The Admirals' Game by David Donachie Page B

taken the potentially damning depositions never introduced at the trial, while he had ensured the man appointed as prosecutor was not onlyincompetent, but one well disposed towards any captain accused of pressing seamen.
    Hotham came out of his reverie and spoke. ‘First we must get Lord Hood to agree the necessity. I doubt he will cavil if I offer to oversee the action. Naturally, it will also be my duty to appoint the officers to both lead and execute it.’
    Looking into that bland face and those watery blue eyes, Ralph Barclay experienced a sudden feeling of alarm. Was he setting him up, with this proposed promotion, to lead the attack? Now he was unsure if John Pearce was the only person Hotham wanted rid of. Had he had sight of the note Parker had sent over that morning, presently nestling in Hotham’s coat pocket, he would have been even more concerned.

CHAPTER FOUR
    The jolly boat came at the appointed hour to take Emily Barclay back to HMS
Brilliant
, her floating home, with, as usual, young Martin Dent talking the whole way across the anchorage. Looking into his bright eyes and open cheerful countenance, albeit with a crooked nose, she experienced a pang of jealousy for a lad, not much younger than she, who seemed to enjoy such a carefree existence; at one time she was of a like nature. Reprising events these last few months it seemed as though the world had closed in around her. How distant home life now seemed, how far off the days when her major worry was how to persuade her financially constrained parents of the absolute necessity of a visit to the dressmaker.
    Perhaps her cares dated from the day it was made plain that her distant relation, Ralph Barclay, might make a suitable husband. That was something which could nothave been mooted had he not mentioned the possibility to her father, who no doubt, in turn, consulted her mother. How subtly it had been done, the insinuation into the proposal the fact that the house in which they all lived was entailed to the Barclay family, and since the parent had passed on, the rather severe-looking naval captain now had the right to claim the place as part of his inheritance; in short, if enforced, the family would be homeless.
    Matters were not pressed; she was, after all, a mere sixteen years old, but Ralph Barclay became a frequent visitor and on closer acquaintance his rather austere manner thawed. It was also made plain, and not only by her immediate family, that a naval captain, even one presently without a ship, was a decent catch for a girl with few prospects, given her parents’ dearth of means; while a husband of mature years was more likely to be and remain besotted, unlike callow youth, which was deemed capricious. Water wears away the hardest stone and Emily was, she now realised, far from granite in her reluctance. Time made what seemed mildly unpalatable possibly acceptable, until the point was reached where to turn down the actual proposal – an awkward moment for both parties – seemed to smack of ingratitude. From there matters had proceeded to the nuptials with seeming inevitability.
    â€˜Ahoy, Mr Pearce!’ called Martin Dent, as a racing cutter, manned by many more oars, overhauled them.
    Emily was lost in memory, and besides, facing forward, she had no idea in the busy part of the bay that they werebeing overtaken. For the second time in as many hours the name jolted her and she turned to see the named individual sat in the same place as she, by the stern.
    â€˜Ahoy, Martin!’ Pearce called back. ‘How’s my favourite rogue?’
    â€˜You been in the wars, Mr Pearce, you looks like a blackamoor.’
    Emily saw more than one face pinch at the way Martin was addressing John Pearce, who might have at one time been a lower-deck shipmate, but was now a man of rank. Yet she only had to look at Martin to see in his eyes a sort of happy hero worship, which again induced a burst of memory, this time truly