decoration being a pair of tarnished epaulettes.
He doffed his cocked hat and gave a slight bow to the assembled officers.
'Your visit is without invitation, but nevertheless I am commanded to offer you welcome.'
He spoke flawless English, with an inflection Bolitho had heard before.
He said, 'I am……'
The man bowed again, and smiled faintly. 'i know of you, sir. Bo-lye-tho, His Majesty's admiral of fame and reputation.'
'And whom have I the honour of addressing, sir?'
'i am Captain Martinez, adviser,' again the small smile, 'and friend to Mehmet Pasha, the Governor and Commander-in-Chief in Algiers.'
'Would you care to come to my quarters, Captain Martinez?'
Martinez held up his hat to shade his eyes from the sun.
His hair was sleek, and as dark as Bolitho's own, his skin tanned to the colour of leather; there were deep crows' feet around the eyes. He could have been any age from forty to sixty.
He glanced at the guns, their crews standing by with sponges and worms to clean out the barrels after the salute.
That will not be possible. I have orders to escort you to the citadel myself.' He made an elegant gesture. 'You will find the craft quite comfortable.' His dark eyes flitted around the upper deck. 'An improvement, I would think?'
Captain Christie said sharply, 'I must protest, Sir Richard. Once you were in the citadel, we would be powerless to assist you!'
Bolitho shook his head. 'I am ready. Captain Martinez. My aide will accompany me.'
Martinez frowned as Allday joined Avery by the entry port. 'And who is this?'
Bolitho said simply, 'He is always with me. I trust that will suffice?' 'Yes.'
Bolitho touched his hat to the side party: Christie and his lieutenants, so many faces staring at him, anxious and without understanding. Men he did not even know.
Martinez ushered them to the stern of the galley. It was ornate, with gilded carvings, and long shades to provide privacy for the passengers.
Bolitho heard him giving orders to the boat's crew: a different voice again, fluent and without hesitation.
Avery whispered, ' Martinez is no Turk, sir. Spanish, more likely.' He frowned. 'But there's something else……'
Bolitho nodded. 'It is my belief that he learned his English in America, a long time ago.'
Avery looked relieved. 'I agree, sir.'
Allday loosened the cutlass at his side. 'I'd not trust one of 'em!'
Bolitho raised one of the blinds and was surprised to see Halcyon lying half a cable away, so fast were the oars rising and dipping.
He recalled Christie's concern, and hoped he would remember to keep his men working as normally as possible. A thousand pairs of eyes were probably watching the ship at this very moment. The first sign of preparation for action would destroy everything. He touched the locket again.
It was suddenly cool and almost dark, and he realised that the galley had entered something like a cave, a seaward entrance to the citadel here, where there were no tides. It made the place almost impregnable.
They were alongside a stone-flagged jetty, and he saw more uniforms, soldiers this time, observing them in silence, fingering their weapons as if unsure.
Most of the muskets were French, but there were a few British ones among them. Demand probably out paced supply, hence the seizure of the chartered Galicia, which had been carrying powder and shot, and perhaps an unlawful cargo of weapons. It was common enough; army quartermasters were like pursers, not averse to some private profit if it was offered without risk to themselves.
He considered Martinez, his role here, and where he had originated. A survivor of the American Revolution, perhaps? Or a mercenary who had changed sides once too often.
He was striding ahead of them now, full of energy and purpose. Bolitho found he could almost smile. A man you would not turn your back on.
He heard Allday breathing heavily on the steps; Martinez probably reminded him of the day when a Spanish sword had cut him down. He was paying for it now.
'Easy, old friend. We can rest a while……'
Allday turned towards him, his brow furrowed with pain.
'I'll keep with you, Cap……' He shook himself, angry because he had almost called him Cap'n, as in those other, reckless days.
Doors opened to receive them and Bolitho saw rich rugs hanging from the walls. There was incense too, and the smell of sandalwood.
Martinez paused and held up his hands. 'We must proceed alone, Admiral Bolitho.' He glanced disdainfully at Allday. 'He can rest here.' He moved his dark eyes to Avery. 'There will be refreshment. Companionship, if you wish.' He smiled again. 'It is permitted.'
Bolitho snapped, 'Women? But I thought the Dey was opposed to such behaviour.'
The glance was almost pitying. 'Captives, Admiral Bolitho.'
Bolitho's eyes moved quickly to an open, unguarded window. Avery did not even blink. He understood.
Instead he said, 'We shall be here, Sir Richard.'
Bolitho said, 'I never doubted it.'
More doors closed behind him and he saw Mehmet Pasha seated at the opposite end of the room. Another surprise; he had expected him to be rotund and soft, someone used to the spoils and rewards of his rank.
But the man he saw was neat and slight, with bright, intelligent eyes and a cruel mouth. The face of a warrior, or a tyrant.
Martinez said. 'Mehmet Pasha speaks no English.' It seemed to amuse him. 'So you will have to trust me.'
Bolitho gave a stiff bow, and said, 'I am here to represent His Britannic Majesty, Excellency. On behalf of our two nations, and the peace we presently enjoy.'
He half-listened to Martinez 's guttural translation and was reassured by it. Mehmet Pasha was not listening. He had understood every word he had said.
Bolitho continued, The vessel Galicia and her cargo were seized by one of your ships. I ask that you release Galicia 's master, so that I may arrange a solution.' He looked at the other man calmly. 'And the release of her company.'
Martinez touched his arm and beckoned him to a window. 'Some of them are there, Admiral. They resisted, they were punished.' He watched him curiously. 'Perhaps you would have done the same?'
The corpses lay where they had been thrown, like so much rubbish. As a warning to others, or with total indifference. The pools of dried blood were still apparent by the rotting remains. They had suffered terribly before they had died.
Martinez returned to his position facing his master.
Bolitho had seen more than the decaying corpses; he had caught sight of some of the guns pointing out across the bay. Perhaps Martinez had intended him to see them. Like a threat.
Mehmet Pasha was speaking, his tone unhurried, and without any sort of emotion. Martinez explained, The vessel was carrying an unlawful cargo. It was using waters governed only by the Dey, that also was unlawful. You are received here as a guest.' His eyes moved between them. 'But you have no authority, no power in these waters. He has spoken.'
'I shall send his words to His Majesty, Captain Martinez. Of his response, I am not privileged to speak.'
Martinez looked less confident, and said quickly, 'Mehmet Pasha commands here, Admiral Bolitho!'
Bolitho watched the other man. Outwardly calm, even contemptuous, but something, an instinct perhaps, gave another impression. He was waiting to hear Bolitho's answer, and not through his 'interpreter'.
'Please tell him,' he pointed suddenly to the window, the blinding edge of the horizon, 'that I command out there.'
In the sudden silence he could hear the echo of his own words, a sentence of death if Mehmet Pasha
