Honour This Day

will expect, nay, demand instant loyalty.'

Haven stammered, T know some of these troublemakers -'

'Well, hear me, Captain Haven. All these men, good and bad, saints and troublemakers, will be called on to fight, do I make myself clear? Loyalty has to be earned, and a captain of your experience should not need to be told! Just as you should not require me to remind you that I will not tolerate senseless brutality from anyone!'

Haven stared back at him, his eyes sparking with indignation.

'I am not supported, Sir Richard! Some of my wardroom are as green as grass, and my senior, Mr Parris, is more concerned with gaining favour for himself! By God, I could tell you things about that one!'

Bolitho snapped, 'That is enough. You are my flag captain, and you have my support.' He let the words sink in. 'I know not what ails you, but if you abuse my trust once again, I shall put you in the next ship for England!'

Parris had appeared on deck and as the calls trilled to muster the topmen once again for making more sail, he glanced at Bolitho, then at his captain.

Haven tugged his hat more firmly over his ginger hair and said, 'Carry on, Mr Parris.'

Bolitho knew Parris was surprised. There was no additional threat or warning.

As the seamen poured up the ratlines like monkeys, and the masthead pendant whipped sharply for the first time to prove that the wind was indeed easing, Haven said stiffly, 'I have standards too, Sir Richard.'

Bolitho dismissed him and turned again towards the far-off island. Allday stood a few paces away. He never seemed to trust him alone any more, Bolitho thought.

Allday said, 'Them island schooners is hardy craft, Sir Richard.'

Bolitho did not turn but touched his arm. 'Thank you, old friend. You always know what I'm thinking.' He watched two gulls rising above the wave crests, their wings spread and catching a brighter sunlight as it broke through the clouds. Like Catherine's fan.

He said desperately, 'I feel so helpless.' He looked at Allday's strong profile. 'Forgive me. I should not pass my burden to you.'

Allday's eyes narrowed as he stared at the leaping waves, their long crests curling over to the wind's thrust.

It was like gauging the fall of shot. Up one. Down one. The next would hit home.

He said, 'Matter of fact, she spoke to me afore we left harbour.'

Bolitho stared. To yo«?'

Allday sounded ruffled. 'Well, some women feels free to speak with the likes o' me.'

Bolitho touched his arm again. 'Please, no games, old friend.'

Allday said, 'Told me she was fair bothered about you. Wanted you to know it, like.'

Bolitho banged his fist on the weathered rail. 'I didn't even try to understand. Now I've lost her.' It was spilling out of him, and he knew that only Allday would understand, even if he did not always agree.

Allday's eyes were faraway. 'Knew a lass once in a village where I was livin'. She was fair taken with the squire's son, a real young blade 'e was. She was made for him, an' he never even knew she was alive, the bastard, beggin' your pardon, Sir Richard.'

Bolitho watched him, wondering if Allday had wanted that girl.

Allday said simply, 'One day she threw herself down in front of the squire's coach. She couldn't take no more, I 'spect, and wanted to show him.' He looked at his scarred hands. 'She was killed.'

Bolitho wiped the spray from his face. To show him. Was that what Catherine had done because of him?

Why had he not seen it, accepted that love could never be won the easy way? He thought of Valentine Keen, and his girl with the moonlit eyes. He had risked so much, and won everything because of it.

He heard Allday move away, probably going below for a wet with his friends, or with Ozzard in his pantry.

He walked towards the poop and saw Mr Penhaligon watching the set of each sail, his beefy hands on his hips. Haven pouting as he peered at the compass, Parris watching him, waiting to dismiss the watch below.

Bolitho listened to the regular clank of pumps; the old Hyperion carried all of them. She had seen hundred of hopes dashed, bodies broken on these same decks.

Bolitho's ears seemed to fasten on to a new intrusion.

He exclaimed, 'Gunfire!'

Several men jumped at the sharpness in his voice; Allday, who was still on the ladder, turned and looked towards him.

Then the signals midshipman said excitedly, 'Aye, I hear it, sir!'

Haven strode to the quarterdeck rail, his head moving from side to side, still unable to hear the sound.

Jenour came running from the poop. 'Where away?' He saw Bolitho and flushed. 'I beg your pardon, Sir Richard!'

Bolitho shaded his eyes as the midshipman yelled, 'From Phaedra, sir! Sail to the nor'-west?

Bolitho saw men climbing into the shrouds, their discomfort forgotten. For the moment.

Jenour asked anxiously, 'What does it mean, Sir Richard?'

Bolitho said, 'Signal Phaedra to investigate.' Minutes later when the midshipman's signalling party had run the flags up to the yard Bolitho replied, 'Small cannon, Stephen. Swivels or the like.'

Why had he heard, when so many others around him had not?

He said, 'Signal Tetrarch to close on the flag.'

Allday said admiringly, 'God, look at 'er go!' He was watching the sloop-of-war turning away, showing her copper in the misty sunlight, as she spread more canvas and rounded fiercely until she was close-hauled on the larboard tack.

Allday added, 'Like your Sparrow, eh, Cap'n?' He grinned awkwardly. 'I mean Sir Richard!'

Bolitho took a telescope from the rack. 'I remember. I hope young Dunstan appreciates the greatest gift as I once did.'

None of the others understood and once again Allday was moved by the privilege.

Bolitho lowered the glass. Too much spray and haze, whirling in the wind like smoke.

A privateer perhaps? Crossing swords with a Barbuda trader. Or one of the local patrols braving the wind and sea to chase an enemy corvette? Phaedra would soon know. It might also be a decoy to draw their flimsy defences away from the gold and silver.

He smiled bitterly. How would Haven react to that, he wondered?

'Nor'-west-by-north, sir!' The helmsman had to yell to make himself heard above the roar of wind through the canvas and rigging, pushing the sloop-of-war hard over until it was impossible to stand upright.

Commander Alfred Dunstan gripped the quarterdeck rail and tugged his cocked hat more firmly over his wild auburn hair. He had been Phaedra's captain for eighteen months, his first command, and with luck still on his side might soon be transferring his single epaulette to his right shoulder, the first definite step to post-rank.

He shouted, 'Bring her up two points to wind'rd, Mr Meheux! God damn it, we'll not let it escape, whatever it is!'

He saw the first lieutenant exchange a quick glance with the sailing master. Phaedra seemed to be sailing as close to the wind as she dared, so that her braced yards and bulging sails appeared to be almost fore-and-aft, thrusting her over, the sea boiling around her gunports and deluging the bare- backed seamen until their tanned bodies shone like crude statuary.

Dunstan strained his eyes aloft to watch every sail, and his topmen straddled out along the yards, some doutbless remembering Obdurate's hands who had been lost overboard in the storm.

'Full-an'-bye, sir! Nor'-west-by-west!'

The deck and rigging protested violently, the shrouds making a vibrant thrumming sound as the ship heeled over still further.

The first lieutenant, who was twenty-three, a year younger than his captain, shouted, 'She'll not take much