ago, when he had visited Keen and his wife while Unrivalled was completing repairs at Plymouth, Keen had said nothing. Ile must have heard about Herrick's appointment as Crown Agent, so why not mention it? Adam had sensed for a long time that there had been a coolness between the two; Herrick had once put Keen in front of a court of enquiry, which he had bitterly resented. And now their roles were reversed. Keen outranked Herrick, and still had several avenues of advancement before him; there was surely no need for continued animosity.
He had been, and still was, hurt by the realisation that Valentine Keen had kept it from him. Did rank really reach so far above friendship?
He was reminded suddenly of his brief visit to Falmouth, when Ferguson had dissuaded him from going over to Fallowfield to see John Allday at the Old Hyperion. In a quiet moment, Ferguson had told him something Allday had said about that day when Richard Bolitho had been marked down by a sharpshooter.
He had spoken of Allday's pain when he had been trying to explain his own feelings, how, despite the aftermath of battle, and the people all around them, he and his admiral… his friend… had been 'quite alone.'
He was going fast, Bryan. Then suddenly he looks up at me an' asks, where was Herrick? Somehow he expected him to be there, y'see?
His oldest friend.
Adam shook himself free of the memory, and said, 'Let's get it over with, shall we?'
Jago shrugged. Another mood. He had seen Captain Bolitho like a young lion in the heat of a fight, yet still able to take the hand of a dying man. He had heard him exclaim in a moment of despair, 'Can't they be allowed to die with dignity? Is that so wrong?' And another time, he had heard the catch in his voice when reading over the sea burial of a man he hardly knew.
He heard the sentries stamp their boots together. Plymouth, Gibraltar, or on the deck of a flagship, the bullocks never changed.
He smiled. Even in the heat. No sense, no feeling.
'Captain Bolitho, sir?' A lieutenant had come to greet them, his face set in a practised smile.
Adam said, 'I'll not be long, Luke.'
That was the other thing. He would use your name, natural, like a friend, not like an officer at all, let alone a post-captain. As if he really knew you, and that you would never take advantage of it. Not like some. Like most.
Jago watched him vanish into the shadows of the entrance and glanced around for a suitable place to wait. People would look at the captain and see only the trimmings, he thought. The frigate captain who had everything, who would turn any woman's head. He thought of the one they called Lady Bazeley, so proud and beautiful. Knew it, too. And when he had seen them together, her half-naked, her robe plastered to her body, he had known there would be more to it. He looked around as two native women walked past, each with a huge basket balanced easily on her head, saw the way they rolled their eyes at the two sweating sentries. Just what the captain needed. He grinned and patted his jacket. He was not the only one.
Adam followed the lieutenant along a passageway, their heels strangely loud on a tiled floor. An old building, he thought, one accustomed to temporary occupation and function. It was not hard to imagine this place when there had been only the sea and jungle for company. Who had come first? Traders, and merchants, missionaries perhaps? Eventually the military would arrive to protect them. It had happened many times. The traders and missionaries might leave; the military and the flag always remained.
'Here, sir.' The lieutenant opened a door and announced, 'Captain Bolitho, sir.' In a quieter, almost confidential tone he added, 'About ten minutes, sir.'
As the door closed behind him Adam found himself in semidarkness, or so it seemed after the walk from the landing stage.
A long, narrow room, with a window filling most of one wall. It was heavily shuttered, the slats tilted to allow a minimum of sunlight, so that he had to stand motionless for several seconds to find his bearings. Then he saw RearAdmiral Thomas Herrick by the far end of the window, his head half-turned as if he were listening for any sounds from the harbour.
'Do sit down.' He gestured to a table. 'I can offer some ginger beer, and I owe that small luxury to the army hereabouts!'
The same voice. But as his eyes grew accustomed to the shadows Adam could scarcely believe it was the same man. He had been prepared for some of it. He knew how Herrick had suffered after his arm had been amputated, how the death of his beloved wife Dulcie had broken his heart. But in his mind he had always held on to the man he had known for most of his service, and what he had heard from others, mainly his uncle. Brave, loyal, and stubborn to a point of maddening obstinacy, but always a man you could trust with your life. Herrick must be approaching sixty, this man who had never expected to be posted because of his humble beginnings, let alone reach the rank of flag officer.
Adam said, 'Are you well, sir?'
Herrick dragged at a cord beside him and opened the blinds a little further. Adam could see the effort, the way he bent his shoulder, as if the stump of his right arm still troubled him greatly. His hair was completely grey, but as he turned away from the glare he glimpsed the same bright blue eyes he had always remembered.
Herrick said, 'Unrivalled will make a fine addition to the force here. A 'temporary arrangement,' more like a show of force than anything which might suggest a breach in the agreement. I understand Commodore Turnbull has a plan of action. I shall see him again presently.'
Adam tensed. So Turnbull had already been here to see Herrick. Before anyone could dispute his appraisal of the brutal murders of slaves and British seamen alike.
Herrick continued in the same unemotional tone, 'They will need a lot of smaller, faster vessels to compete with the trade. I am informed that at least one new barque is operating along this coastline. Fast, well armed, and able to carry three hundred or more slaves for a quick and profitable voyage. And there are others, one of which you apprehended with Unrivalled.'
Adam waited. It was not a question. Herrick had been busy since his arrival in Freetown.
Herrick walked to the table and poured a glass of ginger beer. 'Albatroz is a slaver, make no mistake on it. But she is owned by Portugal, and she is not hampered by the equipment clause which our government is trying to make universal. Manacles are an indication, but no longer, it would appear, a proof.' This time he did not attempt to contain his contempt. 'Piracy is a very different matter, but I don't have to tell you that. People in England do not begin to understand the misery and depravity of this foul traffic. Like the highwayman, who may appear a hero to some, but not to those who suffer at his hands! I used to warn…' He stopped abruptly and walked back to the window, leaving the ginger beer untouched.
Adam felt pity for the first time. He had almost said her name.
Herrick said, 'I'd never shed a tear when they dance the Tyburn Jig!'
Adam recalled the bitterness his uncle had shown on one occasion, when Herrick had displayed his disapproval of his 'liaison' as he had called it, with Catherine.
And yet when I lerrick's wife Dulcie had lain dying of typhus, which she had caught when trying to help Spanish prisoners of war from some nearby hulks, she would have been alone but for Catherine. Yovell, who was even now out there in the harbour, had been with her when she'd called at the house to see Herrick's wife; she had refused to allow him to stay and risk his own life, but had sent him to fetch help and medical assistance. And Catherine had remained to the end. Caring for her every need, washing and changing her soiled clothing, knowing as she did so that every hour was putting her in greater peril.
His uncle had spoken of it with both anxiety and pride. Now, in this dim, airless room, with a fan swaying hack and forth overhead to the pull of some unseen hand, it seemed like yesterday.
Adam said, 'We have taken on a tremendous task, sir.'
Herrick looked at him directly, perhaps suspiciously. 'I accepted it because I could stand the inactivity no longer!' His voice was stronger, as he relived something still too close to put aside. 'Their lordships suggested my name for the position. An officer who could be trusted to perform the task without fear or favour, as I have always tried to do in my duty.' He swung away, his pinnedup sleeve all the more apparent against the filtered sunshine. 'And a suitable scapegoat, of course, should the need arise!'
There were voices in the passageway, and Adam could imagine the lieutenant listening outside the door.
Herrick said, 'You will receive your orders from the commodore within two days. At no time will you discuss the proposed exercise except with your officers, and then only the bones of your instruction.'
