Three great tots of rum later he presented himself at Keen's cabin door.
The captain's clerk regarded him warily. 'What do 'ee want, Allday?'
The clerk winced as Allday breathed out the heavy fumes. 'Request to see the cap'n.'
It was unorthodox, and Keen was feeling weary after the discussion in the chartroom. But he knew Allday, and owed him his very life.
'Come in and close the door.' He dismissed his clerk and asked, 'What is it, man? You look like someone intent on a fight?'
Allday took another long breath. 'It's the admiral, sir. He's carryin' more'n his share. It's not fair… '
Keen smiled. So that was all. He had imagined something terrible had occurred.
Allday continued, 'I just wanted to say my piece, sir, seein' you're a decent man an' a real friend to 'im down aft. It's somethin' the flag-lieutenant said to 'im. I feel it in me bones. Somethin' which wounded 'im deeply.'
Keen was tired but he was intelligent and quick-witted. He knew he should have seen it. The unusual strangeness between the vice-admiral and his nephew.
He said, 'Leave it with me, Allday. I understand.'
Allday studied his face and then nodded. 'Had to speak, sir. Otherwise, officer or not, I'll put the flag-lieutenant across my knee and beat the hell out of 'im!'
Keen stood up. 'I didn't hear that, Allday.' He smiled gravely. 'Now be off with you.'
For a long while Keen sat at his table and watched the sun dying on the gently heaving sea.
He had a million things to do, for somehow he knew they would be called to fight very soon now. Like Allday, he thought, in me bones. The memory did not amuse him but he found that he was able to forget the conference, Quantock's silent disapproval and the man Tyrrell's brash promises to lead them to a place where they could hold an advantage against the other ship.
And all because of Allday. He had known Bolitho's coxswain on and off for eighteen turbulent years. Years of hardship and war, of momentary distractions and the incredible joy of staying alive when that seemed an impossibility.
One word stood out where Allday was concerned. Loyalty.
Keen reached wearily for the bell to summon his clerk.
He doubted if many people could describe what loyalty was, but he had been privileged to see what it looked like.
11. Revenge
'All hands, all hands! Hands aloft an' loose topsails!'
Bolitho stood at the quarterdeck rail and watched the dripping cutters being secured yet again on their tier. Achates had anchored for several hours while the boats had been lowered to examine an inlet where a ship might be concealed. As on all the other occasions, they had returned with nothing to report.
Bolitho shaded his eyes from the intense glare to look at the land. Santo Domingo was just a few miles to the north-west, then the Mona Passage, back to the northern approaches where they had started.
Two weeks wasted. Making use of winds which would barely move a leaf on an inland stream.
He watched the big topsails flapping and filling as the ship heeled slightly on her new tack.
Keen crossed the quarterdeck and waited for Bolitho to face him.
'With respect, sir, I think we should return to San Felipe.'
Bolitho replied, 'I know these waters well, Val. You can hide a fleet if need be. You think I'm mistaken, don't you?' He touched his crumpled shirt and smiled. 'I don't blame you. These past weeks have been hard on all of us.'
Keen said, 'I'm worried for you, sir. The longer we wait…'
Bolitho nodded. 'I know. My head on the block. I've always understood that.'
The shrouds creaked as the wind increased a little to fill the sails. High above the decks the extra lookouts strained their eyes and silently cursed their officers for their discomfort.
Bolitho heard the heavy tap of Tyrrell's wooden stump and turned to greet him. Keen made his excuses and moved to another part of the quarterdeck. His mistrust and growing suspicion were obvious.
Tyrrell glanced at Keen and said, 'Don't like me much, that one.' He sounded worried, less confident.
Bolitho asked, 'Are you still certain, Jethro?'
'She could have gone elsewhere.' He pounded his fist on the rail. 'But several friends told me she'd been usin' one of the inlets as a restin' place. She's nothin' to fear from the Dons. They know what she's about, I'm certain of that too.'
Bolitho looked at him thoughtfully. 'We're inside their waters now. I've no authority even to be here unless that damned ship is sheltering behind the Spanish flag.'
Keen returned, his face expressionless. 'We shall have to change tack again shortly, sir.' He purposely ignored Tyrrell. 'After that it will be a hard beat up to the Mona Passage. The wind is poor enough, but it seems intent on holding us back.'
Even as he spoke the fore-topsail flapped and banged against the shrouds and men scurried to the braces to retrim the yards yet again.
Tyrrell said suddenly, 'I know of a place. Give me a boat.' He was speaking quickly as if to stifle his own arguments against his suggestion. 'You don't believe me. I'm not even sure myself.'
They looked up as a lookout yelled, 'Deck there! Sail to the nor'-west!'
Keen murmured, 'Bloody hell! It'll be a patrol boat out of Santo Domingo!'
Tyrrell regarded him bleakly. 'They'll have been watchin' your fine ship for days, Captain, I'll wager a bounty on it!'
Keen looked away and retorted, 'You'd know about bounties right enough!'
Bolitho said sharply, 'Enough.'
He looked up at the masthead. A fine, clear day, the lookout would see better than anyone.
He cupped his hands and shouted, 'What ship?'
Bolitho was aware that several of the seamen nearby had stopped work to stare. An admiral, even a junior one, shouting? It must seem like heresy.
The lookout shouted down, 'Frigate, sir, by the cut of her!'
Bolitho nodded. A frigate. Keen was probably right. There was not much time. Two hours at the most.
He said, 'Heave to, if you please, and lower a cutter. Lieutenant in charge, and have the boat armed.'
Voices yelled around him and feet pounded across the sun-dried planking as Achates came reluctantly into the wind even as the boat was hoisted jerkily above the starboard gangway.
Knocker hovered at Keen's elbow and muttered, 'The inlet is a mere scratch, sir. Never get a ship in there!'
Tyrrell replied heavily, 'Your chart says that. I say different!'
Bolitho watched Scott, the third lieutenant, hastily buckling on his hanger while the wardroom servant followed him with his pistol and cocked hat. From fretting torpor to urgent activity, how often Bolitho had known and shared that.
'Cutter alongside, sir!'
There was a thud as a swivel-gun was mounted in the boat's bows, and two seamen began to ram a charge down its muzzle.
Bolitho said quietly, 'Did you always know about this inlet, Jethro? These past two weeks and before, you knew this was the place? Yet in a moment or two we would have changed tack and the opportunity would have been lost.'
Tyrrell said, 'You wanted that ship. I kept a bargain.'
Then he was gone, swinging his wooden leg in great strides as he made for the entry port.
Bolitho knew the truth at that moment, but something made him hurry to the nettings and call, 'Take care, Jethro! And good luck!'
Tyrrell paused, his big hands grasping the lines of the stairs down the tumblehome as he stared aft at the
