He said, `Thank you for your concern.'
The small head bobbed back and forth. `You should have been in these waters during the war. Independence, an ability to work beyond the reach of some admiral, eh? I think it would have fitted you well.'
Bolitho felt the servant refilling his glass. `I have come to speak with Muljadi.'
He tightened his grip on the glass. It had come out just like that, as if the words had been lying in his mind for months instead of seconds.
Le Chaumareys stared at him with amazement. `Are you insane? He would have you screaming for death in a moment, and I could not help you. No, m'sieu, it would be a lunatic thing even to think of.'
Bolitho said, `Then I will return to my ship.'
`But what of your Admiral Conway? His despatches? Is there nothing from him for me?'
`It would be pointless now.' Bolitho watched him warily. `Besides which, you are not here as a French captain, but as a subordinate to Muljadi's authority.'
Le Chaumareys took a deep swallow from his glass, his eyes slitted against the reflected sunlight from the windows.
He said abruptly, `Listen to me. Curb your impatience. As I have had to do, when I was your age, eh?' He looked around the cabin. `I have my instructions. I obey them, as you must yours. But I have served France well, and I am near finished in the Indies. Perhaps I made my services too valuable to be allowed home earlier, but that is as may be. I know these seas like my own face. During the war I had to live off the islands for food and shelter, for repairs, and to glean intelligence about your patrols and convoys. When I was told to continue in these same waters I resented it, but I suppose I was flattered also. I am still needed, eh? Not like many who fought so bravely and are now without bread.' He looked at Bolitho sharply and added, `As in your country, too, no doubt?'
Bolitho replied, `Yes. It is much the same.'
Le Chaumareys smiled. `Well then, my impetuous friend, we must not fight again! We are too much the same. Needed one minute, expendable the next!'
Bolitho said coldly, `Many have died because of your actions. But for our arrival at Pendang Bay all the garrison would have
I been killed, and you must know it. A Spanish frigate was des= troyed to delay our arrival, to allow this Prince Muljadi to give his piracy some sort of repute, to make him an ally of France, and a constant threat to peace.'
Le Chaumareys' eyes widened. `Well said. But I had no part in Nervion's destruction.' He held up one large fist. `Of course, I heard about it. I hear many things I do not like. That is why I brought the Spanish commandant here to parley for his garrison's safety. He was still the representative of his own King. He could agree to terms which but for your intervention would have given Muljadi certain rights in Pendang Bay.' He became very grave. `I did not know an attack would be launched the very moment I had left the bay! You have my word, as a French officer!’
'And I accept it.'
Bolitho tried to remain calm, but could feel the blood tingling in his veins like ice water. It was exactly as he had imagined. A set, calculated plan which had begun perhaps in Europe, in Paris and London, even Madrid, and which had almost worked. But for his decision to take Undine and the Nervion's few survivors to their destination, and Puigserver's arrival in Pendang Bay, the matter would be settled, and Le Chaumareys probably on his way home at last, his work done, and done well.
He heard himself say, `I have come to take the commandant back to his own kind. Don Luis Puigserver, the King of Spain's representative, will be expecting his return.' He hardened his tone. `Is Colonel Pastor still alive? Or is his death another thing you know of but did not approve?'
Le Chaumareys stood up and moved heavily to the quarter window.
`He is here. A prisoner of Muljadi's. In that ruin on the hill. He will never allow you to take him, dead or alive. His presence can still give legality to his demands. Can show that
England is unable to honour her word and protect the rights and citizens of Spain. A hard story to believe? But time and distance can make truth a mockery.'
`Then why would Muljadi fear to see me?' Bolitho watched him as he moved away from the window, his face lined and grim. `I'd have thought he would have been eager to throw his power in my face.'
Le Chaumareys walked across the cabin, the deck creaking under his corpulent frame. He halted by Bolitho's chair and looked directly into his eyes.
`It is I who fear foryou, Bolitho. Out here, in my Argus, I am Muljadi's arm, his reach. To him I am not merely a sea captain, but a symbol, a man who can spring his plans into reality. But beyond these timbers I cannot answer for your security, and that is the truth.' He hesitated, his eyes still on Bolitho's face. `But I see I am wasting time. You are determined, no?'
