Bolitho turned and put his hand on his shoulder. 'You spoke only the truth.'
Avery looked down at the strong, sun-burned hand resting on his coat. It was like being someone else, not himself at all. Even when he replied it was like hearing a stranger's voice.
'A lieutenant would mean very little, Sir Richard. I could go. I could carry a letter to the rear-admiral if you wish it.'
He felt Bolitho's fingers tighten on his shoulder as he said quietly, 'He will not come. I know it.'
Avery waited. There was pain in his voice.
Bolitho said, 'But it was well said.' The hand was withdrawn.
Avery said tentatively, 'Captain Sampson might care to invite him to dine also.'
At that moment the captain entered and strode straight to his wine cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of cognac and said huskily, 'I beg your pardon, Sir Richard.' He downed the glass quickly and refilled it. 'Gangrene is a nasty thing. Too late anyway.' He looked at them wearily. This is not what I intended for your visit, Sir Richard! '
Avery cleared his throat noisily. 'Sir Richard was wondering if you might extend your invitation to Rear-Admiral Herrick, sir?'
Sampson stared at them, like a drowning man who sees the unexpected arrival of aid.
'I would be delighted, Sir Richard! I shall inform my servant immediately and send word to the Prince Henry in my launch.'
Bolitho studied his flag lieutenant. 'You take many chances, sir.' He saw him look down in embarrassment. 'But as Our Nel was known to have said, standing orders will never replace a zealous officer's initiative! ' He smiled. 'He still may not come.' A small inner voice seemed to say, You may never see him again. Never. Like Sampson, like the ships that pass and remain only in memory.
Sampson's personal steward bustled in, almost another Ozzard but with the accent of the East London slums. He poured more wine and remarked, 'Beggin' yer pardon, Sir Richard, but me old dad served under you in th' frigate Undine. Begs many a tot o' rum from anyone oo'll listen to 'is yarns abaht it! '
He left the cabin and Bolitho looked at the warm wine. The family again. And yet he had not even told him his name.
As dusk closed in across the moored ships and the riding lights twinkled on the water like fireflies, Bolitho heard a boat hooking on to the chains. The handful of available marines stamped to attention, and there were muffled voices as Sampson greeted the second flag officer to visit him in days.
Bolitho found he was watching the screen door, while Avery stood by the stern windows, barely more than a shadow in the flickering candlelight. Why had he doubted that Herrick would come? Not curiosity, or because of friendship, but because he was and always had been a stickler for duty and correct procedures. He would never show disrespect for Captain Sampson's invitation, no matter what he might think.
That was the worse part, Bolitho thought. He knew him so well, too well perhaps.
A marine sentry opened the door and they came into the candlelight.
Bolitho had two immediate surprises. He could not recall ever seeing Herrick out of uniform, even of the more casual order at sea, and he
was shocked to see how he seemed to have aged in so short a time.
Herrick wore a dark frock coat; it could have been black, with only his shirt to break the sombreness of his appearance. He was a little more stooped, probably because of the wound taken aboard his flagship Benbow. His face was drawn, with deep lines at the mouth, but as he stepped into the dancing lights his eyes were unaltered, as clear and blue as the day Bolitho had met him as a lieutenant.
They shook hands, Herrick's grip still hard and firm like tanned leather.
Bolitho said, 'It is good to see you, Thomas. I never thought we should meet like this.'
Herrick glanced at the tray of glasses, which the black servant was holding out for his inspection.
He asked curtly, 'Ginger beer?'
Sampson shook his head and began to worry. 'I regret, no, sir.'
'No matter.' Herrick took a glass of red wine and said, 'I never thought it either, Sir Richard. But we must do what we must and I have no desire to remain in England, ' his blue eyes steadied, 'unemployed.'
Surprisingly Bolitho recalled the tall marine who had pointed out 'the good stuff at Hamett-Parker's reception in London. How he had said it was wrong that Herrick should be sent to New South Wales.
Herrick glanced at Avery and then at the gold cord on his shoulder. 'The other one was appointed elsewhere, I believe?'
'Yes. Stephen Jenour has a command now.'
'Another lucky young man.'
'He deserved it.'
Herrick watched the glass being refilled as if he did not recall drinking from it.
Then he turned to Captain Sampson. 'Your health, sir, but I do not envy your task here.' To the cabin at large he continued, 'It is strange, is it not, that on one hand we are weakening our de fences and deploying men and ships when they are sorely needed elsewhere simply to find and free a lot of savages who sold each other to the slavers in the first place! ' He smiled suddenly and for only a second Bolitho saw the stubborn, caring lieutenant he had known. Herrick said, 'While on the other hand we ship our own people like animals, nay, less than beasts, in vessels which can only degrade and brutalise every man and woman amongst them! '
He changed tack and asked, 'And how is her ladyship, Sir Richard, and the child Elizabeth is she well also?'
'Lady Catherine is in good health, Thomas.' Even calling him by his title had been like a slap in the face.
Herrick nodded gravely. 'Forgive me. I forgot.'
The meal Sampson provided was surprisingly appetising, with some sort of game bird as the main course, and succulent fish which had also been caught by local boats.
Sampson noticed none of the tension between his two principal guests, or pretended not to. By the time they reached the fruit and some excellent cheese left by a visiting Indiaman, he was barely able to speak without slurring his words.
Bolitho looked over at him. Sampson was happy nonetheless.
Herrick asked, 'Do you have big matters arising, Sir Richard? They seem to use you hardly. Perhaps I shall be better off in the colony.'
A lieutenant peered into the cabin. 'Mr. Harrison's respects, sir, and the rear-admiral's boat is alongside.'
Herrick stood up abruptly and looked at his watch. 'On time anyway.' He glanced at the captain but he was fast asleep, snoring gently, with wine on his bulging waistcoat like the work of an enemy marksman.
'Good-bye, Mr. Avery. I wish you well. I am sure your future will be as illustrious as your breeding.' Bolitho followed him through the door, but not before he had seen the bitterness in those tawny eyes.
In the comparative coldness of the dark quarterdeck, he said to Herrick, 'In his case that is not true. He has had his share of damaging treatment.'
'I see.' Herrick sounded disinterested. 'Well, I am sure you will set the right example for him.'
Bolitho said, 'Can we not be friends, Thomas?'
'And have you remind me later how I abandoned you, left you to fight against the odds as I once did?' He paused, and then said quite calmly, 'And to think of it, I lost everything I cared about when Dulcie died. While you threw it all away for…'
'For Catherine?'
Herrick stared at him in the light of the gangway lantern.
Bolitho said harshly, 'She risked everything for your wife, and last year she endured things which have left her scarred like the sun-burns on her body.'
'It changes nothing, Sir Richard.' He raised his hat to the side-party. 'We have both lost too much to cry salvage! '
Then he was gone, and seconds later the boat was pulling strongly from the chains until only the trailing wake could be seen.
'Just as well I came across, Sir Richard.'
Bolitho swung round and saw Allday by the quarterdeck ladder. 'What made you come?' He already knew.
'I heard things. 'Bout Rear-Admiral Herrick going over to the Marathon. Thought you might need me.' He was watching him through the darkness. Bolitho could feel it.
