Stand Into Danger by Alexander Kent Read Free Book Online

long-bows.
    The two senior midshipmen, Henderson and Cowdroy, were aft by the mizzen, while the remaining pair were assisting Rhodes by the foremast.
    Stockdale happened to be nearby and wheezed, “Good mornin’ for it, sir.”
    Bolitho smiled at his haltered features. “No regrets, Stockdale?”
    The big man shook his head. “Nah. I needs a change. This will do me.”
    Little grinned from across a long twelve-pounder. “Reckon you could take the main-brace all on yer own!”
    Some of the seamen were chattering or pointing out landmarks on the shore as the light began to strengthen.
    From the quarterdeck came the instant reprimand. “Mr Bolitho, sir, keep those hands in order! It is more like a cattle-fair than a man-o’-war!”
    Bolitho grimaced. “Aye, aye, sir!”
    He added for Little’s benefit, “Take the name of anyone who . . .”
    He got no chance to finish as Captain Dumaresq’s cocked hat appeared through the after companion and then with apparent indifference his bulky figure moved to one side of the quarterdeck.
    Bolitho whispered fiercely to the midshipmen, “Now listen, you two. Speed is important, but not more so than getting things done correctly. Don’t badger the men unnecessarily, most of them have been at sea for years anyway. Watch and learn, be ready to assist if one of the new hands gets in a tangle.”
    They both nodded grimly as if they had just heard words of great wisdom.
    â€œStanding by forrard, sir!”
    That was Timbrell, the boatswain. He seemed to be everywhere. Pausing to put a new man’s fingers properly around a brace or away from a block so that when his companions threw their weight on it he would not lose half of his hand. He was equally ready to bring his rattan cane down with a crack on somebody’s shoulders if he thought he was acting stupidly. It brought a yelp of pain, and unsympathetic grins from the others.
    Bolitho heard the captain say something, and seconds later the red ensign ran smartly up to the peak and blew out in the wind like painted metal.
    Timbrell again. “Anchor’s hove short, sir!” He was leaning over the beak-head, peering intently at the current as it swirled beneath the bowsprit.
    â€œStand by on the capstan!”
    Bolitho darted another glance aft. The place of command. Gulliver with his helmsmen, three today at the big double wheel. Taking no chances. Colpoys with his marines at the mizzen braces, the midshipman of the watch, and the signals midshipman, Henderson, still staring up at the wildly flapping ensign to make sure the halliards had not fouled. With the ship about to leave port, it would be more than his life was worth.
    At the quarterdeck rail, Palliser with a master’s mate, and slightly apart from them all, the captain, stout legs well braced, hands beneath his coat-tails, as he stared the full length of his command. To his astonishment, Bolitho saw that Dumaresq was wearing a scarlet waistcoat beneath his coat.
    â€œLoose heads’ls!”
    The men up forward stirred into life, an unwary landmen almost getting trampled underfoot as the great areas of canvas flapped and writhed in their sudden freedom.
    Palliser glanced at the captain. There was the merest nod. Then the first lieutenant lifted his speaking-trumpet and yelled, “Hands aloft there! Loose tops’ls. ”
    The ratlines above either gangway were filled with seamen as they rushed up like monkeys towards the yards while other fleet-footed topmen dashed on higher still, ready to play their part when the ship was under way.
    Bolitho smiled to hide his anxiety as Jury sped after the clawing, hurrying seamen.
    By his side Merrett said hoarsely, “I feel sick, sir.”
    Slade, the senior master’s mate, paused and snarled, “Then contain it! Spew up ’ere, my lad, an’ I’ll stretch you across a gun an’ give you six strokes to sharpen your