Two fishermen stood in their heavy dory to wave as they passed through Indomitable’s shadow.
Bolitho saw one of the midshipmen waving back, then freeze as he found the captain’s eyes on him.
“Tops’l clew-lines! Roundly there-take that man’s name, Mr Craigie!”
Bolitho had already noticed that Valkyrie was not at her usual anchorage, nor was the American ship Success. He was not surprised that the latter had been moved. The harbour, large though it was, seemed to be bursting with ships, men-of-war, merchantmen and transport vessels of every type and size.
“Helm a’ lee!”
Slowly, as though recalling her earlier life as a ship of the line, Indomitable turned into the light wind, the panorama of houses and rough hillside gliding past her jib-boom, as if the land and not the ship was moving.
“Let go!”
The great anchor dropped into the water, spray dashing as high as the beak-head and its crouching lion while the ship came obediently to rest.
“I’ll have the gig take you ashore, Thomas. I can send my flag lieutenant with you until you are ready…”
The bright blue eyes studied him for a moment. “I can manage, thank you.” Then he held out his remaining hand, his body visibly adjusting to the movement, as if still unaccustomed to the loss. “I can see why you have never quit the sea for some high office ashore or in the Admiralty. I would be the same, if they had allowed it.” He spoke with the same curious lack of bitterness. “I’ll wager you’d find no Happy Few in that damned place!”
Bolitho took his hand in both of his own. “There are not too many left, I’m afraid, Thomas.”
They both looked along the deck, the busy seamen, the marines waiting by the entry port, the first lieutenant leaning out from the forecastle to check the lie of the cable. Even here, Bolitho thought. Charles Keverne had been his first lieutenant in the three-decker Euryalus, when he had been a flag captain himself. A reliable officer despite a hasty temper, with the dark good looks which had won him a lovely wife. About twelve years ago, as a captain, Keverne had commanded this same ship, when she had been a third-rate. Together they had fought in the Baltic. Once again, Indomitable had triumphed, but Keverne had fallen there.
Herrick watched his sea-chest and bags being carried on deck. The gig was already hoisted out: the contact was almost severed.
Herrick paused by the ladder, and Bolitho saw the Royal Marine colour-sergeant give a quick signal to his officer.
Herrick was fighting with something. Stubborn, strong-willed, intransigent, but loyal, always loyal above everything.
“What is it, Thomas?”
Herrick did not look at him. “I was wrong to regard your feeling for Lady Somervell so ill. I was so full of grief for my Dulcie that I was blind to all else. I tried to tell her in a letter…”
“I know. She was very moved by it. And so was I.”
Herrick shook his head. “But I can see now, don’t you understand? What you’ve done for the navy, for England, no less-and yet still you drive yourself.” He reached out and seized Bolitho’s arm. “Go while you can, Richard. Take your Catherine and be grateful. Let someone else carry this goddamned burden, this war that nobody wants, except those who intend to profit from it! It is not our war, Richard. Just this once, accept it!”
Bolitho could feel the strength of the man in the grip of the solitary hand. No wonder he had forced himself to climb the ship’s side, to prove what he could do, and who he was.
“Thank you for saying that, Thomas. I shall tell Catherine when I write to her next.”
Herrick walked beside him to the entry port. His bags and sea chest had vanished. He saw Allday waiting, and said, “Take care, you rascal.” He stared past him at the land. “I was sorry to hear about your son. But your daughter will give you much happiness.”
Allday looked at Bolitho. It was as if he had known what Herrick had just said, had felt the very urgency of the plea.
“He won’t listen to me, Mr Herrick. Never does!”
Herrick held out his hand to Tyacke. “She does you credit, Captain Tyacke. You have suffered for what you have earned, but I envy you, for all that.” He turned toward Bolitho and removed his hat. “You, Captain, and one other.”
The calls shrilled and the marines’ bayonets flashed in the bright sunlight.
When Bolitho looked down once more, the gig was already backing water from the side. He watched until it was lost beyond an anchored brigantine. Then he smiled. Typically, again, Herrick did not look back.
Tyacke fell into step beside him. “Well, I don’t envy him his job, Sir Richard. It’s Reaper’s captain who should be on trial. I’ve run better slavers up to the main-yard before now!”
Bolitho said, “He may surprise us, but I agree. His is a thankless task.” But the force of Herrick’s words refused to leave him, and he could not imagine what it must have cost him to speak.
Tyacke said suddenly, “This victory you mentioned, Sir Richard. Some place in Spain, you said?”
It was said to be Wellington ’s greatest triumph over the French so far. The war could not last much longer, surely.
Bolitho replied, “They speak of months, not years any more, James. I have learned not to hope too much. And yet…” He watched the courier schooner Reynard speeding toward the harbour mouth, her ensign dipping in salute as she passed abeam of his flagship. A small, lively command for the young lieutenant who was her lord and master. Like Miranda, the schooner which had been Tyacke’s first command; he would be thinking of it now, and of their own first wary meeting. What they had now become to one another.
He said abruptly, “Well, James, the war is still with us here, so I shall have to accept it!”
Bolitho stood by a window and watched his flag lieutenant walking along the stone-flagged terrace, carrying his hat in the warm sunshine. In the background, the anchorage was so crowded that it was hardly possible to see Indomitable. But for his flag curling in the wind, she might have been any one of them.
Valentine Keen was saying, “I decided to send Valkyrie to Antigua. She was the only ship powerful enough to escort the prize and frighten off any over-eager enemy.”
In the glass Bolitho saw Keen’s reflected arm wave across the litter of papers and despatches which the schooner Reynard had delivered to him. Bolitho had sensed a moment’s uneasiness when the schooner had sailed smartly abeam as he had been speaking to Tyacke: Reynard ’s youthful commander had known then that Keen was here, otherwise he would have made his report on board Indomitable.
“Valkyrie met with two American frigates. It is all here in Adam’s report, which he passed to Reynard when they happened to meet at sea.”
“And one was destroyed, Val. Valkyrie suffered no losses but for a midshipman. Remarkable.”
“Yes, they picked up a few survivors, not many, apparently, and discovered that the ship that went down with Success was the USS Condor. A Captain Ridley was in command, killed, with most of his people, it seems.”
“And the other frigate was the Retribution.”
Keen did not seem to hear him. “I did not intend that either Valkyrie or the prize should be put at unnecessary risk. Had I been aboard, I would have made certain that a more open course was observed. Captain Bolitho was too near to the enemy coast.”
“Two hundred miles, you say?” He turned from the glare, his eye suddenly painful. “You and I have trailed our coats a good deal nearer than that, in our time!”
“I think it was deliberate.” Keen faced him across the table. “I know he is your nephew, and I am the first to appreciate that. But I think it was an impetuous and dangerous course of action. We could have lost both ships.”
Bolitho said, “As it was, Val, we exchanged a broken-down prize which would have taken months or perhaps years to overhaul and refit, for one of a group which has been a thorn in our side since our return to Halifax. Your place was here, while you were waiting to receive the latest convoy. You made the right decision, and it was yours to make. And as the one in command, Adam had no choice but to act as he did. I would expect that of any of my captains. You must know that.”
Keen recovered himself with an effort. “The survivors also confirmed your belief that Captain, now Commodore Rory Aherne was in command of the group.” He banged his hand down on the papers, and anger put an edge to his voice. “He might have taken my flagship!”
“And Adam-where is he now?”
Keen plucked his shirt away from his skin. “He had orders for the Captain in Charge at Antigua. He will return
