Part 2 (1/2)

Bolitho looked at the stiff faces of the marine guard, the nervous watchfulness of some mids.h.i.+pmen. In time he would know most of them, and they him. He was back, and the green swathe of coastline was only part of a memory.

Bolitho tugged his s.h.i.+rt away from his skin and then put his signature to yet another letter which Yovell, his plump clerk, had prepared for him.

He glanced around the s.p.a.cious stern cabin. It was larger than he had expected in a s.h.i.+p of some thirteen hundred tons.

Ozzard, his little servant, poured some fresh coffee and bustled away to the adjoining pantry. If he was sorry to be leaving the security of the Bolitho house in Falmouth he did not show it. He was an odd bird, who had once been a lawyer's clerk before he had chosen the uncertain life in a King's s.h.i.+p. Some said he had done so to avoid the gallows, but he was worth his weight in gold to Bolitho.

He looked at Keen who was standing by the open stern windows. His good looks and elegant manner revealed nothing of the competent sea officer he really was.

'Well, Val, what do you make of it?'

Keen turned towards him, his face in shadow from the hard sunlight.

'I have studied the chart and appreciate the value of San Felipe in time of war. Whoever commands there is in a strong position.' He shrugged. 'A great lagoon, a fortress on high ground which can control the approaches, the town too if need be. I can see no sense in giving it to the French.'

He thought Pascoe was smiling at his words and added, 'But I a.s.sume their lords.h.i.+ps know more than I do.'

Bolitho chuckled. 'Do not rely on it, Val.'

The coffee was good. Bolitho felt surprisingly fresh and rested after his first night aboard. The journey had been tiring, the many pauses along the way to take refreshment, to sleep or to change horses had been even more so as he had thought of Belinda and what she had come to mean to him.

But the feel of a s.h.i.+p around him had awakened him also.

The smells of tar and fresh paint, cordage and the packed world of Achates' Achates' five hundred officers, seamen and marines was something he could not ignore, nor did he wish to. five hundred officers, seamen and marines was something he could not ignore, nor did he wish to.

Achates was a well-found s.h.i.+p, and from what he had already discovered held a record second to none. Perhaps was a well-found s.h.i.+p, and from what he had already discovered held a record second to none. Perhaps Admiral Sheaffe's choice had been the right one after all. A small sixty-four instead of a proud squadron which might intimidate the Americans and the French alike.

He said, 'I have already sent word to Captain Duncan at Plymouth. He will sail direct to San Felipe in his Sparrow-hawk Sparrow-hawk without delay.' without delay.'

It was easy to picture Duncan's bluff red face as he read his orders. He too would be glad to get away before his frigate was paid off into oblivion. Duncan had also been with Bolitho's squadron. It was like knowing Keen in some ways, he thought. They were extensions of his own mind and ideas.

That was something which he still found hard to accept. No longer did he have to wait for the written word from his flag-officer. No more did he need to fret over the uncertainty or unfairness of his place in affairs. Now the decision as to when and how to act was his. So too the final responsibility.

He added, 'Duncan's presence at San Felipe may lessen the shock for the inhabitants there. I doubt if the governor will see it in the same way as Parliament.'

Ozzard tiptoed across the cabin and waited for Bolitho to notice his mole-like figure. Even his hands dangled at his waist like paws.

He said, 'Beg pardon, Captain, but the first lieutenant has sent his respects and requires me to tell you that the wind has s.h.i.+fted, though very slight.'

Keen looked at Bolitho and grinned. 'I told him to inform me, sir. It's still not much of a wind, but enough to break out the anchor. With your permission, sir?'

Bolitho nodded. It was infectious. It had not changed after all.

'Yovell, put my despatches in the yard-boat alongside.”

He saw his clerk hold the letter he had written to Belinda with special care. She would be reading it as Achates Achates pa.s.sed the Lizard on her way to the Atlantic rollers, he thought. pa.s.sed the Lizard on her way to the Atlantic rollers, he thought.

He heard Keen's voice through the open skylight, the trill of calls and the slap of bare feet over the dried planks as the seamen ran to their stations.

Bolitho made himself sit in his chair and sip the coffee. Keen would have enough to deal with as he sailed his s.h.i.+p clear of the land for the first time without having him there as well.

How many times had he stood at the quarterdeck rail, his heart bounding with hope and excitement, searching his soul in case he had forgotten something when it was already too late?

Tackles squeaked and cordage squealed through countless blocks, and very faintly, far away it sounded, Bolitho heard the plaintive notes of a violin while the shantyman added his weight to the men on the capstan bars.

Yovell came back breathing hard.

'All despatches ash.o.r.e, zur.' His round Devonian dialect seemed to match his handwriting on the many copies of signals and despatches he had penned for Bolitho in the past two years.

Keen returned, his hat tucked beneath one arm.

'The anchor is hove short, sir. I wonder if you would care to join me on deck? It would do well for the people to see you are with them.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Thank you, Val.'

Keen hesitated and glanced at Pascoe.

'There is one thing I do not understand, sir. The courier delivered a letter for the flag-lieutenant. He only just reached the s.h.i.+p in time.'

Bolitho looked at his nephew. It was the moment, and it had almost been postponed because of the need to get under way while the feeble wind lasted.

He saw Yovell beaming at him and was suddenly fearful that he had done the wrong thing.

He said, 'I shall come on deck directly, Captain Keen.'

Bolitho took the sealed letter and glanced quickly at it to make certain it was the right one. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed his hat from Ozzard and walked with Keen to the door.

Keen was saying, 'I expect it was a careless mistake, sir.'

Bolitho pressed the letter into his nephew's hand.

'I shall be on deck if you need me.'

Entirely mystified, Keen accompanied him beneath the shadows of the p.o.o.p deck and past the great double wheel where the helmsmen and quartermaster waited, tensed, for the anchor to break loose from the ground.

The s.h.i.+p was alive with seamen and marines. The topmen were already high aloft on the upper yards, spread out like monkeys as they handled the loosely brailed sails. The braces were manned, and as the pawls of the capstan clanked round to the tune of the fiddle, petty officers and master's mates watched their divisions like hawks, very aware of the flag at the fore.

Allday was on deck by one of the quarterdeck twelve-pounders when he realized that Ozzard had neglected to clip on Bolitho's sword for him. With a silent curse he darted aft and bustled past the marine sentry into the great cabin.

With a start he saw Pascoe was still there, an open doc.u.ment hanging from one hand.

Like Yovell, who had written most of the letters, Allday knew what the doc.u.ment contained. He had been deeply moved that he was one of the very few who did.

'All right, sir?'