are going to hunt for Sir Richard's ships.' He said it so calmly, and yet, in its implication, it sounded like a thunderclap.
Lieutenant Martin exclaimed, 'You might lose everything, sir!'
'Yes. I have thought about it.' He studied the chart. 'Even my uncle could not help me. Not this time.' He looked up, his eyes very bright. 'Are you with me? I would not blame you if…'
Sargeant placed his hand over his on the chart and Martin laid his on top. Then he said, 'I'll tell Old Partridge. He never liked Jamaica anyway.'
They left him alone and for a long while Adam stood loosely in the chartroom, his body swaying with his ship.
He thought of his uncle, out there in the darkness with Keen. His lover's husband. A strange rendezvous.
He tossed down the dividers and smiled. 'So be it, then!' There would be no regrets.
Bolitho walked up the tilting deck until he could see the frigate Anemone riding hove-to under Black Prince's lee, her sails and slender hull pale pink in the early morning light.
He turned and stared at his nephew, who was holding an empty coffee cup, his expression that of a young boy who had just been scolded by someone he loves or respects. In this case, both.
Bolitho said, 'I can scarcely believe it, Adam. You deliberately disobeyed orders to come and seek me out?' It had been dawn when the masthead lookout had reported Anemone's topgallants, and for an instant longer Bolitho had believed it was Tybalt returning already after taking his letters to Herrick. 'You know what this can mean. I knew you were a wild young devil, but I never thought…' He broke off, hating what he was doing to him. 'Enough of that. How did you find me and reach me before Tybalt?'
Adam put down his cup. 'I know your ways in these waters, sir.'
Bolitho walked down the deck and put his hands on his shoulders.
'I am damned pleased to see you nonetheless. If you leave at once, your despatches for Vice-Admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane will not be delayed more than a day. And you did not sight the other half of my squadron? That is strange.'
Adam stood up and looked for Ozzard. He was never far away. 'Tell them to call my gig alongside.' He turned to Bolitho. 'I could not simply sail away and leave you without news, Uncle. I tried to pass it to Tybalt, but it was all too quick.'
'It was warning enough, Adam. But your own news about the schooner, the shore-mounted gun-that is serious. I cannot think why Thomas Herrick would not go over Lord Sutcliffe's head. He was beyond reason when I saw him; Thomas would be fully justified. I simply do not understand.'
Adam bit his lip. 'I wish I could remain with you. But for you I would be nothing, but I'd risk it all if the same circumstances offered themselves again.'
Bolitho walked with him to the companion ladder. It was stranger still that Herrick had not opened the despatches before Adam had been sent away. French ships, but what kind and how many? And whose was the mind that controlled them?
The decks were crowded as both watches were mustered in readiness to get under way again. The other two 74s were falling off downwind, their captains doubtless fretting to know what had happened.
Keen was watching his men. The sail drill had certainly improved, but there was a long way to go yet. He nodded cordially to Adam and remarked, 'You are all surprises!' He had purposefully left them alone together in the great cabin. So much to say in so short a time. And like every sailor, each would know it could be for the last time.
Adam said, 'I have given a sketch of the island to the flag lieutenant.' He sighed. 'Though I doubt if the French will linger there. They will know I carried the news to Antigua.' He added with sudden bitterness, 'For all the damned good it did!'
Bolitho gripped his arm. 'It takes longer than you think to move an army, Adam. My instinct tells me that they will shift from there, and perhaps from other islands, when they know our Martinique attack has begun. They will likely have better intelligence in these waters than I do.' He dropped his voice. 'We will be together soon, Adam. Cochrane is not the admiral to deprive me of an extra fifth-rate when I need her so badly!'
Adam forced a smile. Just being close to Keen had brought the raw memory back to torment him. Himself with Zenoria. Zenoria giving herself to Keen, as she had to him.
He touched his hat and climbed swiftly down to his bobbing gig.
Bolitho said quietly, 'Still a wild one, Val. He risked everything to bring us news.'
Keen glanced at his troubled face. 'He has his ship, with prospects higher than he ever dreamed.' He saw the first lieutenant staring at him intently, like a keeper's hound. 'What he needs is a good wife, someone who'll be waiting for him when he has the sea at his back.'
He said to Sedgemore, 'You seem all eagerness to get under way. So carry on, if you please.' He watched the immediate tide of seamen and marines, the small islands of blue authority which were his lieutenants and warrant ranks as the hands were urged to halliards and braces.
Bolitho turned to Jenour. 'I shall require Yovell to produce two letters for me, Stephen. We will not waste time by stopping for a captains' conference: we will drop a boat, and send my orders to Valkyrie and Relentless in that fashion.'
'Shall we attack the island without Tybalt's support, sir?' He saw that Jenour was watching him anxiously, probably thinking of the time when he would be ordered elsewhere.
'Tybalt will find us. Herrick must have opened his despatches by now. After that it is anybody's guess.'
Perhaps, Jenour thought. But it will be your responsibility.
Someone called above the din of billowing canvas and creaking blocks, 'Anemone's setting her courses!' Another group of idlers gave the frigate a cheer as she heeled over with the wind in her flapping sails.
Bolitho paused to watch her as she gathered way like the thoroughbred she was.
He said, 'God care for you, Adam.' But his words were lost in the bustle around him.
Later in the day, when a rising north-easterly had found and filled their canvas and thrust the flagship over until her lower gunports were all but awash, Bolitho sat alone in his cabin, covering his injured eye with one hand while he flattened her letter yet again on the table.
'My darling Richard, dearest of men, how I wonder where you are today, and what you are doing…' With great care Bolitho held up the pressed ivy leaf, crimson with winter, which she had sent in the letter. 'From our home…'
Bolitho replaced it in the envelope, and stared with shocked disbelief as a tear splashed on the back of his hand.
It was as if she had sent him one of her own.
18. GHOSTS
CAPTAIN Valentine Keen waited until Bolitho had completed some calculations on his personal chart near the stern windows, and said, 'Nothing to report, sir.'
Bolitho studied the chart, the curving line of scattered islands in the Windward and Leeward groups. Places he would never forget, Mola Island, the Saintes, the Mona passage, confined waters and rugged fragments of land, their names written in blood. Great sea battles won and lost, and the rebellion which had cost them America. How could a nation as small as England have endured so much, standing alone and fighting France, Spain, Holland and then America all at once? And they were still fighting, although at long last it looked as if the tide might be on the turn in Europe. But here in the Indies the odds were as before, with the chances of running the enemy to earth more a matter of luck than knowledge.
Keen ventured, 'We can make another sweep to the nor'-west, sir. It may be that Captain Crowfoot has taken his ships up towards Nevis in the hope of discovering the enemy.'
'I had thought of that. He is a resourceful man.' He straightened his back and stared at the chart, which seemed to mock him. 'It is what I myself might have done. You can lose a whole squadron amongst those islands.' The persistent worry returned. 'But he knows nothing of what Adam faced at Bird Island. If only Thomas Herrick had opened those despatches. They might reveal nothing, but…'
