the Stag on its feet again.'
Allday said heavily, 'An' what have I got to offer? Who wants a sailor? I reckon she'd have had a bellyful o' that after losing her man in Hyperion.'
Ferguson said nothing. It would either blow over, or this time it would be in earnest. Either way, it was so good to have Allday back again. He marvelled at the fact that Grace had never lost faith; she had earnestly believed that they would be saved.
Allday was still talking himself out of it.
'I've no money, just a bit put by, nothing for the likes of her…'
Ozzard came through the door. 'You'd better make up your mind, matey. Young Matthew's brought the cart round to drive you to Fallowfield.'
Allday peered at the looking glass on the kitchen wall and groaned. 'I don't know. I'll make a fool of myself.'
Ferguson made up his mind. 'I'll tell you something, John. When you and Sir Richard were said to be lost, I went over to the Stag.'
Allday exclaimed, 'You didn't say nothing, for God's sake?'
'No. Just had a stoup of ale.' He prolonged it. 'Very good it was too, for a small inn.'
Allday glared at him. 'Well, did you?'
Ferguson shook his head. 'But I did see her. Done wonders for the place.'
Allday waited, knowing there was something else.
Ferguson said quietly, 'I'll tell you another thing. She came all the way into town just to be at the memorial service.' He grinned, the relief still evident on his face. 'The one you missed!'
Allday picked up his hat. 'I'll go then.'
Ferguson punched his massive arm. 'Hell, John, you sound as if you're facing a broadside!'
Ozzard said, 'Her ladyship is coming.'
Ferguson hurried to the door. 'She'll want to see the books. 'Tis a fair tonic to have her here again.'
Ozzard waited for him to bustle away and then, secretively, laid a leather bag on the table. 'Your half. Sounds as if it might come in useful.'
Allday opened the string and stared with disbelief at the glittering gold inside.
Ozzard said scornfully, 'You didn't think I'd throw good gold to the sharks, did you? I sometimes wonder about you, I do indeed.' He relented. 'Lead pellets made just as much of a splash, or so I thought at the time.'
Allday looked at him gravely. 'Anything I can ever do for you-but you knows that, don't you, Tom?'
Ferguson came back, puzzled. 'Lady Catherine wasn't there.'
Ozzard shrugged his narrow shoulders. 'Probably changed her mind. Women do, you know.'
Allday walked out into the pale sunlight and climbed into the little cart, the one used for collecting wine or fresh fish from the harbour. Young Matthew, too, took particular notice of Allday's smart appearance, but like Ferguson he decided not to risk making any sort of joke.
When they reached the little inn, with the Helford River showing itself beyond the trees, Matthew said, 'I'll be back for you later.' He looked at him fondly, remembering what they had once seen and done together, the 'other life' Lady Catherine had once wanted to learn about, which she had now so bravely shared.
'I've never seen you like this afore, John.'
Allday climbed down. 'Hope you never do again.' He strode towards the inn and heard the cart clatter away before he could change his mind.
It was cool inside the door, a smell of freshness, the simple furniture scrubbed and decorated with wild flowers. There was a lively fire in the grate, and he guessed it would be getting cold earlier in the evenings so close to the river and the sea.
He tilted his head like an old dog as he caught the aroma of newly baked bread and something cooking in a pot.
At that moment she came through a low door and stopped dead when she saw him. With one hand she tried to wipe a smudge of flour from her cheek, while with the other she swept a loose lock of hair from her eyes.
'Oh, Mister Allday! I thought it was the man with the eggs! Seeing me like this-I must look an awful sight!'
He crossed the room carefully as if he were treading on something delicate. Then he put down his parcel on a serving table. 'I brought you a present, Mrs Polin. I hope you like it.'
She unwrapped it slowly, and all the while he was able to watch her. An awful sight. She was the dearest woman he had ever laid eyes on.
Without looking up she said shyly, 'My name's Unis.' Then with a gasp of surprise she lifted out the model ship on which Allday had been working before leaving for the Cape of Good Hope.
He said nothing; but somehow she knew it was the old Hyperion.
'Is it really for me?' She stared at him, her eyes shining.
Then she reached out and took one big hand in both of hers.
'Thank you, John Allday.' Then she smiled at him. 'Welcome home.'
13… AND FAREWELL
JAMES SEDGEMORE, the Black Prince's first lieutenant, paused in his endless pacing of the quarterdeck to take a telescope from the midshipman-of-the-watch. His face was reddened by the lively south-easterly wind, and he was very aware of the activity around him as the ship prepared to get under way. Lying to her anchor off Spithead, she was already responding, her masts and rigging shivering, while above the decks tiny figures swarmed like monkeys amongst the black tracery of shrouds and stays, halliards and ratlines.
Sedgemore trained the glass on the sallyport and saw Black Prince's long green barge standing off the stairs, the oars pulling and backing to hold her clear of any damage in the choppy water. Tojohns, the captain's coxswain, was in charge, and would make sure that everything was all right.
The whole ship was alive with rumour and speculation after some of the tales Tojohns had brought aboard with him. The shipwreck, a mutiny, man-eating sharks, and through it all, the admiral's lady suffering and enduring with the rest of them.
A man gave a yelp of pain as a boatswain's mate swung at him with his rope starter. It would be good to get the people out to some sea room, Sedgemore thought. The officers for the most part were as green as the bulk of the hands, half of whom had never set foot in a King's ship before. They would soon learn, he thought grimly. He was not going to lose his chances of further promotion because of their ignorance or stupidity. He glanced at this same deck, where his predecessor had been cut in halves by a French ball. That was often how promotion came, and you never questioned it, in case the chance never offered itself again.
He thought too of his captain, so changed in manner from the time he had left the ship for some vague appointment in Cape Town: his temporary replacement had been swiftly removed after the ship's unfortunate collision. That had been lucky for Sedgemore too. He himself had been ordered ashore with despatches for the port admiral, and was quite blameless.
It was good to have Captain Keen back. The other man had been so distant he had been impossible to know. Keen on the other hand had returned cheerful and confident, and apparently not even troubled too much by the large proportion of landmen and scum from the jails.
There had been one awkward moment however, when Black Prince had left her moorings and sailed through the narrow entrance of Portsmouth Harbour to anchor here off Spithead. The wind had been unusually strong, and Sedgemore had felt the hair rising on his neck as he watched the shallows beneath Portsmouth Point and its cluster of houses seemingly just a few yards clear. He had turned towards his captain, and had seen him smiling as men scampered to the braces, and extra hands had flung themselves on the great double-wheel. Looking back, Keen had shown a new, youthful recklessness, which had not been there when they had waited for RearAdmiral Herrick's court martial to begin.
Surviving the perils of an open boat, or returning to a young wife-it was probably a bit of both.
More men ran to loosen belaying pins in readiness to free the halliards, so that nothing would stick in the heavy
