The Monsoon by Wilbur Smith Page A

watch-keeping officers. This was the main reason why he was putting in at Plymouth instead of hauling away directly to round Ushant on the French coast, cross the Bay of Biscay and head south for the bulge of the African continent and eventually for Good Hope. Plymouth was their home port, and Daniel and Aboli knew almost every man, woman and child in the town and surrounding countryside.
    “I can fill the watch-bill with the best men in England within a day of setting foot on the Plymouth dock,” Daniel had boasted to Hal, who knew it was true.
    “My uncle Ned sent word that he will be waiting for us there,” Wilson had said, to Hal’s satisfaction: he had set his heart on having Ned Tyler aboard the Seraph.
    Apart from the necessity of finding crew there were other reasons for this detour. Powder and shot were virtually unobtainable in London. The Irish war had led to the shortage of munitions and now, with a French war in the offing, the Admiralty was hoarding every barrel of powder and every round of shot. It had even embargoed the factories to take every scrap of their production.
    One of the warehouses Hal owned at the Plymouth docks was piled high with powder kegs and iron shot. He had stored these here in preparation for the last voyage of the Golden Bough, which he had been forced to abandon when Dorian’s mother had died and left him with a baby to care for. Although several years, old, the new powders Hal had stored did not deteriorate as fast as the older types and should still be in good condition.
    The final reason for the stop at Plymouth was that.
    Childs had passengers for him to convey to the Company’s factory at Bombay Island: they would be waiting for him in the port. Childs had not told him how many he was sending and Hal hoped they would be few. Accommodation was at a premium in any ship, even one of Seraph’s size, and some of his officers were bound to be evicted from their cabins to make space for them.
    So engrossed was Hal with all these problems that it seemed little time had passed before they had the Isle of Wight abeam. Then they were rounding Gara Point, heading down the Sound past Drake’s Island, and Plymouth Ho was opening before them. On shore, a few dozen idlers had seen the two fine ships coming down the Sound and had lined the waterfront to watch them tie up.
    Daniel stopped beside Hal and murmured, “Do you see that head of silver hair shining there like a beacon?” He pointed with his chin towards the quay.
    “You cannot miss it, can you now?”
    “Dear God, it’s Master Ned.” Hal laughed.
    “And that’s Will Carter with him. Ned must have laid a line on him,” Daniel agreed.
    “A good lad is our Will.
    With him as third and Ned as mate, looks like you’ve got all your watch-keepers, Captain, sir.” As soon as they tied up alongside Ned Tyler was the first on board, and Hal had to restrain himself from embracing him.
    “It’s good to see you, Mr. Tyler.”
    “Aye,” Ned agreed.
    “And she’s a pretty little ship you have under you, but she’s down in the bows and her sails look like a bunch of dirty shirts on washing day.”
    “You’ll have to see to that, then, won’t you, Ned?” Hal said.
    Ned nodded lugubriously.
    “Aye, that I will, Captain.” Despite the condition of the roads, Aboli had made good time down from London with the carriage and he was waiting on the dock, sitting on the box with the horses still in the traces. Hal gave orders to Daniel to begin bringing the powder down from the warehouse and to have the Seraph’s water-barrels offloaded onto the quay so that they could be reloaded with better attention to her trim, before he called the boys to join him and went to where Aboli waited with the horses. Guy followed his father dutifully, even with a certain amount of relief.
    On the other hand, Tom and Dorian climbed the gangplank onto dry land only after elaborate delaying tactics, including protracted farewells to all those members of