"Bolitho 02 - Midshipman Bolitho & Avenger(txt)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kent Alexander)

`What is it?'
Bolitho sighed. `My brother has a quick temper. I think he has been in trouble over an affair.'
Dancer smiled. `In St James's there is always someone getting nicked or killed in duels. The King forbids it.' He shrugged. `But it goes on just the same.'
They helped each other to pack their chests again. Mrs Tremayne would only burst into tears if they asked her to do it, even at the promise of a quick return.
When they went downstairs again Hugh had disappeared.
Bolitho kissed his mother, and Dancer took her hand before saying gently, `If I never returned here, ma'am, this one visit would have been a great gift to me.'
Her chin lifted. `Thank you, Martyn. You are a good boy. Take care, both of you.'
Two seamen were at the gates, waiting to carry their chests to the boat.
Bolitho smiled to himself. Hugh had been that certain. Confident as ever. In control.
As they crossed the square by the inn Dancer exclaimed, `Look, Dick, the coach!'
They both stopped and stared at it as it rumbled off the cobbles and the horn gave a lively blare.
Back to Plymouth. It was even the same coachman and guard.
Bolitho gave a great sigh. `We had best get aboard the Avenger. I am afraid Mrs Tremayne's cooking has blunted my eagerness for duty.'
They turned towards the sea, and heads bowed made their way on to the jetty.
Midshipman Bolitho and the `Avenger'

3
Like a Bird

After a lively crossing to the anchored cutter Bolitho found the Avenger surprisingly steady for her size. Holding his hat clapped to his head in the icy wind, he paused by the small companionway while he studied the vessel's solitary mast and the broad deck which shone in the grey light like metal. The bulwarks were pierced on either beam to take ten sixpounders, while both forward and right aft by the taffrail he noticed additional mountings for swivel guns. Small she might be, but no slouch in a fight, he decided.
A figure loomed through a busy throng of working seamen and confronted the two midshipmen. He was a giant in height and girth, with a face so weatherbeaten he looked more like a Spaniard than any Briton.
He said loudly, ' 'Eard about you.' He thrust out a big, scarred hand. `Andrew Gloag, actin' master o' this vessel.'
Bolitho introduced Dancer and watched them together. The slim, fair midshipman, the great, unshakable figure in the patched blue coat. Gloag may have begun life in Scotland with a name like his, but his dialect was as Devonian as you could imagine.
`Better lay aft, young gennlemen.' Gloag squinted towards the shore. `We'll be weighin' presently, if the cap'n is anything to judge by.' He grinned, revealing several gaps in his teeth. `I 'opes you're not too much like 'im. I can't stand a brace o' you!' He laughed and pushed them towards the companion. `Get below an' see to yer gear.' He swung away, cupping his hands to bellow, `Look alive, you idle bugger! Catch a turn with that line or I'll skin you for supper!'
Bolitho and Dancer clambered breathlessly down a short ladder and groped their way to a small stern cabin, banging their heads more than once on the low deckhead beams. The Avenger seemed to enfold them with her own sounds and smells. Some familiar and some less so. She felt like a workboat more than a man-of-war. In a class all of her own. Like Andrew Gloag, whose loud voice carried easily through wind and stout timbers alike. A master's mate and acting master. He might never command the quarterdeck of a ship like Gorgon, but here he was a king.
It was hard to picture him working with Hugh. He thought suddenly of his brother, wondering, as he often did, why he felt that he never really knew him.
Hugh was changed in some ways. Harder, more confident, if that were possible. More to the point, he was unhappy.
Dancer pushed his chest into a vacant corner and sat on it, his head almost reaching one of the deck beams.
`What do you make of it all, Dick?'
Bolitho listened to the creak and groan of timbers, the rattle and slap of wet rigging somewhere overhead. It would get more lively once they cleared the Roads.
`Wrecking, smuggling, I believe the two always go hand in hand, Martyn. But the port admiral at Plymouth must have heard more than we, if he's so willing to send the Avenger.'
`I heard your brother say that he had lost his senior by putting him in a prize, Dick. I wonder what happened to the cutter's last commander?' He smiled. `Your brother seems to have a way of getting rid of people.' The smile vanished. `I am sorry. That was a stupid thing to say!'
Bolitho touched-his sleeve. `No. You're right. He does have that way with him.'
Oars thrashed alongside, accompanied by more curses and threats from Mr Gloag.
`Jolly boat's away again.' Bolitho grimaced. 'Hugh'll be coming aboard now.'
It took Lieutenant Hugh Bolitho longer than expected to return to his command. When he did arrive he was drenched in spray, grim-faced and obviously in ill humour.
In the cabin he threw himself down on a bench and snapped, `When I come aboard I expect to be met by my officers.' He glared at the midshipmen. `This is no ship of the line with ten men for each trivial task. This is. . . .' He swung round on the bench as a frightened looking seaman peered in at them. `Where the hell have you been, Warwick?' He did not wait for a reply. `Bring some brandy and something hot to go with it.' The man fled.
In a calmer tone he continued, `In a King's ship, no matter how small, you must always keep up an example.'
Bolitho said, `I'm sorry. I thought as we are only attached to your command. . . .'
Hugh smiled. `Attached, pressed, volunteered, I don't care which. You're both my officers until the word says otherwise. There's work to do.'
He looked up as Gloag came through the door, his great frame doubled over like a weird hunchback.
`Sit you down, Mr Gloag. We'll take a glass before we set sail. All well?'
The master removed his battered hat, and Bolitho saw with surprise he was quite bald, like a brown egg, with the hair at his neck and cheeks as thick as spunyarn as if to compensate for his loss.
Hugh said, `You will assume duties of second-incommand, Richard. Mr Dancer will assist you. Two halves to make the whole, eh?' He smiled at his joke.
Gloag seemed to sense the atmosphere and rumbled, `I 'eard that you took command of a brig, the pair of you, when your lieutenants were too sick or injured to be of use?'
Dancer nodded, his eyes shining. `Aye, sir. The Sandpiper. Dick took command like a veteran!'
Hugh said, `Good, here's the brandy.' Half to himself he added, `We want no heroes cluttering these decks, thank you.'
Like a Bird
Bolitho looked at his friend and winked. They had scored a small victory over Hugh's sarcasm.
He asked, `What about the smugglers, Mr Gloag?'