Colours Aloft! (21 page)

Bolitho returned to his cabin. “Ozzard, send for Allday. Now.” He walked to the windows and watched a small high-prowed fishing boat bobbing astern. Malta, fought over, won and lost, now accepting the Navy's protection more as a defence against the French than from any sense of loyalty.

Allday had obviously been very near. He entered the cabin and waited, his face expressionless as he gauged Bolitho's mood.

Bolitho said, “Fetch her, please.”

Allday took a deep breath. “I'm not at all certain about it, Sir Richard.”

“About what, old friend? You have heard
nothing.
”

Allday sighed. It was fine now, but there would be squalls later if it misfired.

He padded from the cabin, an unspoken argument left hanging in the air.

Bolitho swore silently as the deck tilted and he heard the clatter of blocks and helm as the ship altered course slightly. He had almost lost his balance again. It was unnerving, like the mist which hung over his eye like a piece of fine silk.

The door opened, then Allday closed it behind her.

“It is almost time.” Bolitho led her to a chair and watched her grip its arms, making a lie of her composure.

He walked behind her and touched her long hair. “Are you sure, brave Zenoria?”

She nodded and held the chair even more tightly.

Allday muttered hoarsely, “Lie back, Miss.”

She laid her head on the chairback and after a brief hesitation unbuttoned her shirt and bared her neck.

Bolitho took her hand. No wonder Keen adored her. Allday said despairingly, “I can't do it, sir. Not like this.” She said quietly, “Do it. Please. Now.”

Allday released a great sigh and then pulled her hair out behind her, his scissors poised like steel jaws.

Bolitho watched the hair falling to the deck and said, “I will be on deck.” He squeezed her hand; it was like ice in spite of the cabin's humid air. “Allday will care for you.” Then he bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Your courage will yet sustain all of us, Zenoria.”

Later, as he joined Keen on the quarterdeck and watched the white forts and harbour opening up to receive the slow-moving seventy-four, he had forcibly to restrain his anxiety.

The salutes began to boom across the placid water and a flag dipped above the nearest battery.

There were many ships at anchor and several large men-of-war. He raised a telescope and held it carefully to his good eye. A smart two-decker lay nearest to the jetty, a rear-admiral's flag flapping only occasionally from her mizzen.

He felt a catch in his throat. There was no mistaking the
Benbow.
Pictures flashed through his mind. He had been a rearadmiral, when was it? Three years back in the Baltic when his nephew had been the ship's third lieutenant and Herrick his flagcaptain.

He tried to thrust her fat, black-and-buff hull from his mind as, with something close to physical force, he continued to examine the busy anchorage.

Thank God.
The lens settled on a sturdy brig which was anchored almost end on. No wonder he had not seen her. He waited impatiently for the gentle breeze to swing her again on her cable until the sunlight glinted on her glided counter.

Bolitho read her name,
Lord Egmont,
although he already knew it well. She was one of the oldest in the fleet of Falmouth packets; he had known her since he had been a junior lieutenant.

He had felt certain she would be here; he had seen her name in his Admiralty instructions. But wind and sea, a change of events could have altered things, and even now—

He lowered the glass and the brig fell away into hazy distance again.

The last smoke from the salute still hung over the yards as men were piped to hoist out the two cutters in case the wind was insufficient to turn the ship at her anchorage. A swaying guardboat with a limp anchor flag in her bows waited, pinned down on the glittering water, probably the only interested group to watch their arrival. Warships were too common for comment; only the transports and the mail carriers from England excited real attention nowadays.

Keen cupped his hands. “Be ready to let go, Mr Paget!”

He glanced quickly at Bolitho, his expression suddenly apprehensive, but not for himself.

Bolitho shaded his eyes and stared at the waterfront with its ancient fortifications and busy markets. A sailor's port, a warren of activity. He bit his lip. A place for spies too.

The admiral would be watching; Pullen too.

Keen said, “
Firefly
's already gone, sir.”

“Aye.” Adam at least would be well out of it, no matter how he wanted to help. Is it something about us, the Cornish, he wondered? A senior officer had once told him to his face, “Cornishmen? Pirates and rebels the whole bunch of you!”

It seemed to take an age before
Argonaute
finally took up her anchorage, her sails furled neatly to her yards. Awnings were spread and the ship settled down to await events.

Bolitho watched the boats coming to the chains, the officer-of-the-guard, a chandler from the dockyard, an embarrassed looking ensign from the garrison who had come to collect Millie the maid. She seemed unwilling to leave and, despite the grins of the watching sailors, clung to the ship's corporal as if her life depended on it.

Keen watched from the poop, his thoughts elsewhere as visitors and some of his own officers waited to make their claims upon his time.

He saw Lieutenant Stayt speaking with the boatswain and then a party of seamen loosening the lashings on the barge in readiness for hoisting her outboard.

Bolitho was going ashore. Earlier than he had expected, and it made him uneasy.

The officer-of-the-guard touched his hat and handed Keen an official-looking envelope. He looked ill at ease, like someone performing his duty against his nature, but at the same time afraid of being tainted by too close a contact.

It was a summons from the admiral's headquarters to appear before a court of inquiry two days hence. The flag-officer-in-charge must have sent it as soon as
Argonaute
's sails had been sighted. Stayt waited for the guard-boat to leave the chains and then came aft.

“I have to take Sir Richard's despatches to the flag-officer here, sir.”

