But just to look at her was breathtaking. Again she was dressed in white, against which her skin seemed golden by contrast. The gown was cut very low across her breasts, and around her neck she wore a double-headed Aztec bird with trailing tail feathers, which Rhodes had knowledgeably identified as rubies.
As she turned her head to speak with her guests the ruby tails danced between her breasts, and Bolitho swallowed another glass of claret without realizing what he had done.
Colpoys was already half drunk and was describing in some length to his lady companion how he had once been caught in a woman’s chamber by her husband.
Palliser on the other hand seemed unchanged, eating steadily but sparingly, and careful to keep his glass always half filled. Rhodes was less sure of himself now, his voice thicker, his gestures more vague than when the meal had begun. The surgeon held his food and drink very well, but was sweating badly as he tried to listen to the halting English of a Portuguese official and answer a question from the man’s wife at the same time.
Dumaresq was incredible. He turned nothing away and yet seemed completely at ease, his resonant voice reaching along the table to keep a lagging conversation alive or to arouse one of his worse for wear officers.
Bolitho’s elbow slipped from the table and he almost fell forward amongst the decimated dishes. The shock helped to steady him, to realize just how badly the drink had taken effect. Never again. Never, never again.
He heard Egmont announce, “I think, gentlemen, if the ladies are about to withdraw, we should transfer to a cooler room.”
Somehow Bolitho managed to get to his feet in time to assist the wrinkled lady from her chair. She was still chewing as she followed the others through a door to leave the men at their ease.
A servant opened another door and waited for Egmont to lead his guests into a room which looked out over the sea. Thankfully, Bolitho walked on to the terrace and leaned on a stone balustrade. After the heat of the candles and the power of the wine the air was like water from a mountain stream.
He looked at the moon and then across the anchorage where the lights from Destiny’s open gun-ports glittered on the water as if the ship was burning.
The surgeon joined him by the balustrade and said heavily, “ That was a meal of substance, my boy!” He belched. “Enough to feed a village for a month. Just imagine it. All that way from France or Spain, no expense spared. When you consider some people are lucky to get a loaf of bread, it makes you wonder.”
Bolitho looked at him. He had thought about it, although not from the point of injustice. How could a man like Egmont, a stranger in this foreign land, make so much wealth? Enough to obtain anything he wanted, even a beautiful wife who must be half his age. The double-headed bird about her throat was gold, a fortune in its own right. Was that part of the Asturias’s treasure? Egmont had known Dumaresq’s father, but had obviously never met his son before. They had barely spoken, when you thought about it, and when they had it seemed to be through one of the others, light and trivial.
Bulkley leaned forward and adjusted his spectacles. “There’s a work-hungry master, eh? Can’t wait for the morning tide.”
Bolitho turned and looked at the anchorage. His practised eye soon discovered the moving vessel, in spite of the queasiness in his stomach.
A vessel under way, her sails making a flitting shadow against the riding lights of other anchored craft as she headed out into the roadstead.
Bulkley said vaguely, “Local man, must be. Any stranger’d go aground here.”
Palliser called from the open doorway. “Come in and join us.
Bulkley chuckled. “Always a generous fellow when it’s someone else’s cellar!”
But Bolitho remained where he was. There was enough noise coming from the room anyway, laughter and the clink of glasses, and Colpoys’ voice rising higher and higher above the rest. Bolitho knew his absence would not be noticed.
He walked along the moonlit terrace, letting the sea air cool his face.
As he passed another room he heard Dumaresq’s voice, very close and very insistent.
“I did not come all this way to be fobbed off with excuses, Egmont. You were in it up to the neck right from the beginning. My father said as much before he died.” The contempt in his voice was like a whip. “My father’s ‘gallant’ first lieutenant who held off when he was sorely needed!”
Bolitho knew he should draw back, but he could not move. The tone of Dumaresq’s voice seemed to chill his spine. It was something which had been pent-up for years and now could not be restrained.
