In Gallant Company by Alexander Kent Page A

Colonists and the craft they would be using to ferry powder and shot to a safe hiding place.
    There was a muffled bang, the sound blown away by the wind almost as quickly.
    A ball slashed along the nearest wave crest, and Stockdale said admiringly, ‘Not bad shooting.’
    A second ball ripped right above the schooner’s poop, and then Sparke, who had been standing rigidly like a statue, shouted harshly, ‘
There!
What did I tell you? She’s wearing! Going about, just as I said she would!’
    Bolitho watched the angle of the sloop’s yards changing, the momentary confusion of her sails before she leaned over on the opposite tack.
    Midshipman Weston exclaimed, ‘That was most clever of you, sir. I would never have believed . . .’
    Bolitho felt his lips crease into a smile, in spite of his anxiety. Sparke, no matter what mood he was in, had little time for crawlers.
    â€˜Hold your tongue! When I want praise from you I will ask for it! Now be about your duties, or I’ll have Balleine lay his rattan across your fat rump!’
    Weston scurried away, his face screwed up with humiliation as he pushed through some grinning seamen.
    Sparke said, ‘We will shorten sail, Mr Bolitho. Tell Balleine to close up his anchor party in case we have to let go in haste. See that our people are all armed, and that the gunner’s mate knows what to do when required.’ His eyes fell on Stockdale. ‘Get below and put on one of the coats in the cabin. Captain Tracy was about your build, I believe. You’ll not be near enough for them to spy the difference.’
    Bolitho gave his orders, and felt some relief at Sparke’s sudden return to his old self. Right or wrong, successful or not, it was better to be with the devil one knew.
    He came out of his thoughts as Sparke snapped, ‘
Really
, must I do everything?’
    As the evening gloom followed them towards the land,
Faithful
’s approach became more stealthy and cautious. The hands waited to take in the sails, or to put the schooner into the wind should they run across some uncharted sandbar or reef, and every few minutes the leadsman’s mournful chant from the forecastle reminded anyone who might still be in doubt of their precarious position.
    Later, a little before midnight,
Faithful
’s anchor splashed down, and she came to rest once again.

5
The Quality of Courage
    â€˜ IT’S GETTING LIGHTER, sir.’ Bolitho stood beside the motionless wheel and watched the water around the anchored schooner until his eyes throbbed with strain.
    Sparke grunted but said nothing, his jaw working up and down on a nugget of cheese.
    Bolitho could feel the tension, made more extreme by the noises of sea and creaking timbers. They were anchored in a strange, powerful current, so that the
Faithful
repeatedly rode forward until her anchor was almost apeak. If the tide fell sharply, and you could not always trust the navigational instructions, she might become impaled on one of the flukes.
    Another difference was the lack of order and discipline about the decks. Uniforms and the familiar blue jackets of the boatswain’s and master’s mates had been put below, and the men lounged around the bulwarks in varying attitudes of relaxed indifference to their officers.
    Only the marines, crammed like fish in a barrel, were still sealed in the hold, awaiting the signal which might never come.
    Sparke remarked quietly, ‘Even this schooner would make a fine command, a good start for any ambitious officer.’
    Bolitho watched him cut another piece of cheese, his hands quite steady as he added, ‘She’ll go to the prize court, but after that . . .’
    Bolitho looked away, but it was another jumping fish which had caught his eye. He must not think about
afterwards
. For Sparke it would mean almost certain promotion, maybe a command of his own, this schooner even. It was obviously uppermost in his mind