Command a King's Ship Read Free

out of the dock- yard two days ago, and she is now anchored at Spithead awaiting final provisioning.”
    â€œHow short?”
    Two words, but they left no room for manoeuvre.
    â€œFifty, sir. But my lieutenants are still trying to gather more.”
    The admiral did not blink. “I see. Well, it’s up to you. In the meantime I will obtain a warrant for you to take some ‘volunteers’ from the prison hulks in Portsmouth harbour.”
    Bolitho said, “It’s a sad thing that we must rely on convicts.”
    â€œThey are men. That is all you require at the moment. As it is, you will probably be doing some of the wretches a favour. Most of ’em were to be transported to the penal colonies in America. Now, with America gone, we will have to look elsewhere for new settle- ments. There is some talk of Botany Bay, in New Holland, but it may be rumour, of course.”
    He stood up and walked to a window. “I knew your father. I was saddened to hear of his death. While you were in the West Indies, I believe?” He did not wait for a reply. “This mission would have been well cut for him. Something to get his teeth into. Self- dependence, decisions to be made on the spot which could make or break the man in command. Everything a young frigate captain dreams of, right?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    He pictured his father as he had last seen him. The very day he had sailed for the Indies in Phalarope. A tired, broken man. Made bitter by his other son’s betrayal. Hugh Bolitho had been the apple of his eye. Four years older than Richard, he had been a born gambler, and had ended in killing a brother officer in a duel. Worse, he had fled to America, to join the Revolutionary forces and later to command a privateer against the British. It had been that knowledge which had really killed Bolitho’s father, no matter what the doctor had said.
    He tightened his grip on his glass. Much of his prize money had gone into buying back land which his father had sold to pay Hugh’s debts. But nothing could buy back his honour. It was for- tunate that Hugh had died. If they had ever met again Bolitho imagined he might kill him for what he had done.
    â€œMore claret?” Winslade seemed absorbed with his own thoughts. “I’m sending you to Madras. There you will report to . . . well, it will be in your final orders. No sense in idle gossip.” He added, “Just in case you cannot get your ship manned, eh?”
    â€œI’ll get them, sir. If I have to go to Cornwall.”
    â€œI hope that will not be necessary.”
    Winslade changed tack again. “During the American cam- paign you probably noticed that there was little co-operation between military and civilian government. The forces on the ground fought the battles and confided in neither. That must not happen again. The task I am giving you would be better handled by a squadron, with an admiral’s flag for good measure. But it would invite attention, and that Parliament will not tolerate in this uneasy peace.”
    He asked suddenly, “Where are you staying in London?”
    â€œThe George at Southwark.”
    â€œI will give you an address. A friend’s residence in St. James’s Square.” He smiled at Bolitho’s grave features. “Come, don’t look so gloomy. It is time you made your way in affairs and put the line of battle behind you. Your mission may bring you to eyes other than those of jaded flag officers. Get to know people. It can do nothing but good. I will send a courier with instructions for your first lieutenant.” He darted him a quick glance. “Herrick, I gather. From your last ship.”
    â€œYes, sir.” It sounded like “of course.” There had never been any doubt whom he would ask for if he got another ship.
    â€œWell then, Mr. Herrick it is. He can take charge of local matters. I’ll need you in London for four days.” He hardened