She seemed to forget her own troubles and leaned over him anxiously.
“What is this? Who said you must go?”
He reached up carefully and touched her hair. Like silk. Warm, beautiful silk.
“It doesn’t matter now, Aurora.”
She traced a pattern on his shoulder with her finger.
“How can you say that? Of course it matters. The sea is your world. You have seen and done much, but all your life still lies before you.”
Bolitho felt her hair touch his skin and shivered.
He said firmly, “I shall quit the Navy. I have made up my mind.”
“After all you have told me of your family tradition, you would throw it all away?”
“For you, yes, I will.”
She shook her head, the long black hair clinging to him as she protested, “You must not speak like this!”
“My brother is my father’s favourite, and always has been.” It was strange that in moment of crisis he could say it without bitterness or remorse, even knowing it was the truth. “He can uphold the tradition. It is you I want, you I love.”
He said it so fiercely that she was obviously moved.
Bolitho saw her hand rest on her breast, a pulse beating in her throat which made her outward composure a lie.
“It is madness! I know all about you, but of me you know nothing. What sort of life would you have, watching me grow older while you yearn for the ships, for the chances you threw away?” She placed her hand on his forehead. “It is like a fever, Richard. Fight it, or it will destroy both of us!”
Bolitho turned his face away, his eyes pricking as he said, “I could make you happy, Aurora!”
She stroked his arm, soothing his despair. “I never doubted it. But there is more to life than that, believe me.” She backed away, her body moving in time with the ship’s gentle roll. “I told you earlier. I could love you. For the past days and nights I have watched you, touched you. My thoughts were wicked, my longing greater than I would dare admit.” She shook her head. “Please, do not look at me like that. Perhaps, after all, the voyage took too long, and tomorrow comes too late. I no longer know anything.”
She turned, her face in shadow as she was framed against the salt-stained windows.
“I shall never forget you, Richard, and I will probably damn myself for turning your offer aside. But I am asking for your help. I cannot do it alone.”
Macmillan brought the evening meal and said, “Beg pardon, ma’am, but the cap’n an’ ’is officers send their respects, an’ will you dine with them tonight? It bein’ the last time, so to speak.”
Macmillan was really too old for his work, and served his captain in the same fashion as a respected family retainer. He was totally unaware of the tension, the huskiness in her voice as she replied, “I will be honoured.”
Nor did he see the despair on the lieutenant’s face as he watched her walk into the screened-off part of the cabin where her maid spent most of the day.
She paused. “The lieutenant is stronger now. He will manage.” She turned away, her words muffled. “On his own.”
With Bulkley’s supporting hand at his elbow, Bolitho ventured on to the quarterdeck and looked along the ship’s length towards the land.
It was very hot, and the scorching noon sun made him realize just how weak he still was. Seeing the bare- backed seamen bustling about the upper deck, others straddled along the yards as they shortened sail for the final approach, he felt lost, out of things in a way he had not known before.
Bulkley said, “I have been to St Christopher’s previously.” He pointed towards the nearest headland with its writhing line of white surf. “Bluff Point. Beyond it lies Basseterre and the main anchorage.
There will be King’s ships a’plenty, I’ve no doubt. Some forgotten flag-officer who’ll be anxious to tell our captain what to do.”
Some marines marched past, panting loudly in the red coats and heavy equipment.
Bolitho gripped the nettings and watched the land. A small island, but an important link in Britain ’s chain of command. At another time he would have been excited at a first visit. But now as he stared at the nodding palms, the occasional glimpse of native boats, he could only see what it represented. Here they would part. Whatever his own fate might be, here it was ended between them. He knew from the way Rhodes and the others avoided the subject that they were probably thinking he should be thankful. To have lived through that murderous attack and then be nursed by so beautiful a woman should be enough for any man. But it was not.
Dumaresq came on deck and glanced briefly at the compass and at the set of the sails.
Gulliver touched his hat. “Nor’-nor’-east, sir. Steady as she goes.”
“Good. Prepare a salute, Mr Palliser. We shall be up to Fort Londonderry within the hour.”
He saw Bolitho and held up his hand. “Stay if you wish.” He crossed the deck to join him, his glance taking in Bolitho’s eyes, dulled by pain, the horrible scar laid bare for all to see. He said, “You will live. Be thankful.”
He beckoned the midshipman of the watch. “Get aloft with you, Mr Lovelace, and spy out Fleet Anchorage. Count the ships, and report to me as soon as you are satisfied.” He watched the youth swarm up the ratlines and said, “Like the rest of our young gentlemen, he has grown up on this voyage.” He glanced at Bolitho. “That applies more to you than anyone.”
Bolitho said, “Ifeel a hundred, sir.”
“I expect so.” Dumaresq grinned. “When you get your own command you will remember the pitfalls, I hope, but I doubt if you will pity your young lieutenants any more than I do.”
The captain turned aft, and Bolitho saw his eyes light up with interest. Without looking he knew she had come on deck to see the island. How would she see it? As a temporary refuge or a prison?
Egmont seemed unchanged by his ordeal. He walked to the side and remarked, “This place has altered little.”
Dumaresq kept his voice matter of fact. “Garrick will be here, you are certain?”
“As sure as anyone can be.” He saw Bolitho and nodded curtly. “I see you are recovered, Lieutenant.”
Bolitho forced a smile. “Thank you, sir, yes. I ache, but I am in one piece.”
She joined her husband and said steadily, “We both thank you, Lieutenant. You saved our lives. We cannot repay that.”
Dumaresq watched each in turn, like a hunter. “It is our purpose. But some duties are more rewarding than others.” He turned away. “To see Garrick taken is all I ask, damn him. Too many have died because of his greed, too many widows are left by his ambitions.”
Palliser cupped his hands. “Take in the forecourse.”
Dumaresq’s calm was slipping as he snapped, “God damn his eyes, Mr Palliser, what is Lovelace doing up there?”
Palliser peered up at the mainmast cross-trees where Midshipman Lovelace sat precariously balanced like a monkey on a stick.
Egmont forgot Bolitho and his wife as he picked upon the captain’s changed mood.
“What is worrying you?”
Dumaresq clasped and unclasped his strong fingers across the tails of his coat.
“I am not worried, sir. Merely interested.”
Midshipman Lovelace came sliding down a backstay and landed on the deck with a thud. He swallowed hard, visibly shrinking under their combined stares.
Dumaresq asked mildly, “Must we wait, Mr Lovelace? Or is it something so stupendous you cannot bear to call it from the masthead?”
Lovelace stammered, “B-but, sir, you told me to c-count the vessels yonder?” He tried again. “There is only one man-o’-war, sir, a large frigate.”
Dumaresq took a few paces back and forth to clear his thoughts. “One, y’say?” He looked at Palliser. “The squadron must have been called elsewhere. East to Antigua to reinforce the admiral perhaps.”
Palliser said, “There may be a senior officer here, sir. In the frigate maybe.” He kept his face immobile. Dumaresq would not take kindly to being outranked by another captain.
Bolitho did not care. He moved closer to the quarterdeck rail and saw her put her hand on it.
Dumaresq shouted, “Where is that damned quill-pusher? Send for Spillane at once!”
