open conflict with a powerful French frigate, the
Argus,
commanded by Le Chaumareys, an experienced veteran of the war and one of Admiral Suffren's most capable commanders. Although serving under a letter of marque for the self-styled prince, Muljadi, Le Chaumareys had remained a French officer in the best sense of the word. He had even warned Bolitho of the foolishness he would display in trying to fight his
Argus,
Muljadi's pirate fleet and the dithering incompetence of governments on the other side of the world. Just two ships could decide the fate of a great area of the Indies. Bolitho's little
Undine
and Le Chaumareys' powerful forty-four.

As in
Tempest,
Bolitho had been blessed with a motley collection of seamen, some of whom had been gathered from prison hulks to make his complement adequate.

All he had had against the Frenchman's experience and his equally well-trained company had been youth and a freshness of ideas. Le Chaumareys had been away from home for years. His work under another's flag was to have been his last before returning honourably to his beloved France.

It had been Le Chaumareys' familiarity with an established routine, his reliance on the same old methods and manoeuvres, which had cost him a victory, and his life.

Bolitho wondered how long it would take him to get too complacent, or so weary with endless patrols and chases after pirates that when a real challenge offered itself he would find himself without the steel to repel it. Or if indeed he would recognize the weakness if there was no one to tell him.

“Course nor'-west, sir. Full and bye.” Herrick wiped his forehead with his wrist. “And no fresher on this tack either!”

Bolitho took a telescope from Midshipman Swift and trained it beyond the bows. Through the taut rigging and shrouds and above the figurehead's golden shoulder, on and on, to nothing.

“Very well. Dismiss the watch below.” He stopped Herrick as he made to hurry away. “I believe Mr Borlase wishes you to punish a seaman today?”

Herrick watched him gravely. “Aye, sir. Peterson. For insolence. He swore at a bosun's mate.”

“I see. Then
warn
the man yourself, Thomas. A flogging for such a triviality will do nothing to help matters.” He looked at some seamen on the deck below and along the gangways. Almost naked, and tanned in a dozen hues, they appeared strong enough, able to control any sudden flare-up of temper which could end in flogging, or worse. “Then have a word with Mr Borlase. I'll not have him or any officer passing over responsibility in this manner. He was in charge of the watch. He should have dispersed the trouble as soon as he saw it.”

Herrick watched him leave the deck and cursed himself for not stepping into the matter earlier. For letting Borlase get away with it, as he did so often, when you stopped to think about it. When you were tired, sun-dried and dying for a cool breeze it was often much easier to do the work yourself instead of following through the chain of command.

Which is why I'll never rise above lieutenant.

As Herrick moved up and down the weather side of the deck he was watched for much of the time by Keen and Midshipman Swift.

From midshipman in the
Undine
to
Tempest'
s third lieutenant. When Keen had been raised from acting rank and had passed his examination for lieutenant he had imagined that no reward could provide greater satisfaction.