For My Country's Freedom by Alexander Kent Page B

enough aboard the flagship. Few of us ever met him. After he fell, many of our people wept, as if they had known him all their lives.”
    â€œI see.”
    Scarlett watched Tyacke’s sun-browned hands leafing through another book. “Did you ever meet him, sir?”
    Tyacke stared up from the table, his eyes very blue in the swaying lanterns.
    â€œLike you, I only saw him in the far distance.” He was touching his scarred face, his eyes suddenly hard. “At the Nile.”
    Scarlett waited. So that was where it had happened.
    Tyacke said abruptly, “I understand that the purser’s clerk has been doing the work of ship’s clerk as well as his own?”
    â€œYes, sir. We have been very short-handed, so I thought . . .” Tyacke closed the book. “Pursers and their clerks are necessary, Mr Scarlett. But it is sometimes a risk to give them too much leeway in ship’s affairs.” He pushed the book aside and opened another where he had used a quill as a marker. “Detail one of the reliable midshipmen for the task until we are fully manned.”
    â€œI shall ask the purser if . . .”
    Tyacke regarded him. “No, tell Mr Viney what you intend.” He paused. “I have also been going through the punishment book.”
    Scarlett tensed, with growing resentment at the manner in which the new captain was treating him.
    â€œSir?”
    â€œThis man, Fullerton. Three dozen lashes for stealing some trifle or other from a messmate. Rather harsh, surely?”
    â€œIt was my decision, sir. It was harsh, but the laws of the lower deck are harder than the Articles of War. His messmates would have put him over the side.” He waited for a challenge, but surprisingly Tyacke smiled.
    â€œI’d have offered him four dozen!” He glanced around and Scarlett studied the burned half of his face. He looks at me as the captain, but inwardly he must bleed at every curious stare.
    Tyacke said, “I will not tolerate unfair or brutal punishment. But I will have discipline in my ship and I will always support my officers, unless . . .” He did not finish it.
    He pushed some papers along the black and white chequered deck-covering and revealed a bottle of brandy.
    â€œFetch two glasses.” His voice pursued the first lieutenant as he pulled open a cupboard.
    Scarlett saw all the other carefully-stowed bottles. He had watched it being swayed up on a tackle just the previous day.
    He said cautiously, “Fine brandy, sir.”
    â€œFrom a lady.” Who but Lady Catherine would have taken the trouble? Would even have cared?
    They drank in silence, the ship groaning around them, a wet breeze rattling the halliards overhead.
    Tyacke said, “We will sail with the tide at noon. We will gain sea room and set course for Falmouth, where Sir Richard Bolitho will hoist his flag. I have no doubt that Lady Catherine Somervell will come aboard with him.” He felt rather than saw Scarlett’s surprise. “So make certain the hands are well turned out, and that a bosun’s chair is ready for her.”
    Scarlett ventured, “From what I’ve heard of the lady, sir . . .” He saw Tyacke tense, as if about to reprimand him. He continued, “She could climb aboard unaided.” He saw Tyacke nod, his eyes distant, for that moment only another man entirely.
    â€œShe could indeed.” He gestured towards the bottle. “Another thing. As of tomorrow, this ship will wear the White Ensign and masthead pendant accordingly.” He took the goblet and stared at it. “I know that Sir Richard is now an Admiral of the Red, and to my knowledge he has always sailed under that colour. But their lordships have decreed that if we are to fight, it will be under the White Ensign.”
    Scarlett looked away. “As we did at Trafalgar, sir.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAbout a coxswain, sir?”
    â€œD’you have anyone in