For My Country’s Freedom

When he had withdrawn, Keen asked suspiciously, 'What happened? I was concerned for you.'

She saw heads turning, mouths whispering behind fans on this humid summer’s night. She thought of Sillitoe’s words, his cool pride for his father.

'He showed me some of the house. And you?'

'My father had some wild plan for me to leave the navy. He has just signed a deed of contract with the East India Company. Expansion, progress, you know the kind of language he uses.'

Catherine watched him with sudden concern. He had been drinking rather heavily and had lost some of the confidence she had seen in Chelsea.

Keen said, 'He doesn’t understand. The navy is my life. My only life, now. The war will not last for ever, but until it ends I shall stand in the line of battle as I have been entrusted to do!'

His voice was louder than he had intended. She said gently, 'You speak very much like Richard.'

He rubbed his eyes as if they were hurting him. 'Richard, oh Richard! How I do envy you!'

Sillitoe appeared as if by magic. 'You are leaving, Lady Catherine?' His glance flickered to Keen. 'Are you quite safe?'

She offered her hand and watched him kiss it. Like an onlooker.

'Safe, Sir Paul?' She touched the diamond pendant on her breast. 'I am always that!'

She knew he was still watching them as Matthew brought the carriage smartly around the drive to the steps.

An eventful evening, and a disturbing one. She would write

to Richard about it. No secrets. There never would be between them.

Keen leaned against her and she guessed he was falling asleep. The ride from Portsmouth, London and then his father trying to force his plans on him again. Did he have no remorse, no sense of shame that Zenoria had been allowed to throw herself away while in the care of the family?

She watched the trees flitting past in the moonlight and wondered where Indomitable lay, what Richard was doing.

She felt Keen’s face on her shoulder. Drowsy but not asleep. She could smell something stronger than champagne; his father’s idea, no doubt.

She pressed her head back against the cushions and tried to hold her breath as she felt his lips on her skin, gentle and yet more insistent as he murmured, 'Oh, Catherine!' He pressed his lips on the curve of her breast and kissed her again, his breath hot, desperate.

Catherine clenched her fists and stared into the shadows. His fingers were on her gown, she could feel it moving, her breast rising out of it, to his mouth.

Then his hand fell across her legs, and with great care she moved him back on to his seat.

She rapped on the roof and when Matthew answered she called, 'We shall take the admiral to his father’s house.'

'You all right, m’lady?'

She smiled but her heart made it a lie, and readjusted the gown.

'I am always safe, Matthew.'

She waited for her breathing to steady. It had been a near thing. The thought shocked and disturbed her.

Was that what loss and loneliness could do?

When they reached the Keen town residence in a quiet, leafy

square she watched a footman hurrying down the steps to meet the carriage. Was he always there, night and day, just in case someone arrived?

The idea made her want to laugh. She touched Keen’s shoulder and waited for him to recover himself. She knew that if she allowed it, there were more likely to be tears, which she would be unable to stop.

Keen said, 'Shall you come in and meet my father?'

'No. It is late.' She could sense Matthew listening and added, 'I leave for Falmouth shortly.'

He took her arm and peered at her in the darkness. 'I wronged you, dear Catherine! I was beside myself.'

She put her finger on his lips. 'I am not a piece of stone, Val.'

He shook his head. 'You’ll never trust me again. I must have been a fool.'

She said, 'I will take you to Zennor. So I must trust you.'

He kissed her on the mouth and she could feel herself tensing, until just as gently he moved away.

Matthew flicked the reins and watched the house slide away into darkness. What would they say in Falmouth if they could see him driving to all these fine houses and places they’d never even heard of?

He thought of the young officer he had just delivered, and relaxed slightly before pushing a heavy cudgel back under his cushion.

Admiral or not, if he had laid a finger on her ladyship he’d not have woken up for a week!

Then, whistling softly between his teeth, he turned the horses’ heads once more towards the river.

14. Change of Allegiance

On the morning of September 3rd, 1812, the shadows began to recede, and for the first time in the three months since he had been cut down on Anemones quarterdeck, Captain Adam Bolitho realised he would live.

The weeks and months had been as vague and as terrifying as a hundred nightmares. People who were only phantoms or perhaps only figments of his imagination seemed to come and go; sharp stabs of agony when he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from crying out; fingers and probes in the depth of his wound like fire, which even drugs could not placate.

In his reeling mind he had tried to keep some sort of record, from the moment he had been carried aboard the big enemy frigate to the ship’s eventual arrival at the Delaware River and his journey by coach to Philadelphia.

Apart from Unity’s French doctor he had recalled no visitor but for the massive shadow of Commodore Nathan Beer.

And one other. Just before he had been lowered down by tackle into a cutter alongside, he had found his first lieutenant, Richard Hudson, waiting to say goodbye before he was landed with the other prisoners.

'I wish you well, sir. May God speed your recovery…' he had faltered and had then murmured '… and your release.'

It had been like listening to two strangers, Adam thought. As if he had already died of his wound but was still clinging to the world, unable to accept his nonexistence.

He had heard himself, his voice harsh as he gritted his teeth to hold the pain under control, 'I- ordered-you-to-fight-the ship!'

Hudson had replied hoarsely, 'Our ship was finished, sir.'

Adam had felt his strength returning, and his voice was surprisingly steady. 'My ship! Anemone was never yours! You struck the colours; you surrendered the ship!'

An orderly had murmured something and an armed seaman had touched Hudson’s arm to lead him away.

Adam had fallen back on the stretcher, drained by the outburst, his chest heaving from all the blood he had lost, and the total despair which had replaced it.

Hudson had called, 'If we ever meet again…'

It had been as far as he had got. Adam had stared unblinking at the sky.

'As God is my witness, I’ll kill you if we do, damn your eyes!'

With his strength almost gone, he was still able to realise that the Americans were careful to offer him the best possible treatment. He had overheard a couple of army surgeons discussing his plight when he had rested for two weeks at a military hospital.

'He’s got courage, I’ll say that for him. Not many could survive in his condition. He must have powerful friends in Heaven.'

Another coach and on to Boston, where he had been taken immediately to a quiet house on the outskirts, guarded by soldiers, but to all appearances a private residence.