For My Country's Freedom (28 page)

Bolitho said nothing, and Avery added, “A general will say, ‘Order the
87th
to advance.' And if they are not enough or are hacked down, he will send in another regiment. He sees no faces, hears no pitiful cries which will never be answered, only flags, pins on a map.”

There was a long silence, and Bolitho could hear Avery's breathing above the other sounds.

“I
know.
”

When he looked up Avery was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

“I had no right, sir.”

“You of all people had every right.”

They heard Tyacke's voice raised in anger. “You are
dismissed,
man! Go to your barracks until told otherwise!”

Tyacke's anger seemed to pursue the luckless sentry. “We are all fighting on the same bloody side, I
hope!
”

Then Scarlett's voice, hoarse and angry. “
Zest
has been sighted, sir!”

“What is the
matter
with you, man? It is near enough to rendezvous. Is that all you had to tell me?”

Avery asked, “Shall I go and quieten things, sir?”

He stared as Bolitho held up one hand. “Not yet!”

Tyacke asked sharply, “What about the lookout and the sighting to the nor'-east?”

“I have set more sail, sir. She will lose us at dusk, so I thought . . .”

Tyacke sounded very calm suddenly, the sharpness of his temper gone like a passing squall. “Heave-to. Signal
Zest
to close on Flag.”

When he re-entered the great cabin he looked quite impassive.

“I apologise for my rough tongue, Sir Richard. I've long since lost the pretty manners of liners!”

Allday entered silently, his eyes questioning the absence of a sentry by the screen door. “Are you going up, Sir Richard?”

Indomitable
rolled heavily as the hands ran to the braces and sheets to shorten sail and bring her up to the wind. On deck there were startled faces everywhere, peering at the sea, empty still but for small slivers of sail which appeared to be circling
Indomitable
like sharks while she continued to head upwind.

Bolitho lurched against a stay as the deck tilted over, his shoe sliding on the wet planking.

He saw Tyacke watching, then turning away again as Allday caught his arm.

He took a telescope from Lieutenant Protheroe. Very carefully he raised it to his right eye, hardly daring to breathe as the brightly painted schooner lurched into the lens.

“Have the side manned, Mr Scarlett!” He tried again, afraid that his voice might betray him. “There is a captain coming aboard, and we shall offer him all honours on this September day!”

He could feel Allday's grasp on his arm, his anxiety.

“What is it, Sir Richard?”

Bolitho looked across the broad quarterdeck where Tyacke was watching his ship respond to canvas and rudder, his coat soaked with flying spray.

Tyacke had guessed. He had known.

Then he handed the telescope to Allday and said quietly, “See, old friend? There is one other coming aboard today.”

Philip Beauclerk, the surgeon, wiped his strong bony hands with a wet cloth, and said, “Whoever had cause to attend Captain Bolitho after he was wounded must have been an excellent doctor. I should like to congratulate him, enemy or not.”

Bolitho sat beside the cot which had been rigged in his own quarters and grasped Adam's hand. He could scarcely believe it, and yet somehow, like Tyacke, he had known. The one and only chance, and it had been theirs to seize.

Adam opened his eyes and studied him, slowly, feature by feature, perhaps to reassure himself that it was not merely another dream, another lost hope.

“Well, Uncle, you cannot rid yourself of me so easily.” He seemed to realise that his hand was clasped firmly, and whispered, “It was Allday's son. He took a terrible risk.”

“So did you, Adam.”

He smiled, gripping harder as the pain returned. “I would have been caged, Uncle. He would have been hanged, like poor George Starr. I shall never forget what he did.”

Beauclerk said, “He is still very weak, Sir Richard. His recent exploits have done little to speed his recovery.”

Adam shook his head. “Why is it, Uncle, when you are ill, that those who care for you seem to think you are deaf and slightly stupid? They discuss you as if you are only one step from Heaven!”

Bolitho touched his bare shoulder. Even that felt stronger, less feverish.

“You are better already, Adam.”

He tried to force the despatches which
Reynard
had delivered to the back of his mind. The troop convoy had been doubled and would arrive at Halifax within the next two weeks. He had mentioned it to Tyacke while Beauclerk had been examining Adam, and had seen the arguments in Tyacke's eyes.

The Americans had leaked the information about Adam's place of captivity to encourage a rescue attempt, to split the Leeward Squadron when it was most needed. The convoy's size and importance had dwarfed even that.

Would men like Beer really believe that he would make such a reckless and personal foray in the face of such local and forceful opposition? By now they would know of Adam's escape. But it would be impossible for anyone to expect him to have reached
Indomitable.
One favourable card, then.

Bolitho watched Adam's eyes begin to droop, felt the grip of his hand slacken.

“If there is anything I can do for you . . .” He saw Adam trying to speak and guessed that the surgeon had given him some drug to ease the shock and strain of his escape. “I never thought you were lost. But I cared very much.”

Adam pulled the crumpled glove from his breeches. “Keep this for me, Uncle. It is all I have of hers.”

Avery had entered quietly but stood motionless and in silence. The glove, the rumour of suicide, and the young captain's despair told most of the story, and he was deeply moved by what he had seen and heard.

Then Adam said softly, “A
ship,
Uncle. Please find me a ship.”

Bolitho gazed at him, the words unlocking another old memory. When he had returned from the Great South Sea half dead from fever, and on his recovery had pleaded for a ship, any ship.

