And as shadows crept down from the horizon and enfolded the slow-moving ship, Achates paid her respects to the dead.
Bolitho donned his uniform and stood beside Keen as he read a few words from his prayer-book, a boatswain's mate holding a lantern so that he could see the page, although Bolitho suspected he knew the words by heart. He noticed too that the man with the lantern was the one he had spoken to who had served in his Lysander at the Nile.
He looked at the darkening horizon but the island had already disappeared. All that day it had risen slowly above the dark blue line, taking shape, spreading out as if growing in size.
Keen said, 'Carry on, Mr Rooke.'
Bolitho heard the slithering sound on a grating, then a splash alongside as the sailor made his journey to the sea-bed.
Bolitho felt himself shiver, and then a sudden stab in his wounded thigh, like a taunt, a reminder.
A Royal Marine was already folding up the burial flag, the hands were moving away to their messes. The officer of the watch was eager to hand over to his successor and join his companions in the wardroom. The ship's routine took over again, as it always did.
But Bolitho pictured the pathetic bundle sinking in Achates' wake. He had heard the first lieutenant's comment and Keen's angry retort.
Not one of ours.
Next time, he thought bitterly, it would be.
The sky above Massachusetts Bay looked angrier than it had since Achates had first come to her anchor.
As Adam stood with a small group on the quay he noticed that several of the ships in harbour had men working on deck, as if they expected a storm.
Jonathan Chase rubbed his chin and squinted at the fast-moving clouds.
'Sorry to hurry you, Lieutenant, but it's best you use the tide before the weather closes in. Won't last much longer than a few hours.'
Adam turned to the girl whose hair looked like silver in the dying light.
He said, 'It was good of you to find me a vessel, sir.' But his heart and eyes told another story.
She took his arm and they looked at the little brigantine which was already pitching heavily, her loosely brailed sails puffing and drumming in the hot wind. She was named Vivid, and Adam guessed it was just luck that Chase had been able to find a master willing to make the passage of some fourteen hundred miles to San Felipe.
The girl said in a fierce whisper, 'Don't go, Adam. There's no need. You can stay with us until… ' She looked at him, part pleading, part defiant. 'My uncle will find you employment.' She squeezed his arm more tightly. 'You'll be like your father then.'
Chase said gruffly, 'Here comes a boat. I've had your gear sent over, and a few luxuries to carry back to your ship. Give your uncle my best wishes.' He was speaking quickly as if to hasten the moment of departure.
Adam bent his head and kissed her. He felt moisture on her skin. Spray or tears, he did not know. He knew that he loved her more than any living thing. That he was just as surely going to lose her. He felt as if he was being torn apart. In hell.
The small boat scraped alongside and a voice called roughly, 'Jump in, Lieutenant! No time to dawdle!'
Adam tugged his hat firmly on to his head and did as he was told. The boat was old and scarred, but the oarsmen smart enough.
He peered astern as the boat butted away from the piles and saw her watching him, her face and raised hand very pale against the land.
I shall be back.
He gritted his teeth as spray swept over the gunwale and the boat's coxswain said curtly, 'Here, get ready!'
The brigantine was pitching right above the boat, her two masts spiralling as she tore at her anchor cable.
Adam was almost glad of the sailor's abruptness. He did not want courtesy. They were doing it for Chase's money, not out of respect for a foreign officer.
He clambered up the side and would have fallen headlong but a big man loomed from the shadows and gripped his arm to steady him.
Adam noticed that the man walked with a bad limp, and as he made to thank him saw to his astonishment that he had only one leg. But there was no mistaking his authority as he shouted at his men to work on the capstan.
'Get below, if you please.'
He had a powerful voice with an easy colonial drawl, quite unlike the Bostonians. He was already limping away to supervise his small crew but hesitated and came back again.
'Would you mind takin' off your hat?'
As Adam removed it, and his hair ruffled in the wind, the Vivid's master nodded, well satisfied.
'Thought so. Soon as I laid eyes on you.' He rubbed his hand down his jerkin and thrust it at him. 'My name's Jethro Tyrrell. Welcome aboard my humble command.'
Adam stared at him. 'You knew my father?'
The man called Tyrrell threw back his head and laughed.
'Hell no! But I knew Richard Bolitho.' He limped away and added over his shoulder, 'Useter be his first lieutenant, would you believe?'
Adam groped his way aft to a tiny companion-way, completely mystified.
It did not really matter who commanded the Vivid’s destiny, he thought. He was taking him away from Robina. The first love of his life.
7. To Start a War
'The entrance to Rodney's Harbour is narrow, sir. A mile wide at the most.' Keen lowered his telescope and pursed his lips. 'A well-sited battery could hold a fleet at bay.'
Bolitho walked to the opposite side of the quarterdeck so that his view of the island would not be obscured by shrouds and rigging.
They had made better progress during the night, and now with the morning sunlight outlining the massive pyramid of the extinct volcano he could gauge its size and the rugged shoreline of the island.
The helmsman called, 'Nor'-west by west, sir.' And Knocker grunted an acknowledgement.
Keen glanced at the masthead pendant. It pointed towards the larboard bow with barely a shiver. The wind was still holding.
Bolitho could feel Keen's mind at work as his ship headed warily towards the pointing spur of headland.
The wind would take them directly into the shelter of the harbour. But they were on a lee shore, so every care was necessary. Keen had sent two good leadsmen forward to the chains at first light and their regular cry of 'No bottom, sir!' warned of the dangers.
The sea-bed shelved very steeply, but once they drew level with the small islet off the southern tip of the headland there would be reefs ready to rip out the keel if the ship lost steerage-way.
'Take in the fore-course, Mr Quantock.' Keen sounded calm but his eyes were everywhere as he watched the topsails hardening to the wind. 'Deck there!'
Bolitho grasped his hands behind his back as the lookout yelled down, 'There's a boom across the entrance, sir!'
Keen stared at him. 'What the hell are they thinking of?'
Bolitho said sharply, 'Send an officer aloft. Then prepare to anchor.'
'But…' Keen's protest stopped with the one word. He knew that Bolitho understood well enough. To anchor on a lee shore in deep water was tempting disaster. If the wind got up Achates might drag her anchor and run helplessly on to the hidden coral.
Bolitho took a few paces while he considered it, determined not to watch a lieutenant's frantic scramble to the masthead.
