here, though I believe that some, if not all, are already arrived. I clashed with a shore-mounted gun a day ago. Heated shot-I was nearly in irons until we worked clear. French soldiers too…'
'You had time to go after the enemy then? Looking for a prize, perhaps?'
Adam regarded him with surprise. 'Yes, there was a schooner, sir. She was carrying powder and soldiers and I dished her up as we left.'
'Very commendable.' Herrick looked at his hands in his lap. 'Your uncle is to the south'rd; he has divided his squadron. You see, we had no frigates until Tybalt returned from Port Royal. And now you.' He looked up, his blue eyes very bright. 'And I gather there is another on passage too. A veritable fleet indeed!'
Adam controlled his disappointment and a growing impatience with effort. 'What is it, sir? Is something wrong? Maybe I could help.'
'Wrong? Why should there be?' He was on his feet again and standing by the window without realising he had moved. 'Your family seems to think it holds the answer to all ills, wouldn't you say?'
Adam stood up slowly. 'May I speak plainly, sir?'
'I would expect nothing else.'
'I have known you since I was a midshipman. I have always thought of you as a friend, as well as an experienced sailor.'
'Has it changed?' Herrick squinted into the light, seeing the distant activity aboard this young man's ship.
'Later I seemed to become someone who came between you and your true friend.' He gestured toward the sea. 'Who is out there now, and in ignorance of these French reinforcements.' His voice was sharper, but he could not help it. 'I am no longer that midshipman, sir. I command one of His Majesty's finest frigates, and I believe I am successful at it.'
'There is no need to shout.' Herrick faced him. 'I am not empowered to open Lord Sutcliffe's despatches-even you must realise that. Your uncle commands the squadron, and our other vessels are gathered either at Jamaica or the Barbados. We have only local patrols, which sail out of here and St Kitts, but you must know that, surely.' His tone was impatient. 'I only wish RearAdmiral Hector Gossage were here to share the rewards of his damned folly!'
Adam watched him uneasily. 'That would be difficult. I heard he had died within weeks of taking up his appointment.'
Herrick stared at him. 'My God! I did not know.'
Adam looked away. 'Then I shall make sail forthwith and seek out my uncle's squadron. He must be warned.' He hesitated, hating to plead. 'I beg you, sir, for his love if for nothing else, open the despatches!'
Herrick said coldly, 'There is a lot of the rebel in you, did you know that?'
'If you are referring to my late father, sir, remember what they say about casting the first stone.'
'Thank you for reminding me. You may return to your ship and prepare for sea. I will order the water-lighters alongside immediately.' He saw the cloud lift from the young captain's face and added harshly, 'No, not for you to skip about the ocean in search of glory! I am ordering you to Port Royal. The admiral there can decide. He and General Beckwith are to lead the invasion of Martinique.'
Adam said with disbelief, 'But by then it will be too late!'
'Don't lecture me, my boy-this is war, not the pulpit.'
'I will await your pleasure, sir.' He was a stranger; there was nothing more to be said or done here. 'I can scarce credit what has happened, what has become of something which was so dear to my uncle.' He swung away. 'But no longer to me, sir!'
It was dusk by the time Anemone had again weighed anchor and was setting her topsails in a glowing copper sunset. Herrick watched from the window, and after some hesitation raised a goblet of cognac to his lips. The first he had taken since Gossage's astounding evidence on the last day of the court martial.
Damn that young tiger for his impertinence. His arrogance. Herrick drained the brandy and almost choked on it. He would take no more risks, no matter how the critics might jabber about it later. They were safe. He would never be that now. In any case, Black Prince was a big ship, far larger than his poor Benbow had been on that terrible day. She was capable of her own defence.
The door opened and Captain Pearse entered the silent room. He looked at the empty goblet and the unopened despatches, which lay by the strongbox.
Herrick said heavily, 'I said no interruptions! I want to think! And if it's about Captain Adam Bolitho, I'll trouble you not to interfere!'
The captain replied coldly, 'The surgeon has been to see me, sir. Lord Sutcliffe has just died.'
His eyes glowed in the candlelight as he watched Herrick take the news, gripping the sill with one hand. 'So you command here until relieved, sir.'
Herrick felt the blood pounding in his temples like insistent hammers. He had sent Adam away. It was too late now. By dawn, not even a schooner would find him.
Very deliberately he walked to the table, unfastened the canvas envelope and removed the enclosure with its bright Admiralty seal. He still could not bring himself to open it. The contents were likely already out of date and intended only for the man who now lay dead in his own filth. Distance and communications, time and strategy which could only be guesswork, left for the man who had to execute it. He had seen Bolitho in his young nephew's face. Never once had he hesitated, even when he was judged at fault. A charmed life. What had they called it? Charisma. Like Nelson, who had paid for it with his life.
The captain saw his hesitation. 'Nobody will blame you, sir.'
He stood like a witness as Herrick picked up a knife and slit open the seal. Earlier he had been afraid that Herrick was going to ask him to be his ally in overthrowing Sutcliffe's authority. He had wondered how he was going to refuse. Now it was no longer necessary.
Herrick looked up, as though trying to see him in the poor light.
'It states that five sail of the line were forced through the blockade. RearAdmiral Andre Baratte-' he could not bring himself to use the French title, 'escaped out of Brest in a Dutch frigate, the Triton.' He paused, as if in silent agreement. 'So he was right about that too.'
Captain Pearse asked, 'You know the French admiral, sir?'
'Of him. His father was a great man, but went to the guillotine with all the rest during the Terror.' He did not conceal his disgust. 'But his son survived. He has distinguished himself in matters of deceit and secrecy.' He looked through Pearse without seeing him. 'What they call strategy, in high places.'
'What shall we do, sir?'
Herrick ignored him. 'Why didn't that poxed-up object over there die before Adam came? I could have done something then. Now it's too damned late.'
'Five sail of the line, sir. Plus those already here in the Caribbean… it makes this Baratte a formidable threat.'
Herrick took up his hat. 'Arrange the burial party for Lord Sutcliffe. And tell the major commanding the main battery that the next time he fires a salute, it will likely be at the French fleet!'
He left Pearse staring at the despatches, his mind in a daze. All so quick. At the stroke of a pen.
Aloud he exclaimed, 'But it was nobody's fault!' Only the buzzing insects answered.
Far out to sea, her topsails and upper yards painted silver by the moon, the frigate Anemone heeled over to a freshening north-easterly. Lieutenants Sargeant and Martin picked their way into the small chartroom where they found their captain poring over his charts.
The first lieutenant said, 'You wanted us, sir?'
Adam smiled and touched his arm. 'I treated you badly when I came aboard.'
Sargeant sounded relieved. 'I was slow to understand, sir. We felt-all of us who know-saddened by your news, your orders not to go in search of the flagship.'
'Thank you.' Adam picked up the brass dividers. 'Nelson once said that written orders are never any substitute for a captain's initiative.'
The two lieutenants watched him in silence, while the third and most junior paced the planks overhead, probably speculating as to what was happening.
Adam said quietly, 'There will be some risk, but not to you, if I am proven wrong.' He glanced around, seeing the whole of his ship as if she were laid out like a plan. 'But chances must be taken.'
Sargeant looked at the dividers and the scrawled calculations. 'You do not intend to sail for Port Royal, sir. You
