Success to the Brave (12 page)

He said, “Hold the stroke. Keep pulling.”

His calm tone steadied the bargemen who, with their backs towards the boom, must be expecting the next shot to hit them.

Bolitho squared his shoulders. His cocked hat and bright epaulettes would make a fine marker for any sharpshooter, he thought.

But there were no more shots, and as the barge thrust past the end of the boom he saw groups of men peering at them. All were armed, and one shook his musket threateningly at the grim-faced sailors.

There was no turning back now. No escape.

Bolitho watched a cluster of figures on a jetty below the fortress. It suddenly seemed a long, long way from Sir Hayward Sheaffe's quiet office in the Admiralty where this precise moment had been predicted.

Bolitho was not sure what he had been expecting in San Felipe's governor, but Sir Humphrey Rivers was not it. He was tall, heavily built to a point of grossness, his face very red from both climate and drink, Bolitho thought. But he greeted Bolitho with a jovial, expansive grin and ushered him straight into the cool shadows of the fortress.

As he led the way through a studded door and into a corridor which had been transformed by rugs and several paintings, Rivers said over his shoulder, “Later I hope you will visit my house. But I guessed you would be eager to settle matters, eh?”

Bolitho saw another door open, a bewigged negro footman giving a bow as they passed him.

Rivers mopped his face with a silk handkerchief and eyed Lieutenant Trevenen and the small midshipman with amusement.

“By God, Bolitho, do you have a company of boys to do the Admiralty's bidding?”

He snapped his fingers and another footman stepped noiselessly forward with a tray of goblets.

Rivers gave a dry smile. “Maybe your young companions would care to withdraw?”

“I agree.” There was no point in involving the others.

Then Bolitho said, “You know why I am here, Sir Humphrey?”

Rivers settled his bulk on a chair and examined his goblet critically.

“Of course. Everyone does. Equally, you know what I think about it?” He chuckled and drank deeply. “I apologize for the inconvenience of the boom but it
is
necessary.” He seemed to remember that Masters had not returned with Bolitho and asked abruptly, “Where's my captain of militia?”

“On board
Achates,
Sir Humphrey.”

“I see.” He lowered the goblet to be refilled. “The signs are that the wind is getting up. You will know from your own experience in these waters that it can be savage even at this time of year. It would not do to let your, er, flagship remain so close inshore under such circumstances.”

Bolitho sipped the wine. It was strange he could feel so calm. Rivers had thought of everything. Where a ship would have to stand off if the harbour remained closed.

Rivers was watching him intently. “Let's face facts. Your ship cannot stay there indefinitely. Soon you will have to weigh. You can ration water until the people are ripe for mutiny, you can even wait for assistance which may never arrive.
Or
you can draw up a fresh agreement here and now. I will remain as governor with total responsibility for the island's betterment and defence.”

And profit, Bolitho thought.

Rivers stood up with some difficulty and walked to a window.

“This place is impregnable. You must know that. The Americans will help me if need be. I'll not have the Frogs hoisting their colours here. I told your impertinent frigate captain as much.”

“The
Sparrowhawk
was sunk soon after she left here.”

He watched Rivers' florid face and knew it was a complete surprise to him.

“
Sunk?
What are you saying?”

“She was attacked by a larger man-of-war, blown to hell without a challenge or chance to defend herself. So you see, Sir Humphrey, there are those other than the French who are interested in the island's future.”

Rivers tossed back the wine and turned away to hide his confusion.

“I don't believe it. Probably a pirate, the waters are full of them. With the King's Navy cut to the bone, it's hardly surprising.

“I want to show you something.” Rivers almost threw down the empty goblet and strode panting to another door at the far end of the chamber. A footman darted ahead of him like a pilot-fish to open it.

Beyond the door the rugs and comfortable chairs were gone. A long embrasured stone wall and a line of heavy artillery looked across the water. Rivers' authority.

Rivers strode to the end cannon and laid one hand on its rounded cascabel with something like affection.

“Here, take a look, Bolitho.”

He stood aside and Bolitho could feel his sense of power. He was filled suddenly with loathing for this man who cared nothing for Duncan or anyone else.

He stooped and peered along the black barrel and saw that the gun was laid on a line of mooring buoys. Tied to one of them was his barge. He could even see Allday standing to shade his eyes and peer at the fortress.

Rivers added smoothly, “
Sparrowhawk
was there. I could have sunk her just as easily as I can that boat of yours.”

Bolitho stood up and eyed him calmly. “You were a flag-officer yourself, Sir Humphrey. You know the Navy would never rest—”

Rivers snorted. “There would be no choice. To suffer great losses to aid the French? Even Parliament would not be that stupid!”

Bolitho glanced across the anchorage again. The water was ruffled like beaten pewter. The wind was rising steadily and he could see the flags whipping out from the moored craft. But they were in shelter.
Achates
was not.

He said, “I shall return to my ship.” He did not hide his contempt. “Unless you wish to detain me also?”

“No agreement, Bolitho?”

“Do not try to deceive me, Sir Humphrey. You knew I would not condone treason.”

Rivers smiled. “Not like some in your family, eh?”

Bolitho took his hat from a footman. He did it slowly to give himself time to control his anger. It was just as well Adam was elsewhere. Such a crude slur on his father would have brought out his sword, and Rivers' guards would have ended it here and now.

He said, “That was cheap, but not totally unexpected.”

