"Alexander Kent - Bolitho 20 Darkening Sea Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kent Alexander)

Then there was another interruption, when the second lieutenant had entered and informed his captain that it was all but time to call both watches and change tack.

Adam had acknowledged him with equal formality. "I shall come up directly, Mr. Martin." As the door had closed he had reached for his hat, and hesitated before adding, "On my birthday last year I was kissed by a lady."

Bolitho had asked, "Do I know her?"

Adam had already been listening to the trill of calls, the stampede of feet across the deck. "I think not, Uncle. I don't think anyone does." Then he had gone.

Bolitho made up his mind, and disdaining a boat cloak he found his way to the quarterdeck.

The smells, the creak of spars and timbers, the stress and strain of all the miles of standing and running rigging it made him feel very young again. He seemed to hear the admiral's response to his plea for a ship, any ship, when the war had broken out with Revolutionary France.

Still weakened by the fever which had cut him down in the Great South Sea, and with every officer clamouring for re-employment or a command, he had almost begged.

I am a frigate captain...

The admiral's cold answer, "Were a frigate captain, Bolitho," had wounded him for a long, long time.

He smiled, the strain dropping away from his face. Instead of a frigate they had given him Hyperion. "The Old Hyperion', about which they still yarned and even sang in the taverns and wherever sailors gathered.

He heard voices and thought he could smell coffee. That would be his mole-like servant Ozzard. Ozzard never seemed surprised by anything, although it was hard to read the man's thoughts. Was he glad to be going home? Or did he even care?

He stepped on to the wet planking and glanced at the dark figures around him. The midshipman of the watch was already whispering to the sailing master that their illustrious passenger was up and about.

Adam stood with Peter Sargeant, his senior lieutenant. Sargeant was probably already ear-marked for his own command, Bolitho thought. Adam would miss him if that happened.

Ozzard moved from the shadows with his coffee pot and presented him with a steaming mug. "All fresh, Sir Richard, but almost the end of it."

Adam crossed to his side, his dark hair ruffling in the damp wind.

"Rosemullion Head on the larboard bow, Sir Richard." The formality was not lost on either of them. "Mr. Partridge assures me we shall be off Pendennis Point by four bells of the forenoon watch."

Bolitho nodded and sipped the scalding coffee, recalling the shop to which Catherine had taken him in London's St. James's Street. She had bought fine coffee and good wines, cheeses, and other small luxuries he would never have troubled about. He watched the sunlight breaking across the rocky coast and the rolling green hills beyond. Home.

"That was a fast passage, Captain. A pity you cannot take time to come to the house."

Adam did not look at him. "I shall cherish that in my mind, sir."

The first lieutenant touched his hat. "I shall hoist our number when we are within range, sir." He was speaking to his captain, but Bolitho knew it was directed at himself.

He said quietly, "I think she will already know, Mr. Sargeant."

He saw Allday's powerful shape by one of the gangways. As if he could feel his gaze like something physical the big coxswain turned and glanced up at him, his tanned face breaking into a lazy grin.

We are here, old friend. Like all those other times. Still together.

"Stand by to wear ship! Man the braces! Hands aloft an' loose t'gallants!"

Bolitho stood by the rail. Anemone would make a perfect picture as she altered course.