She had smiled then. “Well worth it.”
Bolitho looked around the cabin. She had been brought here to meet the real leader of the pirates. Her description had been a good one. A giant of a man, with a beard halfway down his chest. His name was Tuke, and he was English, or so it seemed.
Viola had said, “A man with neither mercy nor any sort of scruple. His language was as foul as himself. He goaded me. Raped me with his words. He was enjoying my helplessness, my complete dependence on him whether I lived or died. But for my husband’s importance, and his usefulness as hostage, I think I would have quickly followed the fate of the others.”
Bolitho found he was pacing more urgently, his stomach muscles contracting as if he were already in close- combat with the pirate called Tuke.
Now the schooner and her consort, if there was one, were somewhere in hiding. Gloating over their loot and the women they had taken with the first load. An island, or islands, not too far from here, he thought. The chart told him nothing, and the two pirates taken alive, little more. They were typical of their calling. Brutalized by murder and hard living. Their leaders might grow rich on their spoils, but men such as these lived hand to mouth like the savages they were.
Even threats had left them untouched. They would die on a gibbet anyway. There would be no torture, and their fear of Tuke was greater, even in the hangman’s shadow, than of anything their captors could offer.
Including the luckless swimmer, Haggard, who had been killed by a shark, Bolitho had lost three men. Considering the darkness, the unfamiliarity of the ship, it was a miracle. Even the wounded looked as if they would recover within a few weeks. The risk had been justified. Vital.
The outer door of the cabin opened and James Raymond walked aft through the screen. He was freshly changed into a clean shirt and neat green coat, and displayed little sign of his ordeal. For several seconds he stood looking at Bolitho, his features giving nothing away.
He was about the same age as Bolitho, but his face, once handsome, had become marred with a permanent frown. Petulance, disapproval, it was all there.
He acted as if he owned the ship. Had been behaving like the one dependable man aboard since Bolitho had seen him released from another tiny cabin. He had not met him for five long years. All the while he had imagined that Raymond’s path to better things had been furthered by his work in the Indies, by his treachery to the governor he had been sent to advise.
Now it seemed different. While Bolitho had fretted at being kept at sea, far from the scenes of greater happenings, Raymond had been sliding towards ignominy. This appointment he had been sent to occupy sounded even lower than the one held five years ago. It was impossible to read his reactions on the matter from what he said.
Raymond remarked coolly, “Still writing your reports, eh, Captain?”
“Aye, sir.” Bolitho regarded him evenly, trying to conceal the anger he felt for him. “There’s more to this than I first imagined.”
“Really?”
Raymond walked to the windows and stared towards the frigate.
“This man Tuke.” Bolitho checked himself. Once before he had shared too much of his confidence with Raymond. He said, “From this ship alone he has equipped himself royally.”
“Hmm.” Raymond turned, his face in shadow. “It is a pity you could not have taken him and his damned hirelings!”
“It is.”
Bolitho watched him, the way his hands opened and closed at his sides. He was less calm than he pretended. He wondered what would happen when they reached port, what story Raymond would tell. From what he had already gathered, Raymond had been pleading for his life when Tuke’s men had seized the Eurotas.
It was to be hoped Raymond had not bartered secrets for personal safety. The Great South Sea was attracting the flags of a dozen countries. Always the search for more trade, further influence and territory.
Perhaps the authorities in Sydney knew more than they said. Bolitho hoped so, for with only Tempest and the elderly Hebrus to represent the King’s authority, any additional threat in these vast waters did not bear consideration.
Raymond complained, “I have lost a great deal of money. Those damned rogues-” He faltered, caught off guard by his own disclosure. “I’ll see them all hanged!”
The door opened and Viola Raymond stood with one hand steadying herself against the screen as the deck tilted heavily.
Bolitho watched her, the stiff way she held her shoulder. Again he felt the rage churning inside him. Tuke had pressed the heated tip of a knife against her bare skin. His mark. It must have been agony.
She said, “Who will you see hanged, James?” She did not hide her contempt. “I do not see you as a man of action.”
Raymond replied harshly, “That is enough. Your stupidity might have cost us our lives. But for you-”
“But for her quick thinking most of the prisoners and loyal men would have been burned alive in this ship.” Bolitho faced him. “Maybe you would have been spared. I cannot tell. But the deaths of so many set against money and personal trappings seems too great for my reasoning.”
He looked away, feeling Raymond’s hatred and Viola’s compassion.
“I lost some good men, too. Did you think to ask about them? To know if a young seaman called Haggard, who was seized by a shark, has a family or a widow in England?” He shrugged. “I suppose I should be used to such indifference, but it still snares my throat.”
Raymond said hoarsely, “One day, Captain Bolitho, I’ll make you regret your insolence. I am not blind, nor am I a fool.”
She asked, “Are you going on deck, Captain?” She glanced at her husband. “I have endured enough for one day.”
They walked between the other cabins, and Bolitho heard Raymond slam a door with such force it sounded as if it would tear from its hinges. He paused in the shadow, one hand on her wrist.
“Three days. I can’t stand seeing you with him. Perhaps I should have returned to my ship and put a lieutenant in command. It will be three weeks before we make a landfall.”
He felt her skin in his touch. Soft and warm.
She was looking at him, her eyes very steady. “And I have been waiting and hoping for five years. We were wrong. We should have dared. Have broken with convention.” She raised her hand to his face. “I have never forgotten.” Her teeth showed white in the gloom. “Even the special smell you have. Of ships and salt. I’d have thrown myself to the sharks which killed your poor sailor rather than submit to that monster Tuke!”
Bolitho heard the chime of a bell, the attendant slap of bare feet as the watch changed. Someone, Ross or Keen, might come aft at any moment.
He said, “Take care, Viola. You have made a bad enemy in your husband.”
She shrugged. “He has made himself that. He did not even lift a finger to protect me.”
Allday clattered down a companion ladder and shot them a brief glance.
She asked calmly, “What do you see, Allday?” She smiled at him. “More things to worry you?”
Allday scratched his head. Viola Raymond was part of a world he had never shared, and rarely trusted.
“Squalls, ma’am. I see plenty o’ them. But I’ve no doubt we’ll manage.”
Bolitho watched him go. “You have him at a loss for words. That is rare indeed.”
They walked forward, past the big double wheel, and out on to the broad deck.
The air tasted fresh after the cabin, and from the set of the topsails Bolitho guessed they were making fair headway. He wondered if Herrick was watching them through his glass, worrying like Allday at what might happen.
She slipped her hand through his arm and said lightly, “The deck is very unsteady, is it not?” Then she looked up at him, her eyes challenging. Pleading.
In a quieter tone she said, “Three weeks, you say?”
He felt her fingers digging into his arm.
She continued, “After so long, I could not bear it.”
Keen stood with Ross at the lee side and watched discreetly.
