added with some bitterness, “Lovatt believes he’s his son!”
Avery had seen Lovatt’s son on the way here, waiting with one of the midshipmen as escort. He could guess the rest.
When Adam turned, he was calm again.
“I asked you to come here because I think you can help me.”
Why had he sent for him, and not the first lieutenant?
Adam said, “In your original report to Sir Graham Bethune, you made mention of a Captain Martinez, whom you described as adviser to Mehmet Pasha, the governor and commander-in-chief in Algiers. Spanish…”
He broke off as Lovatt shouted, “Helm a’ lee, man! Are you blind, damn you!” It was followed by a bout of coughing, and Avery heard O’Beirne’s resonant voice for the first time.
Adam continued, “A renegade, you said?”
Avery forced himself to think, aware of the controlled urgency in the captain’s tone.
“Yes, sir. He changed sides several times, but is useful to the Dey. He has or had connections in Spain when we met him. But the Dey is a hard man to serve, and Martinez will be very aware of it.”
Adam said, “Lovatt spoke of him this morning. He said that the powder and shot, and other supplies not listed, were provided by Spanish sources, the whole of Tetrarch’s cargo to be exact.”
Avery tried to shut his ears to the pitiful muttering and retching from the sleeping compartment. This was important, it had to be, and yet it made no sense.
Adam said, “He also told me that a second supply ship was to follow Tetrarch.” He gestured impatiently to the chart. “Tomorrow we shall be north of Bona. The hornets’ nest, eh?” He almost smiled. “You will doubtless remember it well?”
Avery was silent for a moment, seeing it in his mind, as he had done in the past.
“It would make sense, sir. Our patrols, such as they are, would be less likely to sight them, and even then…”
Adam touched his sleeve. “And even then, supporting ships would be required, and the admiral would have to be informed, and consulted-it is an old and familiar story!”
So he was bitter about Bethune’s change of heart. Avery said, “News travels fast in these waters, sir. Tetrarch’s capture, and your cutting out of La Fortune, will put an edge on things.”
The door opened slightly, and O’Beirne peered into the cabin.
“If you still wish it, sir, I think this might be the time.”
Adam acknowledged it. He meant, the only time.
“So be it.” He looked briefly at his coat, hesitated and then slipped his arms into the sleeves. Then, to Avery, he said softly, “Captain to captain, remember?”
To Avery the scene was nightmarish. Lovatt was propped up in the surgeon’s makeshift trestle, one hand gripping it as if it was moving, his arm around the waist of the boy called Napier. O’Beirne was wedged into a corner, fingers interlaced on his knees, as if he had to force them to stay still.
“Aha, Captain! No urgent matters to keep you occupied?”
Lovatt’s voice was stronger again, but that was all. His face seemed sunken, and his hazel eyes very bright, like somebody else looking out from a feverish mask.
Avery saw his hand tighten around the boy’s body, and noticed that Napier had removed the noisy shoes, and his feet were bare on the checkered deck covering.
“Young Paul here is a comfort!” He contained another cough, and Napier dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth, gently and without hesitation, as if he had been trained for it.
But he was nothing like Lovatt’s son in appearance, being taller and about four years older. Was Lovatt really deceived? Or perhaps it was a need, a desperate need.
Adam rested his hands on the trestle. “You spoke earlier of the other supply ship, Captain Lovatt?”
Lovatt twisted his head from side to side, as if he could hear something. Or someone.
“Mercenaries! War makes us all hunger for something!” He was quiet again as the cloth moved gently over his brow. “I could not offer my men a reason for dying, you see? It was a gesture. A final conceit!”
He seemed to see Avery for the first time.
“Who is this? A spy? A witness?”
O’Beirne moved as if to restrain him but Adam shook his head.
“This is George Avery. He is a friend.”
“Good.” Lovatt closed his eyes and O’Beirne gestured quickly to another basin. It contained a folded dressing, soaked in blood.
Avery watched a thin tendril drip from Lovatt’s mouth, like red silk against his ashen skin. The boy dabbed it away, frowning with concentration as Avery had seen him do when he had poured the captain’s wine.
“Thanks, Paul. I-I’m so sorry…”
Avery had seen many men suffer, and had endured great pain himself. And yet still he thought, with immense bitterness, why did death have to be so ugly, so without dignity?
Pain, suffering, humiliation. A man who had once hoped and loved, and lost.
“Where lies the land, Captain?” Stronger again.
Adam said quietly, “We are nor’-east of Bona. Ship’s head, west-by-south.”
The eyes found and settled on his face. “You will see to his safety, Captain?”
“I will do what I can.” He hesitated. Where was the point? “You have my word on it, Captain Lovatt.”
Lovatt let his head fall back and stared at the white deckhead. Adam saw the boy Napier show fear for the first time, and guessed that he thought Lovatt had died.
He must not leave it now. Could not.
“There were two other frigates in harbour.” He repeated the question, and saw the hazel eyes focus again.
“Two. Did I tell you that?” He looked at Napier and tried to smile. “So like your mother, you know? So… like… her.”
Adam leaned over the trestle, hating it, the despair, the pain, the surrender. The very stench of death.
He asked sharply, “Will they sail?”
He could feel O’Beirne’s disapproval, his unspoken objections. Avery was very still, a witness; it was impossible to guess what he was thinking.
Something thudded on the deck overhead, and there were sounds of tackle being hauled through the blocks. Normal, everyday shipboard noises. And there were men up there too. Who depend on me.
I must not care what others think.
He persisted, “Will they sail?”
“Yes.” Lovatt seemed to nod. “So run while you can, Captain.” His voice was failing, but he tried once more. “But promise me…” He gave one small cry and more blood choked the words in his throat. This time it did not stop.
O’Beirne dragged the dead man’s arm from Napier’s waist and pushed him away, knowing that any show of sentiment would make a lasting impression.
Adam laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“That was well done. I am proud of you.”
Napier was still staring at Lovatt’s contorted, bloodied face. Although he seemed quite calm, his body was shaking uncontrollably.
Adam said, “Send for the first lieutenant.”
He kept his hand on Napier’s shoulder. For his sake or for mine?
O’Beirne said, “I shall have my people clean up in here, sir.” He studied the captain, as if he was discovering something he had previously missed. “He should be buried soon, I think.”
“Tell the sailmaker. Did he have any possessions?” Did. Already in the past. Not a man any more. A thing.
As if reading his thoughts, O’Beirne said bluntly, “It were better he had been killed outright!”
Galbraith was already in the great cabin, grim-faced, reassuring.
Adam said, “We shall bury him at dusk.”
Avery listened intently, afraid something had eluded him. Some seamen were here now, accustomed to death, and to concealing their feelings in its presence.
