impression of supreme confidence, a quality which usually became evident in the subsequent portrait.
Herrick was not like that. Modest to a point of humility, he spoke openly of his humble upbringing, and his own surprise when he had been awarded the King's commission, the one desire in his life which had never deserted him.
As the logs had burned low in the grate, he had talked of the ships he had served and known over the years, battles which he had described with the easy skill of a painter with a new canvas, without bluff or exaggeration, evoking them so clearly that she could see what he had seen, even hear it, like thunder in the hills. Names became faces; she had watched Herrick's eyes as he had recounted some experience where an admiral or a common seaman had taken over the stage at some point of his life. A storm at sea, the cheerful aftermath with the backbreaking work, and 'too much grog', as he had put it.
And Richard Bolitho was never far away, sometimes as if he had been there with them. As I was with Adam. Walk with me…
He spoke of their first service together, when Herrick had become his first lieutenant.
He had looked over at Nancy, and said, 'I was there, at the house, when your father brought out the old sword and gave it to Richard.' He had gazed at his empty sleeve, perhaps without seeing it, and said softly, 'There was no finer man on God's earth.' He had paused. 'I beg your pardon, ladies. Blame this good wine for my loose tongue.'
Nancy had waited for her moment. 'You are going back to Plymouth in a few days' time, Thomas?'
He had nodded, perhaps trying to face the reality of his immediate future. His life.
'I am to make a report for their lordships.' Again, the painful shrug. 'The slave trade, what steps remain to be taken. After that…'
Nancy picked up her glass and tasted some wine, and for a second Lowenna saw her as a young woman again. Choosing the words.
'You have seen some of the estate, Thomas, the Bolitho house and holdings. You must have been aware of the problems which daily arise, on the farms, with the livestock, to say nothing of what the new road will bring. Is bringing. Too many able men taken away to fight, too few returning to honest work on the land.'
'I have heard it mentioned often enough. I have been a sailor all my life, but I appreciate the difficulties.'
She had reached out impetuously and grasped his hand.
'Then stay with us, Thomas. Share it with us. Who better to prepare the way for Lowenna, and for Adam when he eventually comes home?'
Herrick had stared at her as if he had somehow misunderstood.
'But I have no training, no experience! '
Nancy had kept her hand on his. 'My father once said I forget what roused him at the time any man who can command a King s ship, with his in built sense of order, discipline and loyalty, should be well able to run the world! '
Herrick had looked from her to Lowenna as if to reassure himself.
'I'd take no favours, m' lady, and not because I've run my course…'
Nancy had shaken her head. 'I despair of you sometimes! What do they say up north? Nothing for nothing and not much for a penny! Will you take it, Thomas? Join us?'
'If I failed you in some way…'
Nancy had stopped him. 'The folk around here do not forget. Many of them know and respect you. You have more than earned your right to live in peace.' She had hesitated. 'And to be amongst friends who care for you.'
Another bottle of wine had appeared. It was settled.
Lowenna opened the window wider and stared into the deeper shadows beyond the trees. The Old Glebe House lay in that direction. What would become of it, she wondered. Perhaps after Sir Gregory's will had been settled, the place would be torn down. Forgotten.
She shivered, and walked to the small table where roses stood in a vase.
She held them to her face and felt some moisture from the petals against her skin. Like her tears, when they had touched for the last time.
She saw her full reflection in the tall glass by the window. It would not be for the last time. Soon, sometime, Adam would be coming back. Like the ship and the mermaids. Coming back…
And together they would walk through the old house again. It would not be a dream.
Herrick had spoken of the Caribbean, names and places, experiences which Adam would recognize, and in turn describe to her.
Very deliberately she faced the glass and pulled the ribbon of her gown, like watching a stranger as it fell around her feet. In the clear, glacier light she stood like a statue, her bare shoulders silvered as she reached out and took the roses, holding them to her breast.
How long she had been standing there she did not know; there was no sound or movement. She could have had the house to herself.
But it was as if there had been a crash of thunder, or some one had screamed a name. His name.
She knew she had pressed the roses against her body, that there was blood on her fingers, like that other time.
But she knew, and wanted to cry out.
It was not in the future. It was now. She touched her lips and tasted the blood.
It was now. And Adam was in peril.
She stared at the glass again, saw the hand move to touch her body.
'A dam! '
And she was afraid.
16. No Drums… No Quarter
'Ship cleared for action, sir. All pumps manned, boats lowered and towing astern.'
'Thank you, Mr. Stirling. That was smartly done.' Adam unclenched each fist beneath his coat, aware for the first time of the force of his grip. The first lieutenant's tall figure was only a vague shape by the quarterdeck rail, his powerful voice formal, unperturbed, giving no hint of doubt or anxiety. Perhaps that was his strength.
Adam turned and stared into the darkness. What I need.
Despite the care and the supervision, every sound had seemed exaggerated while seamen and marines had crept between and above decks to prepare for battle if the need arose. Screens taken down to open the ship from bow to stern, unwanted mess deck clutter tossed overboard, each gun tackle checked and checked again, powder and shot laid in readiness. Touch, familiarity, the results of training, skill and some hard knocks along the way for old Jacks and new hands alike. Some one had dropped a handspike on the deck beside one of the long eighteen pounders Beyond the gently swaying hull nobody would hear it. But to the men on deck it sounded like a thunderclap.
Even the compass light, invisible from a few paces away, seemed to shine like a beacon, but reflected only in the eyes of the senior helmsman.
In his mind Adam could picture Athena'?' slow progress, her course to the southwest, the sea empty. Their solitary consort, the frigate Hostile, was holding well up to windward, ready to dash down in support of her flagship if another vessel, friend or enemy, showed herself when dawn eventually broke.
Hours yet; they were still only halfway through the middle watch. It was uncanny to sense the people around him. Faces he had come to know, some better than others, always held at a distance. A captain had little choice.
Hard to believe there were over four hundred souls scattered around and beneath his feet, and each in his own fashion measuring the distance from the land which, hour by hour, was reaching out on either bow. The old hands swore they could smell it; the experienced ones like Fraser the sailing master and Mudge the boatswain perceived the hazards like marks on a chart.
Adam heard boots on the damp planking, a whispered word from Lieutenant Kirkland of the Royal Marines to
