Sealed Orders (The Fighting Sail Series, #11) by Bond Alaric

Author:Bond, Alaric
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Age of Sail, Historical Nautical Fiction, Fighting Sail series, Fighting Sail, Napoleonic Wars, Royal Navy, Cape Town, St Helena
Publisher: Old Salt Press LLC
Published: 2018-08-05T00:00:00+00:00

Part Three

1.

On the few occasions that Banks had met and spoken with Commodore Sir Home Riggs Popham, he had always considered him pleasant and gentlemanly enough, if undeniably excitable. His movements were quick and jerky; he seemed to think faster than he could talk, constantly changing the course of conversation or challenging seemingly indisputable points, and all the time there was the impression that he might break into hysterical laughter at any moment. But on that particular day, and in the clean, orderly yet somewhat bare surroundings of his office, the man was excelling himself.

“The two we have examined to date are well loaded,” he enthused, his eyes sparking with life. “Mainly silks and spices of course, but worth a fair deal, and we have great hope for the others.”

Banks sat stone-faced and said nothing. He had left Portsmouth under Admiralty Letter, which meant no share of any prizes they took would be going to an Admiral. Though Commander-in-Chief, Popham remained a fellow Commodore so surely had no claim. Such things were for others to decide, however, and he had no intention of raising an objection now; especially as the man opposite would not be easy to argue with.

“And the corvette will repair well; she shall make a tidy command for an aspiring officer.” The thought seemed to strike a chord with Popham and his eyes flashed. “Tell me, Sir Richard, how are repairs progressing with Mr King's frigate?”

“Well, I believe,” Banks replied. “Damage to the tophamper is currently being addressed, they are only awaiting a t'gallant mast that must be cut down to fit.”

“Splendid, splendid. And the vessel, she pleases him?”

“So I understand. He undoubtedly gets the best from her.”

“Fellow did well – damned well,” Popham declared. “I would that there were more like him. Still, we must make do with what we have, what? I assume he will be back at sea forthwith?”

Banks blinked; he had just explained Mistral's need for a topgallant mast. One had been located and the work on it would not take more than a day or so, with slightly less to see the spar in place, but Popham seemed happy to disregard such technicalities.

“As soon as his ship is ready, yes,” he finally confirmed.

“Good, then I might impart more news,” Popham announced suddenly as another thought occurred. “An American brig called here recently; the Elizabeth – you will see her anchored under the fort.” Now Popham's eyes grew distant. “My wife's name, don't you know?” he added and Banks shook his head a little awkwardly.

“I am a lucky man indeed,” Popham continued unaware. “With a wife who compensates for all that is frail in friends and malignant in enemies.”

There was a pause, which Banks gathered to be unusual in conversations with the Commodore. “You were speaking of a brig, sir?” he prompted.

“Indeed, Captain Waine, the American – fine fellow, you must meet him,” Popham continued, his usual mode of speech returning. “He has offered me his vessel and full support; says he will

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