Bolitho smiled gravely. `Yes.'
Le Chaumareys added, `I have met many Englishmen in war and peace. Some I liked, many I hated. Few did I respect.' He held out his hand. `You I admire.' He smiled sadly. `A fool, but a brave one. That I can admire.'
He rang a bell and then gestured to the table. `And you eat nothing.'
Bolitho reached for his hat. `If what you say is true, then it would be wasted, eh?' He smiled, despite his tumbling thoughts. `And if not, I will have to content myself with salt pork in the future.'
A tall, lank-haired officer entered the cabin, and Le Chaumareys spoke to him swiftly in French. Then he picked up his own hat and said, `My senior lieutenant, Bolitho. I have changed my mind. I am coming with you.' He shrugged. `Curiosity, or to prove my original beliefs, I know not which. But without me you are a dead man.'
When they reached the quarterdeck Bolitho saw there was a boat already alongside, and that the gangways were filled with silent spectators. Having a good look, he thought grimly. A one-way journey, if he had miscalculated.
Le Chaumareys held his arm. `Listen to me. I am older, and, I expect, wiser than you. I can have you taken back to your ship. You will suffer no disgrace. In a year all this will be forgotten. Leave politics to those who daily dirty their hands without remorse.'
Bolitho shook his head. `In my position, would you?' He forced a smile. `Your face tells me what I need to know.'
Le Chaumareys nodded to his watching officers and then led the way to the entry port.
Bolitho glanced quickly along the gun deck, noting the fresh repairs to timbers and cordage. Where Undine had made her own challenge, and when he had felt the battle was nearly lost. It was an uncanny feeling to be walking with Argus's captain. More like compatriots than men who had so recently tried to destroy each other. If they met again after this, there could be no more truces.
The boat pulled steadily across swirling water towards the pier below the fortress, the French seamen watching Bolitho the whole time. Curious? Or merely seeing the face of an enemy?
Le Chaumareys spoke only once on the short crossing.
`Do not lose your temper with Muljadi. One sign and he will have you seized. He is without pity.'
`And what about your position here?'
The Frenchman gave a bitter smile. `He needs me, m'sieu.'
Once alongside the pier Bolitho gained a new understanding of the hatred he had seen earlier. With the French seamen surrounding him as an escort he was made to hurry up the steep slope towards the fortress, while on all sides voices rose in shouts and curses, and it was obvious that without Le Chaumareys' massive presence even the sailors would have been set upon.
The lower part of the fortress was little more than an empty shell, its courtyard littered with rushes and rags which the defenders and Muljadi's growing army of followers used for bedding. He looked up at the blue sky above the ramparts and saw the guns. Old but powerful, each with balls nearby, and long ropes which trailed carelessly to the courtyard, and some crude baskets which presumably were used to haul fresh powder and shot when required.
More rough steps, the sun probing across his shoulders, then sudden shadows making his body feel chilled and damp.
Le Chaumareys grun
ted, `You will wait here.'
He led Bolitho into a roughly hewn room no bigger than a cable tier and strode towards an iron-studded door at one end. It was guarded by some heavily armed natives, who faced the French seamen as if hoping for a fight.
Le Chaumareys seemed to sail_ right through them, like a three-decker breaking the line of battle. Supreme confidence, or a well-practised bluff. Bolitho did not know.
He did not have to wait long. The door was dragged open and he saw a large room, a chamber, which seemed to span the whole breadth of the upper fortress. Against the dull stone and smoky walls the dais at the far end made a fine splash of colour.
Muijadi was arranged on a pile of silk cushions, eyes fixed on the door, his body completely at ease.
He was naked to the waist, and wore only white baggy trousers and red leather boots underneath. He had no hair, so that in the sunlight from the slitted windows his head seemed pointed, and his single ear very prominent and grotesque.
