that was his name. A stooping, desiccated, humourless man: one of those he had met for the first time yesterday evening.
Morgan had placed a goblet on the table. “Cognac, sir. Came aboard today. The guardboat brought it.” He paused, and laid an envelope beside it.
Adam opened it and saw the ribbon, the same colour as the one she had given him, and her writing, like the letter he always carried.
From the Last Cavalier.
There was a smudge, kiss or tear. She was with him.
“Thank you.” He looked away sharply at the water astern, still reflecting the hard light. A few boats were moving or loitering nearby, friends, relatives, hoping for a glimpse or a wave. It would only make it worse when the anchor broke free and
Onward
put to sea. Worse than this? How could that be?
The sentry tapped his musket beyond the screen.
“Officer o’ th’ watch,
sir!
”
“That’ll be Mr Monteith, sir.”
Adam saw Morgan’s reflection briefly in the sloping glass windows. He was scowling. Then he hurried to the door.
He picked up the card and read it again before slipping it into his pocket.
Voices now beyond the screen. Monteith…When he had boarded
Onward
, the young lieutenant had been with the side party. And yesterday here in this cabin, with his fellow lieutenants and all the senior warrant officers. Young and very attentive, eager to answer questions about his duties, and today when he had been introduced to the admiral, different again. Anxious, almost shy.
He put down the goblet; it was empty. Monteith presented another face completely in the punishment book. There were several entries, mostly for trivial offenses, when a sharp reprimand from a senior seaman or a quick slap when nobody was looking would have sufficed. Nothing serious, but wrongly directed they could end at the gangway with two dozen lashes. Or worse. Vincent must have been aware of it, but had offered no comment when they had discussed the ship’s affairs.
Charge and command of captain.
It would always be the invisible line between them.
He shook himself mentally. He was letting it grow out of all proportion. He was too tired to think clearly.
“Mr Monteith wishes to have a word with you, sir.” Morgan was holding the door half open. It sounded like “insists.”
“My apologies, sir. I understood that the first lieutenant was here.” He bit his lip. “He left word that I was to call him if—”
Adam said, “As you can see, Mr Vincent is
not
here. Can I help?”
Morgan strode past, heading for his pantry, and said meaningfully over his shoulder, “If you need me, sir?”
Monteith pulled out the papers. “Two midshipmen have just come aboard.” He frowned slightly, his head on one side. “To join. They were overdue, and the first lieutenant wanted to be told when—
if
they made an appearance.”
Adam turned away. David had done it. After his experience he might have been forgiven for not wanting to return to sea. But he had recovered his strength and his resolve.
“I understand one of them has served with you before, sir?”
Adam took the papers and opened them. He could feel Monteith’s eyes flicking around the cabin, noting his captain’s untidy appearance, the empty glass on the table.
He knew he was being unfair, and said abruptly, “There has been flooding in Cornwall, roads blocked. It does happen.”
“Quite so, sir.” A pause. “But the other midshipman was already
in
Plymouth.”
Adam looked up from the papers, the fatigue suddenly gone. This visit was no accident. “Midshipman Huxley was delayed for personal reasons. The first lieutenant will know that.”
“As I thought, sir.” He dropped his eyes confidentially. “But as officer of the watch I considered it my duty to confirm it. The word is that Midshipman Huxley’s father is awaiting court martial.”
Beyond the door the sentry rapped his musket again.
“First lieutenant,
sir!
”
Morgan bustled past. “No peace, sir.”
The door opened on a
Elizabeth Moss
Jon Schafer
Irving Stone
Claire Delacroix
Allan Leverone
Michaelbrent Collings
Jill Sanders
Richard Kadrey
Jared Southwick
Tina Leonard