Man Of War

He took his first, portentous steps aft of the sentry, followed by his executive officer and Flowerdew. At once he saw how much bigger were his quarters – appreciably bigger than any he had occupied before. He saw the little oils on the bulkheads which he had had on Nisus, and the furniture, over and above what their lordships provided, which he had bought from the previous captain (who had been only too happy to strike a bargain and thus save himself the expense of shipping home). He could be confident, too, that his cherished silver, china and glass would be safely stowed.

‘Coffee, sir?’

‘Thank you, yes, Flowerdew.’

‘With your leave, sir,’ said the first lieutenant.

Peto took off his hat and placed it on the dining table (Cuban mahogany reflecting the sun through the stern lights like a mirror). ‘By all means, Mr Lambe. A half-hour’s recollection, and then, if you please, you may give me the ship’s states.’

‘Shall I assemble the old hands too, sir?’

It was the custom of the service for a new captain to ‘read himself in’ – to read his commission before the caretakers and old seamen aboard the ship.

‘By all means.’

The executive officer replaced his hat, touched the point and withdrew. ‘Ay-ay, sir.’

When Flowerdew came with coffee he found his captain sitting in his favourite leather chair. Peto had had it made many years before in Madeira, with pouches fixed on each arm: the left side for his clerk to place papers for attention, and the other for Peto himself to place them after his attention. But rather than attending to his clerk’s papers, Peto was staring out of the stern gallery, and with a look of considerable contentment. Flowerdew could not be surprised at this: if his captain mayn’t have a moment or two’s satisfaction in his new command then what did it profit a man to be in the King’s service?

‘Coffee, sir.’

Peto nodded, and raised his hand in thanks.

Flowerdew had no wish to intrude on the moment; there would be time enough to get back into the old routine. He placed the cup and saucer in Peto’s hand, and left the cabin quietly.

Peto reached inside his coat and took out Elizabeth’s letter. He had placed it within the leather binding of an old copy of Steel’s Mastmaking, Sailmaking and Rigging from which he had removed the pages, and wrapped it in an oilskin. Even thus preserved, the letter bore the signs of much consultation.

Horningsham