The Bolithos and those like them had always had it. He peered around the deserted deck. My turn will come.
Achates swung quietly to her cable and, like the men who lay on the orlop within the surgeon's call, nursed her own wounds of battle.
In her crowded mess between the great guns below deck the seamen and marines sat by their glimmering lights and yarned with each other, or consumed their carefully hoarded rum. Some with tarred hands surprisingly gentle carved small and intricate models or scrimshaw work. One seaman who had the gift of being able to write sat beneath a lantern while one of his messmates stumbled through a letter for his wife in England. In the Royal Marines' quarters, or the barracks as they were known, the men worked on their kit, or thought of that last battle, and the next which, although nobody mentioned it, they knew was inevitable.
Down on the orlop where the air was thick as fog, James Tuson, the surgeon, wiped his hands and watched as one of the badly wounded had his face covered and was carried away by the loblolly boys. He had died just a minute or so ago. With both feet amputated it was better so, Tuson thought.
He looked along his small, pain-wracked command. Why? What was it all for?
These sailors did not fight for flag or King as so many landsmen fondly believed. The surgeon had been at sea for twenty years and knew this better than most. They fought for each other, the ship, and sometimes for their leader. He thought of Bolitho standing on deck, his stricken expression as these same men had cheered him for taking them into hell. Oh yes, they would fight for him.
As he ducked beneath the massive deck beams he felt a hand touch his leg.
Tuson stooped down. 'What is it, Cummings?'
A surgeon's mate raised a lantern so that he could see the wounded man better. He had been hit in the chest by an iron splinter. It was a marvel he had survived.
The man called Cummings whispered, 'Thankee for takin' care of me, sir.' Then he fainted.
Tuson had seen too many men crippled and killed to feel much emotion, but this sailor's simple gesture broke through his guard like a fist.
When he was working he was too busy to care for the crash and rumble of guns on the decks above. The procession of wounded men always seemed as if it would never end. He rarely even looked up at his sweating assistants with their wild eyes and bloodied aprons. No wonder they call us butchers. A leg off here, an arm there, the naked bodies held on the table while he worked with blade and saw, his ears deaf to their screams.
But afterwards, at moments like these, he felt differently. Ashamed for the little he could do for them. Ashamed too for their gratitude.
The surgeon's mate lowered the lantern and waited patiently.
Tuson continued along the deck and tried to shut from his mind the tempting picture of a brandy bottle. If he gave in now, he would be finished. It was what had driven him to sea in the first place.
Somewhere in the gloom a man cried out sharply.
Tuson snapped, 'Who was that?'
'Larsen, sir, the big Swede.'
Tuson nodded. He had taken off the man's arm. It sounded as if it had grown worse, maybe even gangrene. In which
case . . .
He said briskly. 'Have him brought to the table.'
Tuson was calm again. In charge. He watched the figure being carried to the sick-bay. A Swede. But in a King's ship nationality did not count.
'Now then, Larsen ..."
Bolitho was with Keen on deck when the brigantine Vivid slipped her mooring and tacked slowly towards the harbour entrance.
He raised a telescope and scanned the little vessel from bow to stern and saw Adam standing beside Tyrrell's powerful figure near the tiller, his uniform making a smart contrast with the men around him.
Whatever he found in Boston might hurt him, but would not break his heart. Bolitho knew he must not interfere, must face the risk of turning Adam against him when he would have offered anything to prevent it.
Keen was reading his thoughts. 'He may not even see the lass, sir.'
Bolitho lowered the glass and allowed the brigantine to become a small model again.
'He will. I know exactly how he feels. Exactly.'
The headland slid out to shield Vivid from view. Only her topsail and driver showed above the land, and then as she changed tack again they too were gone.
Keen respected Bolitho in everything, but he could not understand why he had bothered to pay good money to give Tyrrell the Vivid. He should have felt lucky to be spared the hangman's halter. Then he looked at Bolitho's profile and saw the sadness there. Whatever there had once been between him and Tyrrell would not be shared with anyone, he thought.
