Absolute Honour Read Free Page B

few weapons against him, apart from the
more obvious jibes at his country. ‘Well, sir?’
    ‘I was wondering,’ Red Hugh continued, ‘how Mrs Link and all the little Links of Bristol – six of the small blessings, I believe
you said – how they received the joyous news of so many African siblings?’
    Jack only saw it because he happened to glance at Barabbas who was carrying the rum jug away. But that broken hand was raised,
just failing to conceal the briefest of smiles.
    The slave was swifter than the master. ‘Mrs Link …’ he gaped.
    ‘And all the little Links,’ Red Hugh repeated.
    Comprehension came. ‘You dare – dare! – to place my wife in the same breath as … as …’
    ‘But, to be sure, as you were mentioning your progeny so fondly yourself, I thought your help-meet must share in your joy.
Not to mention all the little Links.’
    Something about the repetition seemed to cause a dangerous mottling and puffing of the already purple jowls, and almost made
Jack laugh, for as the Captain began to push himself up from the table he looked like nothing so much as a deranged and dangerous
turkey.
    ‘Do … you know, sir, who you insult? I am God aboard my own ship. I could have you … make you … you would be stripped … whipped
…’
    Link had taken three steps forward, bringing his head level to the taller man’s chest, for Red Hugh had also risen. They could
not have been more opposite in shape – a bull terrier pressing into a heron. The Captain’s hand was shoved into the Irishman’s
immaculate waistcoat – how the man remained so clean when the rest of them were so grubby mystified Jack – and he appeared
to be engaged in wrenching off a pearl button. But as Jack watched, he saw the Irishman’s hand – its knuckles as covered in
red hair as the rest of him – drop onto the Captain’s wrist.
    ‘What do you—’ Link began, then stopped, his eyes suddenly quizzical, the purple of his face whitening.
    ‘Now, now,’ said Red Hugh softly. ‘Now, now.’
    There was no sudden movement, nothing seemed to happen. But the Captain suddenly pulled away, backwards, sitting down hard
into his chair. And as soon as he did, he vomited, spraying rum and salt cod across the table.
    It was Red Hugh who reached him first, an arm around his back. ‘Dear Captain, dear soul. Some water there, heh?’
    Water was brought, drunk, spewed up. The surgeon came and felt the Captain’s head. Link himself, gagging still, sat with filmy
eyes.
    ‘I think, my dears, that our leader requires his bed. A good signal to retire to ours, eh, young Jack?’
    Jack, who had hardly left off staring at Link, enjoying what he was seeing, nodded. While Barabbas, the purser and the surgeon
half-dragged Link across the room to his bunk, Jack and Red Hugh went to the cabin door accompanied by Lieutenant Engledue,
who was awake at last. He yawned. ‘I think I will seize the moment, too,’ he murmured, holding the door open for them. ‘Pity
about our noble leader. This Guinea rum, eh? It’s meant for the black traders, of course, who sell their kin to us. White
folk can hardly handle it. Give me a smooth Madeira any day.’
    With a knowing smile to Red Hugh and a bow to Jack, he headed to his own bunk.
    The Irishman pulled Jack the other way, towards the quarterdeck. ‘A breath, do you not think, lad?’
    The air, as it had been for several days now, was heavy and hot. The south-westerlies that had at first driven them fast across
the Atlantic, trailing a memory of icy New Found Land, had died on them two weeks before. Since then progress had been slow,
every sail hoisted to catch what little breeze there was. Moreover, it was clear that no one was quite sure exactly where
they were. Though he knew little of navigation, Jack was aware a midday sighting of thesun was required to gauge latitude. And the clouds that held the muggy heat upon them had prevented a view for several days
now.
    Still, after the