Chase nodded. “Possibly, but San Felipe is a fact. In war or peace it commands an important sea route. The government of my country would prefer to see it in friendly hands, better still, under our own protection. That was what Sir Humphrey Rivers suggested. As Vice-Admiral Bolitho’s aide, you will of course know all about it. I can see that you are as sharp as your uncle in such matters, and you will have realized that Rivers, despite all his claims of loyalty to King George, is hell-bent on being his own man. He played a dangerous hand by discussing the island’s future with Spain or, to be precise, with the Spanish captain-general at La Guaira. A secret shared is no longer a secret.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Anyway, it is impossible to share anything with a tiger.”
He watched Adam’s reactions and saw that he had his full attention.
“I can speak freely to you because neither of us has any control over the affair. I was aware of the Spanish interest because I trade with both the captain-general at La Guaira and his neigh-bour in Caracas. They have always thought their own government to be out of touch with their expanding empire in the South Americas. Every week the slave ships bring more labour for the mines and the plantations, and they probably pass the great galleons of Spain on passage home loaded to their deck beams with gold. San Felipe’s position has threatened their freedom of movement in the past. They intend it shall not happen again.”
Adam had a sudden picture of Achates at San Felipe with some of her yards sent down for repair work being carried out by the ship’s company which really needed the proper skills of a dockyard.
He exclaimed, “That two-decker . . .”
Chase smiled gravely. “The one you sunk? Oh yes, Lieutenant, I heard all about that from my own sources. Like the wind, remember? She was the Intrepido, and was refitted at Cadiz and armed to be a match for anyone foolhardy enough to interfere with her intentions. A privateer, a hired adventurer, call him what you will, but her captain was ordered to sweep aside all opposition and take command of the island. Later a proper governor would be installed and the Spanish flag would be raised, to, I suspect, small interference from either the British or the French. Your government would be too embarrassed to waste more time and lives on a lost cause, and the French would raise no objection as it would put Spain under obligation for any future strategy on their part.” He leaned back in his chair and added, “Does that explain?”
Adam nodded, confused and sickened by the apparent simplicity of such cruel logic.
Chase said, “But things are never what they seem. The Dons thought like the Dons. Quick, clever, ruthless, but they had failed to take your uncle’s stubbornness into their scheme of things. Nevertheless, he is the one I pity. He is the one man who stands between the Spaniards and their claim to San Felipe. I believe all this was known when he was sent here in the first place. I mean no disrespect, but the British can be devious in their negotiations. What does honour matter to some when it concerns events on the other side of the world, eh?”
“I cannot believe it, sir. My uncle will stand firm.”
Chase looked concerned. “Of course, I’m sure of that if nothing else. But without the islanders to back him, what can he do? Stand and fight?”
Adam clenched his hands so tightly that the pain made his eyes smart.
“He will!”
Chase looked away, as if unable to watch his despair.
“Then God help him.”
The door swung open and Adam heard the girl ask excitedly, “Where have you hidden him, Uncle? And what is all this stuff about you selling the Vivid, she’s a favourite of yours!”
She turned, saw him by the window and gasped with surprise.
“You really are here!” She ran to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Now everything is wonderful!”
Adam did not dare to touch or hold her, and could see the anguish on Chase’s grim features across her shoulder.
Chase said heavily, “Vivid has always been on the small side for my fleet. Tyrrell has earned her twice over.”
He kept his eyes on Adam’s and said nothing about Bolitho’s money.
He moved towards the door, his face still on the young couple by the window.
There was no easy way, and his tone was almost brutal as he said, “Vivid must weigh before nightfall. Lieutenant Bolitho here will have important news for his uncle, isn’t that so?”
Adam nodded slowly, hating him, yet admiring him at the same time.
For how long they stood together he did not know. He held her to him, murmuring lost words into her hair, while she clasped his shoulders as if still unable to realize what was happening.
Then she leaned back in his arms and stared at him as she asked, “Why? What does anything matter now? We shall have each other! Everything we’ve ever wanted! So why?”
Adam brushed a strand of fair hair from her eyes, all his hopes and happiness spilling away like sand in a glass.
“I have to go back, Robina. Your uncle knows why. He can explain better than I.”
Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “How can it concern you? You are only a lieutenant, why should he discuss such things?”
Adam held her firmly as she tried to force herself away.
“There has been a lot of fighting. Our ship sank an enemy but we were badly damaged too.” He felt her arms go limp as his words struck home. “My uncle discovered what dangers threatened the island, and who was behind them. He sent me here to give his despatches to your uncle, so that this information could be sent to your president.”
She watched his eyes and his mouth as he spoke. “But why should it involve my uncle or any of my family?”
Adam shrugged wretchedly. “Because they were involved. They knew the Spanish intentions long ago, your uncle as good as told me just now. Apparently it would not suit your government to have either the French flag or ours flying above San Felipe. But now that my uncle has brought it into the open, nobody else will dare to interfere.” He could not hide the bitterness even from her. “So my uncle stands alone to act as he must.”
She stepped away, her eyes towards the floor as she said in a small voice, “Then you do not intend to make your life here among us?”
