Bolitho walked to the open stern windows. So that was it. He should have guessed. He had seen that Allday was unable to straighten his back properly. As if the deepness and pain of his chest wound prevented it.
Allday added quietly, 'Not much of an admiral's coxswain I'll be an' I wanted…'
Bolitho looked at him and said, 'You've earned your time ashore in comfort more than anyone I know. There's a place for you at Falmouth, but you know it.'
'I know, an' I'm grateful. It's not just that.' He looked at the sword. 'You won't need me any more. Not like this.'
Bolitho took the sword from him and laid it on the table.
'Like what? A bit knocked about, is that all? You'll be your old mutinous self in no time, you see.' He rested his hand on his shoulder. 'I'll never sail without you. Not unless you wish it. You have my word.'
Allday stood up and tried not to grimace as the pain probed through him.
'That's settled then, sir.'
He moved from the cabin, his feet dragging on the painted canvas.
His determination, his pride were as unbeatable as ever, Bolitho thought sadly. And he was alive.
Later that day, as the sun dipped towards a placid sea, Bolitho stepped into Achates' wardroom. After his own and Keen's cabins it seemed small and overcrowded, he thought.
Quantock said stiffly, 'All officers and senior warrant officers present as ordered, sir.'
Bolitho nodded. Quantock was a cold fish, even the action had not changed him. Nor would it now, he decided.
He heard his nephew close the door behind him and said, 'Please be seated, gentlemen, and thank you for inviting me here.'
It had always amused him. Any senior officer, even Keen, was a guest in his ship's wardroom. But had anyone ever denied one an entrance, he wondered?
He glanced around at their expectant faces. Sunburned, and competent. Even the midshipmen who were crammed right aft by the tiller-head looked more like men than boys now. The lieutenants and the two Royal Marines, Knocker, the priest-like sailing-master, and Tuson, the surgeon, he had grown to know and understand them in the time they had carried his flag at the fore.
Bolitho said, 'You will know that the courier-brig brought despatches from England. Their lordships have given full consideration to the reports on San Felipe, and to the large part your efforts played in an otherwise difficult mission.'
He saw Mountsteven nudge his friend the sixth lieutenant.
'Furthermore, I have been advised that French interference in the Mediterranean, and their pressures on His Majesty's Government to evacuate Malta in accordance with the same treaty which obliged us to hand this island to them, makes further negotiations impossible. As a direct result, gentlemen, all French and Dutch colonies which we had agreed to restore will now be retained. That, of course, will apply to San Felipe.'
It seemed impossible. In the neatly phrased despatches it was still hard to compare the complex negotiations which had swayed back and forth across Europe while Achates had been fighting for her very survival.
Bonaparte, now named Consul for life, had annexed Piedmont and Elba and showed every intention of retaking Malta once the British flag came down in the name of independence.
Bolitho saw the excitement transmit itself around the wardroom. So much for the Peace of Amiens. The signatures were barely dry on it.
He said, 'I am ordered to remain here until sufficient forces are despatched from Antigua and Jamaica to reinforce the garrison.'
He saw Keen drop his eyes. He knew what was coming next.
'The recent governor will be replaced as soon as possible. Sir Humphrey Rivers will be returning to England to stand trial for treason.'
He could find no satisfaction in that. After the luxury and wealth of his little kingdom he would be taken home in a King's ship, the first of any size which could be made available. And after that, with this totally unexpected shift of events, he would very likely hang.
He looked from face to face and added, 'You have performed very well, and I should wish you to carry my thanks to the people also.'
Keen watched as Bolitho smiled for the first time since he had begun to speak. Whatever anyone else might think, Keen could see plainly enough where the strain and responsibility had made their mark.
Bolitho said quietly, 'And after that, we are going home.'
Then they were all on their feet shouting and laughing like boys.
Keen opened the door and Bolitho slipped away. He had two letters from Belinda, and now there was time he would re-read them from the beginning.
Keen and Adam followed him up the companion and then Keen asked, 'Will it be war, sir?'
Bolitho thought of the young and jubilant faces he had just left behind, of Quantock's sour disapproval.
'There is little doubt in my mind, Val.'
Keen stared around in the gloom, as if already preparing his ship for another battle.
'God, we've hardly recovered from the last one, sir!'
Bolitho heard Allday's unfamiliar dragging footsteps and turned towards his cabin with its motionless scarlet sentry.
'Some never will, my friend. It's too late.'
Keen sighed and said, 'Join me, Mr Bolitho, and share a glass. Doubtless you'll be getting a command of your own if war does come about.' He gave a smile. 'Then you'll discover what hardship really means!'
Aft in his cabin Bolitho made himself comfortable in a chair and opened the first letter.
Going home. They would have been surprised had they known just how much it meant to their vice- admiral.
Then he listened to her voice again as it lifted from the page.
My darling Richard…
'See that these letters are put aboard the packet with the others, Yovell.'
Bolitho listened to the squeak of tackles through the cabin skylight, the stamp of feet on deck as another net of fresh food supplies was hoisted above the gangway.
After all the waiting it was difficult to accept that the moment had arrived. Not that time had been allowed to drag on their hands, he considered.
A smart frigate and two bomb-vessels were now anchored below the battery, and a big armed transport had brought more soldiers as promised to reinforce the garrison. He smiled at Lemoine's reaction when a full colonel had taken charge.
'I was just getting a taste for power, sir,' the lieutenant had said.
He heard Allday coming through the dining space and looked up to greet him. Allday had made great strides where his health was concerned and the colour had returned to his face. But he still could not straighten his shoulders, and his smart blue coat with the gilt buttons seemed loose on his big frame.
It must be close on six months since he had been struck down, three since the brig had arrived here with the Admiralty's final instructions on the island's future.
Bolitho said, 'It will be spring in England when we reach there. A year since we left.'
He watched Allday's expression but he merely shrugged and replied, 'Probably all have blown over by that time, sir.'
'Maybe.'
He was still brooding. More afraid of the land than the hazards at sea. Allday had once told him that an old sailor was like a ship. Once tied up and unwanted, and with nothing useful to do, both were doomed.
And Allday had been a lot younger when he had said it.
Galls shrilled along the upper deck and voices barked commands as some marines marched to the entry port.
Bolitho stood up and waited for Ozzard to bring his dress-coat. The new governor had arrived in San Felipe aboard the frigate. A small, birdlike man, he seemed dull by comparison with Rivers.
His warrant made it clear that Rivers was to take passage in Achates. A cruel twist of fate for both of us, Bolitho thought.
