Stand Into Danger Read Online Free PDF Page A

his eyes busy on some men working on the forecastle.
    â€œI told you to obtain twenty men. Had I ordered you to bring six, how many would you have found? Two? None at all?” Surprisingly he smiled. “Six will do very well. Now be off to the captain. Pork pie today, so be sharp about your business or there’ll be none left.” He turned on his heel, yelling, “Mr Slade, what are those idlers doing, damn your eyes!”
    Bolitho ran dazedly down the companion ladder and made his way aft. Faces loomed past him in the shadows between the decks, voices fell silent as they watched him pass. The new lieutenant. Going to see the captain. What is he like? Too easy or too hard?
    A marine stood with his musket by his side, swaying slightly as the ship tugged at her anchor. His eyes glittered in the lantern which spiralled from the deckhead, as it did night and day when the captain was in his quarters.
    Bolitho made an effort to straighten his neckcloth and push the rebellious hair from his forehead.
    The marine gave him exactly five seconds and then rapped smartly on the deck with his musket.
    â€œThird lieutenant, sir! ”
    The screen door opened and a wispy-haired man in a black coat, probably the captain’s clerk, gave Bolitho an impatient, beckoning gesture. Rather like a schoolmaster with a wayward pupil.
    Bolitho tucked his hat more firmly beneath his arm and entered the cabin. After the rest of the ship it was spacious, with a second screen separating the stern cabin from the dining space, and what Bolitho took to be the sleeping quarters.
    The slanting stern windows which crossed the complete rear of the cabin shone in the sunlight, giving an impression of warmth, while the overhead beams and the various pieces of furniture rippled cheerfully in the sea’s reflections.
    Captain Henry Vere Dumaresq had been leaning against the sill, apparently peering down at the water, but he turned with unusual lightness as Bolitho entered through the dining space.
    Bolitho tried to appear calm and at ease, but it was impossible. The captain was like nobody he had ever seen. His body was broad and thickset, and his head stood straight on his shoulders as if he had no neck at all. It was like the rest of the man, powerful and giving an impression of immense strength. Little had said that Dumaresq was only twenty-eight years old, but he looked ageless, as if he had never changed and never would.
    He walked to meet Bolitho, putting each foot down with forceful precision. Bolitho saw his legs, made more prominent by his expensive white stockings. The calves looked as thick as a man’s thigh.
    â€œYou appear somewhat knocked about, Mr Bolitho.”
    Dumaresq had a throaty, resonant voice, one which would carry easily in a full gale, yet Bolitho suspected it might also convey quiet sympathy.
    He said awkwardly, “Aye, sir, I—I mean, I was ashore with the recruiting party.”
    Dumaresq pointed to a chair. “Sit.” He raised his voice very slightly. “Some claret!”
    It had the desired effect, and almost immediately his servant was busily pouring wine into two beautifully cut glasses. Then just as discreetly he withdrew.
    Dumaresq sat down opposite Bolitho, barely a yard away. His power and presence were unnerving. Bolitho recalled his last captain. In the big seventy-four he had always been remote, aloof from the happenings of wardroom and gunroom alike. Only at moments of crisis or ceremony had he made his presence felt, and then, as before, always at a distance.
    Dumaresq said, “My father had the honour of serving with yours some years back. How is he?”
    Bolitho thought of his mother and sister in the house at Falmouth. Waiting for Captain James Bolitho to return home. His mother would be counting the days, perhaps dreading how he might have changed.
    He had lost an arm in India, and when his ship had been paid off he had been told he was to be placed on the retired list