Le Chaumareys was standing to one side of the dais, his face stern and alert. Around the walls were some of the dirtiest and cruellest-looking men Bolitho had ever seen in his life, although the quality of their weapons marked them as leaders or lieutenants in Muljadi's command.
He walked towards the dais, half expecting one of the onlookers to rush forward and cut him down, but nobody moved or spoke.
When he was within a few feet of the cushions Muijadi said flatly, `That is close enough!'
He spoke good English, but with a strong accent which was probably Spanish.
He continued, 'Before I have you killed, Captain, is there anything you wish to say?'
Bolitho wanted to lick his parched lips. He heard the rustle of expectancy behind him, saw Le Chaumareys watching him with despair on his tanned face.
Bolitho said, `On behalf of His Britannic Majesty, King George, I have come to demand the release of Colonel Don Jose Pastor, subject of Spain, and under my country's protection.'
Muijadi sat bolt upright, the stump of his severed wrist pointing like a gun.
`Demand? You insolent dog!'
Le Chaumareys stepped forward hastily. `Let me explain, m'sieu.'
Muljadi screamed, `You will address me Highness!' To Bolitho he added savagely, `Call on your God for help! I will make you plead for death!'
Bolitho could feel his heart pumping against his ribs, the sweat pouring down his spine and gathering around his waist like ice-rime. Deliberately he reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. As he flicked open the guard he heard Muljadi leap to his feet, the gasp of disbelief as he threw himself from the dais to seize Bolitho's wrist in a grip like a manacle.
He screamed into Bolitho's face, `Where did you get that?'
He jerked up his wrist and the watch, upon which the prancing gold beast dangled like a fob.
Bolitho forced himself to keep his voice level. To stop his gaze from falling on the similar pendant which hung on Muljadi's chest.
`From a prisoner.' He added sharply, `A pirate!'
Muljadi twisted his wrist slowly, his eyes like fires as he snarled, `You lie! And you will suffer for it now!!'
Le Chaumareys called, `In God's name, do not make him kill you !'
Bolitho kept his eyes on Muljadi's, feeling his power, his hatred, but something more. Anxiety?
He said, `If you take a telescope, you will be able to see my ship. You will also see there is a halter at the mainyard. If I do not return before dusk, your son will hang there, you have my word on it! I took this from his neck when I captured him and his schooner some forty miles to the south'rd of where we are standing.'
Muljadi's eyes seemed to be bulging right out of his head.
`You lie!'
Bolitho eased his wrist from Muljadi's grasp. The fingers had left marks like rope burns.
He said quietly, `I will exchange him for your prisoner.' He looked at-Le Chaumareys' astonished face. `The capitaine can arrange it, I am certain.'
Muijadi ran to a window and snatched a telescope from one of his men.
Over his shoulder he said hoarsely, `You will stay as a hostage!'
Bolitho replied, 'No hostages. A fair bargain. You have my word, as a King's officer.'
Muljadi threw the telescope to the ground, shattering the lens in all directions. His chest was heaving violently; and his shaven head was glittering with tiny jewels of sweat.
`King's officer? Do you think I care for you?' He spat on the stones by Bolitho's shoes. `You will suffer, that I promise you !'
Le Chaumareys called, `Let it be done!' He hesitated. `Highness !'
But Muljadi was almost beside himself. Like a madman. He suddenly grasped Bolitho's arm and propelled him to the opposite end of the chamber and thrust him against the window.
`Look down there, Captain!' He was spitting out each word like a pistol ball. `I will give you your colonel, but it is too late to save you now!'
Bolitho stared down at the glittering water which snaked around and amongst the next cluster of islets. Anchored in a bend of the channel, her decks alive with hurrying figures, was a frigate.
He felt Muljadi's hatred turning to aa wild jubilation as he shouted, `Mine! All mine! Well, my King's officer, are you still so confident?'
Le Chaumareys said harshly, `Why did you have to do Muljadi whirled round on him, his eyes wild. `Do you think I have to be told what to do? That I am a child? I have waited long enough. The waiting is over now.'