“It is not like that! I love you with all my heart.”
“And yet you deny me this?”
Adam moved towards her but she took two paces away.
“It’s my duty—”
She looked at him again, her eyes hot with tears. “Duty! What do I care about that! We are both young, like this country, so why should you throw your heart away for a meaningless word like duty!”
Adam heard Chase in the passage-way, and other, lighter footsteps, Robina’s mother.
They both appeared in the doorway, Chase’s face stern and determined, the woman’s pale with anxiety.
Chase asked bluntly, “You told her then?”
Adam met his gaze evenly. “Some of it, sir.”
“I see.” He sounded relieved. “Your Mr Tyrrell seems eager to leave. The wind’s backing . . .” His voice trailed away.
“Thank you.” Adam turned and looked at the girl, the others unimportant and misty as he said, “I meant every word. One day I’ll come back and then . . .”
She dropped her eyes. “It will be too late.”
Chase took his arm and accompanied him through the beautifully panelled entrance hall. A black footman opened the outer door and Adam saw the cold blue squares of sea and sky beyond it, mocking him.
Chase said quietly, “I’m sorry, I really am. But it’s all for the best, you’ll see that one day.”
Adam walked down the steps and saw Tyrrell waiting by the gates. He watched the lieutenant’s face every foot of the way and then with his swinging, limping gait fell in step beside him.
“You decided then?”
“It was decided for me.” Adam could barely see where he was walking in his despair and pain.
“I ain’t so sure about that, Lieutenant.” Tyrrell shot him a glance. “I c
an guess how you feel.”
Adam looked at him, his voice angry. “Why the difference? On passage here you barely said a word.”
Tyrrell grinned. “Just wanted to be sure about you. You could’a stayed put right here.”
He quickened his pace as his eyes found the moored brigantine.
“But, like me, Lieutenant, you couldn’t bargain away your loyalty.”
They stood together on the jetty and waited as a boat cast off to collect them.
Once Tyrrell looked at Adam’s face and then across to his new possession. Tyrrell knew all about having a broken heart. He had learned it in a dozen ways. But a ship of your own was something else.
He clapped the lieutenant roughly on the shoulder.
“Come along, young fella, we’ll catch wind and tide for once.”
Adam hesitated and looked back but the house was completely hidden from view.
He repeated what he had told her just moments earlier. “I love you with all my heart.”
He had not realized he had spoken aloud, and Tyrrell was moved to say, “You’ll soon forget. Only dreams last forever.”
Bolitho climbed the last of the stone stairs to the fortress’s battery parapet and discovered that he was not even breathless. It must be the change from shipboard life.
It was early morning, the air cool and damp from a heavy overnight downpour. It was so typical of all the islands hereabouts, he thought. Drenching rain at night and yet within an hour or two of sunrise the place would be bone-dry again.
Lieutenant George Lemoine, who commanded the platoon of the Sixtieth Regiment of Foot, touched his hat and smiled.
“I heard you were up and about early, sir.”
Bolitho leaned on the parapet and stared down at the shining harbour. A lot of the anchorage was still in shadow, but soon the sun would appear around the old volcano and the ships, like the town beyond, would quiver in another morning haze. He could see the black and buff lines of Achates’ gun-decks, and wondered if Keen was still fretting about mounting lists of needs for his command.
They were running short of fresh stores. Even drinking-water had to be man-handled in casks by the seamen. There was still no sign of cooperation from the islanders, who showed their resentment by pleading poverty even when it came to fresh fruit or juices for the sailors.
Bolitho had done all he could to get to know the islanders. As admiral in command, governor and in charge of the island’s defences he had seen the hopelessness of the situation. The planters and traders resented the fact that they could not move their vessels in or out of the harbour, while ships which called at San Felipe to collect cargoes had to be checked before they could be allowed to anchor. It needed a full garrison and several ships to perform what Lemoine’s soldiers and the marines had to carry out unaided.
Bolitho breathed in deeply. He saw his barge tied to the fortress’s jetty where he had first met Rivers over three months ago. Down there too was the point where Rivers’ men had fixed their boom, where Achates had burst through in pitch-darkness. Battles fought, men dead and wounded, probably a trifle to the planners in government and Admiralty.
Now it was late September, and Adam should be back at any moment. He thought of his purchase of Vivid. Reward or bribe? He still could not be sure of his own motives.
He thought too of Falmouth. Autumn. Red and brown leaves, the smell of wood smoke in the evenings. Resolute, cheerful people, now at peace because of ships like Achates.
He had received no more letters from Belinda, but then there had been no news from any direction. The island seemed as if it were totally isolated, even though the lookouts had sighted the topsails of unidentified men-of-war on the horizon on several occasions.
Perhaps it was all over before it had begun? Achates’ unexpected discovery of the hidden two-decker and putting her to the bottom within the hour might have killed all the ardour for an attack.
But uncertainty had made him restless and often unable to sleep. He had taken to riding around the island while it was still cool, or visiting the fortress if only to show the soldiers he had not forgotten them.
He wondered if the news of what had happened had reached the streets of London and the countryside. Would Belinda understand what was really happening? There would be those ready enough to describe his efforts as a reckless adventure to cover up the loss of Duncan’s Sparrowhawk.
