To Egmont he said, “I must discuss a few trivial matters before we anchor. Please come with me.”
Bolitho stood beside her and briefly touched her hand with his. He felt her tense, as if she shared his pain, and said quietly, “My love. I am in hell.”
She did not turn to look at him but said, “You promised to help me. Please, I will shame us both if you continue.” Then she did look at him, her eyes steady but just too bright as she said, “It is all wasted if you are to be unhappy and your life spoiled because of something we both value.”
Palliser yelled, “Mr Vallance! Stand by to fire the salute!”
Men ran to their stations while the ship, indifferent to all of them, continued into the bay.
Bolitho took her arm and guided her to the companionway. “There will be a lot of smoke and dust directly. You had best go below until we are closer inshore.” How was it possible to speak so calmly on unimportant matters? He added, “I must talk with you again.”
But she had already gone down into the shadows.
Bolitho walked forward again and saw Stockdale watching from the starboard gangway. His gun was not required for the salute, but he was showing his usual interest.
Bolitho said, “It seems I am at a loss when it comes to finding the right words, Stockdale. How can I thank you for what you did? If I offered you reward, I suspect you would be insulted. But words are nothing for what I feel.”
Stockdale smiled. “You bein’ ’ere for us all to see is enough. One day you’ll be a captain, sir, an’ grateful I’ll be. You’ll be needin’ a good cox’n then.” He nodded towards Johns, the captain’s own coxswain, smart and aloof in his gilt-buttoned jacket and striped trousers. “Like old Dick yonder. A man o’ leisure!” It seemed to amuse him greatly, but the rest of his words were lost in the controlled crash of gun-fire.
Palliser waited for the fort by the anchorage to reply and then said, “Mr Lovelace was right about the frigate.” He lowered the telescope and glanced grimly at Bolitho. “But he failed to note that she is wearing Spanish colours. I doubt that the captain will be greatly amused!”
Bulkley said anxiously, “I think you should rest. You have been on deck for hours. What are you trying to do, kill yourself?”
Bolitho watched the clustered buildings around the anchorage, the two forts, each well placed at either side like squat sentinels.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking only of myself.” He reached up and gingerly touched the scar. Perhaps it would be completely healed, or partially covered by his hair before he saw his mother again. What with her husband returning home with one arm, and now a disfigured son, she would have more than enough to face up to.
He said, “You did so much for me, too.”
“Too?” The surgeon’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I think I understand.”
“Mr Bolitho!” Palliser appeared through the companionway. “Are you fit enough to go ashore?”
“I must protest!” Bulkley pushed forward. “He is barely able to stand up!”
Palliser stood facing them, his hands on his hips. Ever since the anchor had been dropped and the boats put down alongside, he had been called from one crisis to another, but mostly down to the great cabin. Dumaresq was extremely angry, if the loudness of his voice was anything to go by, and Palliser was in no mood for argument.
“Let him decide, dammit!” He looked at Bolitho. “I am shorthanded, but for some reason the captain requires you to go ashore with him. Remember our first meeting? I need every officer and man working in my ship. No matter how you feel, you keep going. Until you drop, or are incapable of movement, you are still one of my lieutenants, is that plain?”
Bolitho nodded, somehow glad of Palliser’s temper. “I’m ready.”
“Good. Then get changed.” As an afterthought he said, “You may carry your hat.”
Bulkley watched him stride away and exploded angrily, “He is beyond understanding! By God, Richard, if you feel unsteady I will demand that you stay aboard! Young Stephen can take your place.”
Bolitho made to shake his head but winced as the pain stabbed back at him.
“I shall be all right. But thank you.” He walked to the companionway adding, “I suspect there is some special reason for taking me with him.”
Bulkley nodded. “You are getting to know our captain very well, Richard. He never acts without a purpose, never offers a guinea which will not profit him two!”
He sighed. “But the thought of leaving his service is worse than tolerating his insults. Life would seem very dull after Dumaresq’s command!”
It was almost evening by the time Dumaresq decided to go ashore. He had sent Colpoys with a letter of introduction to the governor’s house, but when the marine returned he had told him that there was only the acting-governor in residence.
Dumaresq had commented sharply, “Not another Rio, I trust?”
Now, in the captain’s gig, with a hint of cooler air to make the journey bearable, Dumaresq sat as before, with both hands gripped around his sword, his eyes fixed on the land.
Bolitho sat beside him, his determination to withstand the pain and the recurring dizziness making him break out in a sweat. He concentrated on the anchored vessels and the comings and goings of Destiny’s boats as they ferried the sick and wounded ashore and returned already loaded with stores for the purser.
Dumaresq said suddenly, “A mite to starboard, Johns.”
The coxswain did not even blink but moved the tiller accordingly. From one corner of his mouth he muttered, “You’ll get a good look at ’er presently, sir.”
Dumaresq nudged Bolitho sharply with an elbow. “He’s a rascal, eh? Knows my mind better than I!”
Bolitho watched the anchored Spaniard as she towered above them. She was more like a cut-down fourth-rate than a frigate, he thought. Old, with elaborately carved and gilded gingerbread around her stern and cabin windows, but well-maintained, with an appearance of efficiency which was rare in a Spanish ship.
Dumaresq was thinking the same and murmured, “The San Augustin. She’s no local relic from La Guaira or Porto Bello. Cadiz or Algeciras is my guess.”
“Will that make a difference, sir?”
Dumaresq turned on him angrily, and just as swiftly let his temper subside.
“I am bad company. After what you have suffered under my command, I can spare you civility at least.” He watched the other vessel with professional interest, as Stockdale had studied the other gun crews. “Forty-four guns at least.” He seemed to recall Bolitho’s question. “It might. Weeks and months ago there was a secret. The Dons suspected there was evidence available as to the Asturias ’s lost treasure. Now it seems they have more than mere suspicions. San Augustin is here to mime Destiny’s role and to prevent His Most Catholic Majesty’s displeasure if we do not share our confidences.” He gave a grim smile. “We shall see about that. I have no doubt that a dozen telescopes are watching us, so look no more. Let them worry about us.”
Dumaresq noticed that the landing-place was only fifty yards away and said, “I brought you with me so that the governor would see your scar. It is better proof than anything else that we are working for our masters in Admiralty. Nobody here need know you gained so distinguished a wound whilst seeking water for our thirsty people!”
A small group was waiting for the boat to manoeuvre to the landing-place, some red uniforms amongst them. It was always the same. News from England. Word from the country which had sent them this far, anything which might maintain their precious contact.
Bolitho asked, “Will the Egmonts be allowed to go, sir?” He lifted his chin, surprised at his own impudence as Dumaresq’s gaze fastened on him. “I should like to know, sir.”
Dumaresq studied him gravely for several seconds. “It is important to you, I can see that.” He untangled the sword from between his legs in readiness for climbing ashore. Then he said bluntly, “She is a very desirable woman, I’ll not argue.” He stood up and straightened his hat with elaborate care. “You need not gape like that. I’m neither completely blind nor insensitive, you know. If I’m anything, it’s most likely envious.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s deal with the acting-governor of this seat of empire, Sir Jason Fitzpatrick, and afterwards I may consider your problem!”
Grasping his hat in one hand, and supporting his sword in the other, Bolitho followed the captain out of the boat. Dumaresq’s casual acceptance of his feelings for another man’s wife had completely taken the wind from his sails. No wonder the surgeon could not face the prospect of a quieter and more predictable master.
A youthful captain from the garrison touched his hat and then exclaimed, “My God, gentlemen, that is a bad
