In the King`s Name

shoulder, where he saw another bandage.

“Bless you for what you did. I know you gave him to the sea. He’ll be safe there.”

Murray’s eyes told Adam that it was time to leave.

She reached out suddenly as if to seek his hand, and he clasped it instinctively. Murray did not protest.

She said, “Thank you, Captain Bolitho. I shall never forget.” A tear ran unheeded over her cheek. “Or forgive!”

Adam stood up, gently releasing her fingers, and saw her grope for his hand again. “Try to rest, Claire. We shall anchor tomorrow, and then …” Her fingers gripped his with unexpected strength.

“No!” The damp hair spilled across his sleeve. “No, not there! Later!”

Murray took the hand and felt the pulse discreetly.

“She must rest now,” and when he had pulled the door to behind them, “I’m glad you came. And so is she.”

They stood in the passageway and Murray lowered his voice. “She wants to remain aboard with us until we return to Freetown. She has friends there. That was as much information as she gave me.”

Adam said, “Send somebody to call me if I can help,” and looked at Murray directly. “At any time.”

The surgeon touched his forehead, sketching a salute, but it was more than that. “Aye, aye, sir!”

His cabin door was still partly open and Murray thought he heard her call out, a little more strongly now. He turned, but the passageway was empty. Bolitho had gone on deck, and not aft to his own quarters.

He was the captain again.

Squire closed the telescope and slung it over his shoulder. With the sun almost directly overhead and the heat oppressive, it was hard to concentrate, and he was bone-weary. After the bustle and excitement of their final approach and anchoring off New Haven, the ship seemed strangely still and quiet. It was the afternoon watch, but except for those required on duty most of Onward‘s people were asleep, and deserved it. There was a lingering aroma of rum in the air, an extra tot from the captain. His way of saying thank you, Squire thought. Probably why Bolitho had gone immediately ashore: to pay his respects to the governor while his gig’s crew were still smart and sober. Onward had anchored a cable’s length from the elbow of land Julyan had described, which shielded the anchorage beyond.

It had been an unusual experience. With the sun so intense and the inshore water so clear, it was possible to see the frigate’s shadow full-length as she passed over some of the sandbars.

Squire moved into the welcome shadow of the mizzen mast and glanced at the wheel. It gave some hint of the current, jerking slightly as if controlled by invisible helmsmen.

The anchorage was like a mill-pond, and seemed a safe mooring, but he knew two rivers converged here and emptied into the sea. When the rains came it must be a real challenge for any master.

He had seen a few boats paddling out to investigate the frigate, one or two coming close enough for those aboard to wave or hold up baskets of goods for sale or barter-pottery, vegetables and carvings for the most part. But they kept their distance, discouraged by seamen or marines stationed at intervals along either side.

Bolitho had made it quite clear. No one was to be allowed aboard. This was an official visit, and Squire had seen the sealed package handed down to the gig before it had shoved off.

Greetings from the admiral at Freetown. Although Squire had heard there was no love lost between Rear-Admiral Langley and the governor here. No doubt Langley would be more concerned by Onward‘s failure to appear within the time expected, and if not, his flag lieutenant would soon remind him, if he valued his own future.

He felt his shoe stick to the deck seam. The ship had been washed from beakhead to counter when they had altered course to enter the anchorage. Now even the scuppers were as dry as tinder. He heard footsteps and turned to see the surgeon crossing the deck toward him, avoiding the softened seams.

“I’m afraid the captain’s still ashore, Doc. Not returning till the last dog, as far as we know. Is something wrong?”

Murray was hatless and holding one hand across his eyes to shield them from the sun, but the strain seemed to have fallen from his long face like a cloud.

“This time it’s you I came to find.” He glanced incuriously toward the shore, as if he had not seen it before. “Experience or instinct: I often ask myself, where do we draw the line?” He turned his back on the land, dismissing it. “She wants to see you, although at this stage it might destroy any progress she has made. Such as it is.”

Squire said uncertainly, “I didn’t realise she knew my name.”

“She did not. But her description was enough!” Murray paused. “Will you see her? It might do more harm than good.”

Squire muttered, “I don’t know. After what she went through-” and said nothing for a moment, recalling her anguish and the brief moment of peace and communion when he had given her his coat to hide her shame from those trying to help her. “It might bring it all back when she sees me.”

Murray shrugged. “I don’t know what the purser will say, but I raided his slop-chest for some clothing. Not what she has been used to, but it’s fresh and clean. It might make a difference.”

Squire waved to Lieutenant Sinclair who was speaking to some of his marines. “Bob, call me if I’m needed”-and indicated the surgeon-”You know where I’ll be.”

Sinclair raised a hand and Squire thought he had forgiven him for choosing his sergeant for the landing party instead.

It was cooler below deck, but not much, despite the hastily rigged windsails. Squire hardly noticed. Claire Dundas might be feeling stronger, safer, but one sight of him and it could all be torn apart.

They reached the cabin door and Murray exchanged a few words with one of his assistants, who was rolling and repacking bandages like those they had carried in the cutter. Then to Squire he said, “Not too long. And don’t touch her,” before tapping at the door. “Claire? Me again!”

Squire still hesitated. For a moment he thought Murray had left another one of his assistants here while he was on deck. She was dressed in white, the shirt probably a midshipman’s, fastened to her throat, and breeches which had clearly been taken from the slop-chest. She was sitting upright in Murray’s armchair, facing the door.

Murray said, “Don’t keep the lieutenant too long, Claire. He’ll be wanted on deck shortly,” and gestured to another chair. “Call me if you require anything. I have to pull out someone’s tooth-but it will not take long.” It sounded like a warning to Squire.

She said, “It was good of you to come,” and turned to watch Murray depart: he left the door open. A lock of dark hair fell aside slightly and Squire saw the bruise on her forehead.

“I wanted to see you. I’ve been wondering about you, ever since …” He said nothing more, recalling Murray’s warning. “You look wonderful.” He moved to the other chair and saw she was staring at the door again. This was a mistake. He had wanted to tell her he had thought of nothing else since she had been carried aboard.

She said softly, “I wanted to see you. To explain.” Her eyes were restless, flickering around the cabin. “To … thank you.” She looked at him suddenly. “After the way I treated you. And the risks you took for us … for me.”

Squire stood up and saw her tense as he took a small package from his pocket.

“I wanted to bring you this.” He opened it carefully, not looking at her; perhaps he had already made things worse. “It was in my old coat.” He laid the bracelet on the table beside her. “I thought you might be looking for it.”

She reached out, her lips moving, but he heard no words.

Her hand faltered. “I thought they’d taken it.” Then she shook her head, heedless of the hair falling over her face. “No. I remember putting it in your coat when you tried to help me.” She fumbled with the bracelet. “He gave it to me.”

She was sobbing harshly, but there were no tears.

Squire wanted to help her, but he heard the surgeon’s warning. She was fumbling at her cuffs, one after the other, and he saw the thick bandages around her wrists.

He said carefully, “I can put it in the strongbox, until …”

She stared at him with that unnerving directness.

“You keep it for me. It will be safe with you.” She thrust the hair from her face. “Until