Command a King's Ship by Alexander Kent Read Free Book Online Page A

cheeks tingling from the cold. There was no sign of Noddall, but the cot was ready for him, and there was something hot in a mug nearby.
    A minute after his head was on the pillow he was fast asleep.
    The next day dawned as grey as the one before, but overnight the rain had stopped, and the wind held firm from the southeast.
    All forenoon the work went on without relaxation, the petty officers checking and re-checking their lists of names, putting them to faces, making sure seasoned hands were spaced among the untried and untrained.
    Bolitho dictated a final report to his clerk, a dried-up man named Pope, and then signed it in readiness for the last boat. He found time to speak with his officers, and seek out Mr. Tapril, the gunner, in his magazine to discuss moving some of the spare gun parts and tackle further aft and help adjust the vessel’s trim until she had consumed some of her own stores to compensate for it.
    He was changing into his seagoing coat, with its faded lace and dull buttons, when Herrick entered the cabin and reported he had brought fifteen new men from the hulks.
    â€œWhat was it like?”
    Herrick sighed. “It was a sort of hell, sir. I could have got treble the number, a whole company of ’em if I’d been able to bring their women and wives, too.”
    Bolitho paused as he tied his neckcloth. “ Women? In the hulks?”
    â€œAye, sir.” Herrick shuddered. “I hope I never see the like again.”
    â€œVery well. Sign them on, but don’t give them anything to do just yet. I doubt they’ve the strength to lift a marlin spike after being penned up like that.”
    A midshipman appeared in the open door.
    â€œMr. Davy’s respect, sir.” His eyes darted around the cabin, missing nothing. “And the anchor’s hove short.”
    â€œThank you.” Bolitho smiled. “Next time stay awhile, Mr. Penn, and have a better look.”
    The boy vanished, and Bolitho looked steadily at Herrick.
    â€œWell, Thomas?”
    Herrick nodded firmly. “Aye, sir. I’m ready. It’s been a long wait.”
    They climbed up to the quarterdeck together, and while Herrick moved to the forward rail with his speaking trumpet, Bolitho stood aft, a little apart from the others who were gathered restlessly at their stations.
    Clink, clink, clink, the capstan was turning more slowly now, the men’s backs bent almost double as the hull pulled heavily on the anchor.
    Bolitho looked at the master’s untidy shape beside the double wheel. He had four helmsmen. He was taking no chances, it seemed. With the helm, or his new captain’s skill.
    â€œGet the ship under way, if you please.” He saw Herrick’s trumpet moving. “Once clear of this local shipping we will lay her on the larboard tack and steer sou’-west by west.”
    Old Mudge nodded heavily, one eye hidden beyond the headland of a nose.
    â€œAye, aye, sir.”
    Herrick yelled, “Stand by on the capstan!” He shaded his eyes to peer up at the masthead pendant. “Loose heads’ls!”
    The answering flip and clatter of released canvas made several new men peer round, confused and startled. A petty officer thrust a line into a man’s hand and bellowed, “’Old it, you bugger! Don’t stand there like a bloody woman!”
    Bolitho saw a bosun’s mate right forward astride the bowsprit, one arm circling above his head as the cable grew stiffer and more vertical beneath the gilded water-nymph.
    â€œHands aloft! Loose tops’ls!”
    Bolitho relaxed slightly as the nimble-footed topmen swarmed up the ratlines on either beam. No sense in rushing it this first time. The watching eyes ashore could think what they liked. He’d get no thanks for letting her drive ashore.
    â€œMan the braces!”
    Herrick was hanging over the rail, his trumpet moving from side to side like a coachman’s blunderbuss.
    â€œLively there! Mr.