A sentry shouted, “Gunfire, sir! To th’ east’rd!”
Lemoine tensed. “By God, he’s right.” He cupped his hands. “Corporal of the guard! Sound the alarm!”
Bolitho watched the red-coated soldiers running from their cave-like quarters below the battery walls.
It was probably nothing, or a show of impudence by some passing Spanish vessel. But they could not take chances.
He looked round and saw Midshipman Evans’ shadowy figure below the watch-tower, already removing a telescope from its case.
It was uncanny how the boy followed him and seemed able to guess what he was going to need next.
But it was still too dark around the point to see anything. Or was it? There it was. A flash reflected on the belly of a low cloud. Then another. Not enough for a sea-fight. More likely a chase.
He said, “Mr Evans, pass word to the guard-boat. Warn the ship. And my compliments to Captain Keen, and tell him we may have company before the day’s out.”
He saw Crocker, Achates’ most senior gunner’s mate, hurrying along the upper battery, some soldiers panting behind him.
Crocker was probably the oldest man in the ship, and with his white hair in a spiky pigtail, and strange, loping gait, he was quite a character. His left eye was almost sightless, he had been part-blinded by a splinter when he had been not much older than Adam. But his right one was as keen as steel, and he could manage, lay and train any gun better than a full crew. He also knew how to heat shot, and Bolitho thought he could already smell the acrid fumes from one of the ovens behind the parapet.
Crocker seemed surprised to see his vice-admiral on the wall. He knuckled his forehead and twisted his head round to get a better view. It made him look even more villainous, and Bolitho was able to appreciate why all the gun captains feared his wrath.
“Good mornin’ fer a shoot, sir!”
Bolitho smiled. “Be ready.”
Lemoine watched the man lope away with his helpers.
“He’s certainly kept my men on the bustle, sir!”
Somewhere in the town a church bell chimed. It sounded strangely sad on the damp air.
Bolitho trained his telescope towards the ship once more.
“What was that, Mr Lemoine?”
The lieutenant hid a yawn. He had been awake until the early hours playing cards unsuccessfully with his second in command.
“A lot of the islanders are Catholics, sir. The bell is for early mass.” When Bolitho remained silent he added helpfully, “An important celebration for them, sir. St Damiano’s Day.”
Lemoine had not wasted his time in the regiment, Bolitho thought. Some would never bother their heads with matters outside their own ordered world.
There was another thud of gunfire. They must be trying to prevent a ship from entering harbour. He thought of Adam. No, not him. Tyrrell was too old a hand to be caught at this early hour.
He moved his glass again and saw the opposite headland shaking itself from the shadows. He could see the leap of surf around the reefs, and the further necklace of rocks by the point named Cape Despair, probably with some justification.
Feet clattered on the stairs and a runner barked out his report to Lemoine who in turn said, “Message from your flagship, sir. All boats lowered and patrols alerted.”
Bolitho could see them in his mind. Small pickets of marines, backed up by volunteers from the local militia. A puny enough force, but properly used it would prevent any attempt at landing men through the reefs. There was only one safe way, and that was the one which Keen had used. And old Crocker with his heated shot would do
his best if the enemy tried to force the entrance.
Sunlight ran down the slopes and laid bare the water at the harbour mouth. Bolitho trained his glass again and saw the guard-boat moving slowly below the land, a midshipman in the sternsheets, probably enjoying his own freedom of command.
Lemoine said, “There she is, sir!”
The ship appeared around the headland, sails emptying and then refilling instantly as she changed tack. She was a large vessel, and Lemoine said, “Indiaman, sir, I know her, she’s the Royal James and was in Antigua several months back.”
Men were leaning through the gun embrasures, and others ran along the jetty below to see what was happening.
Bolitho made up his mind. “I’m returning to the flagship, Mr Lemoine. You know what to do here.” He was halfway down the stairs before the lieutenant had time to reply.
The bargemen came to life, and Allday jumped to his feet as Bolitho appeared half-running through the gate.
“To the ship, Allday.”
He ignored their startled glances and tried to discover what was troubling him. The Indiaman should be able to reach safety unless her pursuers gained a lucky hit and brought down a vital spar or two. But with this powerful southeast wind the other ships would soon have to stand away from a lee shore or face the havoc of the guns. In broad daylight Crocker could not miss.
The oars rose and fell, and with each powerful stroke the barge seemed to fly across the water as if eager to lift over it.
Bolitho seized Allday’s arm. “Alter course! Steer for the headland!” When Allday hesitated he shook it and shouted, “I must be blind! Lemoine told me without knowing it. This is a very holy day!”
Allday swung the tiller so that the barge heeled over, but not a man aboard missed his stroke.
“Aye, if you says so, sir.”
He thinks I’m mad. Bolitho said urgently, “And yet on this St Damiano’s Day there was not a single movement from the mission!”
Allday stared at him blankly.
Bolitho looked around for the guard-boat but it was too close inshore, near the entrance, and every eye would be watching and waiting for the Royal James to burst into view round the point.
Success to the Brave Page 19
