The Flag Captain

You know what these surgeons are like. They understand little more than the saw of the knife.” She spat out the word. “Butchers.”

“But look at him!” Allday was desperate. “We can’t leave him like this!”

Bolitho could not speak. He was very weak, and yet for the first time he could feel his right hand. His arm was too painful

and stiff to move, but he could feel it. The sudden excitement of the discovery only added to his sweating fever, and he could not stop his teeth from chattering.

He heard her say quietly, “Go to the next room, Allday.” Then more firmly, “It is all right. I know what to do.”

The door opened and closed, and Bolitho vaguely imagined Allday crouching like a dog on the other side of it. Then he heard a swift rustle of silk, and before the lantern vanished behind the screen he saw her body very white against the shadowed wall, her hair loose across her naked shoulders. The sheet was pulled down, and with hardly a sound she slid in beside him, her breast and thigh closely pressed against his body while she cradled his head into her arm. As the night passed, and between moments of deep sleep and distorted dreams, he heard her speaking softly to him, like a mother to a sick child, the sounds more reassuring than actual words. The heat of her body enfolded him like a warm cloak, driving out the chill and bringing a sense of peace to his throbbing mind.

When next he opened his eyes there were chinks of bright sunlight slanting through the shutters, and for a moment longer he thought all else had been another dream. Allday was lolling in his chair, and he saw the gleam of a yellow dress beside one of the windows where she sat in a high-backed seat.

She stood up and murmured, “You look so much better.” Then she gave a small, secret smile, and Bolitho knew it had not been any dream. “How do you feel?”

He felt his lips giving way to her smile. “Hungry.”

Allday was on his feet. “A miracle.”

Feet clattered in the stone corridor beyond the door and Keverne, followed by Calvert, entered the room. Keverne’s dark features relaxed slightly as he saw Bolitho smiling.

He said, “I came as soon as I was able, sir.”

Bolitho propped himself on his elbow. “What happened?”

The lieutenant shrugged wearily. “We sighted two French

seventy-fours and gave chase. Darkness came down, but Sir Lucius insisted we keep after ’em,” he sounded bitter, “and in close formation.”

“Continue.” Bolitho could see it all in his mind. The ships trying to maintain Broughton’s fixed formation under full sail. The wind and noise, the frantic efforts to watch the other ships’ stern lights.

Keverne said, “Just after dawn we sighted the enemy again. The admiral ordered Zeus to tack independently, but because of the close formation the signal was misread. Tanais got into difficulties and we collided with her larboard quarter. We lost the bowsprit and brought down the topgallant for good measure. By the time we got ourselves disentangled the Frogs were out of sight, heading north with every square of canvas to the wind, damn their eyes!”

“The damage?”

“It will only take a day to repair. I’ve already had the topgallant replaced, and they are working on the bowsprit and jib boom now.”

Bolitho looked away. If the enemy frigate which had destroyed the bomb vessel had not discovered all about the squadron, the two 74s would have no such doubts.

Keverne added, “Sir Lucius sent his compliments and says he will see you when convenient!” He looked curiously at the woman. “You did a fine piece of work here, if I may say so, sir. I heard about Witrand. I’m sorry.”

Calvert said, “I had best return to the ship, sir.” He did not sound happy at the prospect.

Keverne ignored him. “What shall we do, sir?” He walked to the window and peered through the slats. “To me it all seems hopeless!”

Bolitho thought of Draffen, of his lies and deceit, and felt the blood begin to pump painfully in his shoulder.

And out there aboard his flagship Broughton was imprisoned with his own doubts and apprehensions. But his pride would not

allow him to ask Bolitho or anyone else for advice, so his burden must be all the greater. Bolitho could admire him for his pride, but could not accept Broughton’s unfailing rigidity.

Captain Giffard appeared panting in the doorway, his face the same colour as his tunic.

“Restless is rounding the headland sir!”

Bolitho struggled up on his elbow again, shutting his mind against the pain.

“Signal her captain to report to me immediately!” He held Giffard’s eyes with his own. “To me, you understand?”

As Giffard bustled away he added, “Return to the ship, Mr Keverne, and give my respects to the admiral. Tell him I will be returning aboard very soon.” He saw Allday dart a quick glance at the others. “Very soon. Just tell him that.”

To Calvert he said quietly, “Sir Lucius suggested that you should be employed ashore. You will remain here for the present.” He saw the relief and gratitude and added, “Now go and watch for the sloop.”

When they were alone again he said, “I know what you are about to say, Mrs. Pareja.” He smiled gently. “Kate.”

“Then why are you being so obstinate?” Her cheeks were suddenly flushed, and he could see the quick movement of her breasts.

“Because it is now that I am needed!” He gestured to Allday. “I must be shaved and I’ll need a clean shirt.” He made himself grin at Allday’s stubborn expression. “Now.”

With Allday out of the room he said, “It is strange, but I am able to think more clearly than for some time.”

“It is because you have so little blood left!” She sighed. “But if you must, then I suppose you must. Men are made for war, and you are no exception.”

She moved to the bed and supported his shoulders until he was propped in a sitting position.

He asked slowly, “What will become of you after this affair is done?”

“I will not return to Spain. Without Luis I am a stranger there again. Perhaps I will go to London!” She smiled gravely. “I have my jewels. Far more than I had when I left there.” The smile became a chuckle. “You might visit me in London, eh, Captain? When you come to receive some high and mighty appointment?”

But when he looked at her he saw the smile was hiding something deeper. Pleading? It was hard to tell.

He leaned gently against her. “I will. Believe me.”

Allday was putting finishing touches to Bolitho’s shirt and stock when Commander Samuel Poate of the Restless strode into the room.

He was small and pink, with the aggressive eagerness of a young pig, Bolitho thought. Now, as he stood with his hat beneath his arm, his upturned nose seemed to quiver with urgency and suppressed anger so that the similarity was even greater.

Bolitho snapped, “Your report, Commander, and be quick with it. There is a feeling within me that we may soon be called to act.”

Poate had a clipped way of speaking, like a witness at a court-martial, wasting neither words nor time.

“After I landed Sir Hugo Draffen and the prisoner I stood out to sea to await his signal, sir. I waited but nothing happened, and when the wind fell away I had to anchor lest I be driven ashore. We heard the explosions and guessed that a further attack was being made on Djafou, although I did not know by what means. There was still no sight of Sir Hugo, and when the wind got up I beat out to sea again and patrolled along the coast.”

“Why did you allow the prisoner to be taken ashore?”

“Sir Hugo’s orders, sir. I had no option. He said something about his being a hostage, but I was kept too busy to fathom his reasoning.” His eyes gleamed coldly as he added, “But we did sight a man waving from a beach, and when I put a boat down I soon discovered him to be one of your seamen, sir. The survivor of a party sent to escort Lieutenant Calvert. He was near demented with terror, and I thought him half mad. But later he

admitted to leaving the flag-lieutenant and a midshipman after an attack by tribesmen, and told of how he ran and hid for hours until he found a cave in the hillside.”