He added, 'She would not come aboard. She thought it best. For me. Later perhaps.'
Keen had heard about Browne's death and the duel which had preceded it. He said, 'She is a wonderful lady, Sir Richard.'
'I cannot thank you enough for standing by her in my absence. My God, Fate soon determines who your true friends are! '
He walked slowly to the quarterdeck to look down at the guns, the neatly-packed hammock nettings.
'You have a fine ship, Val. A floating fortress. There's no flag captain I'd rather have, and you know it. And have faith, as I did, although to others the odds against my finding Catherine again were a million-fold. Zenoria needs time. But I am certain that she loves you.' He clapped his arm. 'So no more melancholy, eh?'
Keen glanced aft where the din of voices and laughter was already growing. 'I'll see you over the side, Sir Richard.'
They went down to the entry port together, and Keen noticed there were already more marines in evidence with their muskets and fixed bayonets and immaculate, pipeclayed, crossbelts. Their major had acted promptly; there were still those who might try to desert before the ship was at sea, and order and discipline took root.
Keen was a fair and understanding captain, but he was mindful that he was still fifty men short of his full complement of eight hundred officers, marines and sailors. The sight of the armed sentries might make the foolhardy think twice.
'Man the side! ' The gleaming new barge was rolling gently in the sluggish confinement of the dockyard, Allday in the sternsheets, the crew neatly turned out in checkered shirts and tarred hats.
Bolitho hesitated. A ship without history, without memory. A new start. Even the idea seemed to mock him.
He said, 'You will receive further orders within the week. Use all the time you can to work the people into a team we can be proud of.'
Keen smiled, although he hated to see him leave after so brief a visit. 'I have had the best of teachers, sir! '
Bolitho turned, then felt himself falling. Keen seized his arm, and there was a clatter as one of the marines dropped his musket with surprise. The lieutenant in charge of the side-party snarled something at the luckless marine and gave Bolitho a few seconds to recover his wits.
'Is it the eye, Sir Richard?' Keen was shocked to see the expression of utter despair on Bolitho's features when he faced him again.
'I've not told Catherine yet. They can do naught to help me, it seems.'
Keen stood between him and the guard and boatswain's mates with their silver calls still poised and ready.
'I will lay odds she knows.' He wanted to offer some kind of help so badly that even his own worries seemed beyond reach.
'If that is the case…' Bolitho changed his mind and touched his hat to the guard before lowering himself down the stairs from the entry port, where Allday's hand was outstretched to guide him the last few steps into the barge.
Keen watched the boat until it was out of sight beyond a moored transport. He had commanded several ships during his service, and this should have been his greatest reward. Older captains than himself would give their blood for such a command. A new ship, soon to fly a viceadmiral's flag, could only bring honour to the man who controlled her destiny. So why did he feel so little? Was he so affected by the Hyperion, or was it that he had been so near to death on too many occasions?
He frowned at the laughter from his quarters. They neither knew nor cared about the people who would serve this ship.
A lieutenant blocked his way and touched his hat. 'I beg pardon, sir, but another lighter is putting off from the victualling pier.'
'Are you the Officer-of-the-Watch, Mister Flemyng?' The young lieutenant seemed to shrink as Keen added sharply, 'Then do your work, sir, for if you cannot I will seek out another who can! '
Almost before the lieutenant had made to move away he regretted it.
'That was uncalled for, Mr Flemyng. A captain's rank has privileges, but abuse of them is beyond contempt.' He saw him staring in astonishment. 'Ask as much as you like. Otherwise we may all be the poorer when it concerns something vital. So send for the boatswain and the duty-watch to deal with these stores, eh?'
As the lieutenant almost ran across the quarterdeck, Keen gave a sad smile. How true had his words been just now to Bolitho.
I have had the best of teachers.
The thought seemed to rally him, and he looked along the deck again to the black, armoured shoulder of the proud figurehead. Then he stared aloft at the curling masthead pendant and some gulls which screamed through the rigging with an eye for scraps from the galley Almost to himself he said, 'My ship.' Then he spoke her name, 'Zenoria.' Afterwards he thought it had been like releasing a bird from captivity. Would she ever call him in return?
The light carriage, with mud splashed as high as its windows, reached the top of a rise and reined to a halt, the two horses steaming in the cold air.
Yovell groaned and released his grip on a tasselled handle and exclaimed, 'These roads are indeed a disgrace, m'lady.'
But she lowered a window and leaned out regardless of the fine, intermittent drizzle which had followed them all the way from Chatham.
'Where are we, Young Matthew?'
Matthew leaned over from his box and grinned down at her, his face like a polished red apple.
'The house is yonder, m'lady.' He pointed with his whip. ''Tis the only one hereabouts.' He puffed out his cheeks and his breath floated around him like steam. 'A lonely spot, in my opinion.'
'You know these parts, Young Matthew?'
He grinned again, but with a certain wistfulness as the memory clouded his eyes. 'Aye, m'lady. I was here 'bout fourteen years back-I were just a boy then, working for my grandfather who was head coachman for the Bolitho family.'
Yovell said, 'Before my time with Sir Richard, I think.'
'What were you doing in Kent?'
'The master was sent here to hunt down smugglers. I was with him an' helped a bit. Then he sent me back to Falmouth 'cause he said it were too dangerous, like.'
Catherine withdrew her head. 'Drive on, then.' She sat back in the seat as the carriage rolled forward through a succession of muddy ruts. Another part of Bolitho's life she could not share. Allday had made some mention of it. How Bolitho had still been recovering from the terrible fever he had caught in the GreatSouthSea, but had desperately tried to obtain a ship, any ship. War with France had still been just a threat, but England had allowed the fleet to rot, her sailors thrown on the beach. There were few ships, and only Bolitho's persistence, his daily visits to the Admiralty had found him employment at the Nore. Recruiting, but also hunting smugglers, to stamp out their vicious trade, a far cry from the romantic tales which abounded about their exploits.
But when the blade fell on the King of France's neck everything had changed. Allday had put it in his simple way 'So they gave us the old Hyperion. It were a bit of a shock for the Cap'n, as he was then, him being a frigate man. But that old ship changed our lives, m'lady He found you, and I found out I had a grown-up son.' He had nodded, his clear eyes faraway. 'Aye, we sailed through some blood and tears together.'
She had pressed him to add, 'That was why he fought Truculent like he did. Cap'n Poland could never 'a' done it, not in a thousand years.' He had shaken his head like an old dog. 'There'll not be another like Hyperion, I'm thinkin'. Not for us anyways.'
She watched the River Medway in the distance. All the way from Chatham it had barely been out of sight, twisting and turning, a wide stretch of water, sometimes silver, sometimes the colour of lead, as the sky and weather dictated. She had found herself shivering when she had caught sight of some prison hulks moored out in the stream. Mastless and forlorn, and somehow frightening. Full of prisoners-of-war. She had another stark memory of the Waites prison, the degradation and filth. Surely it would be better to die?
Bolitho would be on board his new flagship. After that they would be together again-but for how long? She
