He saw that Keen was not alone, and the other man, who was about to leave, was David St Clair.
St Clair shook his hand. “I am sorry you were kept waiting, Captain Bolitho. It seems I may be needed here in Halifax after all.”
Keen waved him to a chair as the door closed behind his other visitor. Adam studied him with interest. Keen looked strained, and unusually tense.
He said, “I have received fresh despatches from the Admiralty, but first I have to tell you that Sir Richard was correct in his belief that control of the lakes was vital.” He glanced around the room, thinking of that day in the summer when the army captain had described the first attack on York. When Gilia had asked about the officer who had been killed. “The army could not hold the vital line of water communications, and at Lake Erie they were beaten. A retreat was ordered, but it was already too late.” He slapped his hand on the table and said bitterly, “The army was cut to pieces!”
“What will it mean, sir?” Adam could not recall ever seeing Keen so distressed. So lost.
Keen made an effort to compose himself. “Mean? It means we will not be able to drive the Americans out of the western frontier districts, especially not now, with winter fast approaching. It will be another stalemate. We, in the fleet, will blockade every American port. They’ll feel that as deeply as any bayonet!”
Adam tried to think without emotion. His uncle was at sea, and the brig Weazle had brought word that he was investigating the whereabouts of some enemy frigates reported heading northeast. They could be anywhere by now. He thought of Keen’s words, winter fast approaching. The fierce, bitter rain, the fogs, the damp between decks. Where had the time gone? It was October, by only a day or two, and yet you could feel it.
He roused himself from his thoughts and found that Keen was watching him gravely. “Sir Richard, your uncle and my dear friend, is to be withdrawn. That was the main point of the despatches. I shall remain in charge here.”
Adam was on his feet. “Why, sir?”
“Why, indeed? I am informed that Sir Alexander Cochrane will be taking over the whole station, which will include the Leeward Squadron. A far bigger fleet will be at his disposal, both for blockade duties and for land operations with the army. In Europe, Napoleon’s armies are in retreat on every front. It is a land war now. Our blockade has served its purpose.” He turned away, and said with the same soft bitterness, “And at what a price.”
Adam said, “I think Sir Richard should be told without delay.”
“I need all available frigates here, Adam. I have scarcely a brig available to retain contact with our patrols, let alone watch over enemy movements.”
“Sir Richard may have been called to action, sir.”
“D’ you imagine I’ve not thought as much? I couldn’t sleep because of it. But I cannot spare any more ships.”
Adam said coolly, “I understand, sir. As your flag captain, I am required to advise, and to present conclusions. My uncle would be the very first to steer away from favouritism, or from encouraging action taken purely out of personal involvement.”
“I hoped you would say that, Adam. If I were free to act…”
Adam turned away as the same orderly entered with a tray and glasses. “With the General’s compliments, sir.”
He said, “But you are not free, sir, not so long as your flag is flying above this command.”
Keen watched the soldier’s steady hand as he poured two large measures of cognac. The general lived well, it seemed.
Adam held the glass to the light from the window. Already it was as grey as winter, like a symbol of time’s relentless passage.
Keen swallowed deeply, and coughed to regain his breath. Then he said, “You may go, thank you.” When they were alone again, he said, “The warrants for the two mutineers were presented this morning. Have no fear-I signed them. Sir Richard will be spared that, at least.” It seemed to spark off another memory. “John Urquhart took command today, did he not?”
Adam said, “Yes. The custom will prevail, sir. Both prisoners will be hanged, run up to the main-yard by their own ship’s company. Reaper’s.”
Keen nodded almost absently, as if he had been listening to a stranger.
“I will order Reaper to sea immediately. Captain Urquhart can find Sir Richard and carry my despatches to him. I’ll not begin that ship’s new life with a damned execution!”
There were voices outside: de Courcey with the next visitors.
Keen glanced irritably at the door. “There is another matter, Adam. If you would prefer to take another appointment, I would understand. It has not been easy.” He looked at him directly, his eyes very still. “For either of us.”
Adam was surprised that he did not even hesitate. “I would like to remain with you, sir.” He put down the empty glass. “I shall return to Valkyrie in case I am needed.”
For the first time, Keen smiled. “You will always be that, Adam. Believe me.”
The same orderly was waiting for him with his cloak. “Stopped rainin’, sir.”
He thought of Urquhart, how he would feel when he was ordered to proceed to sea with all possible despatch. Relieved, probably. And of the mutineer, Harry Ramsay, whom he had tried to help, although he had suspected that he was guilty. At least he would be spared the final degradation of being hanged by his own shipmates.
“A moment, Captain Bolitho!”
He turned, and as if to a secret signal the front doors swung shut again.
She was warmly dressed, her cheeks flushed from the cold air. He waited, seeing her as she had been that day when Valkyrie’s powerful broadside had been ready to fire. None of them would have survived, and she would know it.
He removed his hat, and said, “You are well, Miss St Clair?”
She did not seem to hear. “Are you remaining as flag captain to Rear-Admiral Keen?”
So Keen had confided in her. He was again surprised, that he did not care.
“I am.”
He glanced down as she laid one hand on his sleeve. “I am so glad. He needs you.” Her eyes did not falter. “And, for his sake, so do I.”
Adam studied her. He supposed that she would also know about the battle for Lake Erie, and the regiments involved.
He said, “You have my good wishes.” He allowed himself to smile, to soften it. “Both of you.”
She walked with him to the door. Then she said, “You knew Rear-Admiral Keen’s wife, I believe?”
He faced her again. “I was in love with her.” It was madness; she would tell Keen. Then, he was as certain that she would not.
She nodded: he did not know whether she was satisfied or relieved. “Thank you, Captain… I can understand now why you love your uncle. You are both the same man, in many ways.”
She tugged off her glove, and it dropped to the floor. Adam stooped to recover it, and she did not see the sudden distress in his eyes.
He took her hand, and kissed it. “You do me too much honour, Miss St Clair.”
She waited until the door had been pulled shut behind him. Her father would be impatient to see her, wanting to tell her about his new appointment here in Halifax. It would be good to see him happy, occupied with his work again.
But all she could think of was the man who had just left her, whose austere face had seemed very young and vulnerable for those few seconds, when he had picked up her glove. Something which even he had been unable to hide. And she was both moved and gladdened by it.
At four bells of the afternoon watch His Majesty’s Ship Reaper weighed anchor, and under topsails and jib wended her way towards the entrance and the open sea. Many eyes followed her, but no one cheered or wished her well. Captain Adam Bolitho followed her progress until she was lost from view. She was free.
“Deck there! Boats in the water, dead ahead!”
Tyacke walked to the compass box and then stopped as eight bells chimed out from the forecastle.
“I was beginning to wonder, Mr York.”
