For My Country’s Freedom

prayer.

'John, remember that letter we had? Zest? She be one of Sir Richard’s ships!'

She stared around. 'Must change the bed. John, you fetch some of the new bread, tell Annie to keep an eye on young Kate!'

He protested, but to no avail.

She stared past him. 'Through that door, my man is going to come this day! As God is my witness, I just knows it!' There were tears too, but she was more excited than anxious.

They had two customers, carpenters working on the little church where Unis and John Allday had been wed.

It would be dark early. He watched his sister worriedly. Follow the drum, wear the Kings coat, they said. But nobody ever told you about this part of it.

Unis walked into the parlour, her eyes very bright.

'He’s coming, John. Like I said. Like he promised.'

Then he heard it for the first time, faint but familiar above the soft moan of wind around the eaves. The steady clip-clop of Bryan Ferguson’s pony and trap.

She said quietly, 'Don’t go, John. You’re part of it.'

There were muffled voices and she whispered, 'Dear God, let it be him!'

The door opened slowly, perhaps even nervously.

And then she was in his powerful grip, her face nuzzling his fine blue jacket with the Bolitho buttons on it. 'Oh, dear John, it’s been so long! I’ve missed you so!'

Her brother, watching, offered, 'No need to look surprised, John. We just heard that the Zest was in port!'

Allday stared around, barely able to believe he was here.

'Yes. We was aboard her. Young Captain Adam’s in command.' He held her gently as if she might break. 'I’ve thought so often of this minute.' He thought, too, of the big grey house where he had left Sir Richard with his lady. He must have written to her about his son. That had been almost the worst part.

She had looked at him very calmly and had said, 'He has not really gone, you know. Think of that sometimes.'

And now he was here. He stiffened as the girl Unis had hired to help her came in, with a baby in her arms. He knew by instinct that it was his daughter, although it could have been anyone’s. He would not tell Unis about his lost son. Not yet. This was their moment alone.

He took the child carefully. 'She’s a mite small.'

Unis said softly, 'The doctor says it’s unlikely I’ll carry another, John. I know a son might have pleased you better.'

He pressed the child against his body and tried not to relive the scene on that dreadful September morning. Friends and enemies alike, helping and consoling each other when the fighting had stopped and the flag had come down through the smoke.

He replied quietly, 'She’s our Kate. She’ll do me fine.' He hesitated. 'A son can break your heart.'

Unis glanced at her brother but he shook his head. It would keep.

She asked, 'Have you brought somebody with you, John All-day? Left him outside in the cold? What will people think?'

The door opened and Lieutenant George Avery ducked under the low beams.

'A room for a few days, Mrs Allday? I’d be obliged.' He looked around, remembering when they had left here. 'I thought it fairer to leave Sir Richard to enjoy his homecoming.' He was smiling, but she noticed that it did not reach his tawny eyes.

It was a strange feeling. Because of the letters he had written for her man, she seemed to know him well.

Avery was saying, 'Long walks, good food, a chance to think before the next time…'

Satisfied, Allday said, 'So you’re staying with the little crew after all?'

Avery said, 'Was there ever any choice?' He looked around the parlour again, slowly allowing himself to accept the peace and welcome of the place. The child, almost lost in Allday’s arms. He would never forget that morning either. Allday carrying his dead son so tenderly across the littered, bloodied deck where so many had fallen; Allday quite alone for those last moments before he lowered his son into the sea alongside and watched him drift away.

Unis exclaimed, 'Drinks for everybody! Now, Mr Avery, what would please you best?'

Like a reply they heard Ferguson’s trap clatter away. He had been waiting, just in case.

Richard Bolitho sat by the great fire and held his hands towards the blazing logs.

'When I saw the carriage, Kate…' He held out one hand and touched her as she came to him with goblets of brandy. 'I could scarcely believe it.'

She nestled down beside him. 'A toast to my admiral! An admiral of England!'

He stroked her hair, her neck where he had seen the pendant. How could she have known? Really known?

So many memories, to share with her when they walked again. Tyacke’s moving farewell when Indomitable had entered Halifax with her two American prizes, where repairs, some urgent, would be necessary. Bolitho had clasped his hand for the last time when his flag had been shifted to Zest.

Tyacke had said, 'When you need me, Sir Richard, just say the word.'

Together they had looked at the battered prizes, already swarming with men, and Bolitho had said, 'It might be over soon. Once and for all.'

Tyacke had smiled. 'Then I shall return to Africa. I liked it there.'

The long voyage home, soon to be summoned to the Admiralty He could even find an ironic amusement in that. Again.

And Adam’s grave pleasure when the guns had thundered out in salute to his new command, and to the man whose flag flew proudly from the mainmast truck.

The formality had been as unexpected as it was moving, after all that had happened. The guns had said it all. Their welcome home to Falmouth’s most famous son.

Bolitho looked up at her as she said, 'Bring your drink. I have something to show you.'

Hand in hand they climbed the staircase, past each watching portrait and then to their room.

It was already very dark outside, and Bolitho heard an early fox barking harshly.

She had told him about Roxby. He would ride over and see him, but not yet.

Catherine had covered the portrait with a silk shawl. She smiled, but her eyes hinted at uncertainty.

'Ready?'

It was not as he had expected, or was it? Not in one of her fine shot-silk gowns or riding-habit. She was bare- footed, her hair loose to the wind, wearing the same sailor’s shirt and breeches she had worn aboard the Golden Plover when it had been smashed on the reef and they had suffered the privations of an open boat until, in all the limitless miles of sea, James Tyacke had found them.

She was watching him anxiously. 'It is the real me. When we were so close, when we needed each other as never before.'

He took her in his arms and faced her towards the cheval-glass.

'I shall never forget, Kate.' He felt her tremble as she watched his hands in the glass, caressing her, undressing her like a stranger, all else forgotten.

She whispered, 'I love you so…' The rest was lost as he came to her.

Out in the darkness on the crumbling cliff path, a sleeping gull was suddenly awakened.

But on the wind, it could have been mistaken for a girl’s last cry.