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

The surgeon has enough to do just now.”
    Morgan shook his head. “This is my new helper, sir. Chose him myself, too!” He nudged the broken glass delicately with his shoe. “I am not usually so mistaken.”
    Adam said to the boy, “What’s your name?”
    The boy looked from him to Morgan, who repeated, “Chose him myself, sir. From your own part of the world, see.”
    The boy seemed to find his voice. “Tregenza, zur. Arthur Tregenza. From Truro, zur.”
    His round, open face was a mass of freckles, which matched his ginger hair.
    It was a small thing, Adam thought, not even worth his attention. Morgan would deal with it. But for some reason it was important. The boy’s first ship … And from Truro, only a dozen miles from the old grey house in Falmouth. Where she would be waiting, wondering …
    Adam said, “You must tell me about yourself when we have more time. But take care until you know
Onward
‘s moods a little better. She can be a lively ship when she chooses!”
    Morgan was looking meaningly at the screen door, and the boy retreated.
    â€œWe’ll leave you in peace, sir. Maybe you’ll care to eat later?”
    â€œThank you. I would appreciate that.”
    Morgan was opening the door even as the Royal Marine sentry was lifting his musket to rap on the grating. Interrupted, he said awkwardly, “The first lieutenant,
sir!
”
    Morgan stood aside for Vincent to pass and shut the door behind him.
    Vincent said, “I just left the surgeon, sir.” He touched a stain on his sleeve. “Lord has lost a deal of blood. Even now …” He broke off, and added bitterly, “After all we’ve been through!”
    Adam sat down again. “Tell me, Mark. In your own time.”
    Vincent stared unblinkingly up at the skylight. “Lord had been sent to the galley to fetch something—he doesn’t remember what. Instead, he found the man—Lamont—stealing meat, putting large pieces into a bag. He was using one of the cook’s own knives.” He looked across the cabin for the first time. “You could shave with one of them.”
    Adam pictured the cook, Lynch, who had played his fiddle as
Onward
weighed anchor.
Sharp knives meant less waste
.
    Vincent held up his right forearm and ran a finger down it. “He cut Lord from wrist to elbow. Somebody wrapped a shirt round it. Then the surgeon came.”
    â€œAnd the one responsible—this man Lamont?”
    â€œJoined us at Plymouth, just before we left. Transfer from a ship awaiting overhaul. Or demolition. Able seaman, ten years’ service. It was all rather vague.”
    Adam watched the sea catching the sun again. A hard light, with no hint of warmth. “Lamont? Did you see him?”
    Vincent looked past him as spray spattered across the glass. “I was off watch at the time, sir. But someone heard Lord scream. The bosun was the first to reach the galley, and he called the surgeon. Otherwise …” A pause, then, as if to emphasise it,
“Aye
, I questioned Lamont. The master-at-arms was also present. Lamont claimed it was self-defense. I cautioned him. I knew you would want to know all the details.”
    â€œYou did right, Mark. You can carry on with your routine until we learn something useful.”
    Vincent picked up his hat. “I feel it was partly my fault, sir. I had no time to test Lamont’s worth when he was signed on.”
    The door closed and Adam stood watching the sea once more. Prepared, or resigned, and with an overriding sense of disappointment. He gazed around the cabin where he still sometimes relived the last fight, the thunder and crash of cannon and the crack of muskets. Men calling out in pain or in rage, helping one another. Dying. All that, and yet the barrier between himself and Vincent remained, an unseen enemy.
    He thought of Thomas Herrick, his uncle’s oldest and dearest friend, and