Needless to say, the ship's corporal and the master-at-arms had been unable to discover the culprit. In a way, Bolitho was glad, but he had shared Keen's uneasiness that anyone should show defiance in front of his captain and the armed marines.
And so the unknown seaman named Jim Fittock had become something of a martyr because of Felicity's son Miles Vincent. Bolitho tightened his jaw. It must not happen again.
The other flagship loomed over him, and he sensed Allday's seething exasperation as the bowman had to make several attempts to hook on to the main chains.
As he clambered up the salt-caked side he was thankful for the dull light. To trip and fall like the other time would not rouse any confidence either.
The quarterdeck seemed quiet and sheltered after the blustery crossing in an open boat, so that the sudden din of drums and fifes, a Royal Marines captain shouting orders to the guard plus the dwindling echo of the calls which had piped him aboard took him by surprise.
In those few moments he saw several familiar faces, suitably expressionless for the occasion, with the flag captain Hector Gossage standing like a rock in front of his officers. He saw the new flag lieutenant who had replaced De Broux, the one with the damned Frenchie name as Herrick had put it. The newcomer was plump and his face was empty of animation or intelligence.
Then he saw Herrick and felt a cold hand around his heart.
Herrick's hair, once brown and only touched with grey like frost, was almost colourless, and his bronzed features seemed suddenly lined. He could recall their brief meeting in the Admiralty corridor, the two visiting captains gaping at them as Bolitho had called after Herrick, his voice shaking with anger and with hurt. It did not seem possible a man could change so much in so short a time.
Herrick said, 'You are welcome, Sir Richard.' He shook hands, his palm hard and firm as Bolitho had always remembered. 'You will remember Captain Gossage, of course?'
Bolitho nodded, but did not take his eyes from Herrick. 'My heart is full for you, Thomas.'
Herrick gave what might have been a shrug, perhaps to cover his innermost feelings. He said in a vague tone, 'Dismiss the hands, Captain Gossage. Keep station on Black Prince, but call me if the weather goes against us.' He gestured aft. 'Join me, Sir Richard. We can talk a while.' Bolitho ducked beneath the poop and studied his friend as Herrick led the way into the shadows between decks. Had he always been so stooped? He did not recall so. As if he were carrying the pain of his loss like a burden on his back.
In the great cabin where Bolitho had so often paced and fretted over the next action or the enemy's intentions, he looked around as if to see something of himself still lingering here. But there was nothing. It could have been the great cabin of almost any ship of the line, he thought.
A servant he did not recognise brought a chair for him, and Herrick asked in an almost matter-of-fact voice, 'A drink perhaps?'
He did not wait for answer. 'Bring the brandy Murray Then he faced Bolitho and said, 'I received word you were coming. I am relieved so that Benbow can have some repairs carried out. We almost lost the rudder in a gale… but I expect you were in England at the time. It was bad-the sea took a master's mate and two seamen, poor devils. No chance of finding 'em.'
Bolitho tried not to interrupt. Herrick was coming around to what he wanted to say. He had always been like that. But brandy, that was something else. Wine, yes, ginger beer more likely; he must have been drinking heavily since Adam had brought him the news.
Herrick said, 'I got your letter. It was good of you.' He nodded to the servant and then snapped, 'Leave it, man, I can manage! ' That, too, was not like the old Herrick, the champion of the common seaman more than anyone he had known. Bolitho watched the hand shaking as he slopped two huge measures of brandy into the goblets, some of it spilling unheeded on to the black and white chequered deck covering. 'Good stuff this. My patrols took it off a smuggler.' Then he turned and stared at him, his eyes still as clear and blue as Bolitho remembered. It was like seeing someone familiar peering out of another's body.