Keen nodded. So Stayt was taking the barge. That explained it. He noticed that Bankart, the second coxswain, was in charge of the bargemen. That was unusual, he thought. Allday usually handled her when they were in harbour or under the eyes of the fleet.

He heard Midshipman Hickling request permission to take the jolly-boat to a nearby merchantman, and Paget's approval when he learned that there was a message to be carried across from the admiral.

Keen glanced up at the flag. When it was hauled down again it might mean the end for both of them.

Midshipman Sheaffe hurried up to the poop ladder and said, “The admiral's compliments, sir, and would you see him at eight bells.”

Keen tightened his jaw. If Bolitho had any good news for him he would not wait for another hour.

Almost savagely he called to Paget, “I want all boats lowered. Send a lieutenant in each one to examine the hull.”

It was unlikely that they had overlooked any damage from the brief battle, and Keen knew he was being unfair to give them extra work.

Eventually Keen heard the bell chime from the forecastle. It was time.

He thought suddenly of his home in Hampshire. It would be cold there, probably wet too as the villagers prepared for winter and, if need be, an attempted invasion by the French. What would his brothers and sisters say when they heard the news of his court martial, and he could see no alternative to one. His father would be distressed, especially as he had been against his youngest son entering the Navy in the first place.

He passed the sentry and stepped into the glowing lights of the stern cabin.

Keen was surprised to find Bolitho dressed in his long boatcloak, and for an instant imagined that Stayt had misunderstood his orders.

But Bolitho said calmly, “I am going ashore, Val. I will take your gig, if I may.” He gave a quick smile as if he was on edge. “Less formal, I thought.”

Keen said, “The ship is secured, sir, and both watches have been stood down.”

Bolitho watched him gravely. “Except for certain lieutenants, I gather?” He nodded. “Good. Never trust to luck where hull damage is concerned.”

Allday padded across the cabin and took down the old sword.

Keen watched. So Bolitho was not going to visit the admiral who commanded in Malta? It was getting a bit late for formalities anyway, he decided.

Bolitho settled his sword against his hip and said, “Take charge of the gig, Allday.” He glanced towards the stern windows. The thick glass was twinkling with countless lights from the shore. Like the dawn, the night came swiftly.

There was a quick exchange of glances, but Bolitho faced Allday steadily and said, “We don't have much time.”

Allday looked at Keen but said nothing.

They were alone. Bolitho said, “I shall be aboard the
Lord Egmont
before I step ashore.”

Keen nodded. He had seen the packet preparing to up-anchor, men swarming on her deck to secure some extra cargo, probably her master's own booty.

Bolitho said, “This were better done quickly, Val.” He raised his voice. “Are you ready?”

Keen stared as the midshipman entered from the opposite screen door.

“I did not realize you were—”

He stared as the girl met his gaze and looked at him. She was dressed in a complete midshipman's uniform, and even wore a finely gilded dirk at her side.

Keen stepped towards her, his hands outstretched as she removed her hat, and he saw what Allday had done to her hair. It was short, the ends tied neatly with a black ribbon as befitted a “young gentleman” about to take charge of his admiral's boat.

Bolitho watched them, suddenly glad of what he was doing. With a court of inquiry about to begin and the enemy stirred into the mood for revenge, there was little room for mere people.

He said, “I'll be on deck. No side party, eh?”

As the door closed Keen took her in his arms. He could feel her heart pounding against him despite the padding she wore beneath her shirt to disguise her figure.

“You did not tell me?” Even as he said it he guessed what Bolitho had done, his sudden agitation as they had entered harbour. The
Lord Egmont
would be sailing to Falmouth. She was as familiar there as Pendennis Castle.

“He asked me to remain silent.” She looked up at him, her lashes shining in the soft lights. “I have a letter and some money, in case—”

He hugged her against him still tighter. He had prayed for her safety, even if it meant losing her. But now that the moment had come he could scarcely bear it.

She said softly, “Now I must tell you, my dearest one.
You
must be brave. For both of us.”

A boat clattered alongside and Keen heard Allday's voice taking command.

“When I reach England—”

She put her hands to his face and held it. “I will be waiting.” She watched him steadily. “No matter what happens, I shall be there. For you.” She kissed him slowly and then stood away. “I love thee, my dear captain.”

He watched her replace her hat and tilt it over her eyes. She was very contained, like brittle steel.

“Ready,
sir?
”

He nodded, wanting to hold her again, but knowing it would finish both of them.

“Carry on, if you please,
Mr
Carwithen.”

It was almost dark on deck and Keen saw that the lantern by the entry port had been doused.

The boat was waiting below the stairs, and there were few figures on deck to notice that someone was leaving the ship.

Keen saw that Tuson was there, Paget too, but nobody spoke; even the master's mate-of-the-watch stood back as Bolitho passed, as if he did not exist.

Keen brushed her arm, the small contact tearing him apart.

“It is their way. They will miss you too.”

She looked into the gloom and then touched her hat before she clambered down the side.

Bolitho glanced at Keen. “The
Lord Egmont
's master is an old friend, Val. I made certain he was still in command before I entrusted our passenger to his care.” He flung his cloak over one shoulder. “There is not a moment to delay.”

Keen said, “We were just in time, sir.”

Bolitho looked down into the boat where Allday would be worrying about his descent.

“A time to care, Val. There must always be room for that.”

Then without another glance he lowered himself down to the boat. As the oars slashed at the water Keen could just see Allday in the sternsheets, one hand covering hers on the tiller, but hidden from the oarsmen by Bolitho's shoulders.