Bolitho turned his back to the sea.
'Now we must prepare the defences of this island, Val.' He pounded his fist into his other hand. 'If only I had some more ships I'd stand out to sea and meet them gun to gun.'
Keen said nothing. Bolitho was certain of an attack. The Peace of Amiens meant nothing out here, especially to the Spaniards. He looked at the glistening horizon and wondered. But for Tyrrell's change of heart they might be out there now, and San Felipe under another flag. Rivers had played a dangerous game by setting one against the other, but it seemed to Keen that only Achates would pay for the consequences.
Bolitho clapped him on the arm. 'Why so grim, Val? Never turn your face away from what is inevitable.'
He seemed in such high spirits Keen was shaken from his apprehension immediately.
He said, 'Where would you like to begin, sir?'
It was infectious. Keen had watched it happen before so many times. When he himself had been nearly killed in battle, that too had been described as a time of peace.
'We will obtain some horses and ride around the island. Check each vantage point against Mr Knocker's chart and any local map we can discover.' Bolitho pointed at the haze around the old volcano. 'The island is like a great juicy bone, Val. And now the hounds of war are taking up their positions around us.'
He had seen the anxiety on Keen's face, and if he was dismayed at the prospect of fighting an undeclared war over San Felipe, so too would be most of his ship's company.
Bolitho did not really need to ride round the island, he could picture its strength and its weakness as he had gauged it on the charts. But he needed Keen and the others to know he was determined to stand firm. To hold the island until he was certain in his mind of the right course to take.
The wound in his thigh throbbed and itched in the humid air and he wanted to rub it.
Why was he troubled by the prospect of a siege or an open attack? Was it because of Belinda, or was it the chance of action which drove him on?
He thought suddenly of Sir Hayward Sheaffe's quiet room at the Admiralty. It seemed like another world now, with the fortress and the spent volcano shimmering across the placid water. But Sheaffe's words were quite clear, as if he had just uttered them. 'Their lordships require a man of tact as well as action for this task.'
Bolitho thought of Midshipman Evans' expression when the nameless two-decker had burst into flames. Of the shocked surprise on the dead marine drummer's face. He thought too of Duncan and others he had not even known.
The man of tact would have to step down for a while.
13
A Holy Day
Adam Bolitho stood by a window in Jonathan Chase's study and stared at the unending ranks of white horses across Massachusetts Bay. Just an hour ago he had been brought ashore in Vivid’s boat and had been met by Chase's astonished agent. In fact, Vivid"s return to Boston under British colours had caused quite a stir along the waterfront.
It was like part of a dream. Chase had made him welcome at his house, but had seemed restrained, cautious even, as Adam had given him the big sealed envelope from his uncle.
He shivered, conscious of the New England weather, the restless change in the September Atlantic. He thought of San Felipe and felt strangely guilty. The worst part was that it did not seem real, any of it. He was here, and
Chase had mentioned before he had left in some haste to read Bolitho's letter that Robina and her mother were also in Boston and might be expected shortly.
Adam turned and looked at the fine room with its paintings and nautical relics. The right place for a man like Chase, he thought, an ex-sailor, ex-enemy too, who now had his roots here.
He thought of the ten days' passage from San Felipe to Boston. How different from that other occasion when he had yarned away the hours with Jethro Tyrrell. This time, despite the cramped conditions of the brigantine, he had barely spoken to Tyrrell, and then only on vague matters of navigation and weather.
And why had his uncle made the offer to purchase Vivid for him, and why should Chase be prepared to sell? None of it made much sense, but then none of it seemed to matter now that he was back here with the prospect of meeting Robina again.
'I am sorry for keeping you waiting.'
Chase was a powerfully built man and yet he had re-entered the study as noiselessly as a cat.
