Like Vice-Admiral Bethune's order to be ready for sea by sunset the day after his fast passage from Havana, the jeers still ringing in his ears after being refused permission to board the ship he knew to be a slaver. Hardly enough time to take on fresh water and to snatch a few casks of fresh fruit from the market. And even then they had been ordered to weigh at noon, not wait until sunset.
The other surprise had been the arrival on board of Bethune's flag captain, his emissary to be carried to meet Havana 's captain-general, with a protest or warning Pointer was not sure. He had expected to feel resentment, but common sense made him realize the value of Bethune's decision. He was still not certain how Bolitho felt about it.
They were three days out of English Harbour, with favourable winds making Lotus lift and plunge through the blue water like a thoroughbred.
He knew Bolitho's record and reputation almost as well as that of his famous uncle. Athena'?' captain was now probably completely out of his element, but rank was rank and the navy had its own firm divisions in any ship, two- decker or lowly sloop.
It came as a surprise that Bolitho seemed prepared to accept the role of passenger, keeping his distance from the watch-by-watch affairs of the ship, but approachable in a manner Pointer had never expected or experienced before.
Adam walked to the weather side, feeling the sting of spray as it drifted aft from the forecastle, the elation of the lively hull, the din of canvas and rigging.
He had known full well what Pointer must have thought when Bethune's unexpected orders had been issued; he had suffered it himself when he had first taken command of the brig Firefly. After three full days at sea the barriers had dropped. There were still stares and surreptitious nudges when he took his daily walks on deck, but he understood the strength and the camaraderie of a small ship, and was heartened by the sudden willingness to talk, or speak of their lives and homes without it seeming an interrogation at a court-martial.
He could even feel a certain envy of Pointer and his command. Lotus was like a smaller version of a frigate, well armed for her size, with sixteen twelve pounders and a pair of carronades, and a total complement of one hundred and fifteen souls, including her captain. And no marines to mark the unseen boundary between quarterdeck and common seaman.
He shaded his eyes to stare abeam, at the faint, darker blur on the horizon. Haiti, a place always hated and avoided by sailors, even in their search for fresh water. Superstition, strange and cruel rituals… there was many a mess deck yarn to frighten new hands on their first passage. Even under French rule it had been bad enough, but since the slave rebellion and the retreat of the colonial army it had become even more dangerous.
Cuba was close by, and Adam wondered if the captain-general might see Haiti 's change of ownership as a grim warning, a threat to himself and Spanish rule altogether.
Or perhaps, like Commodore Swinburne, he only wanted an uneventful existence in which to finish his career?
He looked inboard again. A small ship, one hundred and ten feet on the gun deck, not much more than four hundred tons. No wonder he had felt unsteady on his first morning at sea, after Athena's massive timbers and heavy artillery.
He smiled to himself. It was different now, after only three days.
He called, 'Good morning, Roger. The wind is still an ally -it does you credit! '
Pointer touched his battered hat. He was still unprepared for it, no matter what he told himself. The youthful- looking figure, hatless, dark hair blowing 'all anyhow', as his boatswain had put it, open shirt, and a coat which had lost most of its true colour along the way: the admiral's trusted flag captain, perhaps poised for that next step up the ladder. Like all the rest of us.
He said, 'We should be off the Iguanas tomorrow forenoon, sir.' The grin returned. 'I'd not care to run through them in the dark! '
Adam nodded agreement, pushing the hair from his eyes. 'Then Cuba. A fast run indeed.' He saw the unspoken questions on Pointer's face. What it might mean for his ship, and for his reputation. 'I shall deliver Sir Graham's despatch as instructed, so that the captain-general or his representative is informed of the change in command.' He thought of the scattered wreckage and added bitterly, 'If he is not already aware of it.'
Pointer said, 'I have heard, unofficially, you understand, sir, that the captain-general always speaks through an interpreter.' He spread his big, bony hands. 'But that he speaks perfect English, when he chooses.'
Adam smiled. 'Well said, Roger. I have walked into that trap before.'
He recalled Bethune's last words to him before he had been pulled across to the Lotus.
'I have decided that you should represent me in this matter of negotiation, and our right to search suspect vessels. A show of force would be pointless, even if I had the ships to do it. I shall send for reinforcements to increase the patrols. A few captures, some rich prizes, and we'll soon see a change of heart where the money lies.' Then, at the last minute, he had touched Adam's arm. 'Watch out for Sillitoe. I think he's desperate. So be on your guard.'
Adam had not seen Troubridge again before leaving the flagship. Deliberate? Or was he, too, under strict orders?
Pointer excused himself and walked away to deal with his first lieutenant, who had been hovering nearby.
Again he felt the stab of envy. Simply being in command, without obligation.
He saw Jago by the main hatch, turning to talk with one of Lotus's petty officers. They were laughing, and Jago was thumping his back. Adam remembered that Jago had told him that one of the carpenter's crew had been celebrating the birth of his first baby. A girl. No salt pork an' ship's biscuit for her! He had not noticed the sudden shadow in his captain's eyes.
That first night at sea, getting the feel of it as Pointer had called it. The heaving motion, the boom and slap of canvas, the sluice of water alongside, seemingly inches from the swaying cot. Finding time to think, to reproach himself.
Suppose that one precious hour had ruined her life: if Lowenna found herself with child because of his inability to hold back, and shared the despair and shame of his own mother. She would be alone, and might be left with only hate in her breast, like the terrible memories she had been taught to overcome, if not forget. But Sir Gregory Montagu was dead. There was nobody else.
He had thought of the tablet in the old church, which he had insisted on erecting all those years after his mother's death.
In loving memory of Kerenza Pascoe, who died in 1793.
Waiting for his ship.
As he had lain in the cot, feeling the ship moving around and beneath him, he had stared into the darkness, seeing those last words in his mind.
He had eventually fallen asleep, the unspoken words still there.
It must never happen to you, Lowenna.
He came out of his thoughts, as if he had heard some one call his name. But it was Pointer again, his features tense. Making a decision. Or requiring one.
'Mr. Ellis has reported that the masthead lookout is certain we are being held under observation. To the nor' east.' He saw the question in Adam's eyes. 'She'll know we're a man-of-war. No reason to keep her distance.'
Adam glanced at the dazzling sky. 'Good lookout, is he?'
Pointer bobbed his head, puzzled. 'My best, sir. He or one other I always use them on this run.'
No landsman would ever understand that, Adam thought, but he had known such a seaman in Unrivalled. The weatherbeaten face and clear, bright eyes came back to him instantly. Even his voice, when Adam had climbed up to his dizzy, swaying perch to consult him after one such sighting. Sullivan: the name leaped out of memory, like the face. He had never been wrong.
He said, 'What do you think?' and saw Pointer relax slightly.
'If I come about to give chase we could lose him amongst the islands. We'll be in the main channel again soon, but not before dusk. Too risky then.' He watched him, frowning. 'Unless you think…'
'Leave him as he is, Roger. You spoke earlier of the Iguanas.' He saw the tired face lightening. 'Wait until first light.' He banged one hand into the other. 'We'll go for him then! '
'But your orders, sir?'
Adam knew the feeling. Beyond measure or control. Dangerous.
