In the King's Name by Alexander Kent Read Free Book Online Page B

splicing nearby, and glanced at him only briefly as he passed. As if he were a stranger.
    Only two days ago, but he had relived every moment. He should have been prepared. Harry Drummond, the bosun, must have been warning him.
    â€œYou’ve got your feet firmly on the first step of the ladder, Dave. Obey orders smartly an’ without question, an’ you might go higher!” He had grinned. “Like me!”
    Tucker had witnessed more than a few floggings since he had joined his first ship as a mere boy. The Articles of War were read aloud by every captain; no individual could plead ignorance of them.
    But he could still feel the shock.
    When the pipe had called all hands to witness punishment, Rowlatt, the master-at-arms, had pulled him aside and handed him the familiar red baize bag containing the “cat.” He could even have been smiling. “First time for everything, my lad!”
    Tucker realised he had reached the crosstrees almost without noticing the dangerous part of the climb. He knew the lookout well; they had often shared this precarious perch. He came from York, and Tucker had always wanted to know how he had found his way into a King’s ship.
    He said now, “I remember when the cap’n gave you his own glass when you came aloft!” He nudged Tucker’s arm. “Been a bad lad, have you?” And laughed.
    Tucker trained the telescope on the rough bearing, the sun lancing from the sea, stinging and blurring his vision. He knew the sun was not to blame. And he was grateful beyond any words.
    He focused the lens slowly, his body timed to the movement of the mast, which swayed as if completely separate from the hull beneath. Perhaps the lookout was mistaken, or his eyes were dazzled from hours of staring at the empty sea in its ever-changing moods. Tucker tensed and murmured, “Got you!”
    But for the man from Yorkshire’s keen eyesight, they would have missed it altogether. A small vessel, possibly a schooner but now mastless and low in the water, the only sign of movement the torn remnants of her sails.
    He handed the telescope to the lookout. “There she is. What’s left of her.”
    â€œAbandoned.” The lookout passed the telescope back. “No boats on board.”
    Tucker leaned over and looked at the deck below. Nobody appeared to be gazing up at the foremast now, but Squire would want to know. And the captain … He remembered the emotionless voice.
One dozen lashes
. How had
he
felt about it, if he had felt anything?
    He slung the telescope across his shoulder and dug his foot into the first ratline.
    The lookout said, “Thanks,” and lifted his hand. “Don’t lose any sleep.” Something in his voice made Tucker turn back. “The bastard deserved it!”
    Lieutenant Squire was waiting and listened to his report and the description of the abandoned vessel without interruption, then said, “Nothing we can do. But the captain will need to know about it. I’ll take you to him.”
    Midshipman Walker piped up, “He’s coming now, sir!”
    Adam waited without comment until Tucker had repeated his description, and said, “We’ll alter course and intercept. It might tell us something.”
    Squire bit his lip, a habit only others noticed. “Could be dark when we find her, sir.” He glanced up at the masthead pendant. “If she’s still afloat.”
    Bolitho stared across the open sea, and then back at him. “At least we will have tried.” He turned toward the companion. “Chartroom. Tell the first lieutenant.”
    Squire touched his hat, and beckoned to Midshipman Walker. “You heard what the captain said, boy. So go to it!”
    He heard Bolitho’s voice on the companion ladder, speaking with the surgeon, either about the wounded man or the one who had stabbed him. All the same to a sawbones …
    But only one man made the real decisions, and he