knife away, he sent Hall’s chair after it, kicking it from underneath him. As the purser dangled from his hair, shrieking as the roots began to part in weeping clumps, marines came running through the wardroom door, rifles in their hands. Alfie lifted Hall’s head up, smashed it into the table again and let him slide ignominiously to the floor. Only then did his own knees buckle and the swinging lanterns blur in his sight to floating clouds. Pride got him to a chair, where he could collapse, shaking like an opium addict in the throes of withdrawal, the cold black mouth of a marine rifle pressed to his temple.
Just possibly, he thought, he had got himself into very deep trouble, but he didn’t give a damn. That felt so much better.
John poured himself a glass of brandy and drank it down straight, watching the wake stretch out behind the ship, straight and seemly; a triumph of order against the chaos of the natural world. A foot dangled into his vision, and he recalled with annoyance that he had ordered the ship repainted. Fleeing from the Corsairs had taken them out into the Gulf of Sirte, where they were now making a wide circle in preparation for sailing back to Gibraltar.
By now the Dey would have repaired what could be repaired. Nor could it be assumed that all his fleet had been in the harbor to be destroyed. Undoubtedly his greater ships already patrolled the Sicilian Channel with a detailed description of the Meteor and a burning desire for vengeance. So John had given orders to change the Meteor ’s color-scheme. Instead of black with a faint red stripe, she gloried in a spring-like green, with port-lids like squares of pressed daffodils against her verdant sides.
The mortars he had ordered unbolted from the deck and brought below, since every last bomb had been fired. The rigging of the main mast he’d overhauled entirely, giving her a square main sail. With the addition of a new name painted on the stern they no longer looked like the bomb ketch Meteor , but like an entirely different class of vessel—the innocent brigantine Aetna , sweeping for small pickings off the shores of Sicily.
Although he nodded with satisfaction at the evidence of industry, the last thing he wanted was for some inquisitive tar to lower himself down and watch this interview through the windows . Gossip all over the ship! The strains of so small a community magnified any dissention out of all proportion. Hall’s unpopularity with the crew meant the rebuke he had to administer to Donwell would be all the more resented by the people. He could just imagine the factions forming, the ill words and blows, as the ship’s company that had so recently and so splendidly come together fell apart as men lined up behind captain or lieutenant, taking sides.
Putting the brandy glass carefully down, wedged between the logbook and a roll of charts, he closed the shutters over the diamond panes of the stern lights, shutting out Mediterranean sun and bright water. Let them see through planks of wood!
Yet his conscience quailed a little at the result, for the cabin seemed smaller, softer, more intimate in the smoky amber light that remained, still air filling with the smell of beeswax candles. When the expected knock came at the door he pulled at his neck-cloth nervously, feeling stifled. “Come!”
The door opened and at once Donwell’s presence filled the dim light. Beams of sunlight, finding their way around the edges of the shutters, striped his healed face and blazed from the bayonets and the silver buttons of the marines on either side of him.
Feeling his own pulse thud hollow and heavy in his throat, John recalled the patient hours they had spent together while Alfie recovered. Music, some idle talk and some mere sitting, watching one another, as if they expected a revelation which never came. He remembered how easily he fell into the habit of reading aloud from whatever book was to hand, while they both made wry comments about the
Just possibly, he thought, he had got himself into very deep trouble, but he didn’t give a damn. That felt so much better.
John poured himself a glass of brandy and drank it down straight, watching the wake stretch out behind the ship, straight and seemly; a triumph of order against the chaos of the natural world. A foot dangled into his vision, and he recalled with annoyance that he had ordered the ship repainted. Fleeing from the Corsairs had taken them out into the Gulf of Sirte, where they were now making a wide circle in preparation for sailing back to Gibraltar.
By now the Dey would have repaired what could be repaired. Nor could it be assumed that all his fleet had been in the harbor to be destroyed. Undoubtedly his greater ships already patrolled the Sicilian Channel with a detailed description of the Meteor and a burning desire for vengeance. So John had given orders to change the Meteor ’s color-scheme. Instead of black with a faint red stripe, she gloried in a spring-like green, with port-lids like squares of pressed daffodils against her verdant sides.
The mortars he had ordered unbolted from the deck and brought below, since every last bomb had been fired. The rigging of the main mast he’d overhauled entirely, giving her a square main sail. With the addition of a new name painted on the stern they no longer looked like the bomb ketch Meteor , but like an entirely different class of vessel—the innocent brigantine Aetna , sweeping for small pickings off the shores of Sicily.
Although he nodded with satisfaction at the evidence of industry, the last thing he wanted was for some inquisitive tar to lower himself down and watch this interview through the windows . Gossip all over the ship! The strains of so small a community magnified any dissention out of all proportion. Hall’s unpopularity with the crew meant the rebuke he had to administer to Donwell would be all the more resented by the people. He could just imagine the factions forming, the ill words and blows, as the ship’s company that had so recently and so splendidly come together fell apart as men lined up behind captain or lieutenant, taking sides.
Putting the brandy glass carefully down, wedged between the logbook and a roll of charts, he closed the shutters over the diamond panes of the stern lights, shutting out Mediterranean sun and bright water. Let them see through planks of wood!
Yet his conscience quailed a little at the result, for the cabin seemed smaller, softer, more intimate in the smoky amber light that remained, still air filling with the smell of beeswax candles. When the expected knock came at the door he pulled at his neck-cloth nervously, feeling stifled. “Come!”
The door opened and at once Donwell’s presence filled the dim light. Beams of sunlight, finding their way around the edges of the shutters, striped his healed face and blazed from the bayonets and the silver buttons of the marines on either side of him.
Feeling his own pulse thud hollow and heavy in his throat, John recalled the patient hours they had spent together while Alfie recovered. Music, some idle talk and some mere sitting, watching one another, as if they expected a revelation which never came. He remembered how easily he fell into the habit of reading aloud from whatever book was to hand, while they both made wry comments about the
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