Trincomalee and very nearly toppled Britain's power in India for good. Conway had started to tell his story as if Bolitho had not been there. As if he just wanted to make sure he could still remember it.
He had been in command of an inshore squadron and employed on the protection of supply ships and military convoys. A sloop had brought news of a French squadron off the coast of Ceylon, and without ado he had set off to engage or cripple the enemy ships until help arrived to complete the victory.
Unbeknown to Conway, another sloop was already searching for him, sent by the Commander-in-Chief with new orders for the defence of Trincomalee. Conway reached the area where the French had been sighted, only to find them gone. Fishermen informed him they had sailed towards the very position he had just left, and with an anxiety which Bolitho could only imagine, he had put his ships about once again. He managed to find and bring the French rear to a brief but unsatisfactory action before losing contact in the night. When dawn united his small squadron again, Conway found the supply ships which he had been guarding had been captured or destroyed, and when the admiral's sloop contacted him, she, too, had fresh news to cancel all previous instructions. Trincomalee had been taken.
In the silence of the cabin Conway's voice had risen suddenly, like a dying man's cry.
'Another day and I've have brought them to grips! Not Suffren, nor any other admiral, could have got us out of Ceylon then!'
Bolitho looked up as the first working parties swarmed aloft for the constant round of repairs, splicing and stitching. It was all too plain. Conway could have emerged a hero. Instead, he was seized upon as a scapegoat. He must still have influence
somewhere, he thought. A governorship, no matter where it was, represented reward rather than a continuance of disgrace.
He halted in his stride, his mind suddenly very alert. But suppose there was a second, more devious reason? Another scapegoat perhaps?
He shook his head. What would be the point of that?
Bolitho turned as Allday walked along the quarterdeck towards him.
'Breakfast's ready, Captain.' He squinted his eyes towards the brig. 'Still with us then?' He smiled calmly at Bolitho's steady gaze. 'That's good.'
Bolitho watched him and wondered. It was the same look he had given when he had brought the gig for him at Madras.
'Thank you.' He added coldly, 'And what is amusing you now?'
Allday shrugged. 'Hard to put a name to it, Captain. It's a sort of glow I get inside sometimes.' He massaged his stomach. 'Comforting.'
Bolitho strode past him towards the hatch. His morning had been badly interrupted.
As he stepped into the cool shadows between decks he imagined Viola Raymond just a mile abeam in the brig. Her husband would be watching her. Mister Pigsliver would be watching both of them.
It was still hard to know what she really thought about him, or if she saw his attraction as some sort of game. There had been several visitors staying at the residence, soldiers, Company officials, but she had been determined to keep him to herself. It had not been anything she had actually said. It had been more of an excitement, a sense of recklessness. A dare which he found impossible to ignore.
She had no longer stayed at arms' length, and several times had allowed her hand to linger on his, even when Raymond had had been close by.
When he had made to return to the ship she had followed him on to a shaded terrace below the inner wall, and had held out a small box.
'For you.'
She had made light of it, but he had seen the hot eagerness in her eyes, the thrust of her breasts beneath her gown as he had opened the box.
It was a gold watch.
While he had turned it over in his hands she had gripped his arm and had whispered, 'I will always remember your face that day…'But she had not laughed that time. 'Do not refuse my little gift, please.'
He had taken her hand and kissed it, his mind grappling with what he was doing, seeing all the dangers, and yet dismissing them.
'It is as well you are sailing in another ship, Captain!' She had laughed and then had pulled his hand below her breast. 'See how my heart beats now! A week, a day even, and who can say what might occur!'
Bolitho walked past the sentry and into the cabin, his mind still hanging on to that moment.
Conway was spreading thick treacle on a biscuit, his wispy hair ruffling in the breeze from the stern windows. 'What time is it, Bolitho?'
'Time, sir?'
Conway eyed him wryly before taking a mouthful.
'I observed that you had your, er, new watch in your hand
and assumed that time was of some importance?'
Bolitho stared at him, the midshipman in front of his
captain again.
Then he grinned. 'It was a memory, sir, that was all.' Conway sniffed. 'That I can well believe!P
'It makes a fine sight, Thomas.'
Bolitho lowered the telescope and wiped his forehead with the back of one hand. The noon sun was merciless, but like most of the men around him, or standing high in the shrouds, he was momentarily unaware of it. Fifteen days out of Madras, and in spite of the wind's perversity, Undine had done well. Bolitho had made many landfalls in his time, but the sight of any shore after the hazards and doubts of navigation never failed to move him.
And now, just visible through the glare of sea and sky, he could see a smudge of green across the larboard side, and felt a fresh excitement and satisfaction. The narrowest part of the Malacca Strait. To starboard, hidden even to the masthead lookout, was the great scimitar-shaped island of Sumatra, poised as if to squeeze the strait shut and leave them sailing in a wilderness forever.
Herrick said, 'It seems a mite too narrow for comfort, sir.'
Bolitho smiled at him. 'It is wider than the English Channel even here, Thomas. The master assures me it is the safest course to take.'
'Perhaps.' Herrick shaded his eyes again. 'So that is Malacca, eh? It is hard to believe we have reached this far.'
'And in five days or so, with God's good grace, we'll anchor in Pendang Bay.' He paused, seeing the doubt in Herrick's blue eyes. 'Well, come on, Thomas, let us see that smile again!V
'Yes, sir, I know it is a good and fast passage, and I am well satisfied, as you are.' He fidgeted with his belt buckle. 'But I am more concerned with something else.'
'I see.'
Bolitho waited, knowing what was coming. He had seen the worry mounting in Herrick's face over the past fifteen days. Having to spend much of his time with the admiral, Bolitho had had little chance of enjoying Herrick's company. A walk together before dusk, a pipe of tobacco and a glass of wine.
Herrick said bluntly, 'Everyone knows about it, sir. It's not my place to speak on your behaviour, but…'
'But that is exactly what you are about to do?' Bolitho smiled gravely. 'It is all right, Thomas, I am not going to snap your head off!'
Herrick would not relent. 'It is no joke, sir. The lady is the wife of an important government official. If this sort of tale ever reached England, you would be in real danger, and that's the truth.'
'Thank you for your concern.' He glanced ahead where far beyond the gently spiralling bowsprit he saw Rosalind leading the way through the shallows and sandspits as she had no doubt done many times before. 'But it is something I do not wish to discuss. Even with you, if you are to disagree with everything I say.'
'Yes, sir, I'm sorry.' But Herrick added stubbornly, 'I can't stand by and see you in irons because of others, sir, not without trying at least to help.'
Bolitho gripped his arm. 'Then we will say no more of the matter, Thomas. Agreed?'
'Aye, Sir.' Herrick regarded him unhappily. 'If it is the way you want it.'
A seaman left the galley and darted down an open hatch below the forecastle. He was carrying a bucket and swab. Herrick said wearily, 'The surgeon is sick again. That man must be going to clean out his quarters.'
