In the King`s Name

Vincent waited, giving himself time. The gesture had drawn his attention to a deep scar on the left side of Devereux’s face, not large but deadly, an inch or less above the jawbone.

Devereux said lightly, “Sun’s a little hotter than usual,” but the smile was gone.

Vincent said, “Did you get that out here?” and Devereux lowered his hand.

“No-back home. In Chatham, as it happens.”

Vincent gazed along the main deck, where a few men were still clearing up from the day’s work. “I hope she was worth it?”

Devereux looked at him in silence, then said abruptly, “I thought so.” His jaw lifted, so that the scar seemed to speak for him. “It was self-defense, of course.”

Vincent touched his arm. “I’ll have your kit taken below.” He glanced at the official envelope. “Paul, isn’t it?” He gestured toward the companion ladder. “I’ll show you our quarters. The formalities must wait until the captain returns.”

Even now he could feel the stab of resentment.

• • •

The flag lieutenant paused outside Medusa‘s great cabin as Adam wiped the last of the dried mud from his shoes on to a rope mat.

“Don’t trouble yourself about that, sir. You’re here, that’s the main thing!” He nodded to a Royal Marine sentry, and added in an undertone, “He will see you now.”

Once through the screen door, the cabin was much as Adam remembered it, well furnished, spotless, and somehow unlived-in. At the far end, in the centre of the broad stern windows, Rear-Admiral Giles Langley stood with his back to the gleaming panorama of water and moored vessels, his fair hair almost touching the deckhead.

As Adam walked aft Langley seemed to come to life, and strode to meet him.

“Good to see you again, Bolitho. Only sorry I had to drag you aboard without giving you time to breathe.” He gripped Adam’s outstretched hand and stared intensely at him, his pale eyes unblinking. “You look damn well despite it all. Proud of you.” Then, “Pity I couldn’t have joined you at the sad but necessary ceremony.” He waved vaguely around the cabin. “I’m sure you understood.”

He waited as a servant darted forward and moved his chair away from a shaft of sunlight. So that was what was different. The curtains which had covered the stern windows, obscuring the impressive view of Freetown, were gone. Perhaps the admiral had become more accustomed to the searing light and the climate.

They sat facing one another, a small table between them, while the servant spoke to someone else in hiding beyond the same door. There was a clink of glasses, and Adam found time to wonder what was keeping him alert. And for what?

Langley said bluntly, “I hear you fell in with Sir Charles Godden.”

“Apparently he was at the funeral service, sir, although he did not announce himself.”

Langley smiled coldly. “He was in a carriage. But I doubt it was by coincidence. Not in his nature.” He turned his head and rapped out, “I shall send word if I need you, Flags.”

Adam had not realised that Langley’s aide was still in the cabin. No wonder he looked so hunted. And where was Tyacke?

Langley asked, just as brusquely, “What did you make of Godden?” and did not wait for an answer. “Had everybody jumping here from the minute he stepped ashore. He and his little group of cronies-they’ve done well for themselves. I can’t even guess what the bill will come to! And he was here looking for ways to save money!” He laughed, almost jovially, but his eyes were very keen. “Well? Did he impress you? A few minutes beside someone in a carriage you had never met before. Or are likely to meet again.”

“I think he was sincere-even eager to learn how we feel about our role here.”

Langley snapped his finger and thumb. “What we’re costing his precious government, more likely! Better friend than foe, in my opinion.”

He leaned over and tapped the little table. “Don’t take all day, man!”

Adam could smell the brandy from where he was sitting.

Langley took out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. “But he’s nobody’s fool. I can see why he’s got where he is. Knows about our antislavery patrols and the results, good or bad. Knows of our co-operation with the ship- owners and traders here.” He winked. “Or lack of same!” He shifted in his chair as the servant approached with a tray and a full decanter, and two fresh glasses. There were wet rings on the tray left by previous ones.

Langley said, “Not sorry to see him go. Now we might get some results.” He lifted his glass. “He knew a little too much about you, anyway!”

Adam felt the brandy sear his tongue. “Not from me, sir.”

“No, no. Had it all written down, for God’s sake!” Langley laughed again, and nearly dropped his glass. It was empty. “He asked a lot of questions about …” He snapped his fingers again. “Ballantyne, and his affairs at New Haven. Another carpet knight, eh?” He grinned and touched his lips. “And you did not hear that!”

The servant was refilling the glasses, his features expressionless. He was probably used to this behaviour but Adam had never seen Langley like this. It was more than relief.

Langley was saying, “What now, Flags? I thought I made it clear …” He wiped his face with the handkerchief. “Not time already?”

The flag lieutenant closed his little book. “Colonel Whitehead from the garrison is due to arrive shortly, sir. You said-”

“Slipped my mind, dammit.” He looked at Adam and shrugged. “Had to see you first, Bolitho. We’ve both been through it of late.” The pale eyes flickered around the cabin. “They all like to visit the flagship. Makes ‘em feel important!”

Another servant had appeared carrying Langley’s cocked hat and sword, but he was pushed rudely aside as the admiral strode toward the quarter gallery. Langley paused and rubbed his hands together. “Must clean up and pump the bilges before they arrive. Not much longer, eh, Flags?” The door slammed behind him. Adam thought he looked as if he were going to vomit.

The lieutenant waited for the servant to lay hat and sword on the bench beneath the stern windows and leave before saying quietly, “Medusa is being paid off.” The well-thumbed notebook had fallen to the deck, but he did not seem to notice. “Finished!”

Adam was on his feet, his mind quite clear. Like all those other ships he had seen in harbours at home. Some with famous names, legends, and remembered not only by those who had served and fought in them. At the Saintes and Camperdown, at the Nile and Copenhagen, and at Trafalgar. Now awaiting that final voyage.

He walked slowly aft. From here he could see the berth where the Delfim had been moored, when Rear-Admiral Giles Langley had dissociated himself from the plan to seek out the slaver’s lair, for which he had since taken the credit.

And what about Tyacke?

He turned and faced the flag lieutenant, who was glancing around the cabin as if he had never seen it before. Langley had left even this to him.

There were voices beyond the screen door, laughter: the visitors. Makes ‘em feel important. Not any more.

He shook the flag lieutenant’s hand. “Let me know if …”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll signal for your boat.”

Adam thought of Jago, and said, “He’ll be here. Waiting.”

The door had opened a few inches, and he could see the red coats of the visitors, the scarlet of the sentry.

Jago would know already, and by tomorrow everybody would.

He left the cabin, noticing that the notebook still lay where it had fallen.

The flag lieutenant said, “I will tender your apology.”

But the cabin was empty.