Band of Brothers Read Free Page A

clerk’s cabin consisted merely of the screens which separated it from the marines’ quarters and stores, and was devoid of ports; the only light came from vents above the door and two small lanterns. How Colchester coped with his letters and files was a mystery.
    It was now afternoon, and apart from a brief visit by a young midshipman who had hovered half in and half outside the screen door as a seaman had delivered a plate of biscuits and a jug of wine, they had seen nobody. The midshipman, whom Bolitho thought was about twelve years old, seemed almost too frightened to speak, as if he had been ordered not to confide in or converse with anyone waiting to face the Board.
    So young. I must have been like that in Manxman. It had been his first ship.
    Even now, Poseidon was evoking those memories. Constant movement, like a small town. The click of heels, the thud of bare feet, and the heavier stamp of boots. He cocked his head. The marines must have abandoned their ‘barracks’ to carry out drills on the upper deck, or some special ceremony. This was the flagship, after all.
    Dancer was on his feet again, his face almost pressed against the door.
    ‘I’m beginning to think my father was right, Dick. That I should have followed his advice and stayed on dry land!’
    They listened to the rumble of gun trucks, one of the upper deck twelve-pounders being moved. To train a new crew, or for care and maintenance. At least they were doing something.
    Dancer sighed and sat down again. ‘I was just thinking about your sister.’ He ran his fingers through his fair hair, a habit Bolitho had come to know and recognise. He was coming to a decision. ‘It was such a pleasure to meet her. Nancy … I could have talked with her for ages. I was wondering… .’
    They both turned as the door clicked open. Another seaman this time, but the same midshipman hovering at a distance, the white patches on his uniform very clean and bright in the filtered sunlight from a grating above his head.
    ‘Just come for this gear, sir.’ The seaman gathered up the plates and the wine jug, which was empty, although neither of them could recall drinking the contents.
    He half turned as the midshipman outside the door answered someone who was passing. Friends, or a matter of duty, it was not clear. But it was like a signal.
    He looked quickly at Dancer, then leaned over toward Bolitho.
    ‘I served with Cap’n James Bolitho, sir. In the old Dunbar , it was.’ He darted another glance at the door, but the voices were continuing as before. He added quietly, ”E were good to me. I said I’d never forget… .’
    Bolitho waited, afraid to interrupt. This man had served under his father. The Dunbar had been James Bolitho’s first command. Well before his own time, but as familiar to him as the family portraits. The seaman was not going to ask any favours. He wanted to repay one. And he was afraid, even now.
    ‘My father, yes.’ He knew Dancer was listening, but keeping his distance, possibly with disapproval.
    ‘Cap’n Greville.’ He leaned closer, and Bolitho could smell the heavy rum. ”E commands the Odin .’ He reached out as if to touch his arm, but withdrew just as quickly, perhaps regretting what he had begun.
    The young midshipman was calling, ‘Tomorrow at noon, John. I’ll not forget!’
    Bolitho said quietly, ‘Tell me. You can rest easy.’
    The ship named Odin was a seventy-four like Gorgon , and in the same squadron, and that was all he knew, except that it was important to this seaman who had once served his father.
    The plates and the jug clashed together and the man blurted out, ‘Greville’s bad, right the way through.’ He nodded to emphasise it. ‘ Right through! ’
    The door swung slightly and the young voice rapped, ‘Come along, Webber, don’t take all day!’
    The door closed and they were alone again. He might have been a ghost.
    Bolitho spread his hands. ‘Maybe I was wrong to let him speak like that. Because he