smell of rebellion in the air. It has been growing and smouldering since the end of the war. Sooner or later our old enemies will strike at us again.” He turned and stared at Bolitho as if trying to make up his mind. “I read something of your brother’s recent success when I was at Plymouth. Against another of Garrick’s breed, I believe? He caught and destroyed a man who was fleeing to America, a man once respected but who proved to be as rotten as any common felon.”
Bolitho replied quietly, “Aye, sir. I was there with him.”
“Indeed?” Dumaresq chuckled. “There was no mention of that in the Gazette. Your brother wanted all the glory for himself perhaps?”
He turned away before Bolitho could ask of the connection, if there was one, between the dash down the Channel just a few months back and the mysterious Sir Piers Garrick.
But Dumaresq said, “I am going to play cards with Mr Egmont. The surgeon has agreed to partner him, whereas I shall have our gallant marine for mine.” He gave a rich chuckle. “We might empty one of Egmont’s money-boxes before we drop anchor off Basseterre!”
Bolitho sighed and walked slowly to the quarterdeck rail. Half an hour and the watch would change. A few words with Rhodes, then down to the wardroom.
He heard Yeames, master’s mate of the watch, murmur with unusual politeness, “Why, good evenin’, ladies.”
Bolitho swung round, his heart pounding in immediate response as he saw her moving carefully along the side of the quarterdeck, her arm entwined with that of her maid.
He saw her hesitate and was of two minds what to do next.
“Let me assist you.”
Bolitho crossed the deck and took her proffered hand. Through the glove he felt the warmth of her fingers, the smallness of her wrist.
“Come to the weather side, ma’am. There is less spray and a far better view.”
She did not resist as he led her up the sloping deck to the opposite side. Then he pulled out his handkerchief and bound it quickly round the hammock nettings.
He explained as calmly as he could that it was to protect her glove from tar or any other shipboard substance.
She held herself close to the nettings and stared abeam across the dark water. Bolitho could smell her fragrant perfume, just as he was very aware of her nearness.
Then she said, “A long way to St Christopher’s Island, is it not?” She had turned to look at him but her eyes were in shadow.
“It will take us over two weeks, according to Mr Gulliver, ma’am. It is a good three thousand miles.”
He saw her teeth white in the gloom, but did not know if she was showing dismay or impatience.
“A good three thousand miles, Lieutenant?” Then she nodded. “I understand.”
Through the open skylight Bolitho heard Dumaresq’s deep laugh and Colpoys saying something in reply. Dealing his cards, no doubt.
She had heard too and said quickly to her maid, “You may leave us. You have worked hard today.”
She watched the girl reaching for the companionway and added, “She has lived all her life on hard dry land. This ship must be strange to her.”
Bolitho asked, “What will you do? Will you be safe after all that has happened?”
She tilted her head as Dumaresq laughed again. “That will depend on him.” She looked past Bolitho, her eyes shining like the spray alongside as she asked, “Does it matter so much to you?”
Bolitho said, “You know it does. I care terribly.”
“You do?” She reached out and gripped his arm with her free hand. “You are a kind boy.” She felt him stiffen and added gently, “I apologize. You are a man to have done what you did back there when I thought I was going to be killed.”
Bolitho smiled. “I am the one to apologize. I want you to like me so much that I act like a fool.”
She twisted round and moved closer to look at him. “You mean it. I can tell that, if nothing else.”
“If only you could have remained in Rio.” Bolitho was searching his mind for some solution which might help. “Your husband should not have risked your life.”
She shook her head, the movement of her hair striking at Bolitho’s heart like a dagger.
“He has been good to me. Without him I would have been lost long ago. I was a stranger in Rio. I am of Spanish blood. When my parents died I was to have been bought as a wife by a Portuguese trader.”
She gave a shudder. “I was only thirteen. He was like a greasy pig!”
Bolitho felt betrayed. “Was it not love which made you marry your husband?”
“Love?” She tossed her head. “I do not find men very attractive, you know. So I was content with his arrangements for me. Like his many fine possessions, I think he sees me as a decoration.” She opened the shawl which she had carried on deck. “Like this bird, yes?”
Bolitho saw the same two-headed bird with the ruby tail feathers she had worn at her house in Rio.
He said fervently, “I love you!”
She tried to laugh but nothing came. She said, “I suspect you know even less about loving than I do.” She reached up and touched his face. “But you meant what you said. I am sorry if I hurt you.”
Bolitho grasped her hand and pressed it firmly against his cheek. She had not laughed or piled scorn on him for his clumsy advances.
He said, “You will be left in peace soon.”
She sighed. “And then you will come like a knight on your charger to save me, yes? I used to dream of such things when I was a child. Now I think as a woman.”
She pulled his hand down and pressed it against her skin, so that the warmth of the jewelled bird on his fingers was like a part of her.
“Do you feel that?” She was watching him intently.
He could feel the urgent beat of her heart rising to match his own as he touched the smooth skin and the firm curve of her breast.
“That is no childish desire.” She made to move away but when he held her she said, “What is the use? We are not alone to act as we please. If my husband thinks I am betraying him, he will refuse to help your captain.” She put her hand on his lips. “Hear me! Dear Richard, do you not see what that would mean? My husband thrown into some English prison to await trial and death. I, as his wife, might be taken also, or left destitute to await another Portuguese trader, or worse.” She waited for him to release her and then murmured, “But do not think I would not or could not love you.”
Voices echoed along the deck and Bolitho heard a boatswain’s mate calling out names as the watch trooped aft to relieve his own men.
In those few seconds Bolitho found himself hating the boatswain’s mate with all his soul.
He exclaimed, “I must see you again.”
She was already making her way to the opposite side, her slim outline like a ghost against the dark water beyond.
“Three thousand miles you said, Lieutenant? It is such a long way. Each day will be torture.” She hesitated and glanced back at him. “For both of us.”
Rhodes clattered up through the companionway and stood aside to let her pass. He nodded to Bolitho and remarked, “A beauty indeed.” He seemed to sense Bolitho’s mood, that he was prepared to be hostile if he mentioned her again.
He added, “That was clumsy of me. Stupid, too.”
Bolitho pulled him to one side, oblivious of the watch mustering beyond the quarterdeck rail.
“I am in hell, Stephen! I can tell no one else. It is driving me mad.”
Rhodes was deeply moved by Bolitho’s sincerity and by the fact he was sharing his secret with him.
He said, “We shall think of something.” It sounded so unconvincing in the face of his friend’s despair that he said, “A lot can happen before we sight St Christopher’s.”
The master’s mate touched his hat. “The watch is aft, sir.”
Bolitho walked to the companionway and paused with one foot on the ladder. Her perfume was still hanging there, or if not it must be clinging to his coat.
