The Flag Captain

Bolitho stood up very carefully, supporting himself against Allday.

Poate said, “From the cave he said he saw Witrand tortured and then beheaded, although I do not know how much of that is true.”

“It is fact, Commander.”

“But then he went on to say that as he hid there, watching this horror below him, he also saw Sir Hugo.” He took a deep breath. “Any seaman trying to ingratiate himself with his officers after deserting in the face of the enemy would hardly be likely to invent such a story. He said he actually saw Draffen speaking with those who were torturing the prisoner!”

“I see.” He looked up, realising there was more to come. “Well?”

“I have since heard of how you were wounded and others killed aboard Hekla because you lacked my support, sir. But I was so enraged and sickened by what I had heard that I took my ship further along the coast where eventually, and with God’s good fortune, I discovered a small dhow.”

“Draffen?” Bolitho felt his blood churning in his veins like fire.

Poate nodded. “I have him below, sir. Under guard.”

“Bring him here.” He looked towards the sunlight and heard the wind hissing gently through the shutters. “You have done very well. Probably better than either of us can yet realise.”

He heard Poate barking orders in the corridor and said, “Leave me, Kate. You too, Allday.” He smiled at their concern. “I will not start to wave my arms just yet.”

Alone, he leaned against a chairback and moved his arm cautiously within a makeshift sling.

When Draffen entered with Poate, and Calvert bringing up the rear, there was little about him to betray either alarm or uncertainty.

He said calmly, “Perhaps you would be good enough to take me to the admiral? I am not content at being so badly handled by these people.”

Calvert stammered, “You are under arrest…”

Draffen turned towards him, his eyes cold with contempt. “Be silent, puppy!”

Bolitho said flatly, “It is useless to deny that you contrived to have Djafou reoccupied for your own future gain, Sir Hugo.” How strange that he could speak so calmly when his mind was sick with disgust. “Whatever the outcome here, you will be made to stand trial in England.”

Draffen stared at him and then laughed. “My God, Captain, what world do you live in?”

“Our world, Sir Hugo. I think that what we have discovered at Djafou will be more than enough to break your mask of innocence.”

Draffen spread his hands. “Slavery is a fact, Captain, no matter what the law might proclaim publicly. Where demand exists, so too must supply. There are those in the City of London who would place more value on the head of one fit slave than a whole boatload of your sailors who have died in battle, let me assure you of that! Learn your lesson well, as I have. Law and justice are for those who can afford it!”

Poate opened his mouth to interrupt as a bright spot of blood appeared suddenly on Bolitho’s clean sling. But he shook his head towards him and said, “Then I hope that those people will support you well, Sir Hugo, for I am sure the rest of England will condemn you for what you are. A liar, a cheat and…” he clenched his teeth against both pain and anger, “a creature who could stand by and watch a man tortured and then murdered. A prisoner under the King’s protection!”

For the first time he saw a spark of alarm in Draffen’s eyes. But he answered harshly, “Even if it were true, Witrand had no

such protection. As an army officer hiding under civilian guise he must be accepted as a spy.”

His mouth tightened as Bolitho said calmly, “No one but the admiral and I knew that, Sir Hugo. So unless you knew him already, which I believe is so, since you made no effort to see him aboard Euryalus, then you must have heard him give out his identity under torture. Either way you are branded!” He could feel the blood seeping down inside his bandages but could not stop himself. “By God, I detest the naked ritual of a hanging, but I’d give a month’s bounty to see you dance at Tyburn!”

Draffen watched him warily. “Send these others from the room.”

“No bargains, Sir Hugo. You have caused enough death and suffering.”

“Very well. Then I will speak in front of them.” He placed his hands on his hips and said in a calmer tone, “I have, as you observed, powerful friends in London. They can make your future very hard, and put a blight on what hopes you might still have for advancement.”

Bolitho looked away. “Is that all?”

Behind him he heard Draffen catch his breath and then reply harshly, “You have a nephew in the Navy, I believe? Your late brother’s bastard?”

Bolitho stood quite motionless, hearing Poate’s feet moving on the stones and Calvert’s gasp of alarm.

Draffen continued, “How will he feel when he learns that his late father turned a blind eye to my slavers when he commanded a privateer? That he grew rich from his connivance?”

Bolitho turned towards him, his voice very calm. “That is a lie.”

“But some will believe it, and most of all, your nephew’s future will be finished, am I right?”

Bolitho blinked his eyes to clear away the mist of pain. He must not faint now. Must not.

“Had I some pity or regard for you at all, Sir Hugo, it would

now be gone. Any man who could threaten the life of a young boy, who has had nothing in his upbringing but misery, deserves none.” He looked at Poate. “Take him out.”

Draffen said quietly, “You have accused me of many things. Whatever others may say, you shall give me satisfaction when you have the strength!”

“As you wish. You will find me ready enough.”

He sat down heavily as Draffen was escorted from the room.

Then she was beside him again, scolding him as she guided him back to the bed.

He said, “I cannot write, so will you do so if I dictate? I must send my report to the admiral at once.”

She studied him curiously. “Was that true about your brother?”

“Some, but not all.”

The door swung open again and Poate burst into the room. “Sir! Lieutenant Calvert must have gone mad!”

Bolitho gripped the chair. “What’s happened?”

“He has taken Draffen to the top of the tower and locked the hatch on us. When I demanded that it be opened he said nothing.” Poate sounded incredulous.

“Listen!” They all looked at Allday who was leaning from a window. Above the sigh of sea and wind Bolitho heard the sudden clash of steel, and felt moved.

It did not last long. Calvert appeared in the doorway, two swords beneath his arm, his face extremely composed, even sad.

He said, “I am placing myself under arrest, sir. Sir Hugo is dead.”

Bolitho replied quietly, “I was the one he challenged, Calvert.”

He shook his head. “You forget, sir. He called me puppy before that.” He turned away, not even seeing Poate and the others who crowded outside the door.

“Anyway, sir, you’d never match him in a duel. Not with a sword in your left hand.” He shrugged wearily. “You are a fighter, sir, but, I suspect, not used to the more precise art of duelling.”

He swung round, his eyes flashing. “You saved me, and more than that, you gave me back my honour. I’ll not stand back and see you destroyed when I can help, perhaps better than anyone else.”

Angus, the surgeon, pushed through the crowd and shouted, “What madness is this? Can’t you see the state the captain is in?”

Bolitho eyed him coldly. “Go to the top of the tower. You will find a body there.”

Then he said to Calvert, “You mean well, but…”

Calvert shrugged. “But. What a great span that word can cover. I know what may become of me, but I do not care. Perhaps I did it to avenge Lelean, I am not certain of that either.” He met Bolitho’s eyes with sudden determination. “Lelean needed me, just as the squadron needs you at this moment. Maybe that is the best reason for killing Draffen.”