'I have sent a full report, Val.'
Bolitho leaned over the stern sill and took some deep breaths. The air was scalding hot and without movement. Better to be at sea, becalmed even. Anything rather than stay here and wait. He thought of Belinda's letter which he had read at the end of each demanding day. A daughter. He could not visualize what she would be like. Belinda had written of her love, of her hopes, but he could read between the lines too. The birth had not been easy for her. It was just as well that she still believed his mission to be one of diplomacy and not one of danger.
Keen asked abruptly, 'What about Mr Tyrrell, sir?'
Bolitho bit his lip. He had sent Tyrrell over to his brigantine as soon as Achates had moored. They had spoken very little. Guilt or defiance, it was hard to tell. Yet.
He said, 'I shall see him directly, Val. I need his Vivid. She is all I can find at present.' He smiled at Keen's surprise. 'I intend to purchase her anyway, so she might as well sail under our flag for the present.'
'If you think that's wise, sir.'
'Wise? I am not certain of anything. But what I do know is that it will take several months to complete repairs on my flagship. In the meantime we may be attacked by the Dons. I cannot in all sensibility agree to hand over the island to the French until we have settled this matter once and for all. If there was any last minute conflict the French would be quick to blame us, accuse us of provoking a war so that they could not take over what is rightfully theirs.'
He watched Keen's face. He was unconvinced.
'I have this feeling, Val. That I was sent here to perform an impossible task. But if I am to be a scapegoat then I want to rest on my own decisions, not on those made by people who have never heard a shot or seen a man die.'
Keen nodded. 'Well, sir, I shall back you to the limit and beyond, but that you already know.'
Bolitho sat on the stern scat and plucked at his shirt to gain an illusion of coolness.
'When you attain flag-rank, Val, I hope you will remember all this. It is far better to sail in the line of battle with every enemy muzzle trained on the flagship than to sort through the dung of diplomacy. In a moment I shall speak with Jethro Tyrrell. He is a man who lost everything, but who once gave so much for the flag he honoured. He was a true patriot, but was branded a traitor by his own people. He has lived with bitter memories, as a wolf will live off scraps. But he still cares, and at that moment when he was about to betray us he stood firm and led us to the enemy. In his eyes it was madness. What is honour to him? It has done precious little to repay his sacrifices. He thought instead of saving us from harm, so that when we returned here the island would be under Spanish colours and it would be too late for me to do anything but report failure.'
Keen shook his head. 'Will you trust him again?'
'I hope to.'
Bolitho looked at the glittering water, the small vessels pinned down on their reflections by the glare.
'Rivers is a rogue. He became rich by offering favours to the scum of the Caribbean. Slavers, soldiers of fortune, pirates, all have paid him his dues. He has property in the South Americas, but needed his power as governor to take full advantage of the profits. I found some evidence in the fortress, but that is but the tip of an iceberg. I loathe him for his greed, but I need him if only to give some credibility to our being here.'
Keen listened to the renewed thud of hammers and the squeak of tackles as more cordage was hoisted aloft. He had had his own doubts from the beginning about sending a small two-decker to perform the work of a squadron. What was the matter with England? Instead of showing pride for past victories she seemed to cringe for fear of upsetting old enemies.
Keen would have hanged Rivers and anyone else who had shared in the deaths of his sailors and marines. The consequences could wait.
Bolitho had risen to his feet and was shading his eyes to watch the distant fortress. When he spoke he sounded untroubled, although his words held the impact of iron shot.
'You see, Val, I believe the United States are more concerned with improving their relations with the South Americas, the Spaniards and Portuguese. So Rivers' appeal for their protection rather than French reoccupation must have received a warm reception. I also believe that Samuel Fane, and certainly Jonathan Chase, have no illusions about the French, should there be another war in Europe.'
Keen stared at him, his tiredness forgotten. 'You mean that the United States ' government connived with the Dons!'
'Not directly. But when you put your hand in a fox's hole you must expect to be bitten. The Spanish government could not afford to become openly involved so they employed a powerful privateer for the purpose. With Sparrowhaivk destroyed and local shipping too frightened to move, there was only Achates to prevent the seizure of San Felipe. Chase must have known about Tyrrell's past connections with me, just as he was well aware of his desperate need of a ship. The rest we can guess, but nobody had allowed for Tyrrell's old loyalty.'
Keen looked astounded. 'If you say so, sir. It is precious flimsy evidence to support your reputation at any future enquiry.'
'I agree. So we shall have to manufacture some.' Bolitho looked at him calmly. 'I'll see Tyrrell now. Please ask my flag-lieutenant to join me.'
Later, as Tyrrell limped into the cabin and lanterns were being lit for an early dusk, Bolitho faced his old lieutenant with a sense of sadness as well as determination.
Tyrrell took a proffered chair and laced his powerful fingers together.
'Well, Jethro.'
Tyrrell smiled. 'Well, Dick.'
Bolitho sat on the edge of the table and regarded him gravely.
'As these are British waters for the present I am using my authority to commandeer your vessel and place her under our colours.'
He saw a momentary start but nothing more. Tyrrell was too tough to be budged by one shock.
'Also, I am placing her under the temporary command of my nephew, who in his capacity of flag-lieutenant will carry a despatch with him to Boston.'
Tyrrell stirred and showed a first hint of uneasiness.
He exclaimed harshly, 'An' me? You intend to string me on the main-yard, eh?'
Bolitho pushed a letter across the table. 'Here is my authority to purchase the Vivid once you have returned to San Felipe. You see I kept my word. She'll be yours.'
He was barely able to watch Tyrrell's anguish, but continued, 'I have spoken with Sir Humphrey Rivers. To spare his own shame, and possibly his life, he will give me all the information I need about that Spaniard. If he changes his mind he has a choice of charges. Treason or murder. He will hang for either.'
Tyrrell stared at him then rubbed his chin. 'Chase will never agree to part with the Vivid.'
'I think he will.'
Bolitho looked away. It was all Tyrrell could think of. A ship of his own. A last chance.
Tyrrell stood up and looked around like a man already lost. 'I'll be on my way then.'
'Yes.' Bolitho sat and leafed through some papers. 'I doubt we shall meet again.'
Tyrrell turned almost blindly and started for the door. But Bolitho got to his feet, unable to play it out to the end.
Jethro, He walked round the table and held out his hand. 'You saved my life once.'
Tyrrell looked at him searchingly. 'An' you mine, more'n that.'
'I just want to wish you good luck, and I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for.'
Tyrrell returned the grasp and said gruffly, 'There's none like you, Dick, nor never will be.' There was emotion in his voice now. 'I lived all those years again when I met your nephew. I knew then I couldn't go through with it, though God knows this island is not worth the dyin' for. But I know you, Dick, and I know your values. You'll not change.'
He gave a wide grin and for a brief moment he was the same man. The one in the little sloop-of-war in these very waters.
Then he limped away, and Bolitho heard the midshipman of the watch calling for a boat alongside.
Bolitho leaned against the bulkhead and looked at his hands. They felt as if they were trembling.
Allday emerged from the adjoining cabin as if he had been lurking there to protect him from attack.
'That was hard, Allday.' He tried to hear the dragging thump of Tyrrell's stump leg. 'I fear it may be harder on
