quarters. And on the matter of my clerk, I have decided to put the surgeon’s new helper, Spillane, to the task. He seems educated and well-disposed to his betters, and I’ll not spoil the good surgeon by overloading him with aid. He has enough loblolly boys to run his sick-bay.”
Palliser touched his hat. “So be it, sir.”
Bolitho walked to the larboard gangway to watch the approaching boat. Without a glass he could see no one aboard he recognized. He felt like mocking himself for his stupidity. What had he expected? That the man, Jonathan Egmont, would be coming out to see the captain? Or that his lovely wife would take the fatiguing and uncomfortable journey just to wave to him? He was being ridiculous, childish. Perhaps he had been at sea too long, or his last visit to Falmouth which had brought so much unhappiness had left him open to fantasy and impossible dreams?
The boat came to the main chains, and after a great deal of sign language between the oarsmen and a boatswain’s mate an envelope was passed up to Rhodes and then carried aft to the cabin.
The boat waited, idling a few yards from the frigate’s hull, the olive-skinned oarsmen watching the busy sailors and marines and probably assessing the strength of Destiny’s broadside.
Eventually Rhodes returned to the entry port and handed another envelope down to the boat’s coxswain. He saw Bolitho watching and crossed to join him by the hammock nettings.
“I know you will be sorry to hear this, Dick.” He could not prevent his mouth from quivering. “But we are invited ashore to dine tonight. I believe you know the house already?”
“Who will be going?” Bolitho tried to control his sudden anxiety.
Rhodes grinned. “The lord and master, all of his lieutenants, and, out of courtesy, the surgeon.”
Bolitho exclaimed, “I cannot believe it! Surely the captain would never leave his ship without at least one lieutenant aboard?” He looked round as Dumaresq appeared on deck. “Would he?”
Dumaresq shouted, “Fetch Macmillan and my new clerk, Spillane!” He sounded different, almost jubilant. “I shall require my gig in half an hour!”
Rhodes hurried away as Dumaresq added loudly, “I want you and Mr Bolitho and our gallant redcoat ready and presentable at that rime!” He smiled. “The surgeon, too.” He strode away as his servant scurried in his wake like a terrier.
Bolitho looked at his hands. They appeared steady enough, and yet, like his heart, they seemed to be out of control.
In the wardroom there was complete confusion as Poad and his assistants tried to produce clean shirts, pressed uniform coats and generally attempted to transform their charges from sea officers into gentlemen.
Colpoys had his own orderly and was cursing like a trooper as the man struggled with his gleaming boots while he examined himself in a hand-mirror.
Bulkley, as owl-like and crumpled as ever, muttered, “He’s only taking me because of the wrong he did in my sick-bay!”
Palliser snapped, “For God’s sake! He probably doesn’t trust you alone in the ship!”
Gulliver was obviously delighted to be left aboard in temporary command. After the long passage from Funchal he had seemingly gathered more confidence, and anyway he hated ‘the ways of the quality’, as he had once confided to Codd.
Bolitho was the first at the entry port. He saw Jury taking over the watch on the quarterdeck, their eyes met and then moved on. It would all be different once the ship was at sea again. Working together would drive away the differences, except that there was still Murray ’s fate to be considered.
Dumaresq came on deck and inspected his officers. “Good. Quite good.”
He looked down at his gig alongside, at the oarsmen in their best checked shirts and tarred hats, with his coxswain ready and waiting.
“Well done, Johns.”
Bolitho thought of the other time he had gone ashore here with Dumaresq. How he had casually asked Johns to look into the matter of Jury’s missing watch. Johns, as captain’s coxswain, was held in great respect by the petty officers and senior hands. A word in the right place, and a hint to the master-at-arms, who never needed much encouragement when it came to harrying the people, and a swift search had done the rest.
“Into the boat.”
In strict order of seniority, and watched from the gangway by several of the off-duty seamen, Destiny’s officers descended into the gig.
Last of all, resplendent in his gold-laced coat with the white lapels, Dumaresq took his place in the stern- sheets.
As the boat moved carefully away from the frigate’s hull, Rhodes said, “May I say, sir, how grateful we are to be invited?”
Dumaresq’s teeth showed very white in the gloom. “I asked all my officers to join me, Mr Rhodes, because we are of one company.” His grin broadened. “Also, it suits my purpose for the folk ashore to know we are all present.”
Rhodes answered lamely, “I see, sir.” Clearly he did not.
In spite of his earlier misgivings and worries, Bolitho settled down and watched the lights on the land. He was going to enjoy himself. In a foreign, exotic country which he would remember and describe in detail when he returned to Falmouth.
No other thought would interfere with this evening.
Then he recalled the way she had looked at him when he had left the house, and felt his resolve giving way. It was absurd, he told himself, but with that glance she had made him feel like a man.
Bolitho stared along the loaded table and wondered how he would manage to do justice to so many glistening dishes. He was already wishing he had heeded Palliser’s curt advice as they had climbed ashore from the gig. “They’ll try to make you drunk, so take care!” And that had been nearly two hours ago. It did not seem possible.
The room was large with a curved ceiling and hung around with colourful tapestries, the whole made even more impressive by hundreds of candles, glittering chandeliers at regular intervals overhead, while along the table’s length were some candelabra which must be solid gold, Bolitho thought.
The Destiny’s officers had been carefully seated, and made patches of blue and white, separated by the richer clothing of the other guests. They were all Portuguese, most of whom spoke little English and shouted at one another to demand an instant translation or a means of making a point clear to the visitors. The commandant of the shore batteries, a great hogshead of a man, was matched only by Dumaresq in voice and appetite. Occasionally he would lean towards one of the ladies and bellow with laughter, or thump the table with his fist to emphasize his remarks.
A parade of servants came and went, ushering an endless procession of dishes, which ranged from succulent fish to steaming platters of beef. And all the time the wine continued to flow. Wine from their homeland or from Spain, sharp-tasting German hocks and mellow bottles from France. Egmont was certainly generous, and Bolitho had the impression that he was drinking little as he watched over his guests with an attentive smile on his lips.
It was almost too painful to look at Egmont’s wife at the opposite end of the table. She had nodded to Bolitho when he had arrived, but little else. And now, squashed between a Portuguese ship-chandler and a wrinkled lady who never seemed to stop eating, even to draw breath, Bolitho felt ignored and lost.
But just to look at her was breathtaking. Again she was dressed in white, against which her skin seemed golden by contrast. The gown was cut very low across her breasts, and around her neck she wore a double-headed Aztec bird with trailing tail feathers, which Rhodes had knowledgeably identified as rubies.
As she turned her head to speak with her guests the ruby tails danced between her breasts, and Bolitho swallowed another glass of claret without realizing what he had done.
Colpoys was already half drunk and was describing in some length to his lady companion how he had once been caught in a woman’s chamber by her husband.
Palliser on the other hand seemed unchanged, eating steadily but sparingly, and careful to keep his glass always half filled. Rhodes was less sure of himself now, his voice thicker, his gestures more vague than when the meal had begun. The surgeon held his food and drink very well, but was sweating badly as he tried to listen to the halting English of a Portuguese official and answer a question from the man’s wife at the same time.
Dumaresq was incredible. He turned nothing away and yet seemed completely at ease, his resonant voice
