There had been a letter sent from London by post-boy, from Lord Godschale. The packet which was to carry them to the Cape had left the Pool of London and was making her way down-Channel to Falmouth, where she would await Bolitho's arrival. A strange change of plans, Bolitho had thought, more secrecy, in case there should be fresh scandal about Catherine's going with him. Godschale had cleared his own yardarm by suggesting that Catherine pay her own fare and expenses for the voyage.
She had given her bubbling laugh when he had told her. 'That man is quite impossible, Richard! But he has a roving eye and a reputation to support, I am given to understand!'
They had also discussed Zenoria. She had left in the Bolitho carriage the previous evening with Jenour and Yovell for protection and company. She had seemed eager to go, and when Bolitho had said, 'She will be able to say goodbye to Val at Falmouth,' he had not sounded very convincing, even to himself.
The only good news had also been from London, from the heron-like Sir Piers Blachford. Elizabeth's injury was neither permanent nor serious, now that she was under proper care. Bolitho had not told Catherine that Belinda had sent word that he himself was expected to pay all the necessary costs: she had probably guessed anyway.
He waited for the first hint of daylight, then covered his uninjured eye with his hand and stared for so long that the eye pricked painfully and began to water. But there was no mist, no failing vision this time; perhaps the three months ashore, with occasional trips to Portsmouth and London had worked in his favour.
Without turning he knew she had entered the room, her naked feet soundless on the carpet. She came up behind him and put a coat around his bare shoulders.
'What are you doing? Trying to catch a cold, or worse?'
He put his arm around her body and felt her warmth through the plain white gown, the one with the gold cord around her throat which if released could bare her shoulders or her whole being.
She shivered as he ran his fingers over her hip. 'Oh, dear Richard-soon now, and all this will be over.'
'I have been poor company of late.'
Catherine turned in his arm and looked at him, only her eyes shining in the faint light.
'So many thoughts, so many worries. They strike at you from every side.'
She had read Herrick's letter aloud to him, and he had been moved that she had shown more regret than anger. In it, Herrick had thanked her for staying with his wife to the end. A letter between total strangers. He ran his hand under her long hair and kissed her lightly on the neck.
She covered his hand with hers. 'Much more of that, Richard, and I will forget the importance and the formality of this day.'
She looked out at the paling sky and the last weak star. 'I love everything we do, all that we have found in one another.' He tried to turn her towards him but felt her strong supple body resist him; she would not, could not face him. 'When you are away from me, Richard, I touch myself where you have touched me, and I dream it is you. The climax is matched only by the disappointment when I know it is… just another fantasy.'
Then she did turn, and embraced him so that their faces were almost level, her breath mingling warmly with his, her body pressing against him.
'So when you come back to me, be the navigator and explorer once more. Seek out every mood and every part of me until we are joined again.' She kissed him very gently on the cheek. '… and again.' She stood against the light, so that he saw her body through her pale gown. 'Now go and prepare yourself. I will further shock the servants by preparing some breakfast for my man!'
Bolitho stared after her, then sighed as the drums began to rattle to beat up the marines at their barracks.
A glance; a word; a promise. They could not dissolve the immediate problems. He straightened his back and touched the crudely mended wound in his left thigh, a legacy of eight years ago, and his mind lingered on what she had told him. Dissolve, no; but once again she had made him feel restored. He was ready.
John Cotgrave, the Judge Advocate, stood up and faced the seated officers in the great cabin.
'I am ready, Sir James.'
Hamett-Parker grunted. 'Proceed.'
Cotgrave said, 'Captain Hector Gossage has stated that he wishes to complete his evidence, and the surgeon has assured me that he will be able.' He glanced briefly at Herrick's set features. 'However, with the Court's indulgence, I would suggest that Captain Gossage's appearance be made later, when he has been examined again.'
Hamett-Parker asked, 'Well sir, how is this to be managed, Mr Cotgrave?' He sounded irritated by the sudden change of tack.
'May I suggest, Sir James, that the last witness for today be called first? I do not intend to summon Captain Keen of this ship; it would merely be to corroborate this important witness's testimony.'
Bolitho saw the quick exchange of glances. Gossage would be the final witness, so any previous evidence of an indifferent nature, or testimony which might be in Herrick's favour, would be forgotten. Gossage was hostile-a broken man, but one whose ability to hate was clearly unimpaired.
The officer of the Court next in seniority, Vice-Admiral Cuthbert Nevill, asked mildly, 'It is all rather unusual, surely?'
Hamett-Parker did not even turn. 'The case itself is more so, what?'
Cotgrave faced the assembled visitors. 'The next witness is an officer well known to all of us and to every loyal Englishman. At no time was he consulted on the strategy used to defend the convoy, and only arrived…' He hesitated and allowed his words to sink in '… in this very ship at the scene of the battle, when all was lost. The convoy of twenty ships sunk or captured, the remaining escort, Egret of 60 guns, also destroyed, and overwhelmed by a superior enemy force as we have heard described here.'
Bolitho heard the shuffle of feet and the creak of chairs as the assembled visitors peered around the great cabin. It would be hard for landsmen to visualise this powerful three-decker cleared for action, from these same stern windows to the foremost divisions of guns. Harder still to see death here, or imagine the roar and crash of artillery, the screams of the wounded. The captains present would see it differently, however, and be reminded, if they needed a reminder, that the final responsibility was theirs, or lay with the man who flew his flag above all of them.
Cotgrave continued, 'I would ask Sir Richard Bolitho, Vice-Admiral of the Red, to come aft.'
Bolitho stood up, his mind suddenly like ice, recalling Catherine's words when they had lain awake in the night. Remember, Richard, you are not to blame. And this morning when he had looked from the window over the darkness of the dockyard. Just a man. Was it only this morning?
'Now, Sir Richard, if you would care to be seated?'
Bolitho replied, 'I prefer to stand, thank you.'
Hamett-Parker asked, 'Are you not satisfied with the way this Court is being conducted, Sir Richard?'
Bolitho gave a short bow. This man is an enemy. 'Black Prince is my flagship, Sir James. Had I not been called to give this testimony, something which my own flag captain is well able to offer, I might have been a member of this Court. A more useful and profitable role, surely?'
The vice-admiral named Nevill muttered, 'Quite agree.'
Cotgrave said, 'Let us continue, Sir Richard, for all our sakes.'
'I am ready.'
'For the benefit of the Court, Sir Richard, tell us what happened when the brig Larne arrived off Copenhagen with the news of the convoy's predicament. Not too fast for my clerks, if you please, and for the gentlemen from the newspapers.'
Bolitho said, 'I was summoned to Admiral Gambier's flagship Prince of Wales, where, after discussing the 'predicament' as you choose to call it, and hearing of it from Commander Tyacke, I pleaded to be allowed to go to RearAdmiral Herrick's assistance.'
'It was night-time, was it not?' Cotgrave singled out a sheet of notes. 'I am given to understand that when the dangers of navigating the Narrows in the dark were pointed out you stated that you had done it before, under Nelson?'
'That is true.'
Cotgrave smiled gently. 'Very forceful. You were guided through eventually by the brig Larne and followed by Nicator, an elderly 74 from your own squadron?'
Bolitho said, 'We might have been in time.'
