In the King's Name Read Online Free PDF Page A

was testing the breeching on one of the eighteen-pounders. Splicing where necessary; then it would be checked again before another drill. Trust and blame went hand in hand.
    He looked up at the taut spread of canvas; the captain had hinted that they would get the topgallant sails on her soon, probably during this watch. It was Bolitho’s decision. The nagging thought was always there.
Suppose it was mine?
    And how did Bolitho really feel about leaving the land so soon after the
Nautilus
mission, and, more importantly, his bride?
    Vincent had remained with
Onward
while her repairs were being completed, in command, and so unable to attend the wedding at Falmouth. But he had heard enough about it, and the rest he could imagine. Lowenna was not someone you could easily forget.
    â€œAh, I thought I would find you here, Mark. Always busy, keeping us all afloat, eh?”
    It was Murray, the surgeon, so light on his feet, like a dancer or a swordsman, although he was neither, as far as Vincent knew. Outwardly easy-going, and popular with most of the ship’s company, which was rare enough in his profession. For the most part surgeons were feared, even hated.
Butchers
…
    Murray was smiling quizzically. “And if it’s not too late to say it, a very Happy New Year to
you!
” They solemnly shook hands. He had a grip like steel, Vincent thought.
    Murray turned to gaze abeam, apparently untroubled by the hard sunlight. He had pale blue eyes, which seemed almost colourless in the glare, and his profile was narrow-featured with a prominent hooked nose.
    â€œWhere are we, Mark? I’m damned if I know.”
    Vincent had to smile. Rapier-straight, that was Murray’s way. In the wardroom, and amidst the casual chatter and banter between various duties and watches, he would always come directly to the point.
    But his attention had been diverted as a seaman hurried by, and the moment was past.
    â€œHow’s the knee, Slater?”
    The man stopped as if startled, then he grinned. “Good as new, an’ thankee, sir!”
    Murray walked to the companion. He had some notes to make, and in any case Vincent was already pointing out something to another working party, the first lieutenant once more.
    He thought of the seaman to whom he had just spoken—Slater. Murray had always had a good memory for names, and was grateful for it. Some never seemed to acquire the ability, never bothered or did not care, but he knew from experience that it was often the only link they had. Slater had injured his knee in a fall during one of the sudden squalls off Biscay. It might have been a lot worse, and he might not have recovered.
    Just a name
. Even if you had to take off his leg.
    Midshipman Huxley scuttled past him with a folded chart, doubtless on some mission to see the captain. Another two weeks before landfall, maybe more. Bolitho left nothing to chance.
    Murray paused at the ladder and looked up as he heard feet thudding across the deck above. Probably a marine, he thought. Then someone shouted, “He’s just gone below!”
    He waited, suddenly tense, and a pair of legs appeared on the ladder, blotting out the glare.
    â€œBeg pardon, sir, there’s bin an accident in the galley! I was told—” He fell silent as Murray waved his hand.
    â€œI’ll fetch my bag.”
    It would only be a bruise or a burn.
But just in case
… He found that it amused him. He was more like the captain than he had believed.
    Tobias Julyan, the sailing master, watched as the captain, who had been leaning over the chart table, straightened his back and jabbed his brass dividers into a piece of cork. It would prevent them sliding away into some hidden corner if
Onward
was hit by another fierce squall.
    Adam said, “If the weather holds we should be able to fix our position.” A quick, impetuous grin. “And our progress, with more certainty.”
    Julyan glanced around the small chartroom. A