In the King's Name by Alexander Kent Page B

considers ‘em unsightly.”
    They reached the shade of the poop and Adam saw two Royal Marines, one a corporal, checking the contents of a box. He pitied them in their heavy uniforms, but to be dressed otherwise would be “unsightly” too, he guessed.
    The corporal cleared his throat and said, “Beg your pardon, sir?”
    Adam recognised him. “Price. Ginger Price, am I right?”
    The corporal nodded and grinned, momentarily at a loss for words. Then he said, “Not quite so ginger now, sir! But I ain’t never forgotten the old
Unrivalled!
”
    They were both gazing after the two captains as Tyacke said quietly, “You’re very like him, y’ know, Adam.” He did not need to elaborate, and Adam was moved by it.
    He had already noticed that the flag captain’s aiguillette Tyacke wore was quite tarnished compared with the other lace on his uniform coat. It might have been the same one he had been wearing on that fateful day.
    The cabin door was closed behind them, although Adam had not noticed any one in attendance. He must be more tired than he imagined.
    Tyacke turned, framed against the broad stern windows. “And the sword, too! I want to hear all about you!” His eyes rested briefly on the sealed orders, which had been laid on a table. He must be wondering how they might affect the entire command, or his own ship. His life.
    But all he said was, “From England.” Then he smiled freely. “It does me good to see you again—I can’t tell you how much. And I want to apologise for dragging you aboard when your anchor’d hardly touched the bottom. I wanted to meet and talk with you before anybody else hauled you away. You’ve been a flag captain yourself—you won’t need telling!” He unfastened his coat and slung it over the back of a chair, gesturing for Adam to do the same. “The admiral usually keeps to time, so we have a while to ourselves.”
    Adam hung his coat on another chair and loosened his sweat-stained shirt. Then he unfastened his sword, and hesitated as Tyacke said, “Here. Let me.”
    He held the sword with both hands for a long moment, then drew the blade a few inches, very slowly, before snapping it into the sheath. “Brings it all back, Adam. The man, too.” The scarred face softened at some private reminiscence. “‘Equality Dick.’ God bless him.”
    The door opened and a man in a white jacket peered in at them seriously. “You called, sir?”
    Tyacke smiled. “No, Simpson, but I will now,” and to Adam, “Sun’s over the yardarm. D’you fancy a brandy with me?”
    â€œThank you.” But as the door closed and the cabin servant departed, Adam said, “Suppose the admiral arrives?”
    â€œHe’s been ashore with some ‘important officials.’” Tyacke winked. “I imagine they’ll have shared a tot or two by this hour!”
    Adam looked uneasily at the door. “The admiral—is he easy to work with?” and Tyacke grimaced.
    â€œUnder
, more like.” He loosened his neckcloth. “He’s been in command for three months, and I know him no better than the first day.” He laughed shortly. “Except that he’s always
right
. You’ll know the situation?”
    Someone shouted, the sound muffled by deck and distance, and followed by the regular thump of feet. Marines.
    Tyacke shrugged. “We have a lot of Royals in Freetown. Here aboard
Medusa
, too. Just in case, as they say.” He leaned forward from his chair. “Didn’t someone tell me you were getting married?” He frowned. “Dear old John Allday, I think it was. When I was still a frigate captain like you, till I was shifted to this.” He waved one arm around the spacious cabin. “I’m luckier than many, I suppose. But …”
    The door swung open and the servant came in quietly and set