Passage to Mutiny

by Alexander Kent

  But now, with a bad situation brewing once again between Britain and His Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, the island group represented more than a mere extension of trade and local influence. With Sydney and the rest of the great colony growing and spreading by the month, the newly opened trade and supply routes and the flanks of the colony itself had to be protected. The Levu Islands would easily act as a base for men-of-war to patrol the routes from the South Americas and Cape Horn.

  He could not picture Raymond there at all in any capacity. He looked too spoiled by comfortable living. There was a hardness to him also, but it seemed to come from the heart and not the body.

  Raymond had said, “Yes. I must have an escort.” He had looked at Sayer. “You command the squadron here.” It had sounded like an accusation, one which Sayer was used to, but resented. “Surely you can manage that?”

  “I have a few schooners, some armed cutters and the brig Quail.” He had gestured towards the window. “Now, I have Tempest, thank God, and a captain with the experience and dash to make good use of her.”

  Sayer had seen the quick exchange of glances. They had been discussing Bolitho. Strange there should be an atmosphere of unease. Fear perhaps that Bolitho’s commodore might say something not meant for his ears.

  Then the governor had said, “You will send Tempest. I am drafting orders for her now. I have also instructed that Eurotas be restored with whatever supplies we have available. The guns and the money are another matter,” he had added bitterly.

  Raymond had excused himself and had gone to another part of the residence where he and his wife were being quartered. Sayer would have expected Raymond to show some sign of gratitude for being alive, compassion for those less fortunate. It was as if the whole incident had been shut from his mind.

  But once alone with the governor, Sayer had received his second surprise.

  “I can assure you, Sayer, that but for Bolitho’s recovery of the ship, his obvious bravery and his successful rescue of many of the people, I would order you to arrange his, his court martial.”

  Sayer had been astounded. “I must protest, sir! I know his record, he is a fine officer in every sense, as was his father.”

  “And his brother?” The governor had watched him coldly. “Mr Raymond tells me that Bolitho’s brother was a traitor during the war. A bloody renegade!” He had held up one hand. “That was unfair of me, Sayer, but I am feeling unfair. I am overworked, beset with strife in the colony and the incompetence of my administrators. Now this. James Raymond, an important man from London, who has the Prime Minister’s ear, the King’s too in all probability, is accusing Bolitho of having a liaison with his wife.”

  So that was it. Something like a bell had tinkled in Sayer’s mind. Four or five years back. Bolitho had commanded the frigate Undine and had given support to another newly founded possession. In Borneo. That was it. The governor appointed to that godforsaken place had been a retired admiral. There had been talk of an attachment between the wife of a government official and the young frigate captain.

  The governor had said crisply, “I see from your face, Sayer, that you have already heard something of it.”

  “No, sir. A long time ago. Just rumours.”

  “Maybe. But some damned fate has drawn them all together out here. But it is not the same as before. Bolitho is still a frigate captain, but Raymond has grown in influence if not in charity. Try to see it from my point of view. I cannot afford more trouble. I will send word to London with my despatches and ask that Tempest be replaced. I am not such a tyrant that I would suggest the removal of her captain.”

  The governor had more or less admitted that he had not liked Raymond. It was just as well, Sayer had decided.

  Now, as he stood in his own cabin again, Sayer was uncertain how to face Bolitho when he came aboard. He was a fine officer, better still, he was a good man. But Sayer had his own responsibility. It was the chain of command again.

  His captain peered into the cabin. “Tempest’s gig approaching, sir.”

  “Very well. Receive Captain Bolitho and show him aft.”

  He turned towards the windows again. Mrs Raymond was a very beautiful woman, or so he had heard. He supposed she had taken passage here merely to keep her husband company. She would hardly fit into the Sydney society, he thought. Officials, officers of the Corps, their wives and their women. Sayer had seen more social gatherings in Cornwall than he had out here. Not quite the thing for a lady of breeding.

  He heard the stamp of feet, the trill of the boatswains’ calls as the side party paid its respects to a visiting captain. He turned and faced the door, bracing himself without knowing why.

