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

`Oh, this an' that. Spirits and spices, silks and other such nonsense for them with too much money. Mr Pyke says we'll soon 'ave 'em by the 'eels.'
Dancer looked at him. 'Pyke?'
Hugh Bolitho pushed some goblets across a low table. `Pyke's my boatswain. Used to be a preventative officer himself before he got more sense and signed to wear the King's coat.' He held up his goblet. `Welcome, gentlemen.'
The nervous seaman named Warwick, who was also the cabin servant, carried in a lighted lantern and hung it carefully on a beam.
Bolitho had his goblet to his lips when he saw Dancer's eyes flash a quick warning. He looked down and saw a dark stain on Hugh's stocking. He had seen too much of it in the last year not to recognize blood. For an instant longer he imagined Hugh was injured, or had snared his leg climbing aboard. Then he saw his brother meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and need.
Feet thudded overhead, and then Hugh placed his goblet very carefully on the table.
`You will work watch-and-watch. Once we have cleared the headland we will run to the south'rd and find some sea-room. I have information, but not enough. Show no lights and pass no unnecessary commands. My people know their work, and most of them are ex-fishermen and '-'he like, as sure-footed as cats. I want to run these smugglers or wreckers to ground without delay, before it becomes catching hereabouts. It has happened in the past. Even in times of war the trade has been busy in both directions, they tell me.'
Gloag groped for his hat and went stooping towards the.door. `I'll get things ready, sir.'
Hugh glanced at Dancer. `Go with him. Learn your way around the deck. She's no Gorgon.' As Dancer made his way towards the door, his shadow swaying about with the pitching lantern, he added softly, `Or Sandpiper either, for that matter!'
Alone for the first time the brothers studied each other.
Bolitho thought he could see through Hugh's scornful guard. He was stiff with the authority of his first, if perhaps temporary, command. But at twentyone, with only himself to answer, that was understandable. But there was anxiety there also, a defensive hardness in his eyes.
He did not-have to wait for long.
Hugh said offhandedly, `You saw this stain? Pity. But can't be helped, I suppose. I can trust you to stay silent?'
Bolitho matched his mood, keeping his face and tone level and impassive.
`Need you ask?'
`No. I'm sorry.' He reached for the brandy and poured another goblet, the movement without conscious thought. `A matter I had to settle.'
`Here? In Falmouth?' Bolitho almost got to his feet. `What about Mother?'
Hugh sighed. `It was partly because of her. It was
Like a Bird
some fool who wanted revenge over another affair.'
`The aiair which had you removed from Laertes?T
'Yes.' His eyes were distant. `He wanted money. So I answered his insults in the only honourable way.'
`You provoked him.' He watched for some hint of guilt. `Then you killed him.'
Hugh took out his watch and held it to the lantern.
`Well, the second part is correct, damn him!'
Bolitho shook his head. `One day you'll put a foot wrong.'
Hugh smiled fully for the first time. It was as if he were glad, relieved to have shared his secret.
`Well, until that sad day, young Richard, there is work to be done. So get yourself on deck and rouse the hands. We'll up-anchor before we lose the light. I don't want to end up in splinters across St Anthony Head because of you!'
The weather had worsened considerably, and as Bolitho climbed up through the hatch he felt the punch of the wind like a fist. Figures bustled this way and that, bare feet slapping on the wet planking like so many seals. Despite the wind and soaking spray, the men wore only their checkered shirts and white, flapping trousers, and were apparently unmoved by the bitter weather.
Bolitho ducked aside as the jolly boat was swayed up and over the lee bulwark, showering the men who worked the tackles with more icy water. He saw the boatswain, Pyke, directing the operations until the boat was securely made fast on her tier, and could well imagine him as a revenue man. He had a furtive,
even sly, look, and was quite unlike any boatswain he had ever seen.
It would take some getting used to, he thought. Men everywhere, loosening belaying pins and checking the many flaked lines arid halliards as if expecting them to be frozen.
It would be dark early, and the nearest land looked indistinct and blurred, the ramparts at Pendennis and St Mawes already without shape or identity.
Gloag was shouting, `Three men to the tiller! She'll be lively as a parson's daughter when she comes about, lads!'
Bolitho heard someone laugh. That was always a good sign. Gloag might be fearsome, but he was quite obviously respected too.
Dancer said quickly, `Here comes our captain, Dick.'
Bolitho turned as his brother came on deck. In spite of the weather he was without a cloak or even a tarpaulin coat to protect himself. The lapels of his lieutenant's coat were very white in the dull murk around him, and he wore his cocked hat at a slightly rakish angle, like a figure in an unnamed painting.
Bolitho touched his hat. `The master informs me we are ready to get under way, sir.' He was surprised the formality came so easily. But it was the Navy speaking. Not one brother to another.
`Very well. Break out the anchor, if you please. Send the hands to their stations. We'll get the main and fore on her as soon as we weigh and see how she takes 'em. Once clear of the headland I'll want jib and tops'l set.'
Like a Bird
`Reefed, sir?'
The eyes steadied on him for a moment. `We shall see.'
Bolitho hurried towards the blunt bows. It seemed incredible that Avenger could set so much canvas on one mast and in this sort of wind.
He listened to the metallic clink of pawls as the men at the capstan threw their weight on the bars. He pictured the anchor, it's fluke biting into the sea bed, waiting to break free, free of the land. He often thought of it at times like this.
He jerked out of his thoughts as his brother called sharply, `Mr Bolitho! More hands to the mains'l! It will be fierce work directly!'
Gloag was banging his big hands together like boards. `Wind's backed a piece, sir!' He was grinning into the blown spray, his cheeks streaming. `That'll help !'
Bolitho climbed over unfamiliar gun tackles and thick snakes of cordage. Past unknown seamen and petty officers, until he was right above the stem. He saw the straining cable, jerking inboard through the hawse-hole as more men took the strain, while on either side of the stem the tide surged past as if the Avenger herself was already moving ahead.
The boatswain dashed forward to join him. `A good night for it, sir!' He did not bother to explain but made a circling motion with his fist and yelled, `Hove short, sir!'
Then everything seemed to happen as once. As the anchor started to drag free of the ground the hands on deck threw themselves to the big boomed main sail as if their lives depended on it. Bolitho had to jump clear as the foresail was broken free and started to billow into the wind, only to be knocked aside again as Pyke yelled, `Anchor's aweigh, sir!'
The effect was immediate and startling. With her fore and main filling out like mad things, and the deck canting steeply to the thrust of wind and current, the Avenger seemed to be sliding beam-on towards sure destruction.