himself as if to drive away the past. “In truth, I have nothing left. They took my watch, everything.”
Herrick nodded. “A new start. Perhaps that too was as intended.”
“Maybe.”
Herrick added, “Let’s get to sea and finish this damnable waiting.” When Bolitho remained silent he said, “For once you are not so keen to leave, sir. And I’m sure I don’t blame you.”
Bolitho took down the bright presentation sword and examined it while he tortured himself with his doubts.
Herrick said, “A lot of good folk put their faith into that sword, sir. Because they trusted you, because you are one of their own sons. So don’t you fret on it now. Whatever happens they’ll stand by you.” He stood up abruptly and added, “And so will I.” He lurched unsteadily against the seat and grinned. “Ship’s a bit lively, sir.”
Bolitho watched him, moved as always by his sincerity.
“It’s like a mill-pond, Thomas. Too much wine, that’s your trouble.”
Herrick gathered up his dignity and walked towards the door. “And why not, sir? I’m celebrating.”
Bolitho watched him leave and murmured, “And God bless you for that, Thomas.”
Browne must have been waiting in the lobby, and as he entered Bolitho said, “Visit the Thrush’s master, Oliver, and arrange passage for-” he turned and faced him “-your admiral’s lady. Make certain she is well cared for. You, better than anybody I know, can manage that.”
Browne watched him impassively. “They sail tomorrow, sir. Early.”
“I know.”
All this way she had come to find him, directed by some uncanny faith in his survival. Now he was putting her aboard another ship. And yet somehow he knew he was right, that she would understand.
He said suddenly, “I’m going ashore. Have them pipe for my barge crew.” He was speaking quickly in case he should discover an argument against his own actions. “If anything happens, I shall be…” He hesitated.
Browne handed him his hat and the regulation pattern sword which Herrick had given him.
“I understand, sir. Leave everything to me.”
Bolitho clapped him on the shoulder. “How did I ever manage without you?”
Browne followed him on deck, and while the calls shrilled to muster the barge crew he said, “It is mutual, sir.”
As the barge pulled rapidly clear of Benbow’s shadow, Bolitho looked up at her maze of spars and rigging and at the haughty figurehead of Admiral Sir John Benbow. He had died of wounds after being betrayed by certain of his captains.
Bolitho thought of Herrick and Keen, Inch and Neale who had perished for his loyalty.
If Admiral Benbow had been as lucky as he was, it would have been a very different story.
Allday looked down at Bolitho’s squared shoulders, the black queue above the gold-laced collar. Admiral or Jack, it made no difference, he thought. Not when it came to a woman.
The room was small but comfortably furnished, with only the thickness of the outer wall giving any hint that it was part of Gibraltar ’s fortifications. There were a few portraits and ornaments to mark the comings and goings of various company agents who had lodged briefly amongst the garrison and the naval presence.
Bolitho said quietly, “I thought they would never leave us.”
He had known the Barclays for only a few moments but already thought of them as a single entity rather than individuals.
She smiled and held out her hands to grasp his. “They are kindly people, Richard. But for them…”
He slipped his arm around her waist and together they walked to the window. The sun had already moved over the Rock, and against the deep blue water the precisely anchored men-of-war looked like models. Only the occasional tail of white spray marked the movements of oared boats, the fleet’s busy messengers.
She leaned her head against his shoulder and murmured, “The Thrush seems so tiny from up here.” She looked at the Benbow anchored at the head of the other vessels. “To think that you command all those men and ships. You are like two people.”
Bolitho moved behind her and allowed her hair to touch his mouth. They were alone. On this overcrowded, unnatural outpost they had found a place to be together. It was like looking down on another world, upon himself at a distance.
She was right. Down there he was a commander, a man who could save or destroy life by a single hoist of flags. Here he was just himself.
She leant against him and said, “But if you are leaving here, then so am I. It is all arranged. I believe that even Polly, my new maid, is eager to go, for I think she hopes to see Allday again. She is much taken with him.”
“I have so much to tell you, Belinda. I have seen you for so short a while, and now…”
“Soon we are to be separated again. I know. But I am trying not to think about that. Not for a few more hours.”
Bolitho felt her tense as she asked, “Is it so very dangerous? It’s all right, you can tell me. I think you know that now.”
Bolitho looked over her head at the ships swinging to their cables.
“There will be a fight.” It was a strange feeling. He had never discussed it like this before. “You wait and you wait, you try to see things through the eyes of the enemy, and when it eventually happens it is all suddenly different. Many people at home believe their sailors fight for King and country, to protect their loved ones, and so they do. But when the guns begin to thunder, and the enemy is right there alongside rising above the smoke like the devil’s fury, it is John who calls for Bill, one messmate seeking another, as the bonds of sailormen are stronger than symbols beyond their ship.”
He felt her sob or catch her breath and said quickly, “I am sorry, that was unforgivable!”
Her hair moved against his mouth as she shook her head in protest.
“No. I am proud to share your thoughts, your hopes. I feel a part of you.”
He moved his hands up from her waist and felt her stiffen as he touched her breasts.
“I want you to love me, Belinda. I have been so long in the ways of ships and sailors I am frightened of turning you away.”
For a moment she did not speak, but he could feel her heart beating to match his own as he clasped her body to his.
When she spoke he had to bend his head to hear.
“I told you before. I should be ashamed of the way I feel.” She twisted round in his arms and looked up at him. “But I am not ashamed.”
Bolitho kissed her neck and her throat, knowing he must stop, but unable to contain his emotions.
She stroked his hair and moaned softly as his mouth brushed against her breast.
“I want you, Richard. After today neither of us knows what may happen.” When he made to protest she said calmly, “Do you think I want to remember only the embraces of my dead husband, when it is you I want? We have both loved and been loved, but that is in the past.”
He said, “It is past.”
She nodded very slowly. “There is so little time, my dearest.”
She held out her hand, her eyes averted as if she were suddenly aware of his nearness. Then with the toss of her head which Bolitho had come to love, she walked to the curtained-off compartment at the end of the room, tugging at his hand like a wanton child.
Bolitho pulled back the curtain from around the bed and watched her as she unfastened her gown, her hands almost tearing at it until with a gasp she stood and faced him, her hair hanging over her naked shoulders in a last attempt at modesty.
Bolitho put his hands around her throat and thrust her hair back and over her spine. Then with infinite care he laid her on the bed, almost afraid to blink in case he missed a second of her beauty and his need for her.
Moments later he lay beside her, their bodies touching, their eyes searching each other for some new discovery.
Bolitho’s shadow moved over her and he saw her eyes following him, while at her sides her fists were clenched as if it was the only way she could withstand the torture of waiting.
Across the floor the blue gown and pale undergarments lay entangled amongst the dress coat with the bright epaulettes, like the ships below the window, discarded and forgotten.
