“I’ll not bother today,” Sharpe said.
Collier took him to the wardroom where he was named to a half-dozen officers, then back to the quarterdeck and aft, past the great double wheel, to a door that led directly into Captain Chase’s sleeping cabin. It was, as the captain had said, a small room, but it was paneled with varnished wood, had a canvas carpet on the floor and a scuttle to let in the daylight. Sharpe’s sea chest took up one wall, and Collier now helped him rig the hanging cot. “If you’re killed, sir,” the boy said earnestly, “then this will be your coffin.”
“Better than the one the army would give me,” Sharpe said, throwing his blankets into the cot. “Where’s the first lieutenant’s cabin?” he asked.
“Forrard of this one, sir.” Collier indicated the forward bulkhead. “Just beyond there, sir.”
“And the second lieutenant’s?” Sharpe asked, knowing that was where Lady Grace would be sleeping.
“Weather deck, sir. Aft. By the wardroom,” Collier said. “There’s a hook for your lantern there, sir, and you’ll find the captain’s quarter gallery is aft through that door, sir, and on the starboard side.”
“Quarter gallery?” Sharpe asked.
“Latrine, sir. Drops direct into the sea, sir. Very hygienic. Captain Chase says you’re to share it, sir, and his steward will look after you, you being his guest.”
“You like Chase?” Sharpe asked, struck by the warmth in the midshipman’s voice.
“Everyone likes the captain, sir, everyone,” Collier said. “This is a happy ship, sir, which is more than I can say for many, and permit me to remind you that captain’s supper is at the end of the first dogwatch. That’s four bells, sir, seeing as how the dogwatches are only two hours apiece.”
“What is it now?”
“Just past two bells, sir.”
“So how long till four bells?”
Collier’s small face showed astonishment that anyone should need to ask such a question. “An hour, sir, of course.”
“Of course,” Sharpe said.
Chase had invited six other guests to join him for supper. He could hardly avoid asking Lord William Hale and his wife, but he confided in Sharpe that Haskell, the first lieutenant, was a terrible snob who had flattered Lord William all the way from Calcutta to Bombay. “So he can damn well do it again now,” Chase said, glancing at his first lieutenant, a tall, good-looking man, who was bending close to Lord William and evidently drinking in every word. “And this is Llewellyn Llewellyn,” Chase said, drawing Sharpe toward a red-faced man in a scarlet uniform coat. “A man who does nothing by halves and is the captain of our marines, which means that if the Frogs board us I’m relying on Llewellyn Llewellyn and his rogues to throw them overboard. Is your name really Llewellyn Llewellyn?”
“We are descended from the lineage of ancient kings,” Captain Llewellyn said proudly, “unlike the Chase family, which, unless I am very much mistaken, were mere servants of the hunt.”
“We hunted the bloody Welsh out,” Chase said, smiling. It was plain that the two were old friends who took a delight in mutual insult. “This is my particular friend, Llewellyn, Richard Sharpe.”
The marine captain shook Sharpe’s hand energetically and expressed the hope that the ensign would join him and his men for some musketry training. “Maybe you can teach us something?” the captain suggested.
“I doubt it, Captain.”
“I could use your help,” Llewellyn said enthusiastically. “I’ve a lieutenant, of course, but the lad’s only sixteen. Doesn’t even shave! Not sure he can wipe his own bum. It’s good to have another redcoat aboard, Sharpe. It raises the tone of the ship.”
Chase laughed, then drew Sharpe on to meet the last guest, the ship’s surgeon, who was a plump man called Pickering. Malachi Braithwaite had been talking to the surgeon and he looked uncomfortable as Sharpe was introduced. Pickering, whose face was a mass of broken blood vessels, shook Sharpe’s hand. “I trust we never meet professionally, Ensign, for there ain’t a great deal I can do except carve you up and mutter a prayer. I do the latter very prettily, if that’s a consolation. I say, she does look better.” The surgeon had turned to look at Lady Grace who was in a low-cut dress of very pale blue with an embroidered collar and hem. There were diamonds at her throat and more diamonds in her black hair which was pinned so high that it brushed the beams of Chase’s cabin whenever she moved. “I hardly saw her when she was aboard before,” Pickering said, “but she seems a good deal more lively now. Even so, she’s unwelcome.”