of the schooner from the anchorage at Isla San Bernardo. Spite had been abandoned as a hopeless wreck, then set alight to make sure no pirate or privateer would lay hands on her.
In a short and savage boat action, Cunningham attacked and took the schooner. The one reward of the whole operation.
But Bolitho was certain of one thing. The prize, no matter what secrets she disclosed, would not remove the ache from Cunningham's heart as he had ordered his men to abandon his own command.
At sunset, Cairns ordered a halt. A double ration of spirits was issued to all hands, and after shortening sail for the night Trojan was content to reflect and lick her wounds.
Bolitho received a summons to the great cabin without curiosity. Like most of the company, he was drained, and too shocked to care.
But as he made his way aft, ducking his head beneath the poop, he heard Pears' voice, clearly audible through two sets of screen doors.
'I know your father, otherwise I would have you stripped of your appointment at this very moment!'
Bolitho hesitated outside the door, feeling the sentry's eyes watching him.
It was Quinn of course. Poor, broken Quinn. He could still
see him, standing on the gundeck amongst the litter of dead
and dying. Stricken, unable to think or move. The sentry looked at him. 'Sir?'
Bolitho nodded wearily, and the marine banged his musket on the deck and called, 'Second lieutenant, sir!'
The door opened and Teakle, the clerk, ushered Bolitho inside. He had a bandage on his wrist and looked very shaken. Bolitho wondered why he had never thought of a clerk being in as much danger as any of them.
Quinn came from the cabin, his face as white as a sheet. He saw Bolitho and looked as if he were about to speak. Then with a gasp he blundered past him into the shadows.
Pears strode to meet Bolitho. 'Ah, not too knocked about, eh?' He was restless, off balance.
Bolitho replied, 'I was fortunate, sir.' 'Indeed you were.'
Pears looked round as Coutts came from the adjoining cabin.
The admiral said, 'I will be leaving at daylight and transferring to the prize, Bolitho. I intend to head for Antigua and take passage from there in a courier brig, or one of the frigates.'
Bolitho looked at him, trying to guess where it was leading. He could feel the tension between the two men, see the bitterness in Pears' eyes. Like physical pain.
Coutts added calmly, 'Trojan will follow, of course. Full repairs can be carried out there before she returns to the squadron. I will ensure that the people at Antigua give full attention to it, and to obtaining replacements for – '
Pears interrupted bluntly, 'For all the poor devils who died today!'
Coutts flushed, but turned to Bolitho again.
'I have watched you. You are the right stuff, with the ability and the steel to lead men.'
Bolitho glanced at Pears' grim features and was shocked to see his expression. Like a man under sentence. 'Thank you, sir.'
'Therefore…' the word hung in the damp air, 'I am offering you a new appointment as soon as you reach Antigua. With me.'
Bolitho stared, realizing what it would do to Pears. With Coutts back in Antigua, or probably in New York before Trojan reached harbour, Pears would have nobody to speak for him but Cairns. A scapegoat. Someone to use to cover Coutts' costly exercise.
He was surprised that he could answer without hesitation. It was all he wanted, the one opportunity to transfer to another ship, smaller, faster, like Vanquisher or one of the other frigates. With Coutts' patronage it would be the best chance he would ever get.
'I thank you, sir.' He looked at Pears. 'But my appointment is under Captain Pears. I would wish it to remain so.'
Coutts regarded him curiously. 'What an odd fellow you are, Bolitho. Your sentimentality will do for you one day.' He nodded, curt, final. 'Good evening.'
In a daze Bolitho went down a ladder and found himself in the wardroom, remarkably untouched by the battle.
Cairns followed him a few moments later and took his arm, beckoning to the wardroom servant as he did so.
'Mackenzie, you rogue! Some good brandy for this officer!'
D'Esterre appeared with his lieutenant and asked, 'What is happening?'
Cairns sat down opposite Bolitho and watched him intently.
'It has happened, gentlemen. I have just witnessed a misguided but honest man doing something which was right.'
Bolitho flushed. 'I – I didn't know…'
Cairns took a bottle from Mackenzie and smiled sadly.
'I was outside. Peering through a crack like a schoolboy.' lie became suddenly serious. 'That was a fine thing you did just now. He'll never thank you for it, in as many words.' Cairns raised his glass. 'But I know him better than most. You gave him something to make up for what Coutts did to his ship!'
Bolitho thought of the schooner steering somewhere under Trojan's lee. Tomorrow she would leave them and take with her his chance of promotion.
He got another surprise, He no longer cared.
15
Another Chance
Bolitho stood in the shadow of the mainmast's massive trunk and watched the busy activity around the ship. It was October, and for two months Trojan had been here in English Harbour, Antigua, headquarters of the Caribbean squadrons. There were plenty of ships needing repairs and overhaul, but mostly because of the wear and tear of storms or old age. Trojan's arrival had aroused plenty of excitement and curiosity as Captain Pears had brought her to rest, with the ensign at half-mast for her many dead.
Now, looking around the taut rigging and shrouds, the neatly furled sails and skilfully repaired decks, it was hard to picture the battle which had raged here.
He shaded his eyes to look at the shore. Scattered white buildings, the familiar landfall of Monk's Hill. A busy procession of boats, yard boys, water lighters and the inevitable traders offering doubtful wares to the inexperienced and the foolish.
There had been a lot of changes, not only to the ship herself. New faces from other vessels from England, from ports up and down the Caribbean. All to be tested and worked into the rest of the company.
A Lieutenant John Pointer had arrived aboard, and because of his seniority had been made fourth lieutenant, as Bolitho had once been. A cheerful young man with a round Yorkshire dialect, he seemed competent and willing to learn.
Young Midshipman Libby, stripped of his acting rank, had gone to the flagship on one fine morning to face his examination for lieutenant. He had passed with honour, although he was the only one to show surprise at the verdict. Now he had gone, appointed to another two-decker without delay. But his parting had been a sad occasion, both for him and the other midshipmen. There were two more of those as well. Fresh from England, and in Bunce's view, 'Less than useless 1'
Of Coutts they had heard nothing, other than he had returned to New York. Promotion or disgrace seemed unimportant in the face of the latest news which even now seemed impossible to grasp.
In America, General Burgoyne, who had been operating with some success from Canada in the earlier stages of the revolution, had been directed to take control of the Hudson River. He had advanced with his usual determination with some seven thousand troops, expecting to be reinforced by the New York regiments. Someone had decided that there were insufficient soldiers in New York and barely enough to defend the city.
General Burgoyne had waited in vain, and this month had surrendered with all his men at Saratoga.
