Keen said suddenly. 'My proposal of marriage was accepted, Adam. I wish you could have been here when it was announced.'
Adam licked his lips. 'Congratulations, sir. i would say as much to Miss St. Clair, as well.'
Keen opened a drawer and closed it again. 'She is on passage to England with her father at this moment. Yes, I wish you had been here.'
Adam wondered if she had told him what he had said about Zenoria, that his absence had been planned.
He looked at Keen's open features. She had told him nothing.
The first lieutenant had appeared in the screen doorway.
'The boat is returning, sir.' He spoke to his captain, but his eyes were on the rear-admiral.
Thank you, Mr. Dyer.'
Keen glanced around the cabin, remembering perhaps the long days at sea, the boredom of routine, and the sudden fury of danger and battle. 'There is nothing of mine here.'
As the lieutenant's footsteps faded away. Keen said, 'Have the ship fully provisioned, Adam.' He hesitated. 'Be patient with him. He is an experienced officer, but he is not like us.' He tried to smile, but it evaded him. 'Not like you.'
They went out into the sunshine, and Keen turned once more to look at the watching seamen and marines.
He said simply, 'I shall miss you.'
Adam removed his hat, and the Royal Marine guard slapped their muskets and bayonets into a salute.
Who did he mean? Me? The ship? The assembled hands would mean little to him; some he would already have forgotten.
Perhaps he was bidding farewell to this life, and exchanging it for higher authority, promotion too, where Adam would be the intruder.
Dyer dismissed the side party and joined him to watch Keen's boat pulling away.
'May I ask something, sir?'
Adam turned to him, surprised, even slightly shocked by the first lieutenant's nervousness.
Have I been so unapproachable? Did I forget the first responsibility of command? The most coveted gift, his uncle had called it.
He reached out and touched Dyer's arm. 'I am remaining with Valkyrie. Is that what you were about to ask?'
Dyer could not hide his relief, and a genuine pleasure. His was not a face which could conceal anything.
'I shall pass the word, sir!'
Adam looked towards the land, but Keen's boat had disappeared. Then he gazed up at the gently swaying masthead, where Deighton's broad pendant would soon appear. Not like YOU.
He turned sharply as a chorus of cheers broke from the forecastle, although every one was careful not to catch his eye.
Despite everything, he was glad of his decision. As if the ship had spoken for herself.
'All present, sir.' Adam waited for the other captains to be seated, and glanced around the cabin, searching for some sign or hint of its new occupant, a portrait of someone, some memento from a past ship or port of call. There was nothing. The cabin looked exactly as it had when Keen had stood here, moments before leaving it for the last time. That had been three days ago. and in the meantime, while the other vessels of the new inshore squadron had anchored nearby, Commodore Henry Deighton had spent much of his time either ashore or here in his cabin, going through the ship's books and navigational logs, and had made no attempt to meet his captains in advance of this first gathering.
Adam knew them all, Morgan Price, the wild-eyed Welshman who commanded the frigate Wildfire, and Isaac Lloyd, captain of Chivalrous, the second largest frigate in the group, who had held two commands in the West Indies and was burned as dark as any islander.
He saw Urquhart meet his eyes. His ship, Reaper, had been a challenge, but Keen had agreed that he was the obvious choice. There were others who had watched Reaper's return to the fleet with both doubt and mistrust. A ship which had been cursed by mutiny could be seen as a threat, a dire warning to any captain who abused his authority in the name of discipline.
And there was Jacob Borradaile, commander of the fourteen-gun brig Alfriston. His ship had been there when Reaper's mutiny had broken out, and her despairing company had turned on their captain and flogged him to death. Borradaile was probably the most unlikely figure present today, like some gaunt caricature, with sprouting, badly cut hair and deep, hollow eyes. He was no one's idea of the commander of a King's ship, but those who knew him swore by his skills and impressive knowledge of those he was fighting. James Tyacke had once described him as 'a good hand. Came up the hard way'. From Tyacke there could be no higher praise.
Commodore Deighton sat behind his table, shoulders very stiff, fingers interlocked, his restless eyes moving quickly from face to face. Adam introduced them one by one, and in response there was a quick smile, almost a grimace.
To Urquhart he said, 'And what of Reaper? Learned their lesson, have they?'
Urquhart replied calmly, 'I think others have, because of her, sir.'
Commodore Deighton frowned, and turned to Isaac Lloyd. 'Your ship has performed very well, I believe. I shall be looking to you.' His gaze settled on the hollow-eyed Borradaile. 'Alfriston. I shall need you to maintain contact with the main squadron. It will be a demanding assignment.'
Borradaile watched him without expression. 'We'll be ready, sir.'
Adam saw Morgan Price glancing round. Perhaps he was expecting a glass of wine, a small thing, but usual enough at such a gathering as this. There was no wine; not even Deighton's strange-looking servant, Jack Norway, was present. A rumour, probably originating in the wardroom, had suggested that Norway had been rescued from the gallows, which might explain why he held his head at such an acute angle, and seemed barely able to speak.
Deighton was opening a long envelope and drawing out some papers. Adam could see the seals of Admiralty, and others too, which seemed to lend added importance to this meeting.
Deighton said, 'What I tell you is in the strictest confidence.' He frowned as Borradaile dragged his heels across the deck. 'A combined naval and military operation is planned, to take place while the weather is favourable, and to gain the maximum advantage. Admiral Cochrane will be in overall command, but the operation will be divided into separate sections.' He reached up and touched his ginger hair as if he were thinking of something else. Then he said deliberately, 'An attack on Washington, gentlemen.'
He had their full attention now, and Adam could see the amusement in his eyes. Pleased with his timing, with its effect.
These were experienced officers, and Adam knew that each man was regarding the challenge in a different light. Borradaile was used to prowling in American coastal waters, picking up intelligence where he could, and then making off if any enemy patrol vessel came upon him. Morgan Price was more concerned with the presence and size of American frigates; he had crossed swords with several of them already, and, like Lloyd of Chivalrous, he was never averse to prize money when it came his way.
Adam realised that Deighton's eyes, now quite steady, were on him.
'Captain Bolitho, what is your opinion of this honourable undertaking? You are experienced as anyone, I should have thought.'
Adam stared out at the blue-grey water beyond the stern windows. How do I feel? Truly feel, setting aside my dislike of this man?
He answered, The timing will have to be perfect, sir. Every care must be taken to avoid the leakage of information to the enemy. They would not be slow to rally against such an attack.'
'Of course, Captain.' Deighton played with the corners of his papers. 'You have no reason to love the Americans. You have had too close a contact for that.'
'I lost my ship to them, sir, and I was a prisoner of war.'
Deighton's eyes gleamed. 'Ah, but you escaped. I recall reading the full account.'
This was the man he could understand. The account of my court martial, sir?'
Price grinned wildly, and Lloyd took an interest in his cuff. Deighton nodded, unmoved.
'How did you find your captors the enemyT
