Adam waited. Keen was trying to make light of it. Success was badly damaged, yes, but would sail well enough after work was completed on her rigging. But Antigua, two thousand miles away, and in the hurricane season… It was taking a chance.
“There is another big convoy due within a week or so, supplies and equipment for the army, nothing unusual in that. Sir Richard intends to take Indomitable and two others of the squadron to escort them on the final approach. There is a possibility that the Americans might attack and attempt to scatter or sink some of them.” He regarded him calmly. “Success must have a strong consort.” He glanced around the cabin. “This ship is large enough to fight off any foolhardy privateer who might want to take her.” He smiled thinly. “And fast enough to get back to Halifax, in case of more trouble.”
Adam walked to the table, and hesitated as he saw the miniature lying beside Keen’s open log book. It took him completely by surprise, and he scarcely heard Keen say, “I am required to remain here. I command in Halifax. The rest of our ships may be needed elsewhere.”
He could not take his eyes from the miniature, recognizing the subject at once. The smile, which had been painted for someone else to cherish, to keep.
Keen said abruptly, “It will be nothing to you, Adam. Certain other commanders, I would have to consider more carefully. Success will be safer in English Harbour. At best, she can be used as a guard-ship, and at worst, her spars and weapons will be put to good use there. What do you say?”
Adam faced him, angry that he could not accept it, that he himself had no right to refuse.
“I think it’s too risky, sir.”
Keen seemed surprised. “You, Adam? You talk of risk? To the world at large it will merely be the departure of two big frigates, and even if enemy intelligence discovers their destination, what then? It will be too late to act upon it, surely.”
Adam touched the heavy watch in his pocket, remembering the small shop, the peaceful chorus of clocks, the owner’s matter-of-fact mention of Valkyrie, almost to the time of her departure.
He said bluntly, “There is no security here, sir. I shall be away for a month. Anything could happen in that time.”
Keen smiled, perhaps relieved. “The war will keep, Adam. I trust you with this mission because I want you to carry orders to the captain in charge at Antigua. A difficult man in many ways. He needs to be reminded of the fleet’s requirements there.”
He saw Adam’s eyes move to the miniature once more. “An endearing young lady. Courageous, too.” He paused. “I know what you are thinking. My loss is hard to believe, harder still to accept.”
Adam clenched his fists so tightly that the bones ached. You don’t understand. How can you forget her? Betray her?
He said, “I will make all the arrangements, sir. I’ll pick a prize crew from spare hands at the base.”
“Who will you put in charge of Success? ”
Adam contained his anger with an almost physical effort. “John Urquhart, sir. A good first lieutenant-I’m surprised he hasn’t been chosen for promotion, or even a command.”
The door opened an inch, and de Courcey coughed politely.
Keen said sharply, “What is it?”
“Your barge is ready, sir.”
“Thank you.” Keen picked up the miniature, and after a moment’s hesitation placed it in a drawer and turned the key. “I shall be aboard later. I’ll send word.” He looked at him steadily. “The day after tomorrow, then.”
Adam thrust his hat beneath his arm. “I’ll see you over the side, sir.”
Keen nodded to two midshipmen who sprang out of his way by the companion ladder. “I’d be obliged if you would take my flag lieutenant with you when you sail. Good experience. See how the professionals do things.” He seemed about to say something else, but changed his mind.
As the barge pulled away from Valkyrie’s shadow, Adam saw the first lieutenant walking across the quarterdeck in deep conversation with Ritchie, the sailing-master.
They eyed him as he approached, and Adam was again reminded that he did not truly know these men, just as he accepted that it was his own fault.
“Come forward with me, Mr Urquhart.” To the master he added, “You’ve been told, I take it.”
“Aye, sir. The Leeward Islands again. Bad time o’ year.” But Adam was already out of earshot, striding along the starboard gangway with Urquhart in step beside him. Below, men working at the gun tackles or flaking down unwanted cordage paused only briefly to glance up at them.
Adam halted on the forecastle deck and rested one foot on a crouching carronade, the “smasher,” as the Jacks called them. Opposite them lay the captured Success, and although her side and upper works still bore the scars of Indomitable’s iron, her masts were set up, with men working on the yards to secure each new sail. They had done well to achieve so much in so short a time. And beyond her, the beautiful Chesapeake, and Reaper swinging, untroubled, to her cable. Did ships know or care who handled, or betrayed, or loved them?
Urquhart said, “If the weather stays friendly, we’ll not have much trouble, sir.”
Adam leaned over the rail, past one great catted anchor to the imposing gilded figurehead: one of Odin’s faithful servants, a stern-faced maiden in breastplate and horned helmet, one hand raised as if to welcome her dead hero to Valhalla. It was not beautiful. He tried to thrust the thought aside. Not like Anemone. But through the smoke and the din of war, it would certainly impress an enemy.
“I want you to take charge of Success. You will have a prize crew, but only enough hands to work the ship. Her fighting ability has not yet been determined.”
He watched the lieutenant’s face, strong, intelligent, but still wary of his captain. Not afraid, but unsure.
“Now hear me, Mr Urquhart, and keep what I ask of you to yourself. If I hear one word from elsewhere it will lie at your door, understood?”
Urquhart nodded, his eyes very calm. “You can rely on that.”
Adam touched his arm. “I rely on you. ”
He thought suddenly of the miniature of Gilia St Clair. Her smile, which Keen had appropriated as his own.
“Now, this is what you must do.”
But even as he spoke, his mind still clung to it. Perhaps Keen was right. After the battle, losing his ship and the agony of imprisonment, there was always a chance of becoming crippled by caution.
When he had finished explaining what he required, Urquhart said, “May I ask you, sir, have you never feared being killed?”
Adam smiled a little, and turned his back on the figurehead.
“No.” He saw John Whitmarsh walking along the deck beside one of the new midshipmen, who was about his own age. They both seemed to sense his eyes upon them and paused to peer up into the sun at the shadows on the forecastle. The midshipman touched his hat; Whitmarsh raised one hand in a gesture which was not quite a wave.
Urquhart remarked, “You certainly have a way with youngsters, sir.”
Adam looked at him, the smile gone. “Your question, John. It is true to say that I have… died… many times. Does that suit?”
It was probably the closest they had ever been.
12. Code of Conduct
LIEUTENANT George Avery leaned back in his chair and put one foot on his sea-chest as if to test the ship’s movement. In the opposite corner of the small, screened cabin Allday sat on another chest, his big hands clasped together, frowning, as he tried to remember exactly what Avery had read to him.
Avery could see it as if he had left England only yesterday, and not the five months ago it was in fact. The inn at Fallowfield by the Helford River, the long walks in the countryside, untroubled by conversation with people who only spoke because they were cooped up with you in a man-of-war. Good food, time to think. To remember…
He thought now of his own letter, and wondered why he had told the admiral about her. More surprising still, that Bolitho had seemed genuinely pleased about it, although doubtless he thought his flag lieutenant was hoping
