For My Country’s Freedom

unknown source that my nephew is recovered from his wound but is to be held captive, isolated like some felon.' He calmed his sudden anger with an effort. 'No chance of exchange, nor a just release

because of his wound…' He looked directly at the sailing-master. 'I need your advice, Mr York.'

Tyacke said hotly, 'It’s a trap, sir! That would finish us right enough!'

York waited. It must be bad, for the captain to speak so forcefully to his admiral.

Bolitho showed no sign of irritation. 'Delaware Bay, that is where he is imprisoned. A place named Avon Beach.'

They all watched while York unrolled one of his charts and flattened it on the table.

'Ah, here it is, Sir Richard.'

Bolitho glanced away to the small lacquered box on his desk. A letter from Catherine. How he longed to read it, to share his hopes and fears across the leagues of ocean which held them apart.

York nodded. 'A good choice, if you’ll pardon my saying so, Sir Richard. Too shallow for anything but small vessels at that point. Plenty of deep water in the bay, of course. Fine anchorage.'

Bolitho watched York’s mind working while the others waited in silence. He turned his eyes back to the small box. Each word in every letter meant so much. There had been a letter for All-day too. He would be waiting somewhere, ready to spring out on the flag-lieutenant so he could listen to her voice in Avery’s words.

It touched Bolitho deeply that Allday had forced himself to say so little about his new daughter, even though he was bursting with it.

Because of me, and of Kate. He looked at his hands. And because of Adam.

York raised his head. 'A landing party, Sir Richard?' His tone hardened. 'Or a rescue attempt, is that what you’re proposing?'

Bolitho said quietly, 'Would they really expect me to risk ships and men because of my heart?' He was feeling the locket through

his damp shirt, trying to summon her voice. But there was nothing.

Tyacke asked abruptly, 'What was the commotion on deck, Mr York?'

'A small sail to the nor’-east, sir. The first lieutenant is given to ignore it.'

Bolitho looked at him. 'This place, Avon Beach-do you know it?'

'Of it, sir. Loyalists were imprisoned there. Now I believe it is derelict.'

They watched him, seeing him creating the prison in his mind. 'It will break his heart.'

Tyacke said, 'It has happened to many good men, Sir Richard.'

'I know. It is not honour I seek, nor even yet revenge…'

Tyacke frowned as the sentry called, 'First lieutenant, sir!'

'Tell him to wait!' To Bolitho he added, 'I had better go to him.' His expression softened. But for the scars he would have been handsome, Bolitho thought, gentle.

'I meant no offence, Sir Richard. I have too much respect for you, and much more that I’d say naught of in company. I do know your feelings. As your flag-captain…' He shrugged. 'You taught me, remember?'

York said uncertainly, 'If you need me, Sir Richard?'

'Thank you, Mr York. We will talk further.' York gathered up his charts and departed.

Bolitho sat with his back against the windows, feeling the warmth through the thick glass, the lift and roll of all of her 1,400 tons. Men, weapons, and perhaps the will to win. What chance had all these against love?

He looked at his flag-lieutenant. His tawny eyes were very clear from the sea’s reflections.

'Well, George? Nothing to say? Your leader taken all aback, and you remain silent?'

'I see someone who is helpless because he cares so much for others. The ships and men who must rely upon him. People he knows, good and bad-they are in his hands.'

Bolitho said nothing, and Avery added, 'A general will say, ‘Order the 87th to advance.’ And if they are not enough or are hacked down, he will send in another regiment. He sees no faces, hears no pitiful cries which will never be answered, only flags, pins on a map.'

There was a long silence, and Bolitho could hear Avery’s breathing above the other sounds.

'I know.'

When he looked up Avery was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

'I had no right, sir.'

'You of all people had every right.'

They heard Tyacke’s voice raised in anger. 'You are dismissed, man! Go to your barracks until told otherwise!'

Tyacke’s anger seemed to pursue the luckless sentry. 'We are all fighting on the same bloody side, I hope!'

Then Scarlett’s voice, hoarse and angry. 'Zest has been sighted, sir!'

'What is the matter with you, man? It is near enough to rendezvous. Is that all you had to tell me?'

Avery asked, 'Shall I go and quieten things, sir?'

He stared as Bolitho held up one hand. 'Not yet!'

Tyacke asked sharply, 'What about the lookout and the sighting to the nor’-east?'

'I have set more sail, sir. She will lose us at dusk, so I thought…'

Tyacke sounded very calm suddenly, the sharpness of his temper gone like a passing squall. 'Heave-to. Signal Zest to close on Flag.'

When he re-entered the great cabin he looked quite impassive.

'I apologise for my rough tongue, Sir Richard. I’ve long since lost the pretty manners of liners!'

Allday entered silently, his eyes questioning the absence of a sentry by the screen door. 'Are you going up, Sir Richard?'

Indomitable rolled heavily as the hands ran to the braces and sheets to shorten sail and bring her up to the wind. On deck there were startled faces everywhere, peering at the sea, empty still but for small slivers of sail which appeared to be circling Indomitable like sharks while she continued to head upwind.

Bolitho lurched against a stay as the deck tilted over, his shoe sliding on the wet planking.

He saw Tyacke watching, then turning away again as Allday caught his arm.

He took a telescope from Lieutenant Protheroe. Very carefully he raised it to his right eye, hardly daring to breathe as the brightly painted schooner lurched into the lens.

'Have the side manned, Mr Scarlett!' He tried again, afraid that his voice might betray him. 'There is a captain coming aboard, and we shall offer him all honours on this September day!'

He could feel Allday’s grasp on his arm, his anxiety

'What is it, Sir Richard?'

Bolitho looked across the broad quarterdeck where Tyacke was watching his ship respond to canvas and rudder, his coat soaked with flying spray.

Tyacke had guessed. He had known.

Then he handed the telescope to Allday and said quietly, 'See, old friend? There is one other coming aboard today.'

Philip Beauclerk, the surgeon, wiped his strong bony hands with a wet cloth, and said, 'Whoever had cause to attend Captain Bolitho after he was wounded must have been an excellent doctor. I should like to congratulate him, enemy or not.'

Bolitho sat beside the cot which had been rigged in his own

quarters and grasped Adam’s hand. He could scarcely believe it, and yet somehow, like Tyacke, he had known. The one and only chance, and it had been theirs to seize.

Adam opened his eyes and studied him, slowly, feature by feature, perhaps to reassure himself that it was not merely another dream, another lost hope.

'Well, Uncle, you cannot rid yourself of me so easily.' He seemed to realise that his hand was clasped firmly, and whispered, 'It was Allday’s son. He took a terrible risk.'

'So did you, Adam.'

He smiled, gripping harder as the pain returned. 'I would have been caged, Uncle. He would have been hanged,