the bare-backed seamen, skins already sunburned, as they dashed up and down the ratlines in response to the shouted orders from the quarterdeck.
Some of the unemployed men stared at passing craft, brightly coloured fishing boats with bat-like sails. Most of them had an eye painted on the bow, the eye of Osiris, believed to enable the boat to see where it was going and so avoid danger. A few of the occupants waved as the black and buff seventy-four passed, but not many. Men-of- war, large and small, had become commonplace to these people throughout a war they had never truly understood.
Bolitho moved slightly into the shade of the mizzen topsail, and winced as a reflected shaft of sunlight pricked his injured eye. He saw Tyacke speaking to Tregidgo, the sailing master. They were probably satisfied with their calculations, and their arrival at the estimated time. The master was competent, Tyacke had told him, an old hand, four years in Frobisher and ten as a master before that. Tyacke had also said that he was not an easy man to know.
Bolitho had spoken to him only once, a fellow Cornishman, but with entirely different beginnings. Tregidgo had been the first of his family to go to sea; the others were all tin miners, Cousin Jacks, as they were called in Cornwall. He had not waited to be taken by a press gang, but had walked into Redruth and volunteered. It must have been a hard climb to his present rank, Bolitho thought.
He saw Allday moving around the boat tier, his face set in a frown of concentration. The barge had been painted green at his instruction, but it was impossible to know if Allday was pleased with it.
Lieutenant A very joined him. 'My first visit here, sir.'
Bolitho said, 'I doubt if you'll find much time to explore.'
They looked up as more men clambered out along the topsail yards, like monkeys against the pale sky.
Bolitho had seen the date in the ship's log: the sixth of June, 1814. Adam's birthday. He thought of the war he had left behind in those disputed American waters, the risks and dangers to Adam; afraid that his despair and bitterness at Zenoria's death might make him reckless, and too eager for a fight with the enemy which had destroyed the only other thing he had loved, the frigate Anemone. He knew what it was like, how grief could blunt even the most experienced captain's judgement; he had suffered it himself, at a time when he believed he had nothing to live for. A death wish, someone had called it.
If only Adam were here. Another in his position would use his influence as admiral to arrange such a transfer, but it would be seen as favouritism, and Adam would decline for that very reason.
Tyacke said. Take in your courses, Mr. Kellett, and have the marines mustered aft.'
He never seemed to raise his voice, but they were coming to know their captain, and aspire to his standards, even if they could not understand why he drove himself so hard.
Allday had come aft. but was careful to keep his distance. Thinking, perhaps, of the child who would be even more grown up when he eventually reached home again.
Bolitho bit his lip. June. His own daughter. Elizabeth, would be twelve years old this month.
I do not know her.
More shouted commands, and the way going off the ship as she moved steadily towards the land and the gleaming expanse of anchorage. The gunner was on deck speaking with Gage, the fourth lieutenant, making sure that each gun would fire exactly on time when the salutes began. A few men looked towards the quarterdeck where the admiral and his aide stood side by side, apparently beyond the reach of doubt, or any ordinary concerns.
Bolitho smiled to himself, and Avery saw the smile and found comfort in it, without knowing why.
There was a Spanish frigate anchored nearby, some of her company mustered on deck to dip her ensign in respect as the ship with the admiral's flag moved abeam.
Bolitho tried to accept it. They were enemies no longer. He thought of Catherine's words, when they had first met. It was as though she had just spoken them aloud. Men are made for war, and you are no exception. But it was not a reminder. It was a warning.
7. No Choice at All
Adam Bolitho stood by the entrance of Valkyrie's great cabin and watched in silence as Rear-Admiral Valentine Keen strode to the stern windows, his hair almost brushing the deck head beams. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but Adam sensed that he no longer regarded this as his flagship.
Valkyrie had anchored at Halifax in the early morning, and with scarcely a word Captain Henry Deighton had gone ashore to report to Keen. It had not been an easy passage, either to the Bermudas or on the return. Deighton had questioned Adam relentlessly about almost everything, from the various patrol areas to recognition signals; Adam had expected that, after their bad beginning. Deighton had hardly spoken to any of the officers, and had confined himself to this. Keen's cabin, for his meals and to write endless reports, for whose benefit was still unclear.
Keen looked well, he thought, his fair hair almost white against his tanned features. He showed no sign of strain, and Adam suddenly realised what had changed. Here, in Valkyrie, he had become a stranger.
Keen said, 'Much has happened in your absence, Adam. I hear from Captain Deighton that you were most thorough, by the way.'
'It was somewhat different from blockade duty, I imagine, sir.'
Keen glanced at him curiously. 'You disliked him?'
'I have served better men, sir. In my opinion.'
Keen nodded. 'Honesty is what I would expect from you.
As my flag captain, and as my friend.' He moved to the windows again and watched several boats pulling past the stern. 'Hard to remember all the snow and ice.' He seemed to come to a decision, visibly, like some physical effort.
'I have to tell you now that Deighton's promotion to commodore has been confirmed. I gave him his commission this morning when he came ashore.' He swung round, his eyes in shadow. 'I shall be leaving soon for England. As my flag captain, you are of course entitled to come with me.' He hesitated. 'Although with matters as they are in England I cannot make you the promise of a new command. It may take time.'
Adam tensed, his mind prepared, like waiting for the first shot in a battle. Or in a duel.
Keen said, 'Great matters are afoot. You will know soon enough, but I can assure you that Valkyrie will be in the thick of it. A small but experienced inshore squadron will be needed to defend some of those soldiers you have escorted of late. I should think the Bermudas might well sink under their combined weight!'
Adam said quietly, 'And Commodore Deighton, sir?'
'He will be in command of the squadron. Four frigates, including yours.'
Adam felt his jaw tighten. Mine. Keen had already decided. It was no choice at all. With Urquhart promoted and gone to command the redeemed Reaper, who of similar experience did Valkyrie have in her company? Dyer, the first lieutenant, was competent and reliable, when he was told exactly what to do. Two other lieutenants had been midshipmen only months ago. The sailing master was a fine seaman and navigator, but sometimes he could barely draw breath because of his wounds, although he would fall dead rather than admit it. And there was a drunken surgeon, George Minchin, who had been serving with Sir Richard Bolitho when Hyperion had gone down.
Keen knew him better than he realised. No captain would quit his command when his ship was on the eve of something dangerous, where skill and experience would count more than anything.
Keen said, 'Another captain could be found for Valkyrie. But Commodore Deighton is new amongst us. The burden of his responsibility will be great enough.'
No choice at all. 'You mentioned the army, sir?'
Keen plucked at something on his coat. 'An attack on American soil. It is all I can say.'
Adam said flatly, 'I shall stay, sir.'
He sensed that Keen had been prepared for any decision, but he could not conceal his relief.
'Your presence, your name alone, will make all the difference. And, of course, I shall be following your exploits as closely as I can.'
England. The admiral's house at Plymouth, where he had walked with Zenoria. so careful to remain in sight of the other guests. The last time he had seen her.
