despite the hastily rigged windsails to every hatch the air felt hot and sluggish. 'How is she?'
Tuson eyed him for several seconds. 'I've removed the dressing, sir.'
Keen walked past him and saw the girl sitting on a stool, her hair released from its ribbon and covering her shoulders.
He asked, 'Does it still hurt very much?'
Her eyes lifted to his. 'It is bearable, sir.' She moved her shoulders warily beneath the shirt and winced. 'It feels stiff.' She seemed to realize that her borrowed shirt had fallen open and dragged it together quickly.
Then she said, 'I heard what happened today. About me.' She looked up and he saw the anxiety stark in her eyes. 'Will I be sent to that ship again, sir? I'll kill myself before-'
Keen said, 'No. Don't speak of it.'
Tuson watched from the door. The tall, elegant captain and the long-haired girl on the stool. Miles apart and yet there was something like a shaft of light between them.
He cleared his throat. 'I'll fetch some ointment for that scar, my girl.' He looked at Keen and added quietly, 'I shall be about ten minutes, sir.' Then he was gone.
She asked, 'Would you like to sit with me, sir?' She gestured to a heavy chest. Then she smiled. It was the first time Keen had seen her smile. She said, 'Not what you're used to, I'm sure.' Her sudden confidence left her and she added huskily, 'I am sorry.'
'Don't be.' Keen watched her hands in her lap and wanted to hold them. 'I wish I could make you more comfortable.'
She lifted her gaze and watched him steadily.
'What is it you want of me?' She sounded neither angry nor frightened. It was as if she had been expecting him to demand freely what she had already been brutally forced to give.
Keen said, 'I want to take care of you.' He looked at the deck. He thought she would call for the sentry or, worse, laugh at him and his clumsiness.
Without a word she moved from the stool and knelt down against his legs and rested her head on his knees.
Keen found that he was stroking her long hair, saying meaningless words, anything to prolong this impossible moment.
There were footsteps on a companion ladder and outside the door the sentry dragged the butt of his musket across the deck. Tuson was coming back.
Then she looked up at him and he saw that her eyes were streaming with tears, could feel them wet through his white breeches.
'You mean it, don't you?' The words were torn from her.
Keen stood up and raised her to her feet. Without shoes she barely reached his chest.
He touched her face, and then very carefully as if he was handling something precious and delicate he lifted her chin with his fingers. 'Believe it. I have never meant anything so much.'
Then as Tuson's shadow moved between them he stepped back through the door.
Tuson watched them, surprised that he could still feel so emotional after what his trade had done to him. It was like sharing something. A secret. But it would not remain one for long.
Ozzard and his assistants had brought extra lanterns to the great cabin so that the windows overlooking the harbour seemed black by comparison.
It was the first time that all the captains of Bolitho's squadron had been gathered together like this. There was an air of good humour and perhaps some relief that they were staying away from the fever.
Keen waited until all the goblets had been filled and then said, 'Pay attention, gentlemen.'
Bolitho stood by the windows, his hands tucked behind him under his coat-tails.
A landsman would be impressed, he thought; his little band of captains made a fine sight beneath the slowly spiralling lanterns.
Francis Inch was the most senior, his long face empty of anxiety or concern about anything. Keen, the only other post-captain, looked tense as he glanced at his companions.
His mind was still turning over what had happened between him and their passenger. One good thing had occured, Bolitho decided. A Jamaican girl, one of the servants who had been travelling with the garrison wives, had pleaded not to be sent ashore. In view of the Governor's order this seemed a suitable solution for a companion for Zenoria Carwithen. It would not stop the speculation but might halve the gossip.
Philip Montresor of the Despatch was a young, eager-faced man, who was not in the least daunted by the solitary epaulette on his right shoulder. Next to him, Tobias Houston of the Icarus looked old for his rank and had indeed gained it by a roundabout route through John Company and later the Revenue Service. He had a round, hard face like a weathered nut, and a mouth little more than a slit.
Commander Marcus Quarrell was leaning across to whisper something to Lapish, who had commanded his brig Rapid before him. Quarrell was a lively, friendly man from the Isle of Man. But his humour was failing with Lapish who still looked sunk in gloom.
Lieutenant Hallowes of the cutter Supreme was also present and quite rightly, he was as much a captain as any of them. For the present anyway.
They were a mixed bunch, Bolitho thought. The whole fleet must be like this as their lordships tried to produce ships and men for a war which even an idiot should have expected.
He looked over their expectant faces, the gold and blue of their uniforms, the confidence he had heard in their voices.
He said, 'Gentlemen, I intend to sail with a minimum of delay. In his despatches the Governor has informed me that an East Indiaman will be arriving any day now to take passage around the Cape of Good Hope. With her trained company and heavy artillery she will be able to offer a suitable escort to the two convict vessels until they are clear of French interference. I am sure the Governor will be able to persuade the grocery captain.'
They all laughed. The HEIC was not known for losing time on a fast passage no matter for what reason.
It hid Bolitho's relief. He had been afraid that the Governor might demand one of his ships for the task; there were too few already without that.
He continued, 'This is unlike the blockades of Brest and the Bay. There, foul though it is for the ships involved, they can be relieved and sent to England for restoring or repairs in a couple of weeks. In the Mediterranean there is no such relief. Toulon is our main cause of anxiety; to watch the enemy and discover his intention will need constant vigilance. But where can we go for our supplies and, even more important, our fresh drinking water? Gibraltar is eight hundred miles from Toulon, and Malta about the same. A ship sent from Malta might be away from her admiral for over two months.' He smiled wryly. 'Pleasant for her captain maybe,' he saw them grin, 'but in the meantime the enemy could be away on the wind. I have no doubt that Vice-Admiral Nelson has already found a possible solution. If not, I intend to act independently.' He could see the captains of the seventy-fours considering what he had said. Each ship carried fresh water for only ninety days, and that was on a restricted ration. They had to find a source of water above all else.
'You must continue regular gun and sail drills at all times. Apart from improving both it will keep the people occupied.'
There was a smell of food and he guessed that Ozzard was waiting to serve dinner for the gathered captains.
He said, 'We will speak later, but do you have any questions?'
Montresor got to his feet. Like Keen he had fair hair and the fresh complexion of a schoolboy.
He asked, 'Are we to blockade the French at Toulon and the other ports, Sir Richard?'
Bolitho replied, 'Not entirely. Our main task is to catch them if they break out, and destroy them. They will be testing us, remember, feeling our strength as well as our ability.' He saw Keen's face. He alone knew what Bolitho had left until now.
'There is one French squadron, newly formed, but not yet reported in Toulon.'
Even as he said it he found it hard to believe, impossible to accept.
'Rear-Admiral Jobert commands it.' He saw their exchange of glances; for some it had not sunk in.
He looked round the great cabin. 'This was his ship, gentlemen. We took it from him some five months ago.' How had Jobert managed it? To obtain an exchange with some British prisoner of equal rank perhaps, but Bolitho
