into sunlight.
A quick breath. Count the seconds and then jump. Hands seized his arms and thigh, and as he staggered into the sternsheets he saw the Hyperion already sliding clear, the barge's oars hacking at the crested water while Allday brought the bows towards the Telamon.
He had hardly regained his breath when it was time to ascend the Dutchman's side and into her ornate entry port.
As he followed a swarthy lieutenant towards the poop he noticed more flags being hoisted under the supervision of an English petty officer, and guessed the ships were being ordered to resume course and station. So it was to be another conference.
He heard a chorus of shouts and saw a bosun's chair being swayed out above the gangway. Captain Fitzrnaurice of the Hermes was not taking any chances it seemed, and preferred the indignity of being hoisted inboard like a piece of cargo to the real risk of drowning or being crushed against the ship's hull.
In the stern cabin it was very dark after the sea's blinding reflections, and it took several seconds for him to distinguish Pelham-Martin's massive bulk squeezed into a chair, the legs of which were lashed firmly to two ringbolts to prevent it and its occupant from sliding to the opposite side of the ship. Farquhar was standing by the table, his slim figure relaxed to take the uncomfortable motion, while Mulder, the Telamon's captain, was framed against the stem windows, head cocked as if to listen to his men's efforts on the deck above.
'Ah, Bolitho.' Pelham Martin nodded curtly. 'We will wait for Ftzmaurice before we begin.'
Bolitho had wondered how he would feel when he met him again. Disgust or anger? He was surprised to find he could feel nothing which he could easily recognise. He had expected the commodore to display some sort of pleasure after the destruction of two enemy ships. Quince had hinted that he was to carry more than wounded men in the crippled Indomitable to Antigua. A glowing report which would tell the admiral and the whole of England of his victory, and not of the ships which had escaped or the puzzle which was as unsolved as ever.
Instead Pelham-Martin sat in the shadows, quite still, and in complete silence. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom Bolitho saw Farquhar's face, strained and tired, his lips set in a thin hard line. Seeing Bolitho's glance he gave a small shrug.
Then Fitzinaurice entered, and before he could apologise for his lateness Pelham-Martin said harshly, 'Captain Farquhar has just brought grave news.' He looked at the young captain and added heavily, 'You had best repeat it in your own words.'
Farquhar was swaying with fatigue, but his voice was as crisp and as impersonal as ever. 'Four nights ago I was patrolling to the nor'-west of Tortuga when gunfire was reported to the east'rd. At first light we sighted two frigates at each other's throats. One Spanish, and the other the Thetis, a French of forty guns.' He knew they were hanging on his words, but showed neither emotion nor pride… 'I soon recognised the Spanish frigate as the one I saw in Caracas, an escort being retained for the annual treasure ship. She was in a poor way, and all but dismasted.' He sighed suddenly, the sound strangely human from such a controlled throat. 'I set my people to quarters and engaged the Thetis without delay. We fought for close on an hour, and although I lost ten killed, we must have slaughtered five times that number.' His tone hardened slightly. 'Then the Frenchman broke off the action and I set about trying to rescue the remnants of the other ship.'
Fitzmaurice asked, 'You let him escape?'
Farquhar eyed him bleakly. 'I thought the Spaniard's intelligence more valuable than a prize.' He added, 'Or the prize money!' He swung round as Bolitho spoke for the first time, as if expecting someone else to question his actions.
Bolitho said, 'That was good work.' It was also very fortunate for Farquhar that he had found and engaged the enemy, no matter what the end result. For it was obvious he was well clear of his proper station, and no wonder that neither of the searching sloops had discovered his whereabouts.
He added slowly, 'Did you find out anything worthwhile?'
Farquhar relaxed again. 'Only one officer was still alive. He told me that his frigate was escorting the treasure ship, San Leandro, which left Caracas six days ago bound for Tenerife. Off Tortuga they were pounced upon by four sail of the line and the frigate Thetis. To all accounts the Dons put up quite a fight but stood no chance at all. The San Leandro struck her colours and a prize crew went on board. The Spanish frigate was too far damaged to prevent it, or even to pursue, and while the squadron sailed off with their prize the Thetis hove to to await daylight and award the coup de grdce. The rest you know, gentlemen.'
The following silence in the great cabin was oppressive and strained, as each of those present considered this piece of news for himself.
Then Farquhar said simply, 'I could not save the Spaniard even when I took her in tow. A wind got up and she rolled under with most of those who survived the battle.'
Mulder crossed the cabin and leaned heavily on the table. 'What more did you find from the Spanish lieutenant?'
Farquhar shrugged. 'My surgeon had to take off his right foot and he is in bad health at present. I think he feels the loss of the San Leandro far more than that of his foot. But he did say something more, though I know nothing of the value. Immediately after the treasure ship was seized he saw a flag being hoisted at her main. A yellow flag with a black eagle emblazoned upon it.'
Captain Fitzmaurice who had been staring glumly at the deck jerked upright. 'But that was the flag which flew above the town at Las Mercedes! My landing party saw it as they freed the prisoners from the jail.' He stared at Bolitho's grave features. 'It is the standard of the governor there!'
Pelham-Martin's small hands lifted slightly from the arms of the chair and then dropped again as if rendered lifeless. He said heavily, 'What is the point of all this? Another deception, one more ruse to throw us off the scent. It could mean anything, or nothing.'
Fitzmaurice looked past him, his eyes screwed tight with concentration. 'If Lequiller captured the treasure ship, surely that must do harm to his cause? The Dons will feel less inclined to change sides as they have done in the past.'
Pelham-Martin's voice sounded strangled. 'If it was Lequillerl'
'There is no doubt of it, sir.' Farquhar watched him without expression. 'The Spanish lieutenant saw the leading ship very clearly. A three-decker with a viceadmiral's command flag at the fore.'
The commodore sank further into the chair. 'Everything we have tried to do, each phase of our movements has been foreseen by this Lequiller.'
Farquhar looked surprised. 'But at least we have now halved his squadron, sir.'
Fitzmaurice interrupted bluntly, 'Two escaped at Las Mercedes.'
'If only I had more ships.' Pelham-Martin did not appear to be listening. 'Sir Manley Cavendish knew what I was against, yet gave me no more than a pitiful force to deal with it.'
Farquhar turned towards Bolitho. 'What do you think, sir?'
Bolitho did not reply directly. While the others had been speaking and Pelham-Martin had been searching his mind for reasons and excuses, he had been trying to find some link, any small indication which might at least solve what he had always thought of as a puz'le.
He asked, 'What do we know of the governor of Las Mercedes?'
Mulder spread his hands vaguely. 'Don Jose Perez. It is said he was sent to the Caribbean more as a punishment than reward. He is highborn and of wealthy family, but we are told he outraged the Court of Spain by misusing the taxes of his lands. Las Mercedes must be as a prison to such a man, and after twenty years I would think…'
Bolitho cut him short. 'Twenty years?' He began to pace the cabin, the others watching him with amazement. 'I am beginning to understand! Lequiller served here during the American Revolution and often used Las Mercedes as a temporary base, as well as many other places. He would have known all about Perez's background, might even have shared his confidences and discussed his hopes for the future.' He halted in his stride and looked at each man in turn. 'I believe I know what Lequiller intends, and what his orders were when he broke through our blockade!'
Fitzmaurice said, 'An attack on the Spanish Main?'
'Far more daring and rewarding than that!' Bolitho walked to the stem windows and stared at his own ship. 'Any attack on Spanish territories out here would most certainly inflame opinion against him. But should he return to Spain itself, imagine the impact it would have!'
