Relentless Pursuit by Alexander Kent Page B

noticed that one of them had been flogged. But he was sharing the moment with his mates. Men he knew and trusted. Perhaps the only ones.
    Varlo swung away, angry with himself. There was no comparison.
    â€œMr Varlo?” Adam Bolitho did not move nearer nor did he appear to lower his glass. “I suggest you go below and seek out a clean shirt.”
    Varlo saw Galbraith turn, suddenly stiff-backed. Surprised? Shocked? Then Bolitho did look at him, frowning. “It may be nothing, but we have to know what this vessel is about. Whatever we do, we shall be unpopular, both with those who are making money out of slavery and those who are losing it because of us.” He smiled. “You are the King’s man today, Mr Varlo. Dress accordingly.” He levelled the glass again. “My cabin servant will give you one of mine if you are in need. Believe me, I have not forgotten the failings of the wardroom messmen!”
    Varlo swallowed hard. He did not know what to say. Even Galbraith seemed taken aback.
    Varlo tried again. “I’m to board her, sir?”
    Bolitho’s jaw tightened, then he said, almost lightly, “Take the jolly-boat. I suggest you have Mr Rist with you. He is an old dog when it comes to a search!”
    He handed, almost tossed, the telescope to Midshipman Hawkins and said, “I saw her.” He glanced around the quarter-deck, embracing them. “ Albatroz, as I thought it might be!”
    Varlo had one foot on the companion ladder when the voice stopped him.
    â€œTake care. Be on your guard when you board her.”
    Varlo ducked his head below the coaming and did not hear Galbraith say, “I could go over to her, sir.”
    Nor did he hear the quiet but incisive answer.
    â€œPerhaps you are too experienced, eh, Leigh? My responsibility, remember?”
    He saw Jago at the weather ladder, one foot on the top step, his head turning as if searching for danger.
    Adam said, “A different war, my friends, but just as deadly to those who must fight it.”
    Afterwards Galbraith thought he had been speaking to himself. And the ship.

5 THE H AUNTED AND THE DAMNED
    A DAM B OLITHO could not recall how many times he had climbed into the weather shrouds to obtain a better view of the brigantine, or how long it had been since the other vessel had been sighted. He had played with the idea of going aloft where Sullivan, the eagle-eyed lookout, was watching the performance of both vessels in comparative comfort.
    But there was no time. It had to be soon. The wind had freshened still more, and he could feel the ease with which Unrivalled ’s hull was ploughing over and through the new array of shallow rollers.
    The wind was an ally; it was also a possible threat. Even without his small telescope, his spyglass as he had heard young Napier describe it, he had seen the brigantine standing away on the lar-board bow, not running but standing close to the wind, reaching into it, it seemed with every stitch of canvas spread, thrusting over as steeply as any vessel could lie under such pressure.
    He glanced now along the full length of his command. Men not employed at braces and halliards were watching, probably betting on the outcome of this unlikely contest. The new hands were openly excited; it was their first experience of ship-handling. The reasons were unimportant.
    He had to admit that Albatroz was being handled superbly. Her master knew exactly what he was doing. By clawing closer and closer to the wind he held on to a chance of coming about and cutting across Unrivalled ’s stern. If he succeeded, he could wait for darkness and with luck make a full escape. He had the whole ocean. On the other hand, if he ran south-east with a soldier’s wind he could not outpace the frigate, but if the wind grew any stronger it would be impossible to put down a boat with any hope of boarding her. He cannot fight us, so why must he run? Unless he has something to hide. A Portuguese