nearness of the enemy, security was a myth. Everyone knew who you were, what ship, where bound, and probably a whole lot more. He had mentioned it with some concern to Keen, who had said only, “I think we give them too much credit, Adam.”
An indefinable coolness had come between them. Because of Adam’s threat to fire on the Reaper, hostages or not, or was it something of his own making or imagination, born of that abiding sense of guilt?
He took the watch, and it rested in his palm. It was heavy, the case rubbed smooth by handling over the years.
The man said, “A rare piece, Captain. Note the cylinder escapement, the fine, clear face.” He sighed. “Mudge and Dutton, 1770. A good deal older than yourself, I daresay.”
Adam was studying the guard, the engraving well worn but still clear and vital in the dusty sunlight. A mermaid.
The shopkeeper added, “Not the kind of workmanship one finds very often these days, I fear.”
Adam held it to his ear. Recalling her face that day in Plymouth, when he had picked up her fallen glove and returned it to her. Her hand on his arm when they had walked together in the port admiral’s garden. The last time he had seen her.
“What is the story of this watch?”
The little man polished his glasses. “It came into the shop a long while ago. It belonged to a seafaring gentleman like yourself, sir… I believe he needed the money. I could find out, perhaps.”
“No.” Adam closed the guard very carefully. “I will take it.”
“It is a mite expensive, but…” He smiled, pleased that the watch had gone to a suitable owner. “I know you are a very successful frigate captain, sir. It is right and proper that you should have it!” He waited, but the responding smile was not forthcoming. “I should clean it before you take it. I can send it by hand to Valkyrie if you would prefer. I understand that you are not sailing until the day after tomorrow?”
Adam looked away. He had only just been told himself by Keen before he had come ashore.
“Thank you, but I shall take it now.” He slipped it into his pocket, haunted by her face once more. The local people of Zennor still insisted that the church where she and Keen had been married had been visited by a mermaid.
The bell jingled again and the shopkeeper glanced around, irritated by the intrusion. He met all kinds of people here: Halifax was becoming the most important sea port, and certainly the safest, set as it was at the crossroads of war. With the army to defend it and the navy to protect and supply it, there were many who regarded it as the new gateway to a continent. But this young, dark-haired captain was very different from the others. Alone, completely alone, alive to something which he would allow no one else to share.
He said, “I am sorry, Mrs Lovelace, but your clock is still misbehaving. A few days more, perhaps.”
But she was looking at Adam. “Well, Captain Bolitho, this is a pleasant surprise. I trust you are well? And how is your handsome young admiral?”
Adam bowed to her. She was dressed in dark red silk, with a matching bonnet to shade her eyes from the sun. The same direct way of looking at him, the slightly mocking smile, as if she were used to teasing people. Men.
He said, “Rear-Admiral Keen is well, ma’am.”
She was quick to notice the slight edge to his reply.
“You have been shopping, I see.” She held out her hand. “Will you show me?”
He knew that the shopkeeper was observing them with interest. No doubt he knew her well, and her reputation would make a fine piece of gossip. He was surprised to find that he had actually taken out his watch to show her.
“I needed one, Mrs Lovelace. I like it.” He saw her studying the engraved mermaid.
“I would have bought something younger for you, Captain Bolitho. But if it’s what you want, and it takes your fancy…” She glanced out at the street. “I must go. I have friends to entertain later.” She looked at him directly again, her eyes suddenly very still and serious. “You know where I live, I think.”
He answered, “On the Bedford Basin. I remember.”
For a second or two her composure and her humour were gone. She gripped his arm, and said, “Be careful. Promise me that. I know of your reputation, and a little of your background. I think perhaps you do not care for your own life any more.” When he would have spoken she silenced him, as effectively as if she had laid a finger on his lips. “Say nothing. Only do as I ask, and be very careful. Promise me.” Then she looked at him again: the invitation was very plain. “When you come back, please call on me.”
He said coolly, “What about your husband, ma’am? I think he may well object.”
She laughed, but the first vivid confidence did not return. “He is never here. Trade is his life, his whole world!” She played with the ribbon of her bonnet. “But he is no trouble.”
He recalled their host, Benjamin Massie, that night when the brig Alfriston had brought the news of Reaper’s mutiny and capture. Massie’s mistress then, and perhaps the mistress of others as well.
“I wish you well, ma’am.” He recovered his hat from a chair, and said to the shopkeeper, “When I check my ship’s affairs against my watch, I shall remember you and this shop.”
She was waiting on the steps. “Remember what I have said to you.” She studied his face, as if seeking something in it. “You have lost that which you can never rediscover. You must accept that.” She touched the gold lace on his lapel. “Life must still be lived.”
She turned away, and as Adam stepped aside to avoid a mounted trooper, she vanished.
He walked back toward the boat jetty. Be very careful. He quickened his pace as he caught sight of the water and the great array of masts and spars, like a forest. Whatever action they took, it would be Keen’s decision: he had made that more than clear. But why did it hurt so much?
He thought suddenly of his uncle, and wished he could be with him. They could always talk; he would always listen. He had even confessed his affair with Zenoria to him.
He saw the stairs and Valkyrie’s gig moored alongside. Midshipman Rickman, a lively fifteen-year-old, was speaking with two young women who were doing little to hide their profession from the grinning boat’s crew.
Rickman straightened his hat and the gig’s crew came to attention when they saw their captain approaching. The two girls moved away, but not very far.
Adam said, “Back to the ship, if you please, Mr Rickman. I see that you were not wasting your time?”
Two blotches of scarlet appeared on the youth’s unshaven cheeks, and Adam climbed quickly into the boat. If only you knew.
He glanced toward the captured American frigate and the other, Success, which Indomitable’s broadsides had overwhelmed in minutes, recalling the young lieutenant who had died of his wounds, son of the Captain Joseph Brice who had interviewed him during his captivity. A sick but dignified officer, who had treated him with a courtesy reminiscent of Nathan Beer. He wondered if Brice knew, and would blame himself for guiding his son into the navy.
Face to face, blade to blade with men who spoke the same language but who had freely chosen another country… Perhaps it was better to have an enemy you could hate. In war, it was necessary to hate without questioning why.
“Oars up!”
He stood and reached for the hand-rope. He had barely noticed the return journey to Valkyrie.
He saw the flag lieutenant hovering by the entry port, waiting to catch his eye. He raised his hat to the quarterdeck, and smiled.
It was, of course, easier to hate some more than others.
Rear-Admiral Valentine Keen turned away from Valkyrie’s stern windows as Adam, followed by the flag lieutenant, entered the great cabin.
“I came as soon as I could, sir. I was ashore.”
Keen said gently, “It is no great matter. You should have more leisure.” He glanced at the flag lieutenant. “Thank you, Lawford. You may carry on with the signals we discussed.”
The door closed, reluctantly, Adam thought. “More news, sir?”
Keen seemed unsettled. “Not exactly. But the plans have changed. Success is to leave for Antigua. I have spoken with the Dock Master, and I can see we have no choice in the matter. Halifax is crammed with vessels needing overhaul and repair, and Success was in a very poor condition after her clash with Indomitable- as much due to severe rot as to Captain Tyacke’s gunnery, I suspect.”
