In the King`s Name

damage to her hull, and most of the standing and running rigging had been put to rights at Freetown.

He stood breathing the cold air, his mind lingering on the one moment, above all, that he would never forget. Neither would Captain James Tyacke. The flag lieutenant had hardly been able to contain his excitement and delight when he had announced to both of them that Rear-Admiral Langley had sailed for England, having been suddenly recalled. Adam remembered Ballantyne’s terse summing-up at their first meeting. Promotion or oblivion.

Tyacke’s expression had become one of utter disbelief when the lieutenant had pointed to the rear-admiral’s flag. It was now Tyacke’s own.

Adam halted and looked back along the jetty. The schooner’s crew were already taking on stores, and perhaps new passengers. Napier was looking eagerly toward the town, but caught his eye and gave him a smile. Recovering. Still recalling the last moments, the handshakes, embarrassed grins, or blunt relief at being alive.

Each time, it was always different. For the survivors.

He turned back and saw her standing near the carriage he had known would be here. She was wearing a full- length cloak, her head covered by a fleecy hood, which fell back as she ran toward him.

Young Matthew turned away to calm the horses, and was able to yawn hugely without showing it. They had been waiting here since dawn, or so it felt, and his feet were frozen, but this made it all worthwhile.

Adam held her tightly, but felt her flinch as something shrieked from the harbour. Had he turned, he would have seen clouds of vapour rising like smoke from one of the new and experimental paddle-steamers.

Lowenna pressed her cold cheek against his and murmured, “A new navy, Adam?”

He knew David Napier was looking across the harbour, his face alight with interest.

“His, not mine.”

She said, “Take us home,” and saw Young Matthew open the carriage door. “If ever …”

But she stopped, and said nothing more. That was yesterday.

ALEXANDER KENT is the pen name of British author Douglas Reeman. Reeman joined the Royal Navy at sixteen, serving on destroyers and small craft during WWII. After the war, he turned to writing, publishing numerous books under his own name, and the Bolitho series under the Kent pseudonym. The immensely popular Bolitho novels have been translated into nearly two dozen languages. Reeman lives with his wife, Kim, in Surrey, England. Among his prize possessions are Horatio Nelson’s armchair from the Victory, and a replica thirty-two pounder cannon, which he keeps vigilantly pointed toward France.