'You could request another flag-officer-' Tuson persisted stubbornly as Bolitho turned on him, 'so that you could obtain better treatment.'
'I do not command in the Mediterranean, and I'll not ask favours even of Nelson. The French will come out, I know it,' he touched his chest. 'Here, I feel it.'
'And the girl? What of her?'
Bolitho leaned back and felt the sun deceptively hot through the glass against his shirt.
'I shall make arrangements.'
Tuson gave the nearest thing to a smile. 'You do not wish to involve me, is that it, sir?'
There was a tap at the door and Keen stepped into the cabin. In the three days since the battle he had barely been off his feet, but, like his company, the swift victory had removed the strain, the earlier uncertainty.
Keen did not look at the surgeon in case he should discover bad news.
He asked, 'Are you well, sir?'
Bolitho gestured to a chair. 'No worse, anyway.'
Keen watched him, the way Bolitho tapped one foot on the canvas deck covering.
'Rapid has signalled a vessel to the sou'-west, sir. Small one closing under all sail.' 1 see.
Keen tried to conceal his concern. Bolitho sounded uninterested. All the fire and determination he had shown when they had dished up the Frenchman seemed to have vanished.
The marine sentry shouted, 'Midshipman-o-th'-Watch, sir!'
Keen sighed and walked to the screen door. He looked at the small untidy figure and asked, 'Well, Mr Hickling, don't keep me in suspense.'
The boy screwed up his face as he tried to remember his message, word for word.
'Mr Paget's respects, sir.' His eyes moved past Keen to the other cabin, to Bolitho framed against the glittering seascape. Hickling was only just thirteen, but had been on the lower gun deck throughout the engagement and had seen one man cut down by splinters. And yet he seemed unchanged, Keen thought.
Midshipman Hickling continued, 'The sail is reported as the brig Firefly, sir.'
Bolitho lurched to his feet and exclaimed, 'Are they sure?'
Hickling watched his admiral curiously and without awe. He was even too young for that.
'Mr Paget says that Rapid is quite certain of it, Sir Richard.'
Bolitho touched the midshipman's shoulders. 'Good news.'
Hickling stared at his hand, not daring to move as Bolitho added, 'Your lieutenant spoke highly of your behaviour under fire.
Well done.'
The midshipman hurried away and Keen said quietly, 'That was good of you, sir. Not many would care.'
He watched Bolitho return to the bench seat, noticed the way he took deliberate steps, as if feeling the ship's movement, looking for a trap.
Bolitho knew Keen was watching him, feeling for him. How can I share it? How can I tell him that I am beside myself with worry? Hate, revenge, callousness, they should play no part in my life, and yetHe said, 'I care because I have not forgotten, Val. When I was his age, you too, remember it? Kicked and bullied, neither respected nor trusted, when one kind word could make all that difference?' He shook his head. 'I hope I never forget while I breathe.'
The surgeon walked past with his bag. 'Good day, gentlemen.' He looked at Keen. 'I trust, sir, now that young Mr Bolitho is drawing near, we may get an ally in this trying situation.'
Bolitho frowned. 'Bloody man!'
Keen closed the door. 'He makes good sense.'
The sudden shock made Bolitho start. Adam did not know. What would he think?
Keen said gently as if he had read his thoughts, 'Your nephew is already proud of you. So am I.'
Bolitho did not reply and was still staring astern when Keen left to go on deck.
Keen nodded to his officers and studied the clear sky. Bright but cool. He walked to the rail and glanced down at the main deck, the marketplace as Bolitho called it. The sailmaker and his crew were busy with their needles and palms, repairing, preserving. The boatswain and the carpenter were conferring on their stocks of timber, and there was a heady smell of tar in the air.
But Keen was thinking of the aftermath to the battle. Holding her in his arms, the relief, the unbelievable happiness which each gave to the other, like something pure and bright being lifted from a blacksmith's furnace.
She had buried her face in his chest while he had held her so closely that he had felt the remains of the scar on her back through the shirt.
The last terrible explosion had bellowed against the hold like a thunderbolt, Ozzard had told him. The girl had held his hand and that of Millie the maid. She had more courage than any of them, Ozzard had insisted.
Keen saw Allday by the restacked boats on their tier. He looked angry, his face inches from the second coxswain's. It looked bad. Like the surgeon, Keen was beginning to regret Bankart's presence in the ship.
'Deck there! Sail, fine on th' larboard bow!'
Keen glanced at Paget and nodded. Firefly s arrival could not have been better timed. Young Hickling had no idea how welcome his news had been.
News from home, perhaps a letter for the admiral. There would be no time yet for anything from London about Zenoria. But at least things were being done, war or no war. He thought of her in his arms, how right it had felt, and how he longed for her.
Paget watched him and turned away satisfied.
The captain looked happy. To any first lieutenant that was more than enough.
Bolitho stood up yet again as familiar sounds thudded overhead and voices murmured near the skylight. The hands had been piped to the braces and the flagship was preparing to heave-to and receive the brig's commander.
How he wanted to be there at the entry port when Adam came aboard. But that was Keen's privilege, one captain greeting another.
Bolitho heard the side party being mustered, some marines falling in to do Adam his rightful honours.
It was not just tradition which kept him away, and Bolitho knew it. He was afraid of what his nephew would say and think when he met him.
Allday moved from the sleeping cabin and held out his coat for him. Bolitho was so preoccupied that for once he did not sense Allday's grim mood.
There might be a letter from Belinda, and sheHe raised his head as Paget's voice echoed along the deck.
Argonautes helm went over and, with her sails flapping noisily, she swung heavily into the wind, swaying steeply for a while until the remaining sails were reset.
For a brief moment he had seen the brig through the streaming windows, her ensign making a dab of colour, like metal in the wind.
He wondered if Firefly's arrival had been noted by some unseen fishing boat, her purpose already known by a spy at Gibraltar or a traitor in London?
He heard a boat passing close by, the bark of an order as the coxswain steered her towards the chains. Command. Adam had earned it twice over.
Allday watched him dully. He could not bear to see him so helpless and unsure. He had tried to shield him when they had engaged the Frenchman, fearful for Bolitho's safety as he had stood there, unwilling or unable to move away.
Bolitho said, 'It's good to have him back if only for a moment, eh, Allday? Inch will rejoin us in a day or so, then we will go and seek out Jobert together!'
Allday took down the old sword. He hated Jobert, what he had made Bolitho become.
Pipes trilled and the marines slapped their muskets. Bolitho saw it clearly, as he had a thousand times, for others and for himself.
It seemed to take an age before Yovell opened the outer screen door and Bolitho walked to greet him, careful to stay where he could reach support from a table or chair, desperate not to show it.
But there were two visitors, not one.
