we could 'ave done.'
Adam leaned back in the chair and allowed his mind to drift. After Lotus, everything seemed to have changed. As if he had been away from the flagship for months instead of days; or as if he had never taken command. Athena felt so heavy and secure. She could have been aground but for the shifting patterns of reflected sunlight on deck head and screens as she nudged occasionally at her cable.
Troubridge was by the stern windows, watching the harbour and the anchored barque. A different Troubridge from the one in the cabin below when Bethune had lost his temper. That had changed, also, when Bethune had learned about the cargo of gold, and some consignment documents for delivery in Havana.
Adam was surprised that he was not exhausted; he had scarcely slept aboard the barque, even though Lotus'?' tough and experienced second lieutenant had been ready and able for the passage to Antigua.
When he had left the little sloop to be pulled over to Athena it had been a moving and unexpected moment. It seemed that, without planning or prompting, Lotus'?' company had manned the side and the yards to cheer him.
He had said to Pointer, 'The credit goes to your lookout. He had his suspicions from the very beginning. There are not many like that! '
Pointer had been grinning all over his face and had shouted above the wild cheering, 'With respect, sir, I don't know of any post captain who would shin up the shrouds to hear anybody's views! '
Troubridge was saying, 'You may not have seen her, but the frigate Audacity anchored an hour before you did.'
Adam stared at him.
'Any messages?'
Jago was standing by the screen, running a cloth up and down the old sword, and frowning as he rubbed. He said, 'Young Mister Napier'll still be finding his feet after the long haul from Plymouth.'
Troubridge clapped his hand across his mouth. 'I forgot, sir! There was a letter sent across with the despatches. I was kept so busy…'
Adam recalled Bethune's display of temper, and said dryly, 'I'm not surprised.'
Bowles gathered up some empty plates and, with the tar-stained coat held at a distance, said, 'I'll see about some fresh shirts, sir.'
Troubridge said, 'I must have a word with Paget, just in case…'
Adam held the letter in both hands.
'You stay, Luke. Have another wet. The admiral's ashore, so you can rest easy.'
Jago opened, then closed his mouth again. The letter would be from her. She must have written it almost before Athena's topsail yards had dipped over the horizon.
He thought about Bethune and a lower-deck rumour he had picked up about his unescorted trip ashore. Unescorted, that was, but for the efficient Tolan. But it was impossible to get anything out of him. Like trying to open an oyster with a feather.
Adam held the letter to a lantern; outside the stern windows it had become quite dark. Lights were already moving on the current, and somewhere on the main deck he could hear water being pumped into the boats on the tier. Heat and sun could open up a boat like a basket without regular soaking in this climate.
The harbour, the unexpected prize, the short, savage fight and the death of a young midshipman seemed to fade; he was with her again.
He recognized the paper, some of Nancy's, the old Roxby crest another poignant memory.
My dearest Adam, my love…
Jago poured himself another measure of cognac. In some ways it was better than grog, he decided. He sat in a chair and studied the old sword, back on its rack once more. So many sea fights, the names and the places too mingled for him to remember; but that sword must have seen ten times as many.
He thought of the slaver, the whining sailors who would now face trial, and very likely a Tyburn jig at the end of it. They were scum. But neither were they worth dying for. He looked across at the tall-backed chair which had some fancy foreign name he could not recall, where the captain sat re-reading his letter. He smiled to himself. In case he missed something.
'Good news, Cap'n?' He still found it hard to credit that he could speak to an officer in this fashion, let alone a captain. Pride was not a term he used easily. But there it was.
Adam said, 'She wrote from Falmouth, but she is going to London very soon.' He glanced at the letter. 'She will be back there by now, I expect. Some legal business.' He pushed his lingers through his unruly hair. 'She wishes us well.'
He could almost hear her. I want you. I feel you. I reach out for you.
Jago asked, 'What d' you reckon'll happen to that gold?'
He folded the letter carefully. 'All those slaves which have been shipped out to these waters. Hundreds, maybe thousands. Slavers like Cousens take all the risks, but their rewards are greater than anything they could earn in honest trade. And now, because of greed or mistrust, we have that gold under lock and key.' He remembered the boatswain's mate Todd's summing up, like a Chatham whorehouse, and found that he could smile. The tiredness was gone. He touched her letter.
And I reach out for you.
The captured barque and others which had been reported were fast and well armed, but to crew and run them without the promise of rich reward was impossible. Bethune and his advisors at the far-off Admiralty were convinced that, without payment, no one would risk mounting opposition and the chance of being captured.
The major slaving countries, the United States, Cuba and
Brazil, would find it even harder to lure men like Cousens, or others willing to face death at the end of a halter.
Outside the screen door, in another world, the marine sentry brought his heels together with a click.
'First lieutenant, sah.r
Adam faced the door. Some one for promotion or two dozen lashes. Taking on stores or re caulking part of the deck. Routine. Maybe the Stirlings of this world were right. Carry out orders and do your duty; leave the risks and the dangerous decisions to others. Perhaps a lesson he had learned the hard way and could never forget.
He remembered Bethune's casual comment after Celeste's sole survivor, the only witness to murder, had died.
Don't become too involved. You lead, they follow there is no room for sentiment beyond that.
He examined his own immediate reaction. Like a witness at a court-martial. Pointer may have suspected it. Jago had known it when he had pushed his captain aside as they had boarded the barque. Duty had nothing to do with it. I am involved. I wanted revenge.
He realized that Bowles had quietly returned and was opening the screen door. Like the flag lieutenant, he had thought it important that he should be left in peace to read his letter.
Stirling waited for the door to close.
The wardroom have asked you to be their guest tomorrow for dinner in the mess. With the garrison so near, the food might be better than usual.' He did not smile, concentrating, as if to ensure that he had forgotten nothing. 'The wardroom' made certain that this invitation was not too personal.
'I would like that very much. Please thank them.'
Stirling nodded and produced a sheaf of paper. 'Now, about Mr. Midshipman Vincent's promotion…'
Adam felt the tension slipping away.
It was the closest they had been.
Bethune sat up in the chair and touched his face.
'A good shave, Tolan, as ever! '
There was a taste of fine coffee in his throat, an inner excitement which he was still unable to contain, or come to terms with.
He recalled the consternation on deck when he had returned on board the flagship. Royal Marines taking up their positions, boatswain's mates moistening their silver calls so as not to scramble the salute as the vice-admiral stepped aboard.
He had spoken only briefly with Captain Adam Bolitho, who had been there to greet him. Clear-eyed and alert, with nothing to show of the sea fight and the unexpected capture.
