In the King's Name (20 page)

She nodded slowly, the hair on her forehead parting to reveal the bruise. “It is for the best. My friends there will expect it. After that, I will have to make plans.”

He walked with her to the stern. “I am waiting to present myself to the admiral, otherwise I'd escort you in person.”

She gazed unblinkingly at the waterfront and the buildings shimmering in the heat. “I can see the parent mission from here. My father was once …” She did not finish it. “So, good-bye, Captain Bolitho. I will not forget you, or your men.”

Morgan stood by the screen door, blocking it, and muttering angrily to someone outside. Then he turned and said apologetically, “The lady's boat is alongside, sir.” He peered around. “Is there anything I can do?”

She was about to say something, then her expression changed. “My bracelet! Your lieutenant found it and put it in the strongbox.” She unfastened her cuff and touched the bandage. “All my worldly goods.”

They walked away from the cabin, toward the shaft of sunlight streaming down the companion ladder.

Adam offered his arm but she said, “I can manage, Captain!” Then she twisted round toward him. “One day …”

The silence was intense, as if the ship was holding her breath.

She smiled. “I
am
ready.”

Drummond was here now, his silver call swinging from his neck. “Sorry, sir. Took me all aback!”

Adam was still not accustomed to him as bosun, but it was rare to see Drummond disconcerted by anything or any one.

They climbed into the light, where some of the senior hands had formed an impromptu guard of honour to the gangway, and a bosun's chair had been rigged by the entry port. Somebody ran from the opposite side and slithered to a halt. It was Midshipman Hotham, a signal slate wedged beneath one arm. He could barely take his eyes from the girl in sailor's garb.

“Signal from Flag, sir!
Captain to repair on board.”
He swallowed. “Shall I acknowledge, sir?”

Nobody moved, and Adam heard the newly arrived boat being warped closer alongside.

He took her arm and turned her toward the watching faces. He said quietly, “Let him wait.”

Someone had climbed up from the boat, and was holding out some sort of afternoon shawl and a wide-brimmed straw hat with ribbons. Claire spoke to him by name. As she tied the ribbons beneath her chin, she waved the shawl aside. “I feel more suited to this, thank you.” She was still smiling, but very close to breaking down.

Vicary, the purser, pushed some seamen aside and held out a small package. “From the strongbox, ma'am.” He smiled also, which was rare for him. “I was asked to make certain you received it.”

She said nothing, gazing past him toward the boat tier. Squire was standing there with his working party, all of whom were waiting simply to see her depart.

Adam knew it was as near as Squire would come, and that Murray was hovering watchfully, and yet it was as if they were alone together. She unwrapped the bracelet and held it as though for Squire to see, then she kissed it and put it inside her midshipman's shirt.

Two seamen helped her climb into the bosun's chair; others seized the tackle and waited for the order to hoist.

A voice yelled hoarsely, “Give ‘er a cheer, Onwards! We don't want ‘er to go!”

The response was immediate and deafening. Even the cook and his helpers emerged from cover and were waving and shouting with the rest. Adam felt her gripping his arm, as if unable to break the final contact; her dark eyes were filling her face.

Across the water, men aboard the new frigate had manned the side to join in the farewell, although they could not have understood it.

She said, “I pray that if we meet again …” She could not continue, but pulled Adam's hand to her mouth and kissed it. Then she waved at the upturned faces and tensed, holding tightly as Drummond shouted,
“Easy
, lads! Hoist away!”

Her shadow crossed the hammock nettings and dipped slowly over the side. Only then did Murray speak.

“A brave young woman. She wasn't expecting a farewell like that. I shall join her now.” But he lingered, watching the men beginning to disperse, some still peering down at the boat with its insignia, a blue osprey, painted on either bow. Some of them had already seen it at the smouldering mission, amidst its grisly remains.

“I shall miss her, and that's the truth.” Murray strode toward the entry port without looking back.

Vincent had climbed onto the gangway, and beyond him Adam could see the Royal Marine guard and side party already in position.

“When you are ready, sir.”

