Point. He grinned, impatient with himself. Must be moonstruck or something. How could he still get excited at the sight of a rakish frigate after all the things he had seen?
He thought suddenly of Lady Catherine. He did not know how she had done it but during the long haul from Portsmouth she had brought some light back to Bolitho's grey eyes again.
It would be strange to be sailing with them… just as well Ozzard and Yovell were going too. All mates together. Who would have thought it could ever happen to him? His head lolled and his pipe fell across the rum bottle and broke in pieces.
His skull grated against the rough wall and he struggled up into a sitting position again.
The sea was still bright and empty, and the gulls as querulous and noisy as before.
Then he was on his feet, his head bent like an old dog as he strained his ears, ready for when it came again.
Not gulls this time. It was a scream. A woman terrified for her life.
Allday loped along the wall, his head down, cursing himself for being unarmed without even a toy dirk.
There was a loose piece of slate, heavy and sharp, like some ancient axe-head; he seized it as he passed.
The scream came again. Allday clambered over the wall and stared down at the narrow lane that wound towards the bay like a little gully.
There were two men, and they did not even hear him. A cart loaded with boxes and personal possessions drawn by a small donkey was stopped in the lane, and the woman was being held by one of the men, a tall, bearded ruffian who was twisting her arms up her back while she struggled. The other one, who had his back to Allday, was equally rough and dirty, but there was no mistaking his intentions as he said harshly, 'Now let's see what else she's got, Billy!' He began to pull at the front of her clothes while his companion twisted her arms still further, so that she screamed again.
'Not now, matey!' Allday waited until the man swung round, judging the exact moment. The heavy piece of slate hit the man's forehead just above the eye and Allday heard the bone crack like a rotten nut. He had a vague picture of the other man taking to his heels while the woman tried to cover her breasts, her eyes wide with terror and stunned disbelief.
'S'all right, m'dear.' He bent over the inert shape and hit it again. 'Gallows bait.' But it was not all right. The pain thrust through his chest like red-hot iron, so that he could neither breathe nor cry out.
Suddenly she was bending over him, lifting his shaggy head on to her knees while she gasped, 'What is it? I must help!'
He wanted to calm her, to make it safe for her. Of all times. His mind cringed as the pain stabbed again, worse than before. He could see it as if he was still there on that bloody island. The Spanish sword, and Bolitho trying to fight off his attackers.
Not here. Not this way.
He looked up at her. A nice face. A real woman. He tried to speak again, but the pain tightened its grip. She repeated, 'I must get help!'
He lifted one hand and watched it come to rest on her shoulder. She was trembling. Then he heard himself mutter, 'Behind that wall…' To his own ears he sounded quite as usual, but he was not, and she had to bend right over him to hear. She smelled of lilac, he thought stupidly. 'Rum.'
She backed away, avoiding the body with the outflung arms.
Allday tried to stare at the sun. The Cap'n must not know. He would make him come ashore, leave him on the beach while he went off somewhere.
She was back, and he felt her bare arm under his head, lifting him. Her eyes were anxious, unsure.
Allday swallowed hard and she dabbed his mouth with the hem of her dress. 'Better,' he managed to murmur. 'A nice wet. Nelson's blood, they're calling it now.'
She gripped his shoulder and whispered, 'Horses.'
Allday felt the tall shadows pass over him and saw the gleam of buttons. Authority. Two coastguards making their way to town.
One of them dismounted and bent down on the dirt lane. 'John, you old rogue, what've you been up to this time?' But his eyes were troubled. 'Are you all right, ma'am?'
She knelt beside him, staring at Allday's face. 'He saved me. There were two of them.'
The coastguard observed her torn clothing and the laden cart with professional interest. 'Footpads. Deserters most likely.' He loosened a pistol in his belt. 'Ride to the squire's house, Ned, it's nearer. I'll stay here in case that vermin comes back.'
His companion watched from his horse as he stooped over the body.
'Dead, is he?'
His friend grinned. 'No. The squire will be pleased. Someone else for him to dangle at the roadside!'
The mounted man called, 'There goes the Anemone, Tom. What a sight, eh?'
It seemed to rouse Allday, and he gasped, 'Must see. Must get up!'
The other coastguard spurred his horse into a trot. 'I'll be off then.' He looked down at Allday as the fight went out of him. 'And you, John Allday, behave yourself until someone comes. I'd not dare face Vice-Admiral Bolitho if owt happened to you!'
The woman held up an apron to keep the sun from his eyes.
'John Allday.' She sounded dazed. 'I know of you, sir. My late husband served in your ship.'
Allday sensed it was important. 'What ship, ma'am? I expect I'd remember him.'
But he already knew. The ship that would not die.
In a small voice she said, 'The one they still sing about. The old Hyperion.'
Lady Catherine Somervell watched while Ferguson supervised the loading of chests and boxes into a carriage outside the front porch. By the cold fireplace Bolitho was scanning yet another official letter from the Admiralty, his features giving nothing away. She could watch him for hours, she thought, sharing his concern for so many things, the warmth of his company when they were alone together. His love for her above all else.
She said, 'The post-boys must be wearing out every horse between here and Whitehall.' She crossed to his side. 'What is it?'
He looked at her but his eyes were distant, absent in thought. 'Thomas Herrick. It seems they have offered him an immediate appointment in the West Indies. It does not say exactly where, but they certainly wasted no time.'
She slipped her hand through his arm. 'That is good, surely. For him, I mean.'
He smiled. 'It is often said that a court martial will either make or break a man.'
She heard Allday laughing in the courtyard. He seemed entirely changed, his earlier gloom dispersed, but as yet she did not know the reason for either of his moods.
'Why did Herrick act as he did? I still cannot understand.'
Bolitho recalled Captain Gossage's slow, deliberate evidence, his apparent support for everything Herrick had done.
He replied, 'I believe it was Gossage's revenge. To make Thomas live with his guilt, rather than see him destroyed, or allowed the peace only death could bring him.'
He sensed her surprise and said gently, 'He is not the man I once knew.' He looked up at the portraits. 'Nor would I be, without you.'
She guided him to the window. 'I shall miss this place, Richard. But it will be here… waiting for us. We shall not be separated this time.' She thought of her dismay when she had seen Adam walking with Zenoria, when they had finally reached Falmouth. She glanced at Bolitho's profile and embraced his arm with hers; he still suspected nothing. Adam had left to rejoin his ship almost immediately. Now Keen was here, although she had barely seen him in any attitude of intimacy with his bride.
Bolitho asked, 'What is it, Kate? Are you troubled?'
She laughed, letting it break the tension that these last days had given her. 'I just want to be gone, my love. Before something else bursts in to disturb you!'
Allday passed the door and saw them embrace by the window. He found Yovell checking one of his lists, making sure that nothing had been overlooked.
'D'you recall a master's mate named Jonas Polin?'
Yovell peered over his small spectacles. 'Yes, I do. I used to pass the time with him. A Devon man like myself.'