Rivers sat down and mopped his face again. He could not hide his excitement, the pleasure which his victory was giving him.

Bolitho walked to the door and saw Midshipman Evans standing alone beside an open window.

Rivers said, “I have taken the liberty of detaining the young lieutenant until my boat and men are returned.”

Bolitho nodded gravely. “As you wish.”

Rivers seemed disappointed. “There is still time for you to reconsider.”

Bolitho gestured to Evans and replied, “You said yourself, Sir Humphrey, that these waters abound with pirates. I think I have just been speaking to one of them.”

He turned abruptly on his heel and strode through the door, half expecting a shot or a sudden challenge.

Evans almost had to run to keep up with him.

Bolitho snapped, “Signal the barge.”

He felt the hot wind on his cheek, saw the air of menace in the sky. It would have to be smartly done, he thought. There was no choice. Not for him anyway.

Allday watched gratefully as Bolitho and the midshipman climbed into the boat and murmured. “That's that then, sir.”

Bolitho watched the oar blades dig into the water and said, “An
easy
stroke, if you please.” His mind was reeling with the urgency of what must be done, but under no circumstances must Rivers suspect his intentions.

Once in the great cabin Bolitho tossed his gold-laced coat to Ozzard and watched Keen, Quantock and the two Royal Marine officers as they were ushered in by Yovell.

“I intend to attack, Captain Keen.” Bolitho was surprised that the glass of wine which Ozzard had just given him did not splinter in his grasp.

Keen said, “Mr Knocker has doubts about our safety here, sir. The wind—”

“Is it steady?”

Quantock said in his hard voice, “Rising by the hour, sir.”

“That is not what I asked. Is it steady?”

Keen looked anxious. “Aye, sir.”

“Very well. So make ready for sea.” He saw Keen's sudden relief vanish as he added, “Then Rivers' lookouts will imagine we are leaving.”

“With respect, sir, no sane man would believe otherwise. We will surely drag our anchor if we remain.”

Bolitho smiled at him. “Remember Copenhagen, Val?”

Keen nodded, his face pale. “I do, sir. So you intend to attack in the dark?” He sounded incredulous.

“I do. I know how the battery is laid on the entrance and the main anchorage. Rivers was good enough to show me, although I think he had different reasons.”

What was happening to him? It could and would probably end in complete disaster.
Remember Copenhagen?
he had asked Keen. This was nothing like it. There they had had a whole fleet, and they had had Nelson.

There was a world of difference here. If he lost the ship there was nothing, a costly failure which if he survived would end in a court martial, and would break Belinda's heart.

Yet, in spite of the terrible risks he was actually elated, a madness coursing through him like ice-water.

Keen cleared his throat and glanced at the other officers.

“Right then, sir.”

Bolitho looked away. Keen had accepted. Right or wrong he would follow his orders to hell.

Bolitho made himself smile but his lips felt stiff and unreal.

“At dusk we shall send Masters and his yawl into harbour to exchange with Mr Trevenen.”

Keen shook his head. “I had forgotten all about
him!
”

Bolitho looked at the two marines. “And that will be when you come into things.”

It was a matter of perfect timing, and Lady Luck, as Herrick had always proclaimed. Keen thought it was an act of madness, or vanity to cover his defeat by Sir Humphrey Rivers.

That was their only chance. That Rivers would imagine himself to be safe with such odds.

He was probably on the fortress wall at this very moment. Picturing the argument and despair he had flung in their midst.

He briefly outlined his plan of action and saw their varying expressions, their doubts and their uncertainty. But there was the same excitement too. Even Quantock, who said very little, seemed fascinated.

Bolitho said quietly, “It is hard to fight a war, gentlemen, as you all know. But it seems a great deal easier to start one.”

They filed out to speak with their subordinates and Bolitho sat at his table, a pen poised above some paper.

There might be no time later on, and he wanted her to know his thoughts, just as she had tried to send him her best wishes.

Feet thudded overhead and tackles creaked as his barge was hoisted on to the tier.

Suppose he was mistaken? That Rivers was right about the island being impregnable.

He tried to force the new uncertainty from his mind and wrote,
My dearest Belinda . . .

Then he deliberately folded the paper and put it in a drawer. If he was killed she would soon know. There was little point in reopening the wound with a letter which might reach her months later.

Allday entered the cabin and stood watching him, his body angled to the screen door as the ship swayed restlessly in the wind.

Allday said bluntly, “Attack, sir.”

Bolitho nodded. “Yes. Did you do as I asked?”

Allday had to grin despite the gravity of the moment.

“Aye, sir, we trailed a boat'd lead an' line all the way to those mooring buoys. It only touched bottom once, and there's room aplenty for
Old Katie,
once she's snug inside.” He shook his head with admiration. “With all those other things to bother you, I don't know how you thought of it, and that's no error!”

Bolitho said, “Pour us each a glass of brandy, Allday.”

He watched the man's powerful fist as he filled two goblets and waited for the deck to settle.

Allday added as an afterthought, “Mebbee that's how you becomes an admiral, knowing them things, sir?”

The officer-of-the-watch paused in his prowling on the poop deck as their laughter came through the skylight.

It would be his first action as a lieutenant. He had felt the iron fingers of fear dig into his stomach as Quantock had explained what must be done.

But hearing their vice-admiral laugh like that with his cox-swain gave him new strength and he continued with his pacing.