Egmont protested lightly, “I did not know. You must believe me. I was fond of your father. I served him well, and always admired him.”
Dumaresq’s voice was muffled. He must have turned away with impatience, as Bolitho had seen him do often enough aboard ship.
“Well, my father, whom you so much admired , died a pauper. But then, what could you expect for a discarded sea-captain with one arm and one leg, eh? But he kept your secret, Egmont, he at least understood the meaning of loyalty! This could be the end of everything for you.”
“Are you threatening me, sir? In my own home? The Viceroy respects me, and will soon have something to say if I choose to complain!”
“Really?” Dumaresq sounded dangerously calm. “Piers Garrick was a pirate, of gentle birth maybe, but a bloody pirate for all his manners. If the truth had leaked out about the Asturias, even his letter of marque would not have saved his neck. The treasure ship put up a good fight, and Garrick’s privateer was severely damaged. Then the Don struck his colours, probably did not realize that Garrick’s hull was so badly shot through. That was the worst thing he ever did in his life.”
Bolitho waited, holding his breath, fearful that the sudden silence meant they had somehow discovered his presence.
Then Dumaresq added quietly, “Garrick scuttled his own command and took control of the Asturias . He probably butchered most of the Spaniards, or left them to rot somewhere where they could not be found. It was all made so simple for him. He sailed the treasure ship into this port on some excuse or other. England and Spain were at war, Asturias would be allowed to remain here for a short while, outwardly to effect repairs, but really to prove she was afloat after Garrick’s alleged encounter with her.”
Egmont said shakily, “That is surmise.”
“Is it? Let me continue, and then you shall decide if you intend to call for the Viceroy’s aid.”
His voice was so scathing that Bolitho could almost feel pity for Egmont.
Dumaresq continued, “A certain English ship was sent to investigate the loss of Garrick’s vessel and the escape of the treasure which should rightfully have been a King’s prize. That ship was commanded by my father. You, as his senior, were sent to take a statement from Garrick, who must have realized that without your connivance he was for the gallows. But his name was cleared, and while he gathered up his gold from where he had hidden it after destroying the Asturias, you resigned from the Navy, and quite mysteriously rose to the surface right here in Rio where it all began. But this time you were a rich man, a very rich man. My father, on the other hand, continued to serve. Then in ’ 62 , when he was with Rear-Admiral Rodney at Martinique, driving the French from their Caribbean islands, he was cruelly wounded, broken for life. There is a moral in that, surely?”
“What do you want me to do?”
He sounded dazed, stunned by the completeness of Dumaresq’s victory.
“I shall require a sworn testimony to confirm what I have just said. I intend to enlist the Viceroy’s aid if need be, and a warrant will then be sent from England. The rest you can well imagine for yourself. With your statement and the power invested in me by His Majesty and their lordships, I intend to arrest Sir Piers Garrick and take him to England for trial. I want that bullion, or what is left of it, but most of all I want him! ”
“But why do you treat me like this? I had no part in what happened to your father at Martinique. I w
as not then in the Navy, you know that yourself!”
“Piers Garrick was supplying weapons and military stores to the French garrisons at Martinique and Guadeloupe. But for him my father might have been spared, and but for you, Garrick would not have had the chance to betray his country a second time!”
“I—I must have time to think, to . . .”
“It has all run out, Egmont. All thirty years of it. I require to know Garrick’s whereabouts and what he is doing. Anything you can tell me about the bullion, anything. If I am satisfied, I will sail from here and you shall not see me again. If not . . .” He left the rest unsaid.
Egmont said, “Can I trust you?”
“My father trusted you. ” Dumaresq gave a short laugh. “Choose.”
Bolitho pressed his shoulders against the wall and stared up at the stars. Dumaresq’s energy was not merely inspired by duty and an eagerness for action. Hate had kept him sifting vague information, hate had made him hunt down the key which would unlock the mystery surrounding Garrick’s rise to power. No wonder the Admiralty had selected Dumaresq for the task. The added spur of revenge would put him leagues ahead of any other captain.
