For My Country’s Freedom

Adam Bolitho lay in the gently swaying cot, listening to the groan and shiver of cordage and rudder, the occasional slap of spray against the quarter windows. The cabin was in darkness but for a solitary lantern, and he knew that his uncle was elsewhere expanding upon his instructions to his captains for the courier brig.

It was heavy and close between decks with all hatches and shutters sealed as though against some unseen enemy witness. He was sweating, and the ache in his side felt as if the wound had been re-opened.

It was still hard to accept that he was in Indomitable, that he would not be awakened by the one-legged man from Bristol, or the surly lieutenant of the guard.

They would be hunting for him. A needle in a haystack. He prayed that those who had aided his escape would remain safe and unknown.

He listened to the footsteps on deck and pictured the duty watch, the lieutenant and his midshipmen and master’s mate, the helmsmen watching the dimly glowing compass card, their bare feet braced against the tug of the great rudder. Sounds and sensations so familiar and personal that he was even more aware of his sense of bereavement, of not belonging. He heard the scrape of boots and quick murmurs beyond the screen as the marine sentry was relieved. His world, and yet denied to him since Anemones loss.

A door opened, and he thought he heard Ozzard’s sharp voice. Another lantern threw more light around the sleeping-compartment and he saw a small figure with unruly hair and bare feet, treading carefully down the slope of the deck with a tray gripped in his hands like something precious.

Adam forced himself on to his elbow and opened the shutter of his lantern. 'I know you, boy, you’re John Whitmarsh. They told me what happened to you.'

The boy stared at him, almost afraid, shocked perhaps to see his captain lying like any wounded seaman.

'Aye, sir. ’Tis me. Mr Ozzard said for me to come to you. I’ve brought some wine. He said it belonged to some lady, though I didn’t understand what he meant, sir.'

Adam reached out and took his arm. There was nothing of him. 'Volunteered' by some relative who found his upkeep and care too inconvenient.

'You survived when so many fell, John Whitmarsh.' He tried to smile. 'Or surrendered!'

'I tried, sir.' He did not explain. 'Be you goin’ to be all right, sir?'

Adam nodded. 'When I get a ship. I’ll be brave enough then.'

He realised that the boy was staring at him, his eyes filling his face. The realisation came starkly to him. The boy had nothing. Even his best friend had been lost.

He asked, 'Will you come as my servant, John, when I get another ship? Will you do that?'

The boy nodded and began to sob quietly. 'I’d be that proud, sir!'

'Can you read?'

'No, sir. But I could learn!'

Adam smiled. 'I shall teach you. Who knows, you may wear the King’s coat one day; then I shall be proud of you, eh?'

'I dunno what to say, sir!'

Adam sipped the wine. Lady Catherine’s. Ozzard would understand. This poor, twelve-year-old youth probably imagined that he was offering him some kind of lifeline. He would never believe that it was the other way round.

The excitement, the emotion, and now the wine were making him drowsy again.

He said, 'On days when we are sad, young John, we can restore ourselves by remembering our old ship, and our lost friends.' His

eyes hardened in the flickering lights. 'Our enemies, too, if it pleases you.'

The boy watched until he was asleep and then curled up near by. Without fear, without need. He was somebody.

16. The Strength of a Ship

Bolitho walked up to the stern windows of the great cabin and watched the spray soaking the thick glass, hardening like ice rime in the south-westerly wind.

Captain James Tyacke watched him, noting each mood while half his mind clung to the sounds of wind and rigging. His responsibility to his ship.

'You still think I am wrong, James?'

'I’m more worried by the weather, sir. York claims it will remain the same for a few days yet, but I’m not so sure. If the Halifax-bound convoy is caught by wind and heavy seas it could be scattered, and that means they would be without whatever escorts their lordships have seen fit to provide.' He did not hide the contempt in his voice. 'All those men, and horses and guns too. It would be slaughter.'

Bolitho walked to the chart on his table. It was noon, but gloomy enough for sunset.

He tried to picture his extended line of ships, with Captain Dawes’ big Valkyrie in command, spread along the 45th parallel while the rest of their patrol areas were left undefended. Beer’s Unity was at Boston, and the Baltimore, another of the new American frigates, had been in Delaware Bay. Waiting for any rescue attempt? It seemed unlikely, although Zest’s first lieutenant had reported sighting such a vessel when they had crossed swords with the smart little brig. Every captain would act as he thought

fit if challenged, without hope of assistance and support.

Bolitho touched his eye. He had to be right. The convoy of soldiers, now said to be doubled in size, was a prize no commander could ignore.

But if I am wrong…

The door opened and Adam entered the cabin. Three days since Allday’s son had guided him to safety, and what a difference, except in his eyes. There was tension there, and strain around his mouth which Bolitho had not seen before Anemones loss.

There was eagerness too, in marked contrast. Almost the midshipman again, or was it only wishful thinking?

'Well, Adam, you look the part at least!'

Adam glanced down at his various items of uniform clothing, which had been donated by Indomitable’s officers and midshipmen.

Tyacke asked, 'Did the first lieutenant have something to offer?'

Bolitho glanced at him. The sharpness in the question was very evident.

Adam said easily, 'I expect he forgot. All first lieutenants have much to do on the eve of great matters!' He tried to grin, but it did not relieve the intensity in his eyes.

Bolitho asked, 'You are so certain of that?'

Impulsively he put his hands on Adam’s shoulders. 'I have your commission for you. You will assume command of Zest immediately, in case the weather goes against us. But no risks, Adam-you are far from well as yet. Hold the people together and try to keep Anemone a kind memory, one that will not incite you to avenge her beyond what you know to be any chance of victory. You are my best frigate captain, so take heed.'

He squeezed his shoulders, and thought of the letter he had sent away in the schooner Reynard.

My dearest Kate, I am loath to send him to Zest after what he

went through. But he is the best I have, and he needs the command, as I once did.

Tyacke glanced at the salt stains on the leaning windows. He was eager to get it over with. In his heart he knew they all were. Like the last goodbyes; never the proper words when they were most needed.

He said, 'Captain Dampier was a good leader, if a trifle reckless for my taste. But because he is dead he will suddenly become a martyr when anyone speaks of him.' He smiled briefly, as if touched by some memory. 'His company may close ranks, regard you as an intruder, yes?'