Command a King's Ship by Alexander Kent

”
    He leaned forward, his face suddenly intense. “But before Raymond and the others come amongst us, I must speak. I want your opinion about the wreck. I need it.”
    Bolitho walked to the bulkhead and touched the sword with his fingers.
    He said, “I have thought of little else, Señor. At first I believed the brigantine to be a pirate, her captain so confused or so in dread of his crew as to need a battle to keep them together. But I cannot believe it in my heart. Someone knew of our intentions.”
    The Spaniard watched him intently. “The French perhaps?”
    â€œMaybe. If their government is so concerned at our move- ments it must mean that when they sank the Fortunate they did indeed capture her despatches intact. It would have to be some- thing really vital to play such a dangerous game.”
    Puigserver reached for the wine bottle. “A game which did work.”
    â€œThen you, too, are of the same mind, Señor! ” He watched the man’s outline, paler now against the darkened windows.
    He did not reply directly. “If, and I am only saying if, this someone intended such a course of action, he will have known we were two ships in company.” He paused and then said sharply, “A reaction, Capitan! Quickly!”
    Bolitho said, “It would make no difference. He would realise that this is a combined mission. One ship without the other makes further progress impossible, and . . .”
    Puigserver was banging his hip with the goblet, wine slopping over his leg like blood.
    He shouted excitedly, “ And? Go on, Capitan! And what? ”
    Bolitho looked away and replied firmly, “I must return either to England or to Teneriffe and await further orders.”
    When he looked again at the Spaniard he saw he was slumped back on the seat, his square features strained, his chest heaving as if from a fight.
    Puigserver said thickly, “When you came to Santa Cruz, I knew you were a man of thoughts and not merely of words.” He shook his head. “Let me finish. This man, these creatures, whoever they are, who would let my people die so horribly, want you to turn back!”
    Bolitho watched him, fascinated, awed by his strength.
    â€œWithout you being here, Señor, ” he looked away, “I would have had no option.”
    â€œExactly, Capitan. ”
    He peered at Bolitho over the rim of the goblet, his eyes shin- ing in the lantern light like tawny stones.
    Bolitho added, “By the time I returned to England, and new plans were made and agreed upon, something might have hap- pened in the East Indies or elsewhere which we could not control.”
    â€œGive me your hand, Capitan. ” He groped forward, his breath- ing sharper. “In a moment I will sleep. It has been a wretched day, but far worse for many others.”
    Bolitho took his hand, suddenly moved by Puigserver’s obvi- ous sincerity.
    The latter asked slowly, “How many have you in this little ship?”
    Bolitho pictured the riffraff brought aboard at Spithead. The ragged men from the prison hulks, the smartly-dressed ones fleeing from some crime or other in London. The gun captain with only one hand. All of them.
    He said, “They have the makings, Señor. Two hundred, all told, including my marines.” He smiled, if only to break the tension. “And I will sign on those of your men who have survived, if I may?”
    Puigserver did not seem to hear. But his grip was like iron as he said, “Two hundred, eh?”
    He nodded grimly. “It will be sufficient.”
    Bolitho watched him. “We go on, Señor? ”
    â€œYou are my capitan now. What do you say?”
    Bolitho smiled. “But you know already, Señor. ”
    Puigserver gave a great sigh. “If you will send that fool Raymond in to me, and your clerk, I will put my seal on this new undertaking.” His voice hardened. “Today I saw and heard many men die in fear and