cabin.
They stood facing each other, without speaking or moving, the sounds of rigging and sea distant, unintrusive.
‘Tell me, Andrew.’ Bolitho reached out to take his arm, and saw him flinch as if he expected another blow. ‘He struck you, and just before that… .’
He got no further.
‘No. It would only make things worse. D’you think I don’t know? What it’s like - really like?’
Bolitho felt the anger rising like fire. Egmont’s shock when he had burst into this cabin, and then as quickly, his recovery and arrogance. He could still feel Sewell’s arm; it was shaking. Fear? It went deeper than that.
He said, ‘I’ll come aft with you right now. Mr. Verling will listen. He has to. And in any case… .’
But Sewell was shaking his head.
‘ No .’ He looked at him directly for the first time. ‘It wouldn’t help.’ Then, quite firmly, he pried Bolitho’s fingers from his arm. ‘He would deny it. And … so would I.’
Someone was shouting; feet thudded across the deck overhead. He still held Verling’s telescope in his other hand. Nothing was making sense.
Sewell was fumbling with his coat, trying to fasten his buttons, not looking at him now. ‘You will be a good officer, Dick, a fine one. I see the way they respect you, and like you. I always hoped… .’
He moved abruptly to the door, and to the ladder beyond.
Bolitho stood very still, his anger giving way to a sense of utter defeat. Because of what he had just seen and heard, and because it mattered.
There were more shouts, and he found himself on the ladder as if it were an escape. But he kept seeing Sewell’s face, and his fear. He needed help. And I failed him .
On deck, it seemed nothing had happened, routine taking over as seamen jostled at their stations for making more sail. Hotspur had altered course again, the canvas shivering and cracking, the main and gaff topsails taut across the bulwark, throwing broken reflections across the water alongside.
‘ Loose tops’ls! Lively there!’
Verling called, ‘Give it to me!’ He seized the telescope and trained it across the weather bow. ‘Thought you’d fallen outboard. Where the hell were you?’ He did not wait for an answer or seem to expect one, and was already calling to men by the foremast.
Egmont was near the wheel, shading his eyes to peer up at the topsail yards. He glanced only briefly at Bolitho before returning his attention to the newly released sails as they filled and hardened to the wind. Disinterested. Bolitho heard Sewell’s voice again. He would deny it. And so would I .
‘All secure, sir!’ That was Tinker, eyes like slits as he stared at the small figures on the yards, groping their way back to safety.
Most of the sea was still hidden in darkness, but the sky was lighter, and in so short a time the vessel had taken shape and regained her personality around and above them, faces and voices emerging from groups and shadows.
Bolitho felt the deck plunge beneath him, exuberant, like the wild creature she was. Hotspur would make a fine and graceful sight even in this poor light, with all sails set and filled, the yards bending like bows under the strain.
‘Now that was something , Dick!’ It was Dancer, hatless, his fair hair plastered across a forehead gleaming with spray.
Verling said, ‘Send half of the hands below, Mr. Egmont. Get some food into them. And don’t be too long about it.’ His mind was already moving on. ‘Two good masthead lookouts.’ He must have sensed a question, and added, ‘One man sees only what he expects to see if he’s left alone too long.’ His arm shot out. ‘Mr. Bolitho, you stand by. I need some keen eyes this morning!’ He might even have smiled. ‘This is no two-decker!’
Bolitho felt his stomach muscles tighten. Even the mention of climbing aloft could still make his skin crawl.
Verling was saying, ‘Take my glass with you. I’ll tell you what to watch out for.’
Dancer said softly, ‘I hope
They stood facing each other, without speaking or moving, the sounds of rigging and sea distant, unintrusive.
‘Tell me, Andrew.’ Bolitho reached out to take his arm, and saw him flinch as if he expected another blow. ‘He struck you, and just before that… .’
He got no further.
‘No. It would only make things worse. D’you think I don’t know? What it’s like - really like?’
Bolitho felt the anger rising like fire. Egmont’s shock when he had burst into this cabin, and then as quickly, his recovery and arrogance. He could still feel Sewell’s arm; it was shaking. Fear? It went deeper than that.
He said, ‘I’ll come aft with you right now. Mr. Verling will listen. He has to. And in any case… .’
But Sewell was shaking his head.
‘ No .’ He looked at him directly for the first time. ‘It wouldn’t help.’ Then, quite firmly, he pried Bolitho’s fingers from his arm. ‘He would deny it. And … so would I.’
Someone was shouting; feet thudded across the deck overhead. He still held Verling’s telescope in his other hand. Nothing was making sense.
Sewell was fumbling with his coat, trying to fasten his buttons, not looking at him now. ‘You will be a good officer, Dick, a fine one. I see the way they respect you, and like you. I always hoped… .’
He moved abruptly to the door, and to the ladder beyond.
Bolitho stood very still, his anger giving way to a sense of utter defeat. Because of what he had just seen and heard, and because it mattered.
There were more shouts, and he found himself on the ladder as if it were an escape. But he kept seeing Sewell’s face, and his fear. He needed help. And I failed him .
On deck, it seemed nothing had happened, routine taking over as seamen jostled at their stations for making more sail. Hotspur had altered course again, the canvas shivering and cracking, the main and gaff topsails taut across the bulwark, throwing broken reflections across the water alongside.
‘ Loose tops’ls! Lively there!’
Verling called, ‘Give it to me!’ He seized the telescope and trained it across the weather bow. ‘Thought you’d fallen outboard. Where the hell were you?’ He did not wait for an answer or seem to expect one, and was already calling to men by the foremast.
Egmont was near the wheel, shading his eyes to peer up at the topsail yards. He glanced only briefly at Bolitho before returning his attention to the newly released sails as they filled and hardened to the wind. Disinterested. Bolitho heard Sewell’s voice again. He would deny it. And so would I .
‘All secure, sir!’ That was Tinker, eyes like slits as he stared at the small figures on the yards, groping their way back to safety.
Most of the sea was still hidden in darkness, but the sky was lighter, and in so short a time the vessel had taken shape and regained her personality around and above them, faces and voices emerging from groups and shadows.
Bolitho felt the deck plunge beneath him, exuberant, like the wild creature she was. Hotspur would make a fine and graceful sight even in this poor light, with all sails set and filled, the yards bending like bows under the strain.
‘Now that was something , Dick!’ It was Dancer, hatless, his fair hair plastered across a forehead gleaming with spray.
Verling said, ‘Send half of the hands below, Mr. Egmont. Get some food into them. And don’t be too long about it.’ His mind was already moving on. ‘Two good masthead lookouts.’ He must have sensed a question, and added, ‘One man sees only what he expects to see if he’s left alone too long.’ His arm shot out. ‘Mr. Bolitho, you stand by. I need some keen eyes this morning!’ He might even have smiled. ‘This is no two-decker!’
Bolitho felt his stomach muscles tighten. Even the mention of climbing aloft could still make his skin crawl.
Verling was saying, ‘Take my glass with you. I’ll tell you what to watch out for.’
Dancer said softly, ‘I hope
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