“You should be sent home, Adam. You are not yet recovered. What must I do to make you . . .”

Beauclerk took Adam's hand and put it beneath the sheet. “He hears nothing, Sir Richard. It is better this way.” His pale eyes were assessing Bolitho curiously. “He is very strong.”

Bolitho stood up, unwilling to return to the squadron's affairs.

“Call me instantly, if . . .”

Beauclerk gave a small smile. “When, Sir Richard.
When.
”

Bolitho saw Avery, and said, “A miracle.”

To Beauclerk he added, “I meant to tell you, the results of your work in this ship are excellent. I shall see that it goes on your report.”

“As you have seen in my papers, Sir Richard, my service will be terminated at the end of this commission. But there are no regrets either way. I have learned firsthand of the desperate need for improved surgical techniques in the King's ships, and I will do my utmost to make my opinions survive beyond the furnace!”

Bolitho smiled. “I wish you luck. I am grateful for what you have done in
Indomitable.
”

Beauclerk picked up his bag but lingered to rest a hand on Adam's brow. Then he said quietly, “In Sir Piers Blachford, I had the finest of tutors.”

Bolitho touched his eye. So he had known all the time, but had said nothing. Loyalty seemed to come in all guises, and he was suddenly glad that Beauclerk had shared the secret.

On deck the sky and the sea were like bronze, the breeze barely strong enough to lift the sails into motion.

Tyacke strode to meet him and wasted no time. “We made signal contact with
Zest,
Sir Richard. She had a skirmish this morning and suffered small damage when she surprised an enemy brig, well inshore at the time.”

Bolitho saw the reckless Captain Dampier's eager face clearly like a portrait in his mind.

Tyacke was saying, “I did not disturb you. There is nothing we can do until we meet with the courier brig tomorrow.” He hesitated. “I am glad about Captain Bolitho, sir. I have much respect for him.”

“
What
damage, James?”

Again the hesitation. In a moment he knew why. “Very little. A spar or two shot away, but the brig was taken as a prize. Unhappily, Captain Dampier was killed outright by a stray ball. He'll be sorely missed.”

Bolitho paced along the side, deep in thought. Dampier was always one to take risks, to lead his men in person to board an enemy, to walk his deck when all hell was breaking loose around him. A popular captain who had never appreciated that there was always one risk too many.

Bolitho watched the bronze shine on the deep troughs giving way to deeper shadows.

“I shall write to his parents.” It was better not to know men so well. That well. But how could you not, when to lead you must take and hold their confidence despite the pain, the sense of betrayal when they died?

Tyacke said, “This plan of yours, Sir Richard.”

“You are still against it?”

“I am, sir.” He paused as seamen scampered past to take in the slack of some loose lines.

“Because it might fail? That I might be wrong about the enemy's intentions?”

Tyacke faced him stubbornly. “Because of
you,
sir. If the enemy is uncertain of the troop convoy's time of arrival at Halifax, he might attempt an attack in the Caribbean, where he has more chance of success. Either way he can divide our strength, but at least we will have taken all precautions open to us. And this ruse to draw us against Captain Bolitho's proposed prison—I am firmly convinced it would be a trap, to seize or destroy more of our vessels.” He took a deep breath. “In every case, every action will point to you.”

“You of all people should not be so surprised, James. But I have little or no choice. The Americans will finish us piecemeal if we keep up this unrewarding hit-and-run strategy. We are here to destroy their ships, and to re-open our safe seaways for supplies, and the military for the conflict in Canada. They might still fight on the Lakes, but that will never decide a war.”

They walked a few more paces while the other ships in company seemed to melt into the ocean itself.

Bolitho said, “Victor or scapegoat, James? The price of admiralty.” Then, “Send for Yovell. I shall issue the squadron's orders by morning.”

Tyacke watched him stride to the companion-way and tried to feel the depth of the man. His energy, his infectious optimism and his black despair. What had restored him? His nephew's incredible escape, aided by a man who had once served as his coxswain? Allday's son. Or was it the letter still unopened in the admiral's little box, Catherine Somervell's words and strength from across an ocean?

He saw Allday by the hammock nettings and asked him how he was.

He saw the tired grin in the shadows.

“I feel at odds with meself, Cap'n. I was flung right over when I saw who it was with Cap'n Adam. Like turning the pages. Friend or father, I'm not sure which. He's not going back to their lot, though, an' that's a blessing.”

Tyacke said, “Did he tell you what happened?”

Allday stiffened suspiciously. But why not? Captain Tyacke was no enemy. Also, he needed to talk, if only to sort it out for himself, to make some sense of it.

“He couldn't get work, not the kind he quit the navy for, sir. He wanted to fish, or work on the land. Nobody had any use for him.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Even his wife gave up on him and took to another man's bed. So when he heard about Cap'n Adam he knew what he must do. He'll hang or worse if they catches him.”

Tyacke said, “Go below. There was a letter from home for you, I believe.”

Allday sighed. “It makes up for all this, sir.”

Tyacke watched him melt into the gloom and was suddenly filled with envy.

He stared into the darkness, seeing the last of the horizon. Then he touched the weathered quarterdeck rail. Aloud he said, “We'll fight very soon, my girl. You and me. Never ask the bloody reason, only fight and win!”