'God damn it, I wasn't with her when she needed me most! ' The words were torn out of him. 'I'd warned her about working amongst those bloody prisoners-I'd hang the lot of them if I had my way! ' He walked to a bulkhead where Bolitho had once hung his swords. Herrick's fighting hanger dangled from it, swaying unevenly to the pitch of the ship as she fought to keep station on Black Prince. But Herrick was touching the finely finished, silver-mounted telescope, the one which Dulcie had bought for him from the best instrument maker in London 's Strand; Bolitho doubted if he knew what he was doing. He probably touched it for comfort rather than to be reminded.
Bolitho said, 'I could not get to the house in time. Otherwise I would…'
Herrick tilted the goblet until it was empty. 'Lady Bolitho told me all about those damned Dons who worked around the house. She would have sent them packing! ' He looked at Bolitho and asked abruptly, 'Was it all taken care of?'
'Yes. Your sister was there. A lot of Dulcie's friends too.'
Herrick said in a small voice, 'I wasn't even there to see her buried. Alone…' The one word echoed around the cabin until he said, 'Your lady tried her best…'
Bolitho said quietly, 'Dulcie was not alone. Catherine stayed with her, attended to her every need until she was mercifully released from her suffering. It took courage, for there was no little danger to her.'
Herrick walked to the table and lifted the brandy, then waved it vaguely towards the sea.
'Just her? With my Dulcie! '
'Aye. She'd not even allow your housekeeper in close contact.'
Herrick rubbed his eyes as if they were hurting him. 'I suppose you think that gives you the opportunity to redeem her in my opinion.'
Bolitho kept his voice level. 'I am not here to score points from your grief. I am well reminded when you came to me with terrible news. I grieve for you, Thomas, for I know what it is to lose love-just as I understand how it feels to discover it.'
Herrick sat down heavily and refilled his goblet, his features set in tight concentration, as if every thought was an effort.
Then he said in a thick voice, 'So you've got your woman, and I've lost everything. Dulcie gave me strength, she made me feel somebody A long, long step from the son of a poor clerk to rearadmiral, eh?' When Bolitho said nothing he leaned over the table and shouted, 'But you wouldn't understand! I saw it in young Adam when he came aboard-it's all there in him too, like they speak of it in the news-sheets. The Bolitho charm-isn't that so?'
'I shall leave now, Thomas.' His despair was so destructive it was too terrible to watch. Later Herrick would regret his outburst, his words so bitter that it had sounded like something he had been nursing all down the years. A warmth gone sour; envy where there had once been the strongest bond of true friendship. 'Use your time in England to think and relive the good things you found together-and when next we meet-'
Herrick lurched to his feet and almost fell. For an instant his eyes seemed to clear again and he blurted out, 'Your injury? Is it improved now?' Somehow through the mist of distress and loss he must have recalled when Bolitho had almost fallen on this same vessel.
Then he said, 'Lady Catherine's husband is dead, I hear?' It was a challenge, like an accusation. 'Convenient-'
'Not so, Thomas. One day you might understand.' Bolitho turned and recovered his hat and cloak as the door opened a few inches, and Captain Gossage peered in at them.
'I was about to inform the rearadmiral that the wind is rising, Sir Richard.' His glance moved quickly to Herrick who was slumped down again in his chair, his eyes trying to focus, but without success.
Gossage said swiftly, with what he thought was discretion, 'I will call the guard, Sir Richard, and have you seen over the side.'
Bolitho looked gravely at his friend and answered, 'No, call my barge.' He hesitated by the screen door and lowered his voice, so that the marine sentry should not hear.
'Then attend your admiral. There sits a brave man, but badly wounded now-no less than by the enemy's fire.' He nodded curtly. 'I bid you good-day, Captain Gossage.'
He found Jenour waiting for him on deck and saw a messenger running from Gossage to recall the barge to the chains.
Jenour had rarely seen him look so grim, so sad at the same time. But he was not so inexperienced in Bolitho's ways to ask what had occurred during his visit, or mention the glaring fact that RearAdmiral Herrick was not on
