Colours Aloft! Read Free Page A

aboard, Val, I want—”
    Keen glanced at him curiously. “He preceded you, Sir Richard.”
    Bolitho felt a great sense of relief, as he had of fear when Allday had been hacked down on that terrible day.
    It was quite dark between decks and Bolitho allowed his feet to guide him by instinct. The smells were like old friends. Tar, oakum, paint, damp canvas. Like the ship’s fabric itself.
    He nodded to the marine sentry and entered the stern cabin. A spacious dining table brought from Falmouth, the wine cabinet which followed him from ship to ship, and aft in the broad day cabin a fine carpet laid upon the black and white check canvas covering of the deck.
    Keen watched his reactions as little mole-like Ozzard, who had been aboard for several days, hurried from the sleeping space. He too watched as Bolitho walked slowly to The Chair.
    Bolitho had had it made in Falmouth. Belinda had disagreed about it and thought he should have something more elegant, as suited his position.
    Bolitho touched the high back, which, like the rest of the chair, was covered with dark green leather. It was soft as a woman’s skin under his hand.
    He handed his sword to Ozzard and sat down in the chair which would become so important when he could share none of his doubts and worries with his subordinates. Strong arms to rest on, a high back to shut out things or people when needed.
    Keen grinned. “Came aboard an hour before we quit Plymouth Sound.” Feet pattered overhead and Keen moved towards the door.
    Bolitho smiled, “Be off with you, Val. You’ve much to do. We shall speak later.”
    The door closed and he watched his cabin servant padding about with a tray and some glasses. Was Ozzard sorry to be leaving the security and safety of Falmouth? If so, he did not show it. Bolitho waited for Ozzard to place a glass of claret by his side and then withdraw to his pantry. A fine servant, dedicated even beyond his unfailing terror whenever a ship cleared for action. He was well read and full of surprises for one so small and mild. He had once been a lawyer’s clerk. It was said he had gone to sea to escape jail or worse. Like Allday, he was totally dependable.
    He glanced around the great cabin. Contre-Amiral Jobert must have sat here often enough in those other days. Must have cocked his head when he heard the lookouts cry out that they had sighted Achates.
    The other door opened and Yovell entered with the usual pack of letters under one arm.
    â€œGood day, Mr Yovell.”
    â€œGood morning, Sir Richard.”
    They smiled at one another like conspirators. For if Bolitho had gained a title, Yovell’s status had been raised from mere clerk to secretary. With his sloping, fat shoulders and small goldrimmed spectacles he looked like a prosperous merchant.
    Yovell had found a new clerk to assist him, a fresh-faced youth named John Pinkney, whose family had lived in Falmouth for many generations. Ozzard too had gained an assistant; his name was Twigg, but Bolitho had only seen him once when he had called at the house in Falmouth.
    He found he was on his feet and was pacing the cabin as if he was trapped.
    There was so much he had wanted to say to Belinda. There had been a strangeness between them since their visit to London. She loved him, but because of the difficult time she had had during Elizabeth’s birth there had been a barrier. A coolness. He could not be certain if—
    He looked up, angry without knowing why, as the sentry tapped his musket on the deck and called, “Admiral’s cox’n, sir! ”
    That marine would soon get to know that Allday came and went as he pleased.
    Allday came in and stood in the middle of the carpet, his head just beneath the skylight.
    He looked little changed, Bolitho thought, in his blue jacket with the special gilt buttons, and his nankeen trousers to mark him out as the admiral’s coxswain.
    â€œAll done, Allday?” Perhaps he would