Morgan had brought the sword, and helped him to adjust it, his face troubled. Routine was taking over again, and most of the decks were clear. Adam glanced aft where Squire was now standing alone, looking toward the shore. Once, he raised his arm as if to wave, but let it fall back to his side. Her boat was well clear by now, and Adam saw Murray sitting beside her in the sternsheets. She did not turn her head.

He walked toward the entry port where Drummond and his mates were waiting, calls moistened and poised.

“Attention on the upper deck!”

Adam returned the salutes and raised his hat to the flag as he went down the side, where Jago had moored the gig without wasting a moment, always with one eye on the flagship.

“Busy day, Cap'n?”

“And not over yet.” But Adam's eyes were still on the other boat, even as it disappeared beyond a clutter of moored barges.

Jago waited until he was seated before adding warily, “She'll be lookin' for justice, I reckon.” His words were almost lost in the ripple of movement beneath the gig, but moments like these were never shared. And the captain knew it.

He realised that Adam had turned to face him, and his voice was cold and calm. “If she were my girl, only revenge would suffice.”

“Welcome back, Captain Bolitho!” The flag lieutenant touched his hat as Adam walked away from
Medusa'
s entry port, and the stamp and shrill of salutes. The first lieutenant was in charge, and had explained that Captain Tyacke was escorting the admiral's visitors ashore. He seemed surprised and pleased that Adam had remembered his name when they had only met once, and very briefly.

The flag lieutenant turned aft and said, “We have all been extremely busy—” One bell chimed from the forecastle. “The admiral will receive you now.”

They had reached the shadow of the poop when he added suddenly, “I watched you enter harbour and anchor today. It was later than expected, of course.”

Adam retorted,
“We
were quite busy, too!” It must have taken more out of him than he knew. “Forgive me. No reason to bite your head off.”

The lieutenant said with dignity, “I was going to say, sir, that I read your report. It made me very proud.”

Two Royal Marines snapped to attention, one shouting, “Captain Bolitho,
sir!
”

The flag lieutenant murmured, “I shall be close by if I'm needed, sir,” and effaced himself.

A servant Adam did not recognise opened the screen door to the great cabin and he saw Rear-Admiral Giles Langley sprawled in a deep leather chair beneath the skylight, his heavy coat with the gold epaulettes tossed across a cabinet, and his discarded shoes even further away, as if he had kicked them off.

Langley did not stand up. Instead, he waved languidly toward another chair and said, “Come and take the weight off your feet, Bolitho!” He patted the front of his own straining waistcoat, grinning. “Not that you need to, by the look of it!”

He snapped his fingers. “A glass for the captain!” and laughed, but broke off in a fit of coughing. “An' another for me. I deserve it!”

Adam looked around the cabin. It was much as he remembered it, but the stern windows were not now hidden by curtains, and the sun reflecting from the anchorage seemed dazzling.

Langley's fair hair had been neatly trimmed and was even shorter than on the previous visit, and his eyes were gleaming like blue glass in the glare. The servant had been carrying out a wastebasket, the contents of which might have been bottles. Langley and his guests had not been too busy with affairs to enjoy themselves.

Langley patted the arms of his chair. “What d'you think of this beauty? Got the idea after visiting
Onward.”
His mood changed just as quickly. “I read your report, of course. Just as well I sent you down there. Otherwise it might have taken months before the facts became known.” He frowned so deeply that his eyes almost vanished. “And the missionary's daughter? Ashore now, recovering?” He did not wait for an answer, a habit of his, apparently. “Probably never will.” He dabbed his eyes. “There to help others, but when
they
need it this is too often their reward!”

“She is at the Osprey Mission, sir.”

“Hmph. Best solution. A civil matter, as far as we're concerned. Our work is still at the sharp end.”

He heaved himself abruptly from his new chair and took several deep breaths. “And you spoke with
Sir
Duncan Ballantyne?” He moved to the broad stern windows and leaned against a frame. “Gave nothing away, I take it?”

