Keen asked, 'What do you think, Sir Richard?'
Bolitho was still thinking of what he had observed before entering the chartroom. Near the big double-wheel the Judge Advocate had been in close conversation with Sir Paul Sillitoe. They had not seen him, but had separated before continuing up to Keen's quarters.
'If only he had called someone to defend him. This is all too personal, too cleancut for outsiders to understand.' He toyed with the cheese, his appetite gone. 'I think it will be over quite soon. This afternoon Captain Gossage will give evidence. He can say little of the battle because he was wounded almost as soon as Benbow engaged. But it will depend much on his earlier assessment, his guidance as flag captain when the truth of the situation was apparent.'
'And tomorrow?'
'It will be our turn, and Thomas's.'
Keen stood up. 'I had better be seen to welcome the senior officers to my quarters, I suppose.' He did not sound as if he liked the prospect.
'A moment, Val.' Bolitho closed the chartroom door. 'I have a suggestion-or rather, Catherine put forward the idea.'
'Sir? I would always be guided by that lady.'
'While we are away on passage to the Cape, we think Zenoria should be offered the use of our house in Cornwall. You have rented one here, I believe, while Black Prince is fitting out, but in Cornwall she would be with people who would care for her. There is another reason.' He could sense Keen's instant guard; it was so unlike him. Matters were worse than they had feared. 'Zenoria once told Catherine she would take it as a great favour if she could make use of the library there. It is extensive… it was built up by my grandfather.'
Keen smiled, his eyes clearing. 'Yes, I know she wishes to educate herself more, to learn about the world.' He nodded slowly. 'It was kind of Lady Catherine to concern herself with this, sir. Zenoria's first time alone as a married woman.'
He did not continue. He did not need to.
'That's settled then.'
Later when the court convened, Bolitho ran his eyes over the seated spectators, for that was what they had become. Like onlookers at a public hanging. There was no trace of Sir Paul Sillitoe.
Herrick looked tired, and showed considerable strain. He too must be thinking of tomorrow.
The Judge Advocate cleared his throat and waited for Hamett-Parker to offer him a curt nod.
'This court is reassembled. Please call Captain Hector Gossage.' He glanced around at the intent faces as if expecting another interruption. 'He was flag captain to the accused at the time of the attack.'
Herrick turned and looked directly at his sword on the table. It was as if he expected to see it move, or perhaps he already imagined it pointing towards him.
Gossage's entrance was almost too pitiful to watch; he seemed to have shrunk from the bluff, competent captain Bolitho had met on several occasions. Now his face was lined, and one cheek was pitted with small splinter scars; one sleeve of his dress coat was empty, pinned up and useless, and he was obviously still in great pain. A chair was brought and Gossage assisted into it by two orderlies who had accompanied him from the hospital here at Haslar Creek.
Hamett-Parker asked not unkindly, 'Are you as comfortable as we can make you, Captain?'
Gossage stared around as if he had not properly heard. So many senior officers and guests. 'I should be standing, sir!'
Hamett-Parker said quietly, as if daring anyone to so much as cough or move, 'You are not on trial here, Captain Gossage. Take your time and speak in your own words. We have studied the Details of Evidence, heard the opinions, for they were little more than that, of many witnesses. But Benbow was the flagship and you were her captain. It is your story we wish to hear.'
It was then that Gossage seemed to see Herrick opposite him for the first time.
He began brokenly, 'I-I'm not her captain any more. I've lost everything!' He tried to move round so that Herrick could see his empty sleeve. 'Look what you've done to me!'
Hamett-Parker gestured to the surgeon and snapped, 'The court is adjourned until the same time tomorrow.' To the surgeon he added, 'Take good care of Captain Gossage.'
As the little group shuffled toward the rear of the cabin, Hamett-Parker spoke to the Judge Advocate, his tone severe. 'That must not occur again in this court, Mr Cotgrave!' But when he glanced round Bolitho saw only triumph in his eyes.
4. REVENGE
THE HOUSE, which was of medium size and owned by the Admiralty, was situated just outside the dockyard gates. It had a permanent staff, but was entirely without any kind of personality; it was merely a place where senior officers and Admiralty officials could stay temporarily while conducting their business with the dockyard or the port admiral.
It was not yet dawn but already Bolitho could hear the comings and goings of carts and waggons, and during the long night he heard the occasional tramp of feet and the clink of weapons as the press-gangs returned from yet another search of outlying villages for men who were without any official protection.
The last time, when he had been awakened from a troubled sleep, he had heard a woman's voice, high-pitched and pleading, although he could not make out the words. She had been calling out long after the gates had clanged shut, her man taken from her side to help fill the depleted ranks in the fleet. Her pleas would fall on deaf ears, especially with the war about to expand still further. Fit men, sometimes any men would suffice. Even those with the written protection, fishermen, sailors of the HEIC, prime hands whom the navy needed more than any, kept out of sight at night when the press were about. It was useless to try and right a wrong if you awoke with a bruised head in some man-of-war already standing out into the Western Approaches.
Very gently he lifted Catherine's head from his bare shoulder and eased it on to a pillow. As he did so he felt her long, tumbled hair slide from his skin, their bodies still warm from their embrace.
But it had been a night without passion or intimacy, a night when they had shared an even deeper love, knowing their need and support of one another. With great care he climbed from the bed and walked quietly through to the adjoining room. The fire was dead in the grate but already he could hear a servant, or perhaps the loyal Ozzard, re-laying another downstairs.
This room, like the house, felt damp and unlived-in, but it was still a haven compared to the alternative: a local inn, prying eyes and questioning glances. Everyone would know about the court martial. This was a naval port, the greatest in the world, but gossip flourished here like a village.
He stared from a window and after some hesitation thrust it open, admitting the cold air of dawn, the strong tang of the sea, freshly-cut timber, tar and oakum, the stuff of any Royal dockyard.
It was today. He stared hard at the dark shadows of the buildings beyond the wall. Allday and Ozzard would have prepared his best dress coat with its gleaming epaulettes, each with a pair of silver stars to display his rank.
He would not feel the familiar weight of the old family sword against his thigh; he would wear, instead, the lavishly decorated presentation sword given to him by the people of Falmouth in recognition of his service in the Mediterranean and at the Battle of the Nile. For here he was authority, the vice-admiral again; not 'Equality Dick' as his sailors had so often called him, not even the hero who brought admiring grins from the ale-houses and coffee establishments because of his liaison with a beautiful woman. It made him feel like a stranger to himself. He could not forget Herrick's bitterness at Southwark, when he had gone to plead and reason with him. Don't throw away all you've achieved for yourself because of me. He was what his father would have wished, a flag officer like all the others in those portraits which lined the stairway and gallery in the old grey house in Cornwall.
He heard a girl laugh somewhere, probably Catherine's new maid servant, Sophie, a small, dark creature whom Catherine had said was half-Spanish. She had taken her as a favour to an old friend in London; at a guess the girl was about fifteen. It had happened quite suddenly, and Catherine had not yet had time to relate the full story. She had been concerned only for him, and what might be the outcome of today.
