The master’s mate asked, “What d’you make of it, Mr Keen? The cap’n seems to weather as many risks here as he does in battle.” He chuckled. “Man, he’s fair taken wi’ th’ lass, there’s no doubt to it!”
Keen cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”
The big Scot stared at him. “Mr Keen, sir, you’re blushing!” He strode away, enjoying his discovery, and leaving the lieutenant with his confusion.
Midshipman Swift hovered nearby and asked, “Is there anything I can do, sir?”
Keen glared. “Yes. Attend to your duties, damn you!”
The two figures by the weather rail heard none of this. The savagery of hand to hand fighting and what had gone before was momentarily lost against the darkening blue sea, and the future still lay out of reach and without form.
Perhaps it had all been quite hopeless from the beginning, and yet Bolitho felt restored.
Commodore James Sayer moved wearily to avoid the bright sunlight from the stern windows as his flagship swung heavily to her cable.
He had just returned from the governor’s residence, and was still wearing his dress coat. Beneath his shirt his skin felt cold and clammy, even after the pull across the anchorage in his barge, so great was the contrast in his cabin.
Through the quarter windows he could just see the frigate Tempest, her outline bending through the thick glass as if she was in a haze. She had anchored at first light that morning, and Captain Bolitho had come aboard the flagship in response to Sayer’s signal, and had delivered his written report, as well as a verbal account of the Eurotas’s plundering and murder.
The important passenger, James Raymond, had not visited the flagship, but had gone straight to Government House.
Sayer breathed out slowly as he recalled his own reception there. Usually he got on quite well with the governor, allowing for the usual span between government and the Navy. This time he was surprised to find him fuming with rage.
“If things weren’t bad enough, Sayer, we’ve now got that animal Tuke on our hands. He stripped the Eurotas, and God knows what use he’ll make of her artillery. I’m sending the brig Quail to England with my despatches immediately. I must have more support here. I can’t be expected to take incoming prisoners, build their accommodation, tend to their security and keep our trade routes patrolled.”
Commodore Sayer had never met Raymond, and he had not known what to expect. He had heard that he had been promoted from being a government adviser to the East India Company to his present post out here. As far as Sayer was concerned, being posted to the Great South Sea could never be seen as promotion. Punishment more like.
But Tuke he did know. Mathias Tuke, like many of his trade, had begun life at sea in an English privateer. It had seemed the natural thing to take the next step and act merely for himself. Against any flag, and with every means at his disposal. He had missed hanging by inches many times, and all the while his influence and the stories of his horrific deeds had spread across two oceans. He had sailed these waters before, and had then set up a base near more prosperous routes in the Caribbean and the Spanish harbours of the Americas.
Cruel, ruthless, feared even by his own sort, Tuke had given many an admiral a headache wondering where he would strike next. And now he was here.
Sayer had said, “I have a full report of the happenings in Eurotas, sir. But for Captain Bolitho’s prompt action, with no little risk to himself and his landing party, I fear we would have lost everything, and all the people aboard the vessel slaughtered in a most callous manner.”
“Quite.” The governor had fiddled with papers on his great desk. “I am furious with Eurotas’s master for acting so stupidly! Taking extra passengers at Santa Cruz with so many convicts and too few guards on board!” He had thrown up his hands in despair. “Well, he has paid for it, poor devil.”
Sayer had said nothing. He had known for some while that most of the captains of merchantmen on government warrants had added to their payment by taking extra passengers. Like deck cargo, they paid handsomely, and many a sea captain retired rich. But not Captain Lloyd of the Eurotas.
“It puts me in the very devil of a position.” The governor had moved around the room despite the sullen heat. “Mr Raymond has important work to do in the Levu Islands. It is all arranged. Now, with Eurotas virtually disarmed and in need of competent officers and replacement crew, I dare not allow him to proceed there without escort.”
Sayer had still remained silent. The Levu Group, adjacent to the Friendly Islands where Tuke had run Eurotas to ground, had been under discussion for many months, and almost as long as the colony in New South Wales had been founded. The local chiefs were friendly and open to barter. They hated each other, but that was safer. There was a good anchorage on the main island, with fresh water and plenty of timber. The group, or parts of it, had been claimed and reclaimed over and over again by any ship’s captain who chose to anchor there in search of water and food, and hoist his country’s flag.
But now, with a bad situation brewing once again between Britain and His Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, the island group represented more than a mere extension of trade and local influence. With Sydney and the rest of the great colony growing and spreading by the month, the newly opened trade and supply routes and the flanks of the colony itself had to be protected. The Levu Islands would easily act as a base for men-of-war to patrol the routes from the South Americas and Cape Horn.
He could not picture Raymond there at all in any capacity. He looked too spoiled by comfortable living. There was a hardness to him also, but it seemed to come from the heart and not the body.
Raymond had said, “Yes. I must have an escort.” He had looked at Sayer. “You command the squadron here.” It had sounded like an accusation, one which Sayer was used to, but resented. “Surely you can manage that?”
“I have a few schooners, some armed cutters and the brig Quail.” He had gestured towards the window. “Now, I have Tempest, thank God, and a captain with the experience and dash to make good use of her.”
Sayer had seen the quick exchange of glances. They had been discussing Bolitho. Strange there should be an atmosphere of unease. Fear perhaps that Bolitho’s commodore might say something not meant for his ears.
Then the governor had said, “You will send Tempest. I am drafting orders for her now. I have also instructed that Eurotas be restored with whatever supplies we have available. The guns and the money are another matter,” he had added bitterly.
Raymond had excused himself and had gone to another part of the residence where he and his wife were being quartered. Sayer would have expected Raymond to show some sign of gratitude for being alive, compassion for those less fortunate. It was as if the whole incident had been shut from his mind.
But once alone with the governor, Sayer had received his second surprise.
“I can assure you, Sayer, that but for Bolitho’s recovery of the ship, his obvious bravery and his successful rescue of many of the people, I would order you to arrange his, his court martial.”
Sayer had been astounded. “I must protest, sir! I know his record, he is a fine officer in every sense, as was his father.”
“And his brother?” The governor had watched him coldly. “Mr Raymond tells me that Bolitho’s brother was a traitor during the war. A bloody renegade!” He had held up one hand. “That was unfair of me, Sayer, but I amfeeling unfair. I am overworked, beset with strife in the colony and the incompetence of my administrators. Now this. James Raymond, an important man from London, who has the Prime Minister’s ear, the King’s too in all probability, is accusing Bolitho of having a liaison with his wife.”
So that was it. Something like a bell had tinkled in Sayer’s mind. Four or five years back. Bolitho had commanded the frigate Undine and had given support to another newly founded possession. In Borneo. That was it. The governor appointed to that godforsaken place had been a retired admiral. There had been talk of an attachment between the wife of a government official and the young frigate captain.
The governor had said crisply, “I see from your face, Sayer, that you have already heard something of it.”
“No, sir. A long time ago. Just rumours.”
“Maybe. But some damned fate has drawn them all together out here. But it is not the same as before. Bolitho is still a frigate captain, but Raymond has grown in influence if not in charity.
Try to see it from my point of view. I cannot afford more trouble. I will send word to London with my despatches and ask that Tempest be replaced. I am not such a tyrant that I would suggest the removal of her captain.”
