Read Online Relentless Pursuit by Alexander Kent - Free Book Online Page A

“I was sick, sir.”
    Williams said, “Speak up, boy!”
    Bellairs peered at his list. “The surgeon has passed you as fit for work.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWell, then.” Bellairs looked past him. “Do your work with a will and attend your duties, and you’ll have nothing to fear!”
    He strode aft and added, “He’ll soon learn, Mr Deighton.” He caught himself in time. He had almost said, we all had to.
    Deighton glanced back at the three figures with Williams. It was strange that the third lieutenant had not noticed it, he thought. The youth called Ede was not merely sick or feeling out of place. He was terrified.
    He put it from his mind. They were heading for Sierra Leone, and there was talk of the slave trade. And today he, Midshipman Richard Deighton, was being invited to the wardroom. Perhaps the first step . . .
    He thought of Ede again. Even when these same guns had roared out and men had been cut down in front of him, he had not been afraid. Not as he might have expected. A need to prove something, maybe? No, it went even deeper than that.
    But not like the youth named Ede. Deighton had been afraid of only one man. His own father.
    He thought suddenly of the way the captain had treated him when he had joined the ship at Malta. It had been like sharing something, as if . . .
    â€œI trust I am not tiring you too much, Mr Deighton?” Bellairs had turned to watch him.
    Deighton touched his hat.
    â€œReady, sir!”
    Bellairs strode on. He felt more like a lieutenant again.
    The meal in Unrivalled ’s wardroom was a surprisingly good one. The centrepiece was a saddle of mutton which had been brought aboard at the last moment before sailing, with a remarkably strong sauce which was one of the cook’s own inventions. The fresh bread from Devon and Cornwall had already been consumed, but ship’s biscuits, cheese and a variety of wines made it a lively occasion.
    As a young lieutenant, Adam had often wondered how a captain felt when he was invited to the wardroom. A guest in his own ship. Even now he was not sure, nor was he used to it. A small brig like his very first command, or an ugly bomb like those he had seen off Algiers was a much closer community. A frigate, despite the lack of space, preserved the same barriers and distinctions as a lordly ship of the line.
    Only at times like these, with the wine flowing at will, did you see the other side of the coin, the men behind the allotted ranks and roles. As varied as Cristie the sailing master, the true professional whose family had been raised in the same humble street as Lord Collingwood. O’Beirne the surgeon, stabbing the air through the drifting pipe smoke to emphasise the point in some Irish story he had been telling. He was a good surgeon, who had proved his worth several times over, after and during action at sea, or when dealing with the hundred and one accidents that befell even the most experienced seaman going about his work.
    Adam eased his back against the chair and knew he had eaten too much. It was nothing compared with his companions, more out of habit. As captain he could choose what and when he ate. Consuming too little was as dangerous as drinking too much, when there was nobody to enchourage or restrain you.
    He glanced down at his new coat, made by the same Plymouth tailor as the one he’d worn when Unrivalled had been commissioned. The one he had worn for that last fight with Triton. Part of the Bolitho legend, or a reckless indifference which might one day kill him?
    Either way, it was loose around his body, even though the soft-tongued tailor had insisted it had been cut to the original measurements. He had made it sound almost inconvenient.
    He heard shrill laughter from one of the three midshipmen, who had been invited for this special evening while their captain was present. It was the youngest, Hawkins, who was twelve years old. Unrivalled was his first