In Gallant Company Read Online Free Page A

were in dread of somebody, although at this moment it was hard to believe.
    The next dawn was slightly clearer, but not much. The wind held firm enough from the north-west, and the snow flurries soon gave way to drizzle, which mixed with the blown spray made the decks and rigging shine like dull glass.
    Bolitho had watched one ship or another get under way more times than he could remember. But it never failed to move and excite him. The way every man joined into the chain of command to make the ship work as a living, perfect instrument.
    Each mast had its own divisions of seamen, from the swift-footed topmen to the older, less agile hands who worked thebraces and halliards from the deck. As the calls shrilled, and the men poured up on deck through every hatch and companion, it seemed incredible that
Trojan
’s hull, which from figurehead to taffrail measured two hundred and fifteen feet, could contain so many. Yet within seconds the dashing figures of men and boys, marines and landmen were formed into compact groups, each being checked by leather-lunged petty officers against their various lists and watch-bills.
    The great capstan was already turning, as was its twin on the deck below, and under his shoes Bolitho could almost sense the ship stirring, waiting to head towards the open sea.
    Like the mass of seamen and marines, the officers too were at their stations. Probyn with Dalyell to assist him on the forecastle, the foremast their responsibility. Sparke commanded the upper gundeck and the ship’s mainmast, which was her real strength, with all the spars, cordage, canvas and miles of rigging which gave life to the hull beneath. Lastly, the mizzen mast, handled mostly by the afterguard, where young Quinn waited with the marine lieutenant and his men to obey Cairns’ first requirements.
    Bolitho looked across at Sparke. Not an easy man to know, but a pleasure to watch at work. He controlled his seamen and every halliard and brace with the practised ease of a dedicated concert conductor.
    A hush seemed to fall over the ship, and Bolitho looked aft to see the captain walking to the quarterdeck rail, nodding to old Bunce, the Sage, then speaking quietly with his first lieutenant.
    Far above the deck from the mainmast truck the long, scarlet pendant licked and hardened to the wind like bending metal. A good sailing wind, but Bolitho was thankful it was the captain and old Bunce who were taking her through the anchored shipping and not himself.
    He glanced over the side and wondered who was watching. Friends, or spies who might already be passing news to Washington’s agents. Another man-of-war weighing. Where bound? For what purpose?
    He returned his attention inboard. If half what he had heard was true, the enemy probably knew better than they did. Therewere said to be plenty of loose tongues in New York’s civil and military government circles.
    Cairns raised his speaking trumpet. ‘Get a move on, Mr Tolcher!’
    Tolcher, the squat boatswain, raised his cane and bellowed, ‘More ’ands to th’ capstan! ’
Eave
, lads!’
    He glared at the shantyman with his fiddle. ‘Play up, you bugger, or I’ll ’ave you on th’ pumps!’
    From forward came the cry, ‘Anchor’s hove short, sir!’
    â€˜Hands aloft! Loose tops’ls!’ Cairns’ voice, magnified by the trumpet, pursued and drove them like a clarion. ‘Loose the heads’Is!’
    Released to the wind the canvas erupted and flapped in wild confusion, while spread along the swaying yards like monkeys the topmen fought to bring it under control until the right moment.
    Sparke called, ‘Man your braces! Mr Bolitho, take that man’s name!’
    â€˜Aye, sir!’
    Bolitho smiled into the drizzle. It was always the same with Sparke.
Take that man’s name
. There was nobody in particular, but it gave the seamen the idea that Sparke had eyes everywhere.
    Again the hoarse