A door banged open and Bolitho heard Rhodes singing and then protesting as he was dragged bodily back into the room.
He walked slowly along the terrace, his mind reeling from what he had heard. The enormity of the secret was unsettling. How could he go about his duties without giving away what he had discovered? Dumaresq would see through him in seconds.
He was suddenly completely sober, the dullness gone from his mind like a sea mist.
What would become of her if Dumaresq carried out his threat?
He swung angrily on his heel and made his way towards the open doors. When he entered he realized that some of the guests had already gone, and the commandant of the batteries was bowing almost to the floor as he swept his hat across his corpulent belly.
Egmont was there with his wife, his face pale but otherwise impassive.
Dumaresq too seemed as before, nodding to the departing Portuguese, kissing the gloved hand of the chandler’s lady. It was like seeing two different people from the ones he had overheard just a few rooms away.
Dumaresq said, “I think my officers are unanimous in their delight at your table, Mr Egmont.”
His glance settled on Bolitho for a second. No more, but Bolitho sensed the question as if it had been shouted aloud.
“I hope we can repay your kindness. But duty is duty, as you will know from experience.”
Bolitho glanced round, but nobody had noticed the sudden tension between Egmont and the captain.
Egmont turned away and said, “We will say good-night, gentlemen.”
His wife came forward, her eyes in shadow as she held out her hand to Dumaresq.
“It is good-morning now, no?”
He smiled and kissed her hand. “You are a delight to see at any hour, ma’am.”
His gaze lingered on her bared bosom, and Bolitho flushed as he recalled what Dumaresq had said about the girl who had watched their carriage.
She smiled at the captain, her eyes clear now in the candlelight. “Then I think you have seen enough for one day, sir!”
Dumaresq laughed and took his hat from a servant while the others made their farewells.
Rhodes was carried bodily from the house and laid in a waiting carriage, a blissful smile on his face.
Palliser muttered, “Damned disgrace!”
Colpoys, whose pride was the only thing which prevented his collapsing like Rhodes, exclaimed thickly, “A fine night, ma’am.” He bowed and almost fell over.
Egmont said tersely, “I think you had better go inside, Aurora, it grows damp and chill.”
Bolitho stared at her. Aurora. What an exquisite name. He retrieved his hat and made to follow the others.
“Well now, Lieutenant, have you nothing to say to me?”
She looked at him as she had the first time, her head slightly on one side. He saw it in her eyes, the dare, the challenge.
“I am sorry, ma’am.”
She held out her hand. “You must not apologize so often. I wish we had had more time to speak. But there were so many.” She tossed her head and the ruby tails flashed on her bosom. “I hope you were not too bored?”
Bolitho realized that she had removed her long white glove before she offered her hand.
He held her fingers and said, “I was not bored. I was in despair. There is a difference.”
She withdrew her hand, and Bolitho thought he had ruined everything by his clumsiness.
But she was looking at her husband who was listening to Bulkley’s parting words. Then she said softly, “We cannot have you in despair, Lieutenant, now can we?” She looked at him steadily, her eyes very bright. “It would never do.”
Bolitho bowed and murmured, “May I see you?”
Egmont called, “Come along, the others are leaving.” He shook Bolitho’s hand. “Do not delay your captain. It does not pay.”
Bolitho walked out to one of the waiting carriages and climbed inside. She knew and understood. And now, after what he had overheard, she would need a friend. He stared blindly into the darkness, remembering her voice, the warm touch of her fingers.
“Aurora.” He started, realizing he had spoken her name aloud.
But he need not have bothered, his companions were already fast asleep.
She was twisting in his arms, laughing and provoking him as he tried to hold her, to feel the touch of her bare shoulder against his lips.
Bolitho awoke gasping in his cot, his head throbbing wildly as he blinked at the lantern above his face.
It was Yeames, master’s mate, his eyes curious as he watched the lieutenant’s confusion, his reluctance to let go of a dream.
