planks, like shelves, in the holds, so that more living bodies could be stored in ranks, one above the other, like books in a case with hardly room to breathe or move. A nightmare.
Cousens had said nothing, and was locked in solitary confinement under military guard. He would go to the gallows in silence, perhaps more afraid of his employers than the hangman. And there was always the chance he might escape the fate he justly deserved. He had not been carrying slaves, and he might claim that he fired his guns in selfdefense, in the belief that Lotus was a pirate or privateer under false colours. It was not unknown.
He had destroyed his charts minutes before being boarded, or thrown them overboard in a weighted bag with any other evidence close to hand.
Bethune had sent despatches by courier to the Admiralty, insisting on more ships for his command, frigates most of all. Nothing changed. Adam had never forgotten how Lord Exmouth had wanted Unrivalled in the van for his attack on Algiers. There were never enough frigates, peace or war.
They had been ushered into a large room, fans swinging busily overhead, long blinds extended to hold the glare and heat at bay.
There were several other commanding officers present, including Pointer; Lotus was in the dockyard for repairs to her hull. Another captain was from the frigate Hostile, which had been undergoing a complete overhaul and was soon to rejoin the scattered squadron.
And there was Captain lan Munro, of the frigate Audacity, their newest arrival. Adam had met him when he had come aboard Athena to make his report to Bethune: a young, round face, scorched rather than tanned by the Caribbean sun, with bright ginger hair. Adam remembered Bethune's sarcastic comment on the little frigate's age. Thought she was in the breaker's yard. Munro had obviously become used to such remarks. He had said cheerfully, 'She was launched the same year I was born. A perfect match, don't you think?'
He was twenty-eight years old, and although not yet posted would be confirmed in that rank before the year ended. Provided. But, like any frigate captain, he would not need reminding of the pitfalls always in wait.
Adam saw the quick glances, and the occasional smiles, although after nearly a month at Antigua, with Athena 'taking root' as Jago had put it, most of them were still strangers.
A door opened and Commodore Sir Baldwin Swinburne entered the room. Despite the fans he looked hot and uncomfortable, but very sure of himself, a different man without Bethune's presence.
Adam looked over at Troubridge and wondered how much he knew about the rumours. It was none of any one's business if Bethune used his rank and authority to visit Catherine. She was a beautiful woman, and she was far more than that. She had helped him beyond belief when Zenoria had killed herself. She had understood, even though Zenoria had not been his to love. And she had comforted him, then, and after Richard had fallen on board Frobisher. He pushed the thoughts away. It was useless going back.
Swinburne said loudly, 'Now that we are all assembled.' He glanced at Adam, and beamed. 'I can explain the development of our strategy to date.' He was enjoying it.
'When my sloop Lotus stopped and seized the barque now lying under our guns, it was assumed that she was making for Havana. We have had, after all, some experience in the tactics of the Spanish captain-general, have we not?' There were several chuckles. 'But we can never assume too much.' Once again, briefly, his eyes settled on Adam and the flag lieutenant. 'The Villa de Bilbao did not in fact intend to enter Havana. Her master, Cousens, would have allowed Lotus to make for that port.' He looked around at their faces, like a showman with some secret trick still in hand. 'Lotus's change of tack in the darkness caught Cousens all aback.'
Adam curbed his impatience. The flaw in the picture. Some one had discovered something. Or some one had bartered the missing information, perhaps for his own life.
Troubridge leaned over and whispered, 'I hope there are not too many ears listening to this, sir.'
Swinburne said, ' San Jose, so near to that clever encounter some four hundred miles east of Havana. That, gentlemen, is the key! '
Adam tried to picture it in his mind while the room around him buzzed with excitement, and not a little disbelief. All the months, the thankless patrols, and fighting off attacks when every foreign flag was an enemy, and pain, fever and suffering in the most brutal trade of all; and it had been under their noses. It would not produce a miracle. But it was a beginning.
'My clerk will outline the details, all that we have so far. Tomorrow I shall pass instructions to the rest of the squadron.'
Pointer had moved over to sit beside him. 'I find it hard to accept.' He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. ' San Jose is avoided when possible. Bad approaches, and a small anchorage. Used to be fortified some slaves rebelled there years ago, before my time. A slaughter to all accounts.'
'But still large enough to land slaves?'
Somebody tapped a table. 'Pay attention now! '
Adam pressed his spine into the chair. A journey in hell.
Rounded up, beaten and shackled, sold by their own people or rival tribes to daring and unscrupulous men like Cousens. Crammed into small vessels, and eventually transferred to the new craft of the trade. Larger, faster, and often better armed than the ships which searched an ocean for the chance of a prize.
He reached inside his coat and felt the letter folded with the other one in his pocket.
High summer in Cornwall, and Catherine's roses would still be blooming in the old garden; Lowenna's, too. Like the house overlooking the Bay, waiting.
The commodore's clerk was droning on about Spanish authority, civil and military. Population and local trade; further details would be provided for every captain without delay.
Swinburne was mopping his shining face; the showman was almost bowing.
Adam asked abruptly, 'Does Sir Graham know about all this?'
Troubridge gave him a keen glance, wise for one so young.
'Sir Baldwin has agreed to take charge of the first part of this campaign, if that is what it will become.' He lowered his voice. 'So if anything misfired, he might also carry the blame, surely?'
Captain Munro pushed through the others and held out his hand.
'I'm going to my ship, sir.' He regarded him curiously. 'Letter for you. From one of my young gentlemen.'
'How is he? I know I should not ask.'
Munro turned as some one called his name.
'He's a good lad.' He nodded. 'Quiet, but good.' Then he grinned. 'Suits me anyway, sir! '
And he was gone.
Adam walked out on to a stone terrace, the heat bathing him like steam. He could still hear the commodore's voice, his thick laughter.
And suddenly he was sorry for him, and it troubled him. Like a warning.
Seven days out of English Harbour found His Britannic Majesty's frigate Audacity of twenty-four guns deep in the Caribbean,
rarely in sight of land and only once close enough to another vessel to exchange greetings. She had been a small brigantine, one of the squadron's widely scattered patrols, and on her way back to Antigua to replenish stores.
Captain lan Munro was proud of his command and made a point of demonstrating it to his people, wardroom or mess deck He had served only once before in the Caribbean, and then as a very junior lieutenant. Most of his service had been in home waters and the Mediterranean, and for one commission in the second American war.
When he walked the quarterdeck or found a piece of shade by the nettings he often thought of all the other captains who had preceded him, as varied as the campaigns in which Audacity had taken part. Toulon, St. Vincent, the Nile and Copenhagen were only a few of her exploits.
He had heard the boatswain, one of the oldest men in the ship, giving what sounded like a lecture to the new midshipmen who had been sent aboard at Plymouth.
'Now listen to me and listen good. You're lucky to be serving in this ship, an' you've a lot to live up to, to ever pass muster in my book! Audacity was built in the days when men knew 'ow to give a ship life! Launched on the Medway, an' built of the best Kentish oak, when they still 'ad some seasoned trees standin'! ' He had used his big red hands to sketch the shape of the hull. 'The frames was grown in them days, not cut from loose ends of timber, so she's got double the strength of some of them high-fliers! ' He did not hide his contempt for the newer fifth-rates in the fleet.
Munro loitered by the quarterdeck rail, watching and listening to the early morning shipboard routine.
