‘Your commission, Richard. None better deserved!’
Bolitho saw his goblet being refilled. And still he could taste nothing.
It was here. The moment, the impossible step. He had seen some of the frigate’s midshipmen glancing over at him during their brief time together. All so young, like Sewell … although Sewell had seemed suddenly mature.
And his first appointment.
You are herewith directed and commanded, upon receipt of these orders
… The rest was blurred.
But it was a frigate, named
Destiny
.
Conway was saying, ‘I shall delay you no longer.’ He looked over at the desk. ‘Young Andrew Sewell has told me what you did for him. It helped him more than you can know. His father would have been obliged to you, had he been here himself to thank you.’
Bolitho stood up; there were voices in the outer cabin. He was grateful for the interruption, and so, possibly, was the captain.
He said, ‘Martyn Dancer was a great help to him, sir. They got on well together.’
Conway walked with him to the screen door, and impetuously put his arm around Bolitho’s shoulder. Afterwards, the cabin servant remarked that he had never seen Conway do anything like it, and it was never repeated.
Conway said, ‘Then my thanks are to you both.’ He looked again at the stern windows. ‘God be with you when you join
Destiny
,’ and he paused. ‘As a King’s officer.’
Out on the broad quarterdeck the air was still misty, but there was a gleam on the water, as if the sun were about to break through.
He would go to Falmouth and tell his mother and sister. It would have to be a brief visit, and he was glad of that also.
He looked around the familiar decks, and at the groups of seamen and marines.
This was the past. Ahead lay the new horizon.
“The wings of opportunity are fledged with the feathers of death.”
Sir Francis Drake