Bolitho asked, “What time is it?”
Yeames grinned unsympathetically. “Dawn, sir. The ’ands is just turnin’ to to ’olystone and scrub down.” He added as an afterthought, “The cap’n wants you.”
Bolitho rolled out of his cot and kept his feet well apart on the deck for fear of falling. The brief respite on Egmont’s cool terrace had gone, and his head felt as if it contained a busy anvil, while his throat tasted vile.
Dawn, Yeames had said. He had not been in his cot for more than two hours.
In the next cabin he heard Rhodes groaning as if in agony, and then yelping in protest as an unknown seaman dropped something heavy on the quarterdeck overhead.
Yeames prompted, “Better ’urry, sir.”
Bolitho tugged on his breeches and groped for his shirt which had been tossed in one corner of the tiny space. “Trouble?”
Yeames shrugged. “Depends wot you mean by trouble, sir.”
To him Bolitho was still a stranger and an unknown quantity. To share what he knew, merely because Bolitho was worried, would be stupid.
Bolitho found his hat, and tugging on his coat he hurried through the wardroom and blundered aft towards the cabin.
The sentry called, “Third lieutenant, sir! ” and Macmillan, the captain’s servant, opened the screen door as if he had been waiting behind it.
Bolitho stepped through into the after cabin and saw Dumaresq by the stern windows. His hair was awry, and he looked as if he had not found time to undress after his return from Egmont’s house. In a corner by the quarter windows, Spillane, the newly appointed clerk, was scratching away with his pen, trying to show no concern at being called at such an early hour. The other two present were Gulliver, the master, and Midshipman Jury.
Dumaresq glared at Bolitho. “You should have come immediately! I do not expect my officers to dress as if they are going to a ball when I need them!”
Bolitho glanced down at his crumpled shirt and twisted stockings. Also, with his hat clamped beneath one arm, his hair was falling over his face, just as it had been on the pillow. Hardly suitable for a ball.
Dumaresq said, “During my absence ashore, your seaman Murray escaped. He was not in his cell,
but being taken to the sick-bay because he had complained about a severe pain in his stomach.” He turned his wrath on the master. “God damn it, Mr Gulliver, it was obvious what he was doing!”
Gulliver licked his lips. “I was in charge of the ship, sir. It was my responsibility. I saw no cause for Murray to suffer, an’ the man not yet found guilty as charged.”
Midshipman Jury said, “The message was brought aft to me, sir. It was my fault.”
Dumaresq replied tersely, “Speak when you are addressed. It was not your fault, because midshipmen do not have responsibility. Neither do they possess the wit or the brains to be in a position to say what this or that man shall do!” His eyes trained round on Gulliver again. “Tell Mr Bolitho the rest.”
Gulliver said harshly, “The ship’s corporal was escorting him when Murray pushed him down. He was outboard and swimming for the shore before the alarm was raised.” He looked downcast and humiliated at having to repeat his explanation for a junior lieutenant’s benefit.
Dumaresq said, “So there it is. Your trust in that man was wasted. He escaped a flogging, but when he is taken he will hang.” He glanced at Spillane. “Note it in the log. Run.”
Bolitho looked at Jury’s dismay. There were only three ways for a man to quit the Navy, and they were noted as R, D, or DD, Run implied desertion, D stood for discharged. Murray’s next entry would be the last. Discharged—Dead.
And all because of a watch. And yet, in spite of the disappointment over his trust in Murray, Bolitho was strangely relieved at what had happened. The punishment for a man he had known and liked, who had saved Jury’s life, was no longer a threat. And its aftermath of suspicion and bitterness had been averted.
Dumaresq said slowly, “So be it. Mr Bolitho, you will remain. The others may carry on.”
Macmillan closed the door behind Jury and Gulliver. The master’s shoulders were stiff with resentment.
Dumaresq asked, “Hard, you are thinking? But it may prevent weakness later on.”
He calmed as only he could, the rage falling away without apparent effort.
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