He turned as a group of soldiers walked past him. A couple of them glanced at his uniform, uncertain of his rank or status, and one of them, a burly, deeply tanned corporal, gave him a nod and a grin.
Tolan could scarcely breathe, and leaned against the sun-baked wall, his mind reeling while he listened to the soldiers' boots until they were lost in the noise and movement of English Harbour.
It was not possible. Like the nightmare he had tried to forget. He had seen the polished helmet plates, the familiar Lamb and Star of the Seventieth Foot, known as the Surreys. His old regiment.
He was not free at all.
Commodore Sir Baldwin Swinburne, senior officer of the Leeward and Windward Islands, took a glass from the preferred tray and held it up against the light of the nearest lantern. His forehead was set in a crease which faded as he took a slow sip. 'An excellent Madeira, Sir Graham. It has a ready tongue indeed.' He smiled, and watched Tolan refill his glass. 'But then,
you always did have the taste for a good wine! '
Adam Bolitho stood by the stern windows, apart from the commodore and the elegant vice-admiral. Swinburne was heavily built, even portly, with a face which was hard to imagine young. Troubridge had told him that Bethune and the commodore had been lieutenants together somewhere along the road to promotion. That was even harder to believe; but Troubridge was never wrong in such matters. Considering he had been Bethune's flag lieutenant for such a short time, he had certainly discovered a great deal about his superior.
Bethune had returned on board in a bad mood. The governor had not been there to receive him. An official had explained that he had been forced to keep an appointment with his opposite number in Jamaica. The despatch confirming the flagship's estimated time of arrival in Antigua must have been destroyed with the ill-fated Celeste, or was now in some one else's hands. Bethune obviously believed it was the latter.
Adam watched the cabin servants moving silently in the shadows, and was careful not to leave his own glass unguarded where it might be refilled without his noticing. Bethune was equally abstemious. He and Swinburne were probably the same age. That explained a lot.
Bethune was saying, 'Three frigates, and one of them laid up in overhaul, is simply not good enough. I want every patrol area covered, even if local craft have to be temporarily commissioned into the King's service. I am told that we will never destroy the slave trade well. I intend to prove otherwise. It is ten years since Britain passed the Abolition Act, and made the slave trade a crime. Other nations have followed, albeit reluctantly. Our new ally, Spain, for instance, has prohibited it, but has left a gap in the net by insisting that the trade is only to be banned north of the Equator. And Portugal is the same.'
Adam watched him with new interest. This was a different side to Bethune, fully informed, and almost passionately concerned with every detail. All those hours, days, sealed up in this big cabin had armed him well. Swinburne looked surprised and off balance; uneasy, too.
Bethune paused to sip his wine. 'And where are the biggest slave markets today?' He put down the glass. ' Cuba and Brazil, under the flags and protection of those very same countries.'
Swinburne said, 'All our patrols are under the strictest orders, Sir Graham. They have caught several slavers, some empty, some not. The commanding officers are very well aware of the importance of vigilance.'
Bethune smiled. 'As well they might be. With some eight hundred and fifty captains on the Navy List at last count, each one would be well advised to remember his chance of survival, let alone promotion! '
Adam saw a boat pulling slowly past Athena's quarter. He could see the phosphorescence trailing from the oars, like serpents keeping pace in the calm water.
He had read enough of the Admiralty reports to know the hopelessness of any attempt to wipe out slavery altogether. Swinburne had spoken of successful interception and seizure by the patrolling ships, but in fact not one in twenty of the slavers was ever captured. No wonder there were men hard and desperate enough to take the risk. A slave bought for less than twenty dollars in Africa would sell for three hundred and more in Cuba. And there had to be big money behind it. To build and equip larger and faster ships, to supply a ready market which was never closed. Regulations and Acts of Parliament were only pieces of paper to the faceless men behind the trade.
He wanted to pinch himself to stay alert. It was dark beyond the tall windows, with just the lights from the houses on the shore and the
moored vessels nearby. Almost as dark as when he had been called to go on deck, only this morning…
Bethune must have made some sort of signal. Tolan and the cabin servants had disappeared, and Troubridge was standing, framed against the screen door, like a sentinel.
Bethune said quietly, 'Lord Sillitoe is here, in the Indies. Baron Sillitoe of Chiswick. Why was I not told?'
Swinburne stared at him. As if he were hearing a foreign language.
'I had no instructions, Sir Graham! He is a man of influence, once the Prince Regent's Inspector General.'
Bethune did not hide the sarcasm. 'And his good friend, too, as I recall.'
Swinburne made another attempt. 'He is here to conduct enquiries, matters which concern his business, and the City of London.' He ended lamely, 'The governor left no instructions.'
Bethune said, 'He is a very dangerous man, and his father was the most successful slaver on record.'
Swinburne picked up his glass. It was empty. 'I know that Lady Somervell was with him. But I thought…'
Bethune actually smiled. 'You hold a good appointment here. Others might be envious. Think on it, eh?' He snapped his fingers. 'Now we can sup in peace.'
Troubridge had left the screen door and stood right aft by the stern windows.
'Your first lieutenant wishes to speak with you, sir.' He glanced at the servants, who were arranging chairs again, lighting candles on the table. In the flickering light his young features looked suddenly grave, angry. 'And, no, sir. I did not know that Lady Somervell was here in Antigua.'
Adam looked past him. 'I shall not be a moment, Sir Graham.' But Bethune was lifting the silver cover from the dish and gave no sign of having heard him. He touched Troubridge's sleeve. 'Thank you for that.' He saw Tolan bringing more wine from the pantry. 'I thought I was the only one who didn't know! '
He found Stirling waiting by the companion ladder, his head bowed beneath the deck head beams. There was probably ample room to stand upright, Adam thought; it was merely habit, born of a lifetime at sea in every class of ship.
'I am sorry to disturb you, sir.' His eyes glinted in the swaying watch light as he glanced at the white-painted screen, and the Royal Marine sentry at the door to the admiral's quarters. In the dim light, the scarlet uniform looked black.
Stirling lowered his voice.
'The sloop Lotus anchored an hour or so back, sir. Her commander is come aboard to report an action with a slaver.'
'Why so long?' It gave him time to mark down the sloop, like an entry in the log. She was one of the commodore's chain of patrolling vessels. But that was all.
'He went to the commodore's residence first. Said he knew nothing about Athena's arrival here. All aback, he was.' He turned again as the sentry shifted his boots. 'I put him in the chart room and told him to wait.'
'You did right. I'll see him now.' He thought he heard a glass shatter beyond the screen, and somebody laugh. It sounded like Swinburne.
They climbed the companion ladder together, Stirling breathing heavily, but, Adam felt, glad to have shifted the responsibility so quickly.
On the quarterdeck the air was cool, clean, after the admiral's cabin. A few figures stood grouped by the starboard nettings. Beyond and below them Adam could see a boat, almost motionless, hooked on to the main chains.
Stirling paused outside the chart room, one large hand on the clip.
'His name is Pointer, sir. First command, apparently, six months on this station.'
'Thank you. That's a big help, believe me.'
'Sir?' He could feel Stirling peering at him through the darkness, as if he was expecting or searching for a trap.
It seemed unusually bright in the chart room after the quarterdeck and its silent watch keepers
Pointer, Lotus's commander, was tall and thin with a narrow, bony face and clear, intelligent eyes. Still only a lieutenant, but already after so short a spell of command he carried an air of quiet authority.
Adam held out his hand, and saw a brief start of surprise.
'I'm Bolitho. I command here. Flag captain.'
