had been a steady stream of visitors, each of whom had been received as befitted his station. The captains of the American frigates and some of their subordinates, the officer of the guard, and an extremely pleasant young man who was the son of their host this evening.
The barge pulled strongly beneath the tapering jib-boom and Bolitho could not resist the temptation to look for some sign of the damage sustained in their short encounter. He saw nothing, a compliment to the carpenter and his crew.
He glanced at the handsome figurehead. It was pure white, with one arm outstretched, the other holding a short sword. Achates, faithful friend and armour-bearer of Aeneas.
Beneath the paint the carved wood was smooth and well-worn. It had seen more horizons than any of the ship's company and had weathered every kind of storm.
The barge swept past a lordly Indiaman which was busily loading cargo, despite the lateness of the hour. An officer hurried to her taffrail and doffed his hat as the vice-admiral's boat swept past the stern.
It was ironic that it had been a Company dispute over tea which had fanned the fires of revolution, Bolitho thought. Now, whereas men-of-war were restricted to the necessary areas of their respective flags, the powerful traders came and went as they pleased.
Allday rapped out another order and the bowman rose from his thwart, boat-hook ready to snap down on to a mooring chain.
There were plenty of townspeople thronging the jetty, and many of them had seemingly been here all day to watch the anchored Achates. The watermen of Boston must be making a fortune from their curious passengers.
Keen, Captain Dewar of the Royal Marines, two lieutenants and Adam Bolitho were to be the guests of an influential Boston merchant named Jonathan Chase, while some of the ship's other officers had been invited elsewhere. Keen had warned them to guard their tongues and to listen for any mention of their encounter with the strange ship which would show that the news had preceded their arrival.
Bolitho glanced at some of the young women on the jetty. A few of the trusted seamen and marines would also be allowed ashore, and from the look of these smiling girls the British sailors would be hard put to hold their tongues.
But everything must appear normal and relaxed, with all the old animosities put aside if not actually forgotten.
The bargemen tossed their oars, and Allday removed his hat and watched to make sure Bolitho did not slip on the stone stairs.
Bolitho smiled at him. 'Good crew, Allday.'
Even Allday had admitted that the new barge was a credit to the ship. In their checkered shirts and tarred hats, each man with a pigtail exactly the same length, they could not have been better chosen.
Their host's son, Timothy, was waiting beside two elegant carriages.
As Bolitho approached and some of the onlookers pressed forward for a glimpse of the newcomers, Timothy Chase extended his hand.
'You are welcome here, Admiral. My mother says it is a sign for the future.'
Captain Dewar climbed swiftly from the barge and the sight of his bright tunic brought a cry from the crowd.
'Watch out, boys, the redcoats are comin' back!'
But there was no hostility and more than a few guffaws from the onlookers.
The journey to the Chase residence passed all too quickly for Bolitho, with his host's son pointing out landmarks and fine houses as the carriage rattled along the road from the harbour.
He was obviously very proud of the town where he had been born and brought up. At a guess he was about the same age as Adam, although less reserved as he described each important house and its occupants.
' Boston houses, taken collectively, make a better appearance than those of any other town in New England, sir.'
Most of them were built of wood, Bolitho noticed, but some had facades which had been cut and shaped to represent stone.
Bolitho smiled to himself. His host had done well. But he knew from his secret instructions that Chase had made his original wealth from privateering against the British during the revolution.
Boston had been a privateering lair, as had many smaller harbours as far north as Portland.
The two carriages left the road and rolled up a long driveway towards a beautifully proportioned house of three storeys. Like many of the others it was white with tall green shutters by each window, some of which were already brightly lit and welcoming.
Bolitho said quietly, 'Well, Adam, what d'you think?'
Keeping his features equally composed, his nephew answered, 'I could very easily get used to luxury, sir.'
It was not hard to picture their host as he had once been on the deck of a privateer. He had a loud, thick voice which must have found its edge when shouting orders in a storm or above the crash of cannon fire. Jonathan Chase was square and heavily built, with iron-grey hair and skin like tooled leather.
'Well, Admiral, this is indeed a pleasure.' He grasped Bolitho's hand and eyed him curiously. 'An honour too, to have such a gallant sailor in my home.'
Bolitho warmed to him. 'It was good of you to offer your house for this meeting.'
Chase grinned. 'When Thomas Jefferson suggests a thing you don't argue too much, my friend! He may have been president for only a year, but he's learned already that power is heady medicine!' It seemed to amuse him.
Negro footmen whisked away the hats of the guests and Bolitho followed Chase into a great hall filled with people. Chase nodded towards a tray which was loaded with glasses.
'I hope the wine is to your taste, Admiral. It's French.'
Bolitho smiled gravely. 'Is it, indeed.'
Faces swam round him, and as Chase introduced his friends and associates Bolitho became very aware of the man's presence and authority.
Keen had been immediately partnered by two very attractive ladies, and Captain Dewar was being led out on to a terrace by another who was clinging to his arm as if she intended to share him with nobody.
Chase lowered his glass and studied Adam for several seconds.
'Your aide, Admiral, what is he, son, or little brother?'
'Nephew.'
Chase beamed. You and I will creep away presently and split a bottle of excellent brandy.' He tapped the side of his nose. 'We can have a talk before our government man arrives.'
He gestured suddenly. 'Nephew, eh. Should have guessed.' He raised his voice. 'Over here, Robina. Someone I'd like you to meet.'
The girl named Robina was a beautiful creature. Slim, graceful, and with a sparkle in her eyes which would turn any man's head.
Chase boomed, 'My niece, Admiral.'
She slipped her arm through Adam's and said, 'I'll show you the gardens, Lieutenant.' She tossed her head at her uncle. 'They'll want to yarn about old times!'
Bolitho smiled. Adam was obviously entranced and allowed himself to be led away without a word.
Chase chuckled. 'Look good together, eh?'
Then he glanced around at his chattering guests.
'I think we can go to my study now. They've forgotten we exist.'
The great study was panelled and like a part of America 's young history. Chase had collected many relics of the sea and ships, symbols perhaps of his own stormy beginnings.
Whales' teeth and a harpoon were just a small part. 'To remind me of the old days here.' Paintings of battles, with a British ship on fire in the process of surrendering.
Chase said cheerfully, 'You didn't win all the fights at sea, y'know, Admiral.' He became suddenly serious. 'Samuel Fane, the President's emissary, is a hard bargainer. I like him well enough, for a government man that is, but he hates the British.' He grinned hugely. Thought you should know, though from all I've read and heard about you, you're more than able to take care of yourself.'
