Honour This Day

the telescope's lens everything was silent, but Dunstan swore he could hear the scream as the man tumbled headlong, the blade embedded m his back.

Til not go alongside. Stand by to come about! Ready on deck!'

Dunstan lowered the glass, as if what he saw was too private. The woman, her gown almost torn off her back, yet strangely proud as she allowed the sailors to guide her towards the jolly boat. Dunstan saw her pause just once as she passed the dead pirate, shot down by Lieutenant Grant, He saw her spit on him and kick the cutlass from his hand. Hate, contempt and anger; but no sort of fear.

Dunstan looked as the first lieutenant. 'Man the side, Josh. This is something we shall all remember.'

Then later, when Phaedra with her prize making a painful progress astern, sighted the flagship, Dunstan discovered another moment which he would never forget.

She had been standing beside him, wrapped in a tarpaulin coat which one of the sailors had offered her, her chin uplifted and her eyes wide while she had watched Hyperion's yards swinging, her sails refilling on to the tack which would bring them together.

Dunstan had said, Til make a signal now, my lady. May I order my midshipman to spell out your name?'

She had shaken her head slowly, her eyes on the old two-decker, her reply almost lost in the crack of sails and rigging.

'No, Captain, but thank you.' Quieter still, 'He will see me. I know it.'

Only once had Dunstan seen her defences weaken. The master's mate had shouted, 'There, lads! The old girl's goin'!'

The schooner had lifted her stern and was turning in a circle of foam and bubbles, like a pale hand revolving in a chandler's butt of grain. The hull was surrounded by bobbing flotsam and a few corpses when suddenly it dived, as if eager to be gone from those who had wronged her.

Dunstan had glanced at her and had seen her clutching a fan to her breast. He could not be certain but he thought he saw her speak two words. Thank you.

Afterwards Dunstan had said, 'Make it two guineas, Josh. It was more important than either of us realised.'

10.Harbour

Two weeks after Phaedra's capture of the pirate brigantine and the release of the captives, Hyperion and Obdurate returned to Antigua.

The island was sighted at dawn, but as if to taunt their efforts, the wind all but died completely and it was nearly dusk before they edged their way into English Harbour and dropped anchor.

Bolitho had been on the quarterdeck for most of the afternoon, idly watching the hands trimming the sails while the island seemed to stand away at the same distance.

Any other time it would have been a proud moment. They had met with ships of Sir Peter Folliot's squadron, which even now would be escorting the treasure convoy all the remainder of the way to England.

The lookouts had eventually reported that there were three ships-of-the-line in harbour and Bolitho guessed they were the other vessels of his squadron, with each captain doubtless wondering about his immediate future under Bolitho's flag.

That too should have been like a tonic, after the strain of escorting the treasure and fighting a daily battle with the weather. Now, Bolitho was somehow grateful that it would not be until the next day that he could meet his new captains and while they studied him, he would measure the men who would be serving him.

When both the two-deckers finally dropped their anchors Bolitho had gone aft to his quarters where the great cabin was already transformed by several cheerful lanterns.

He walked to the stern windows and leaned out over the darkening water to watch a full-blooded sunset, but his mind was still hanging on to that moment when Catherine had been hoisted up the ship's side in the rough tarpaulin coat.

It did not seem possible that she had been here in this same cabin, alone with him.

Alone with him and yet still at a measured distance. He walked around the cabin and looked at his sleeping quarters, which he had given her during her brief stay on board. There should still be some sign of her presence. A breath of her perfume, a garment forgotten perhaps when she had been carried over to Admiral Folliot's flagship when the two formations of ships had found each other.

Bolitho crossed to the fine mahogany wine cabinet and ran his fingers along it. Made by one of the best craftsmen, it had been her gift to him after he had left her in London, where he had last seen her until Antigua. He smiled sadly as he remembered his old friend Thomas Herrick's disapproval when the cabinet had been brought aboard his Lysander, after he had been appointed Boli-tho's flag captain.

Herrick had always been a loyal friend, but had mistrusted anything and anyone he thought might damage Bolitho's name and career. Even young Adam had been involved because of the so-called liaison between them for that short, precious time. He had fought a duel with another hot-headed lieutenant at Gibraltar in defence of his uncle's reputation. It seemed as if everyone Bolitho cared for was hurt or damaged by the contact.

He turned and looked along the cabin, and saw the marine sentry's shadow through the screen door. She had stood here, quite still, only her breathing rapid and uncontrolled as she had stared around, the coat bunched to her throat as if she was cold.

Then she had noticed the cabinet, and for just a moment he had seen her mouth quiver.

He had said quietly, 'It goes everywhere with me.'

Then she had walked right up to him and had laid her hand on his face. When he had made to put his arms round her she had shaken her head with something like desperation.

'No! It is hard enough to be here like this. Do not make it worse. I just want to look at you. To tell you how much it means to be alive because of you. God, Fate, I know not which, once brought us together. And now I fear what it might do to us.'

He had seen the great rent in her gown and had asked, 'Can I not have it mended? Your maid, where is she?'

She had walked away but had kept her eyes on him. 'Maria is dead. They tried to rape her. When she fought them with her bare hands they killed her, cut her down like some helpless animal.' She added slowly, 'Your little ship came just in time. For me, that is. But I made sure that some of those filthy pigs never breathe the same air again.' She had looked at her hands, at the soiled fan which she still grasped in one of them. 'I wish to God I could be there when they make those vermin dance on their ropes!'

The screen door opened slightly and Jenour looked in at him.

'The Commodore's boat has been sighted, Sir Richard.' His eyes moved around the cabin. Maybe he could see her too.

'Very well.' Bolitho sat down and looked at the deck between his feet. Glassport was the last man he wanted to see just now.

He thought of that final moment when he had accompanied her across to Sir Peter Folliot's big three- decker.

The admiral was a slight, sickly man, but there was nothing wrong with his quick mind. Despite the poor communications he seemed to know all about the preparations for the raid on La Guaira, and the actual amount of booty down to the nearest gold coin.

'Quite an escapade, eh?' He had greeted Catherine with lavish courtesy, and had announced that he would place her in the care of one of his best frigate captains, who would make all speed to return her to her husband in Antigua.

Maybe he knew something about that as well, Bolitho thought.

He had watched the powerful forty-four gun frigate making sail to take her away from him for the last time, and had stayed on deck until only the topgallant sails showed above the evening horizon like pink shells.

The big Indiaman had gone from the harbour, and he had pictured Catherine with her husband drawing further and further away with each turn of the glass.

The door opened again and Captain Haven took a few paces into the cabin.