“He's sent some of his militia to the mission, until …”

“Yes, yes, but what's
he
like? Friend or foe? Or just another opportunist lining his pockets under the King's protection?”

The servant padded softly back into the cabin and placed two crystal goblets on a table.

Langley turned sharply. “Over
here
, man!” and Adam could see the sweat shining on his forehead. The servant was filling the glasses. Brandy: he had smelled it as soon as the door had opened for him. “You can leave it!”

Langley's mood seemed to change again, and he waved his goblet expansively toward the harbour. “What d' you think of that new frigate, eh? A damn fine sight, especially these days. His first command, too.”

Some of the brandy was running down his wrist, staining his sleeve. Tyacke was probably used to this sort of behaviour. He could cope with just about everything.

Adam said, “Who is her captain, sir?”

Langley shrugged vaguely. “Somebody called de Vere. George de Vere. Know him?”

“There was an Admiral de Vere, but …”

Langley snorted with laughter. “His uncle, no less! Fair sailing for some, eh?” He swung round angrily and snapped, “What is it now, dammit? You don't buy a dog and bark yourself, do you?”

It was the flag lieutenant. “I am very sorry, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“Well, you have! What's so important this time?” He attempted to thrust his foot into one of the shoes and almost lost his balance.

The flag lieutenant said, “
Onward
‘s surgeon is come aboard, sir.” He did not take his eyes off the admiral, but he was speaking to Adam. “He wishes to see the captain.”

Langley grunted. “Sawbones. I hate ‘em!” Then he waved dismissively. “Well, send him in.”

Murray stepped into the cabin and bowed, ever so slightly. “My apologies, sir.” He was looking at Adam. “I thought it might be urgent, sir.”

“I gathered that!” Langley had picked up a telescope and was training it toward something on the frigate's quarter.

Murray said in a low voice, “We had almost reached the Osprey stairs when,” he paused as the telescope stopped moving, “I thought she was having a relapse. I had to restrain her.” He glanced at Langley's powerful shoulders, framed against the restless water. “She had seen a ship she seemed to recognise. Said it had been near the mission. It's here now.”

Langley lowered the telescope. “She's quite sure of that? Women often make mistakes about …” He snapped the telescope shut and strode across the cabin. “Dundas's daughter? Where is she now?”

Murray said, “With me, sir.”

Langley sat down. “Well! That will have all the tongues wagging!”

“I was careful, sir.”

But Langley was already on his feet again. “And she's the only available witness!” He returned to the quarter windows. “Today, of all bloody days—” He turned, his face in shadow. “She will have to identify the vessel herself.”

Murray said curtly, “I am not at all certain we can ask that of her.”

Langley snapped, “Don't
ask
. Tell her!” and looked up at the skylight, suddenly calm again. “You are my senior captain, Bolitho, until James Tyacke returns. And you are directly involved, in any case.” His mouth moved in what might have been a smile, but Adam could not see the expression in his eyes. “I leave it in your hands. But this is not a battle, remember?”

“I shall send word, sir.”

The flag lieutenant followed them from the cabin, still glancing nervously over his shoulder.

Adam said, “I shall want my gig,” and to Murray, “I am sorry you had to endure that.”

Murray walked lightly, keeping pace, his hawkish profile withdrawn. “I am still not convinced …”

“I doubt she would have been mistaken. So let's find out, shall we?”

Medusa
‘s first lieutenant was waiting for them on deck. “Your gig is here, sir.” And to Murray, “The schooner you were asking about is the
Delfim
. Came in yesterday, taking on cargo.” He looked toward the flag lieutenant, who was still hovering nearby as if listening for a summons from aft.

Adam saw Jago standing in the gig, two of his crew holding the hull steady.

The first lieutenant added, “
Delfim
is under Portuguese colours, sir.” He shaded his eyes to look across the water at
Onward
. “Do you need some extra hands?”

Adam shook his head. “Time might be getting short.” He was thinking aloud. “A few spare cutlasses would be welcome.”

“Good as done, sir.” He gestured to a bosun's mate. “What about the young lady?”