Squire heard some one laugh and thought, And we are alive.
'Boat's crew musteredЦ sir.'
It was Fowler, boatswain's mate, tough, experienced, and ruthless. Years had passed since they had served together, yet it was all so clear. Even just glancing around, here and now.
Stowing hammocks together. Hauling on the braces or lying back with all their strength to run out a gun, like today. Then he had taken the irrevocable step from messdeck to wardroom, and even fame in a minor way when he had been chosen to join the voyage of exploration under Sir Alfred Bishop. And then Onward, a new frigate when so many shipyards were empty, and men crying out for work. And a captain of repute: who would not envy him? When Bolitho had assigned their duties upon arrival here, and given him charge of the cutter as guardboat and liaison with the French, Squire had been pleased and surprised.
But Fowler couldn't leave it at that. Gave it to you to spare his precious first lieutenant, or one of his favourites. Can't you see that? Their eyes met, and Squire said, 'I didn't know you were coming.'
Fowler looked over at some seamen by the boat-tier.
'I 'volunteered'. Need somebody to keep an eye on you!'
And he laughed.
'You watch what you're saying. Or one of these daysЦ'
'You'll whatT 'Bosun wants you! 'A seaman was peering up from the gangway.
Fowler grunted. 'Tell 'im I'm with the second lieutenant!'
Squire walked to the side again as more of the bay opened out across the bow. The fortress above the anchorage reminded him more of an old monastery than a place fought over for more than a hundred years. Nautilus was turning into the wind, her anchor catted and ready to let go.
There were people on and above an embrasured wall. The battery. The captain had been right, and brave to follow his instinct.
He heard Fowler threatening some one who was too slow for his taste.
It went through his mind yet again.
He saved me from disgrace. I was a coward, and others paid for it.
'Ready below, Mr. Squire!'
He raised his hand and smiled, outwardly at ease.
But the other voice persisted.
I want him dead.
Lights were already burning in the great cabin, although it had been daylight when he left the upper deck. Adam rubbed his eyes and threw his hat on to a chair. Men were still working throughout the ship, replacing screens, dragging chests and furniture from the holds. The cook was trying to rekindle his galley fire; the anchor was down and there were lights across the water, above the ancient fortress and its battery.
Just in time.
He had passed a party of seamen restoring hammocks to the messdecks. Some had grinned, and one had called after him, 'You showed ‘em, Cap'n!'
And yet, only hours ago, he had seen the cold hostility in their eyes as one of their number had been flogged.
Morgan was here, as if he had never moved.
'Visitor, sir.'
It was Murray, the surgeon, come to make his own report.
'No injuries, sir. A few cuts and bruises, but only from preparing for the worst. 'The keen eyes were assessing him.
'Dare I suggest that our captain find time to rest his limbs? Richly deserved, if I may say so.'
Adam knew that Morgan was already nodding on his feet. If I close my eyes…
'I have to visit Nautilus before nightfall. I don't want to be fired on by one of the guardboats, especially ours!'
He heard the clink of glass. Morgan had roused himself and was preparing his own remedy. But if he gave in to it now…
'How isЦ 'He had to grope for the name; he was in worse condition than he thought. 'Dimmock?'
'He'll live. 'Murray might have smiled; it was difficult to see in the half light. 'Slept like a log throughout the whole episode, too full of grog to know or care.'
Adam heard voices, Jago talking to the sentry. What did he think about being called at this hour to take the gig across to Nautilus! He had not left his side all day, except when he had been here with young David.
'Midshipman Napier.
Murray was ready for that. 'I'm satisfied. Surprised, too, I must confess. A word of advice for some one, however. If a masthead lookout is required urgently, let young Napier wait a while before he puts up his hand again.'
Adam felt his dry lips break into a smile.
'I'm grateful. For all you've done.'
Murray looked toward the stern windows. The sea was flat and unmoving, molten gold in the dying light.
'I keep thinking of those poor devils today. My trade requires of me both impartiality and compassion. 'He turned back, his face in shadow. 'But I thank God for our survival, and the quick wit of the man who kept us alive. 'He thrust out his hand. 'Be proud!'
Adam could still feel the palm, as rough as any seaman's, long after the door had closed behind him.
The cabin seemed to swim in the dimness. What of tomorrow? And the next decision? He could see his small desk, replaced exactly where it had stood; Morgan might have measured it. The blank sheet of paper was lying in the centre as before. He could almost see the words flowing from his pen.
My darling Lowenna…
The door opened and he turned away, abandoning her once more.
'Are you ready, Luke?'
'Gig's alongside, Cap'n.'
Proud.
11. Refuge
George Tolan eased his back against the hard seat and felt the cart swaying around a bend in the lane, like a jolly-boat in a lively sea. Every muscle ached; he had given up counting the days and the miles. And the doubts.
He glanced sideways at the driver. His name was Dick, and he had described himself as a carter. He must have overheard him asking directions to the Bolitho house when he had been left by the coach at the Spaniards Inn.
Friendly enough. 'I'm goin 'that way m'self. Tes some far to walk with that great bag!'
Captain Bolitho might have been making a gesture, nothing more, no matter what his coxswain had insisted. They would both be at sea now in any case. And this was Cornwall, not London or some familiar port. Even the air was different: clean, indefinably tinged with the sea. He watched the passing colours in the hedgerows, foxglove, vetch, campion; the carter named them for him. Then, 'You'll be a stranger in these parts? 'Tolan had felt the warning. It had never left him, despite moments when he had begun to believe that he was safe. Out of reach.
He thought of Sir Graham Bethune, the vice-admiral he had served from his time as captain. Servant, aide, unofficial bodyguard: as close as any one could hope to be, while he had still been needed.
'Workin 'up at the old house, then?'
Tolan said, 'I think so, yes.'
He nodded. 'Be seem 'Mister Yovell, I s'pect. Nice old stick, but sharp as a tack, so watch out! 'He laughed and flicked the reins. 'Don't tell he I said so. I does a good bit o 'trade at the Bolitho house!'
Tolan loosened his coat. The sun was warmer than he had expected, or is it me? They might slam the door in his face, of course, as if he were some vagrant. Bolitho would have forgotten all about their last meeting, although the flag lieutenant, Troubridge, had done his best, providing Tolan with a warrant for travel by coach as far as