He seated himself carefully in a chair and said, 'I have read your uncle's letter and have ordered that the other one which he enclosed be carried immediately to Sam Fane at the capital.' He regarded the lieutenant thoughtfully. 'Strange he should send you.'
Adam shrugged. He had not really considered it before.
'I was available, sir. Captain Keen needs all his own officers aboard the flagship.'
'Hmmm. Your uncle once told me he hates politics, but he seems to understand them well enough.' He did not explain but continued, 'As you will have observed when you entered Boston Harbour, the French men-of-war have gone. News travels on the wind. The French admiral will have no wish to insist on receiving San Felipe from the British until the position is made clear.'
'But the French and Spanish governments have been allies more often than not, sir.'
Chase smiled for the first time. 'The French would need Spain as an ally if there was another war. If there is to be any conflict over San Felipe the French intend it shall not be of their making. It would suit them very well if your ships withdraw under a cloud after they have repulsed any Spanish claims to the island. Then, and only then, the French admiral will see fit to assume control and install a governor.'
Adam said, 'I think it wrong to gamble with people's lives in this fashion.'
Chase nodded. 'Possibly, but San Felipe is a fact. In war or peace it commands an important sea route. The government of my country would prefer to see it in friendly hands, better still, under our own protection. That was what Sir
Humphrey Rivers suggested. As Vice-Admiral Bolitho's aide, you will of course know all about it. I can see that you are as sharp as your uncle in such matters, and you will have realized that Rivers, despite all his claims of loyalty to King George, is hell-bent on being his own man. He played a dangerous hand by discussing the island's future with Spain or, to be precise, with the Spanish captain-general at La Guaira. A secret shared is no longer a secret.' He gave a heavy sigh. 'Anyway, it is impossible to share anything with a tiger.'
He watched Adam's reactions and saw that he had his full attention.
'I can speak freely to you because neither of us has any control over the affair. I was aware of the Spanish interest because I trade with both the captain-general at La Guaira and his neighbour in Caracas. They have always thought their own government to be out of touch with their expanding empire in the South Americas. Every week the slave ships bring more labour for the mines and the plantations, and they probably pass the great galleons of Spain on passage home loaded to their deck beams with gold. San Felipe's position has threatened their freedom of movement in the past. They intend it shall not happen again.'
Adam had a sudden picture of Achates at San Felipe with some of her yards sent down for repair work being carried out by the ship's company which really needed the proper skills of a dockyard.
He exclaimed, 'That two-decker . . .
Chase smiled gravely. 'The one you sunk? Oh yes, Lieutenant, I heard all about that from my own sources. Like the wind, remember? She was the Intrepido, and was refitted at Cadiz and armed to be a match for anyone foolhardy enough to interfere with her intentions. A privateer, a hired adventurer, call him what you will, but her captain was ordered to sweep aside all opposition and take command of the island. Later a proper governor would be installed and the Spanish flag would be raised, to, I suspect, small interference from either the British or the French. Your government would be too embarrassed to waste more time and lives on a lost cause, and the French would raise no objection as it would put Spain under obligation for any future strategy on their part.' He leaned back in his chair and added, 'Does that explain?'
Adam nodded, confused and sickened by the apparent simplicity of such cruel logic.
Chase said, 'But things are never what they seem. The Dons thought like the Dons. Quick, clever, ruthless, but they had failed to take your uncle's stubbornness into their scheme of things. Nevertheless, he is the one I pity. He is the one man who stands between the Spaniards and their claim to San Felipe. I believe all this was known when he was sent here in the first place. I mean no disrespect, but the British can be devious in their negotiations. What does honour matter to some when it concerns events on the other side of the world, eh?'
'I cannot believe it, sir. My uncle will stand firm.'
Chase looked concerned. 'Of course, I'm sure of that if nothing else. But without the islanders to back him, what can he do? Stand and fight?'
Adam clenched his hands so tightly that the pain made his eyes smart.
'He will!'
Chase looked away, as if unable to watch his despair. 'Then God help him.'