  When Bolitho entered he looked as he had that morning. In his dress coat, with his gold-laced hat tucked under one arm, he was, Sayer thought, enough to win any lady’s heart. He was very tanned, and his black hair with the rebellious lock above one eye gleamed in the filtered sunlight like a raven’s wing. He looked at ease, and with none of the strain Sayer had seen when he had first sailed into Sydney harbour.

  “Sit down, Richard.” Sayer looked at him awkwardly. “I’ve just come from the governor. Been with him for hours. I’m about dead with weariness.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. But I hope the visit was worthwhile.”

  “Worthwhile?” The commodore looked at him grimly. “I thought he was going to have a fit!” He wrenched open a hanging wine cooler and took out a bottle and some glasses. “God damn it, Richard, is it true about you and Raymond’s lady?” He swung round, wine slopping unnoticed over his shoes. “Because if it is, you are pleading for trouble!”

  Bolitho took the proffered glass, giving himself time. It was to be expected. After what had happened, it had to be, so why was it a surprise?

  He replied, “I do not know what you were told, sir.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Richard, don’t play with words! We’re both sailors. We know how these things happen. God, with your attack and rescue, I’d think every woman in Sydney would give herself to you tonight!”

  Bolitho put down his glass. “Viola Raymond is not a whore, sir. I met her five years back. Then, I thought it was over when in fact it had only begun. She is married to the wrong man. He is vain, arrogant and dangerous.” He could almost listen to the level tone of his voice. Again, like a bystander. “I have no regrets other than the regret for the lost years. When she returns to England, she will leave her London residence and await my return.” He looked up, his voice quiet. “I am deeply in love with her.”

  Sayer eyed him gravely. He was shocked by the disclosure, but touched by Bolitho’s sincerity and his willingness to share his hopes with him.

  He said, “The governor is sending his despatches to England tonight in the Quail. In them will be a request for Tempest’s transfer to home waters. What you have wanted, if for other reasons. But it will take months before those despatches are delivered and replied to. By then anything may have happened.”

  “I know, sir. And thank you for telling me.”

  Sayer had shown his concern by disclosing the governor’s plans. Bolitho could now, if he so wished, put his own report and letters aboard the same brig. If he lacked influence, he had plenty of friends. He was moved that Sayer had laid himself open for his sake.

  Sayer said heavily, “I know little of James Raymond, but what I have seen I regard as unfriendly.”

  “We are both firmly set on our course, sir.”

  Bolitho could see her eyes in his mind, feel her skin, the touch of her long autumn hair.

  “She will wait for my return to England.”

  “She is not going to England, Richard.” Sayer felt sickened by his own words. “She is to go with Raymond to his new appointment in the Levu Group.” He stood up quietly. “Believe me, she has no choice. The governor is bound to offer his assistance and support to Raymond, and no amount of pleading or finance on your part can put her aboard the Quail for England.”

  Bolitho stared at him. “Then s
he will remain in Sydney until . . .”

  “Would you have that?” Sayer looked away. “How they would delight in sneering at her. Scandal is news here, rumour the pathway to jealous and petty minds.”

  Bolitho could not believe it, and yet he knew it was exactly what Raymond would do. If he could not break them apart, he would ensure that she was trapped.

  He said, “But the Great South Sea, sir. How long can a woman survive in the islands? It is bad enough here, but the conditions are like a palace compared with the primitive islands. She has been through all this before. No man, no real man would ask it of anyone, let alone her.”

  “I know.” Sayer looked at him sadly. “But Raymond is under stress to make this work successful. There will be some convict labour too, a showing of occupation, which should inspire confidence until proper arrangements have been made.”

  Bolitho leaned back in the chair, his eyes seeing nothing.

  That third night aboard Eurotas he had gone to her in the great cabin. She had shared it only with the girl she had taken under her protection. The wretched girl barely spoke, and was still shocked and terrified whenever a man went near her. For Viola she would do anything.

  Raymond had been given a separate cabin, just as before when they had sailed in Bolitho’s ship. But this time there had been a difference.

  Desperation, desire and an overwhelming relief at finding each other again had broken down all barriers of caution.

  He could hear her voice as if she were here, and not Sayer.

