Stand Into Danger Read Online Free PDF Page B

commanded the ship’s marine contingent, made a splash of scarlet as he shook Bolitho’s hand and drawled, “Charmed, m’dear fellah.”
    The surgeon was round and jolly-looking, like an untidy owl, with a rich aroma of brandy and tobacco. There was Samuel Codd, the purser, unusually cheerful for one of his trade, Bolitho thought, and certainly no subject for a portrait. He had very large upper teeth and a tiny receding chin, so that it looked as if half of his face was successfully devouring the other.
    Colpoys said, “I hope you can play cards.”
    Rhodes smiled. “Give him a chance.” To Bolitho he said, “He’ll have the shirt off your back if you let him.”
    Bolitho sat down at the table next to the surgeon. The latter placed some gold-rimmed glasses on his nose. They looked completely lost above his red cheeks.
    He said, “Pork pie. A sure sign we are soon to leave here. After that”—he glanced at the purser—“we will be back to meat from Samuel’s stores, most of it condemned some twenty years ago, I daresay.”
    Glasses clinked, and the air became heady with steam and the smell of food.
    Bolitho looked along the table. So this was what wardroom officers were like when out of sight of their subordinates.
    Rhodes whispered, “What did you make of him?”
    â€œThe captain?” Bolitho thought about it, trying to keep his memories in their proper order. “I was impressed. He is so, so . . .”
    Rhodes beckoned Poad to bring the wine jug. “Ugly?”
    Bolitho smiled. “Different. A bit frightening.”
    Palliser’s voice cut through the conversation. “You will inspect the ship when you have eaten, Richard. Truck to keel, fo’c’sle to taffrail. What you cannot understand, ask me. Meet as many of the junior warrant officers as you can, and memorize your own divisional list.” He dropped one eyelid to the marine but not quickly enough for Bolitho to miss it. “I am certain he will wish to see that his men measure up to those he so skilfully brought us today.”
    Bolitho looked down as a plate was thrust before him. There was little of the actual plate left visible around the pile of food.
    Palliser had called him by his first name, had even made a casual joke about the volunteers. So these were the real men behind the stiff attitudes and the chain of command on the upper deck.
    He raised his eyes and glanced along the table. Given a chance he would be happy amongst them, he thought.
    Rhodes said between mouthfuls, “I’ve heard we’re sailing on Monday’s tide. A fellow from the port admiral’s office was aboard yesterday. He is usually right.”
    Bolitho tried to remember what the captain had said. Loyalty. Shelve all else until there was time for it, when it could do no damage. Dumaresq had almost echoed his mother’s last words to him. The sea is no place for the unwary.
    Feet clattered overhead, and Bolitho heard more heavy nets of stores being swayed inboard to the twitter of a call.
    Away from the land again, from the hurt, the sense of loss. Yes, it would be good to go.
    True to Lieutenant Rhodes’ information, His Britannic Majesty’s Ship Destiny of twenty-eight guns made ready to weigh anchor on the following Monday morning. The past few days had gone so swiftly for Bolitho he thought life might be quieter at sea than it had been in harbour. Palliser had kept him working watch-on, watch-off with hardly a break. The first lieutenant took nothing at face value and made a point of questioning Bolitho on his daily work, his opinions and suggestions for changing some of the men around on the watch and quarter bills. If he was swift with his sarcasm, Palliser was equally quick to put his subordinate’s ideas to good use.
    Bolitho often thought of Rhodes’ words about the first lieutenant. After a command of his own. He would certainly do his best