The door swung open and Adam heard the girl ask excitedly, 'Where have you hidden him, Uncle? And what is all this stuff about you selling the Vivid, she's a favourite of yours!'
She turned and saw him by the window and gasped with surprise.
'You really are here!' She ran to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Now everything is wonderful!'
Adam did not dare to touch or hold her, and could see the anguish on Chase's grim features across her shoulder.
Chase said heavily, 'Vivid has always been on the small side for my fleet. Tyrrell has earned her twice over."
He kept his eyes on Adam's and said nothing about Bolitho's money.
He moved towards the door, his face still on the young couple by the window.
There was no easy way, and his tone was almost brutal as he said, 'Vivid must weigh before nightfall. Lieutenant Bolitho here will have important news for his uncle, isn't that so?'
Adam nodded slowly, hating him, yet admiring him at the same time.
For how long they stood together he did not know. He held her to him, murmuring lost words into her hair, while she clasped his shoulders as if still unable to realize what was happening.
Then she leaned back in his arms and stared at him as she asked, 'Why? What does anything matter now? We shall have each other! Everything we've ever wanted! So why?'
Adam brushed a strand of fair hair from her eyes, all his hopes and happiness spilling away like sand in a glass.
'I have to go back, Robina. Your uncle knows why. He can explain better than I.'
Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. 'How can it concern you? You are only a lieutenant, why should he discuss such things?'
Adam held her firmly as she tried to force herself away.
'There has been a lot of fighting. Our ship sank an enemy but we were badly damaged too.' He felt her arms go limp as his words struck home. 'My uncle discovered what dangers threatened the island, and who was behind them. He sent me here to give his despatches to your uncle, so that this information could be sent to your president.'
She watched his eyes and his mouth as he spoke. 'But why should it involve my uncle or any of my family?'
Adam shrugged wretchedly. 'Because they were involved. They knew the Spanish intentions long ago, your uncle as good as told me just now. Ap
parently it would not suit your government to have either the French flag or ours flying above San Felipe. But now that my uncle has brought it into the open, nobody else will dare to interfere.' He could not hide the bitterness even from her. 'So my uncle stands alone to act as he must.'
She stepped away, her eyes towards the floor as she said in a small voice, 'Then you do not intend to make your life here among us?'
'It is not like that! I love you with all my heart.' 'And yet you deny me this?'
Adam moved towards her but she took two paces away. 'It's my duty —
She looked at him again, her eyes hot with tears. 'Duty! What do I care about that! We are both young, like this country, so why should you throw your heart away for a meaningless word like duty’
Adam heard Chase in the passage-way, and other, lighter footsteps, Robina's mother.
They both appeared in the doorway, Chase's face stern and determined, the woman's pale with anxiety.
Chase asked bluntly, 'You told her then?'
Adam met his gaze evenly. 'Some of it, sir.'
'I see.' He sounded relieved. 'Your Mr Tyrrell seems eager to leave. The wind's backing ..." His voice trailed away.
'Thank you.' Adam turned and looked at the girl, the others unimportant and misty as he said, 'I meant every word. One day I'll come back and then . . .
She dropped her eyes. 'It will be too late.'
Chase took his arm and accompanied him through the beautifully panelled entrance hail. A black footman opened the outer door and Adam saw the cold blue squares of sea and sky beyond it, mocking him.
Chase said quietly, 'I'm sorry, I really am. But it's all for the best, you'll see that one day.'
Adam walked down the steps and saw Tyrrell waiting by the gates. He watched the lieutenant's face every foot of the way and then with his swinging, limping gait fell in step beside him.
'You decided then?'
'It was decided for me.' Adam could barely see where he was walking in his despair and pain.
'I ain't so sure about that, Lieutenant.' Tyrrell shot him a glance. 'I can guess how you feel.'
Adam looked at him, his voice angry. 'Why the difference? On passage here you barely said a word?'
Success to the Brave - Bolitho 15 Page 18