Tyacke said, “We got off very lightly, Sir Richard.”
Bolitho took a glass of cognac from Tyacke’s coxswain, Fairbrother. He looked after his captain without fuss or fancy, and seemed a man pleased with his role, and the fact that his captain called him by his first name, Eli.
He gazed around the cabin; it was neat but spartan, with nothing to reveal any hint of the character of the man who lived and slept here. Only the big sea-chest was familiar, and he knew it was the one in which Tyacke used to carry the silk gown he had bought for the girl he intended to marry. She had refused him after his terrible injury at the Nile. How long he had carried the gown was unknown, but he had given it to Catherine to wear when he had found them after their ordeal in Golden Plover’s longboat. Bolitho knew she had sent it back to Tyacke when they had reached England, beautifully cleaned and pressed, in case there should be another woman in the future. It was probably in the chest at this moment, a reminder of the rejection he had suffered.
Tyacke said, “I’ve made a full report. The prize is nothing much.” He paused. “Not after we’d finished with her. She had over fifty killed, and twice as many wounded. She was carrying a lot of extra hands, for prize crews, no doubt. If they’d managed to board us…” He shrugged. “A different story, maybe.”
He studied Bolitho curiously, having heard about his visit to the orlop and that he had restrained one of the badly wounded as the surgeon had taken off his leg. He thought with a mental shudder of Beauclerk’s pale eyes. A cold fish, like the rest of his breed.
Bolitho said, “She was the USS Success, formerly the French Dryade.” He looked up at Tyacke, and felt his scrutiny like something physical. “Her captain was killed.”
“Aye. It was like a slaughterhouse. Our gun captains have learned well.” There was the pride again, which even the horror he had described could not diminish.
He held his goblet to the light and said, “When I became your flag captain, it was an even greater challenge than I had expected.” He gave his faint, attractive smile. “And I knew I was going into deep water from the start. It wasn’t just the size of the ship, and my responsibility to all her people, but also my role within the squadron. I had been so used to a small command-a seclusion which, looking back, I know I myself created. And then, under your flag, there were the other ships, and the whims and weaknesses of their captains.”
Bolitho said nothing. It was one of those rare moments of confidence, something he did not wish to interrupt, a mutual trust which had made itself felt between them from the very beginning, when they had first met in Tyacke’s schooner Miranda.
Tyacke said abruptly, “I started keeping my own log book. I discovered that a flag captain should never rely on memory alone. And when your nephew was brought aboard wounded, after his escape from that Yankee prison, I made notes on everything he told me.” He glanced at a sealed gunport as if he could see the American prize riding under Indomitable’s lee. Victors and vanished were working together aboard her to fit a jury-rig, which, with luck and fair sailing, might take her to Halifax.
“There was a lieutenant aboard the Success. A young man, so badly hurt by splinters that I wondered what was keeping him alive.” He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed by the emotion his voice revealed. “I talked with him for a while. He was in great pain. There was nothing anyone could do.”
Bolitho saw it with a poignant clarity, as if he had been there with them. This strong, remote man sitting with an enemy, perhaps the only one truly able to share his suffering.
“In some ways he reminded me of your nephew, sir. I thought it was the battle, being beaten, knowing he was paying with his life. But it wasn’t that. He simply could not believe that their other ship had cut and run-had left them to fight alone.”
There were whispering voices outside the door, officers needing advice or instructions. Tyacke would know of their presence, but nothing would move him until he was ready.
He said, “The lieutenant’s name was Brice, Mark Brice. He had prepared a letter to be despatched should the worst happen.” He was momentarily bitter. “I’ve warned others about that kind of maudlin sentiment. It’s… it’s asking for death.”
“Brice?” Bolitho felt a chill of recognition run through him, as though he were hearing Adam’s own voice as he had described it to him. “It was a Captain Joseph Brice who invited Adam to change sides when he was captured.”
Tyacke said, “Yes. He was that captain’s son. An address in Salem.”
“And the letter?”
“The usual, sir. Duty and love of country, not a lot of value when you’re dead.” He picked up a small book from the table. “Still, I’m glad I wrote it down.”
“And the other ship, James? Is that what’s troubling you?”
Tyacke shrugged heavily. “Well, I learned quite a bit from them. She’s the USS Retribution, another ex- Frenchman, Le Gladiateur. Forty guns, maybe more.” Then he said, “There’s no doubt in my mind that these were the ships that took Reaper.”
He glared at the door. “I shall have to go, sir. Please make use of these quarters until yours are ready.”
He hesitated by the door, as though grappling with something. “You were once a flag captain yourself, sir?”
Bolitho smiled. “Yes. A very long time ago, in a three-decker. Euryalus, one hundred guns. I learned a great deal in her.” He waited, knowing there was more.
Tyacke said, “The American lieutenant had heard about it. Your time in Euryalus, I mean.”
“But that was all of seventeen years ago, James. This lieutenant, Brice, would hardly have been old enough…”
Tyacke said bluntly, “Retribution’s captain told him. About you, about Euryalus. But he died before he could tell me anything more.”
He opened the door a few inches. “Wait!” There were a few murmurings from beyond, and then he added sharply, “Well, do it, or I’ll find somebody else better suited.” He turned toward Bolitho again. “Retribution’s captain is named Aherne.” He hesitated. “That’s all I know.”
Bolitho was on his feet, without realizing that he had left the chair. The big three-decker Euryalus had seemed the final step to flag rank, and he had carried even more responsibility than was usual for a flag captain. His admiral, Rear-Admiral Sir Charles Thelwall, had been old for his rank; he was dying, and he knew it. But England was facing heavy odds, with France and Spain confident of an early invasion. It had been in Euryalus that he had first met Catherine…
Tyacke’s coxswain held out the bottle. “Another, Sir Richard?”
Bolitho saw Tyacke’s unconcealed surprise when he accepted. He said slowly, “Dangerous times, James.” He was thinking aloud. “We were ordered to Ireland. A French squadron was reported ready to support an uprising. Had it come about, the balance might have shifted against England there and then. There was even worse to follow… the great mutinies in the fleet at the Nore and Spithead. Dangerous times, indeed.”
“And Ireland, sir?”
“There were a few battles. I think the strain of the responsibility finally killed Sir Charles Thelwall. A fine man, a gentle man. I much admired him.” He faced Tyacke, his eyes suddenly hard. “And of course there was the inevitable aftermath of recrimination and punishment meted out to those who had conspired against the King. It proved nothing, it solved nothing. One of those hanged for treason was a patriot called Daniel Aherne, the scapegoat who became a martyr.” He picked up his glass, and found that it was empty. “So, James, we have found the missing face: Rory Aherne. I knew he had gone to America, but that is all I know. Seventeen years. A long time to nurture hatred.”
Tyacke said, “How can we be sure?”
“I am certain, James. Coincidence, fate, who knows?” He smiled briefly. “Retribution, eh? A good choice.”
He thought suddenly of Catherine’s words to him, when they had first been thrown together. Men are made for war, and you are no exception.
That was then, but can we ever change?
Aloud he said, “Call me when we get under way, James. And thank you.”
Tyacke paused. “Sir?”
“For being a flag captain, James. That, and so much more.”