A door grated open and Bolitho saw the Spanish command ant, supported on either side by an armed pirate, his eyes blinking in the light as if he was almost blind.
Bolitho strode past Muljadi and his men. `I have come to take you home, Senor.' He saw the filth on his torn clothing, the shackle marks on his thin wrists. `It was a brave thing you did.'
The old man peered blearily at him, his beard quivering as he said jerkily, `I do not understand?'
Le Chaumareys said, `Come. Now.' Under his breath he added, `Or I will not answer for your safety!'
It was like a dream. Down the sloping track to the pier and into the boat, and for most of the way pursued by Muljadi's voice, which had lapsed into another language, although the threat was no less evident.
Bolitho said coldly, `The frigate. She was English.'
Le Chaumareys nodded wearily. `Yes. Damaged in battle in '82, she was beached near here and her company removed by another vessel. We have been working on her for two years almost. Putting her to rights. I was ordered to hand her to Muljadi ready for use, before I am allowed to return home.'
Bolitho did not look at him. He was supporting the Spanish commandant against his knees, feeling his sobs and his misery.
`Then I hope you are proud of your work, m'sieu. And what it may mean when Muljadi puts her to work.'
The French frigate's yards loomed above the boat, and Bolitho followed the other captain up to the entry port.
Le Chaumareys said abruptly, 'Maurin will attend to the transfer.'
He looked searchingly at Bolitho for several seconds.
`You are still young. One day you might have understood. Now that is past.' He thrust out his hand. `When we meet again, as I fear we must, it will be for the last time.'
He turned on his heel and strode to the cabin hatch.
Bolitho pulled out his watch and examined the gold pendant. If he had been mistaken, or Potter had given him wrong information ... He stopped his train of thought there and then. It did not bear even conjecture.
Then he thought of the captured frigate. But for Muljadi's flare of anger he would never have known of it. The knowledge was little help, but it was better than nothing, he decided.
Maurin said cheerfully, `I will take a boat away to your ship, m'sieu. They will be surprised to learn of your safety, as I am.'
Bolitho smiled. `I was well protected, thank you.' He glanced at the cabin hatch, but was uncertain what he meant.
16
No Better, No Worse than Most
Bolit
ho walked slowly along the upper rampart at the inland side of the settlement, watching the steamy haze rising from the jungle, the afternoon sunlight playing on the dripping leaves and fronds nearest the palisade. Undine had anchored shortly before noon below an empty blue sky, and yet during their slow approach towards Pendang Bay he had seen the land dark under the weather,, and had almost envied the isolated downpour. He sighed, smelling the thick, heady scents from the jungle, the drowsy aromas of rotting leaves and roots hidden in deep shadow below the trees.
For the last two days Undine had been plagued with opposing wind, and when at last it had changed in their favour there had been little more than a breath to bring life to the sails.
He watched some red-coated sepoys working beyond the palisade, and two native women approaching the gateway with heavy bundles on their heads. At a glance it seemed nothing had changed, but now as he waited to confront Conway for the second time within the hour he knew everything was different.
He continued his walk to the next corner of the crude timber rampart and saw Undine riding easily to her cable, the captured schooner close abeam. As he looked towards the shallows where he had last seen the brig Rosalind when Undine had set sail for Muljadi's stronghold, it was all he could do to stop himself from cursing aloud. Like the transport Bedford, she had gone. Back to Madras, to carry despatches and Raymond's own appreciation of the situation to Sir Montagu Strang.
Bolitho had been shocked by Conway's appearance when he
No Better, No Worse than Most 263
had reported ashore within thirty minutes of dropping anchor. Wild-eyed, more shrunken than ever, he had been almost beside himself with anger and despair.
He had shouted, `You dare to stand here and tell me that you actually chose to ignore my orders? That despite the importance of my instructions you made no attempt to parley with Le Chaumareys?'
Bolitho had stood very still, his eyes on Conway's distorted features. An empty decanter lay on the table, and it was obvious he had been drinking heavily for some time.
`I could not parley, sir. To do so would have been to recognise Muljadi. Which is exactly what the French want.'
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