As he brushed past, Bolitho saw the claw-like stain on his white lapel, left there by the dying man. In the flickering light it looked like the mark of Satan.
10. 'On the Uproll!'
Bolitho and Dancer trained their telescopes on the jetty and watched the sudden activity amongst the jolly boat's crew which had been waiting there for over an hour.
`We shall soon know, Dick.' Dancer sounded anxious.
Bolitho lowered the telescope and wiped his face free of rain. He was soaking wet, but like Dancer and most of the Avenger's company had been unable to relax, to be'' patient while he awaited his brother's return.
That first horror of finding the man who had been left to die, the excitement of knowing Dancer had been right about Vyvyan's implications, had already gone sour. Colonel de Crespigny himself and a troop of dragoons had ridden hard to Vyvyan Manor, only to be told that Sir Henry had left on an important mission, and no, they did not know where, or when he might return. Sensing the colonel's uncertainty, the steward had added coldly that Sir Henry was unused to having his movements queried by the military.
So there was no evidence after all. Apart from that last, desperate accusation of a dying man, they had nothing. No stolen cargo, no muskets, brandy or anything else. There were plenty of signs that people had been there. Hoof-marks, wheel-tracks and traces of casks and loads being hauled about in a great hurry. But what remained would soon be washed away in the continuous downpour. In any case it was not evidence.
Dancer said quietly, `It will be Christmas Day tomorrow, Dick. It may not be a happy one.'
Bolitho looked at him warmly. Dancer was the one who would be spared all enquiry but the briefest statement. His position, to say nothing of his father's importance in the City of London, would see to that. And yet he felt just as vulnerable as the Bolitho family which had got him involved in the first place.
The boatswain's mate of the watch called, 'Cap'n's boat 'as just shoved off, sir!'
`Very well. Call the side party. Stand by to receive him.'
It might well be the last time Hugh Bolitho was received aboard in command, here or anywhere else, he thought. Hugh Bolitho clambered over the side and touched his hat to the side party.
`Call the hands and hoist the boats inboard.' He squinted up at the flapping masthead pendant. `We will get under way within the hour.' He looked at the midshipmen for the first time and added bitterly, `I'll be glad to be rid of this place, home or not!'
Bolitho tensed. So there was no last minute hope, no reprieve.
As Dancer and the boatswain's mate hurried forward, Hugh Bolitho said in a calmer tone, `I am required to make passage to Plymouth forthwith. The members of my company I put aboard a prize are assembled there, so your appointment 'as my senior will no longer be needed.'
`Did you hear anything about Sir Henry Vyvyan?'
He saw his brother give a shrug as he answered, `De Crespigny was duped like the rest of us. You remember that bullion which the dragoons were suddenly and mysteriously required to escort at Bodmin? Well, we have now learned that it was Vyvyan's property. So while the revenue men and our people were being set upon by his ruffians, and cut to pieces, Vyvyan's booty was coolly being put aboard a vessel at Looe, after being escorted by the very soldiers who have since been searching for him!' He turned and looked at him, his face strained and seemingly older. `So as he slips away to France, probably to negotiate for more weapons for his private wars, I will have to face the consequences. I thought I could run before I could walk. But I was outwitted, and beaten without knowing it!'
`And Sir Henry is known to be aboard this vessel?' He could picture the man even as he spoke.
It would be a triumph for Vyvyan, who had led a dangerous but rewarding life before coming to Cornwall. And when it had all quietened down he would come back. It was unlikely he would be challenged by the authorities again.
Hugh Bolitho nodded. `Aye. The vessel is the Virago, a new and handy ketch-rigged sloop. Vyvyan has apparently owned her for a year or so.' He swung away, the rain pouring unheeded down his features. `She might be anywhere by now. My orders from the port admiral suggest that a King's ship may be required to investigate, but nothing more than that.' He slapped his hands together, despairing, final. `But Virago is fast, and will outsail anything in this weather.'
Gloag came clumping on deck, his jaw working on some salt beef.
`Sir?'
`We are getting under way, Mr Gloag. Plymouth.'
No wonder Hugh wished to be rid of the place. Danger from an enemy, or across the marks of a duelling pitch he could take with ease. Scorn and contempt he could not.
Bolitho watched the dripping boats being swayed inboard, the seamen's bodies shining like metal in the heavy rain.
To Plymouth, and a court of enquiry. It was not much of a way to end a year.
He thought of the nearness of success, the callous way Vyvyan had directed the deaths and the plunder of wrecked ships. He thought too of Dancer's face as the troopers had aided him into the house, the livid bruises on his shoulders. How his captors had threatened to put out his eyes. All the time they had been on the fringe of things. Now it was over, and they were as much in the dark as ever.
His brother said, `I'm going below. Inform me when the anchor is hove short.'
His head was almost at deck level when Bolitho stopped him.
`What is it?'
Bolitho said quietly, `I was thinking of what we did achieve, what we do know.' He saw his brother's features soften slightly and hurried on, `No, I'm not saying it to sugar the pill. Suppose the others are wrong, de Crespigny, the port admiral, all of them?'
Hugh Bolitho climbed up the companion ladder very slowly, his eyes fixed on him.
`Go on.'
`Perhaps we have over-estimated Sir Henry's confidence. Or maybe he was intending to quit England anyway?' He saw the understanding on his brother's face and added quickly, `He would certainly not be sailing to France!'
Hugh Bolitho stepped over the coaming and stared across the darkened harbour, at the choppy white crests, and the town's glittering lights beyond.
`To America?' He gripped his brother's shoulder until he winced. `By God, you may be right. The Virago could be standing down-channel at this very instant, with nothing between her and the Atlantic but -' he looked along his broad-beamed command, `- my Avenger.'
Bolitho was almost sorry for what he had said and done. Another false hope perhaps? One more barb to anger the admiral and hasten a court martial.
Gloag was watching him anxiously. `It will be rough outside, sir. Misty too, if th' rain eases.'
`What are you saying, Mr Gloag? That I give in now? Admit to failure?'
Gloag beamed. He had made his point and was content.
`I says go after 'im, sir, take the devil back for the 'angman.'
As if to put doubt over the side the cry came from the bows, `Anchor's hove short, sir!'
Hugh Bolitho bit his lip, measuring the chances as he looked from the tense helmsmen to the hands at the braces and halliards, from his grey-eyed brother to Gloag, Pyke and the rest.
Then he nodded. `Carry on, Mr Gloag. Get the vessel under way and lay a-course to weather the headland as close as you dare.'
Dancer looked at Bolitho and gave a reckless grin. Christmas had become just part of a dream.
Bolitho waited for the Avenger to complete another staggering lunge and then crossed the deck to peer at the compass. The motion was sickening, with the sturdy hull lifting across each rearing wave crest before sliding heavily again into a waiting trough. And it had been going on for nearly twelve hours, although it felt much longer.
One of the helmsmen said wearily, `West by north, sir.' Like the rest of them he sounded tired and dispirited.
