As Bolitho was about to follow the coxswain, Rhodes said quietly, “Look, Dick, if you’d like me to do something about that damned watch while you’re ashore…”
Bolitho shook his head. “No, but thank you. The thief is most likely from my division. To search every man and turn his possessions out on the deck would destroy whatever trust and loyalty I’ve managed to build up so far. I’ll think of something.”
Rhodes said, “I just hope young Jury has not merely mislaid the timepiece; a loss is one thing, a theft another.”
They fell silent as they approached the starboard gangway where the side-party had fallen in to pay its respects to the captain.
But Dumaresq was standing with his thick legs apart, his head jutting forward as he shouted to the surgeon, “No, sir, he shall not die! Not until I have the information!”
Bulkley spread his hands helplessly. “But the man is going, sir. There is nothing more I can do.”
Dumaresq looked at the waiting gig and at the quarter-boat nearby with Colpoys’ marine escort already crammed aboard. He was expected at the Viceroy’s residence, and to delay might provoke bad feelings which he would certainly wish to avoid if he needed Portuguese co-operation.
He swung on Palliser. “Dammit,you deal with it. Tell that rogue Triscott that if he will reveal the details of his mission and his original destination I shall send a letter to his parish in Dorset. It will ensure that he is remembered as an honest man. Impress upon him what that will mean to his family and his friends.” He glared at Palliser’s doubtful features. “God damn it, Mr Palliser, think of something, will you?”
Palliser asked mildly, “And if he spits in my face?”
“I’ll hang him here and now, and see how his family like that!”
Bulkley stepped forward. “Be easy, sir, the man is dying, he cannot hurt anyone.”
“Go back to him and do as I say. That is an order.” He turned to Palliser. “Tell Mr Timbrell to rig a halter to the main-yard. I’ll run that bugger up to it, dying or not, if he refuses to help!”
Palliser followed him to the entry port. “It will be a signed declaration, sir.” He nodded slowly. “I’ll get a witness and have his words written down for you.”
Dumaresq smiled tightly. “Good man. See to it.” He saw Bolitho and snapped, “Into the gig with you. Now let us see this Viceroy, eh?”
Once clear of the side Dumaresq turned to study his ship, his eyes almost closed against the reflected glare.
“A fine surgeon is Bulkley, but a bit of an old woman at times. Anyone would think we are here for our health, instead of seeking a hidden fortune.”
Bolitho tried to relax, his buttocks burning on the sun-heated thwart as he attempted to sit as squarely as his captain.
The brief confidence led him to ask, “Will there really be any treasure, sir?” He was careful to keep his voice low so that the stroke oarsman should not hear him.
Dumaresq tightened his fingers around his sword hilt and stared at the land.
“It is somewhere, that I do know. In what form it now is remains to be seen, but that is why we are here. Why we were in Madeira when I went to the house of a very old friend. But something immense is happening. Because of it my clerk was killed. Because of it the Heloise played the dangerous game of trying to follow us. And now poor Bulkley wants me to read a prayer for a rogue who may hold a vital clue. A man who nearly killed my young and sentimental third lieutenant.” He turned and regarded Bolitho curiously. “Are you still in irons over Jury’s watch?”
Bolitho swallowed. The captain had not forgotten after all.
“I am going to deal with the matter, sir. Just as soon as I can.”
“Hmmm. Don’t make a drudgery of it. You are one of my officers. If a crime is committed the culprit must be punished. Severely. These poor fellows have barely a coin between them. I’ll not see them abused by some common thief, though God knows many of them began life like that!”
Dumaresq did not raise his voice nor look at his coxswain, but said, “See what you can do, Johns.”
It was all he said, but Bolitho sensed a powerful bond between the captain and his coxswain.
Dumaresq stared toward the landing-stairs. There were more uniforms and some horses. A carriage, too, probably to carry the visitors to the residency.
Dumaresq pouted and said, “You can accompany me. Good experience for you.” He chuckled. “When the treasure shipAsturias broke off the engagement all those thirty years ago, it was later rumoured she entered Rio. It was also suggested that the Portuguese authorities had a hand in what happened to the bullion.” He smiled broadly. “So some of the people on that jetty are probably more worried than I at this moment.”
The bowman raised his boat-hook as with oars tossed the gig moved against the landing-stairs with barely a quiver.
Dumaresq’s smile had gone. “Now let us get on with it. I want to get back as soon as possible and see how Mr Palliser’s persuasion is progressing.”
At the top of the stairs a file of Colpoys’ marines, their faces the colour of their coats in the blazing sunshine, snapped to attention. Opposite them, in white tunics with brilliant yellow trappings, was a guard of Portuguese soldiers.
Dumaresq shook hands and bowed to several of the waiting dignitaries as greetings were formally exchanged and translated. A crowd of onlookers stood watching nearby, and Bolitho was struck by the number of black faces amongst them. Slaves or servants from the big estates and plantations. Brought thousands of miles to this place where, with luck, they might be bought by a kind master. If unlucky, they would not last very long.
Then Dumaresq climbed into the carriage with three of the Portuguese while others mounted their horses.
Colpoys sheathed his sword and glared up at the Viceroy’s residence on a lush hillside and complained, “We shall have to march, dammit! I am a marine, not a bloody foot-soldier!”
By the time they reached the fine-looking building Bolitho was soaking with sweat. While the marines were led to the rear of the house by a servant, Bolitho and Colpoys were ushered into a high-ceilinged room with one side open to the sea and a garden of vivid blossoms and shady palms.
More servants, soft-footed and careful to keep their eyes averted from the two officers, brought chairs and wine, and above their heads a great fan began to sway back and forth.
Colpoys stretched out his legs and swallowed the wine with relish.
“Sweet as a hymn in chapel!”
Bolitho smiled. The Portuguese officials, the military and traders lived well here. They would need something to sustain them against the heat and the risk of fever and death in a dozen forms. But the wealth of the growing empire was said to be too vast to be assessed. Silver, precious stones, strange metals and miles of prospering sugar plantations, no wonder they needed an army of slaves to satisfy the demands from far-off Lisbon.
Colpoys put down his glass and got to his feet. In the time it had taken them to march up from the jetty to the residence, Dumaresq had apparently completed his business.
From his expression as he appeared through an arched doorway, Bolitho guessed he was far from satisfied.
Dumaresq said, “We shall return to the ship.”
The farewells were completed at the residence this time, and Bolitho began to realize that the Viceroy was not in Rio, but would return as soon as he was told of Destiny’s visit.
Dumaresq explained as much as he strode into the sunlight, touching his hat to the saluting guards as he went.
He growled in his resonant voice, “That means he insists I wait for his return. I was not born yesterday, Bolitho. These people are our oldest allies, but some of them are not above a little piracy. Well, Viceroy or not, when Heloise catches up with us I shall weigh when I’m good and ready!”
To Colpoys he said, “March your men back.” As the scarlet coats moved away in a cloud of dust, Dumaresq climbed into the carriage. “You come with me. When we reach the jetty I want you to take a message for me.” He pulled a small envelope from his coat. “I had it ready. I always expect the worst. The coachman will carry you there, and I have no doubt the news of your visit will be all over the town within an hour.” He smiled grimly. “But the Viceroy is not the only man with cunning.”
As they clattered past Colpoys and his sweating marines, Dumaresq said, “Take a man with you.” He glanced