  “We are in a ghost-ship, darling Richard. We are alone. I want you so badly that I am ashamed. Need you so much that you may be ashamed of me.”

  He came out of his despair as Sayer said, “You will be under orders to escort Eurotas to the Levu Group.” He watched the pain in Bolitho’s eyes, imagined how he would feel under similar circumstances. Forced to watch the woman he loved and be unable to reach her. “The governor has no other forces at his disposal, and Tuke may be intent on another attack.”

  Bolitho said quietly, “I will kill him.”

  Sayer looked away. Who did he mean? Tuke or Raymond?

  When he spoke again Bolitho sounded calm. Too calm.

  “How long do we have, sir?”

  “A few days. With the seasonal storms becoming more frequent, and the delay caused by all this, things have become more urgent.” He tried to sound matter of fact. “One thing, Richard. You are not to see her in Sydney.” He saw him start. “And as a favour to me, I’d like you to remain aboard until you weigh, except on matters pertaining to duty and the ship’s affairs.”

  Bolitho stood up. “I understand.”

  “Good. I have too much respect for you to give you a lecture. But time passes, old pains are forgotten. You are going to need all your wits. Tuke is a vicious pirate and no hero, as some legends would have him. I believe he is here to sell his special services to someone, which is why he is arming and storing his vessels at our cost. Maybe he seeks respectability under a letter of marque, to become a mercenary instead of a hunted pirate. It is common enough.” He lowered his voice. “And you will have Raymond watching and waiting for you to make a mistake.”

  Bolitho said, “The French and the Dons have long been interested in these waters, but without much success.”

  He felt nothing. Could find no excitement at the prospect of a new mission, a chance of running Tuke to earth.

  Sayer nodded. “In the last despatches they speak of starvation and riots in France, even in Paris. So the King will be too busy to cast his eyes towards us. But Spain?” He shrugged. “No matter what flag the devil flies, I want him taken and hanged before his fire spreads. One good thing though, the Bounty has vanished. Foundered, I shouldn’t wonder. One less worry.”

  “Sir?” Bolitho looked at him blankly.

  Sayer crossed the cabin and gripped his arm. “No matter, you were leagues away. But take heart. Think of Cornwall. Do your work. The rest will unfoul itself.”

  Bolitho replied, “Aye, sir.”

  He had in fact been thinking of Cornwall. The big grey house in Falmouth. A few moments ago it had begun to come alive again in his thoughts. She would like it there, and they would all love her as they had his mother, and the other captains’ ladies who had walked on the sea wall and watched for their husbands’ ships, some in vain.

  And now, because he had lowered his guard, he had betrayed the one person he really loved. Because of the resulting hatred and envy, Raymond was risking everything, and would do so even if it cost Viola’s life.

  “I’d like to return to my ship, sir.”

  Sayer watched him. “Yes. I’ll send word if I hear anything. They’re gathering some hands for the Eurotas, and you will have to supply an officer to take charge of her.” He added firmly, “An officer, Richard. You must remain in your own ship. Once established in the Levu Islands, Eurotas will act as accommodation vessel. She can be safely left with someone junior until I can send more replacements. But you will act as you see fit when you have made the place secure.”

  Bolitho held out his hand. “Thank you, sir. For doing what you must hate doing. I know plenty who would have made it short and sharp.”

  Sayer smiled. “True. But mark what I said. I cannot save you if you cross Raymond. He is the sort of man who looks for scapegoats well in advance of anything he attempts. I do not wish to fit that role. Nor do I wish to see you as one.”

  Bolitho went on deck and paid his respects to the quarter-deck and to Hebrus’s captain.

  A gun boomed dully in the distance, and the other captain said, “There go your two captured pirates. They don’t waste time on trials out here for such carrion.”

  With the execution gun still echoing over the harbour Bolitho climbed down to the gig where Allday stood to receive him, his face expectant.

  “To the jetty, Captain?”

  Bolitho looked past him towards the slow-moving crowd of people who had gone to see two men kicking out their lives on a gibbet.

  She was there somewhere.

  “No, Allday. To the ship.”

  Allday barked, “Shove off! Out oars!” Something had gone badly wrong. “Give way all!”

  He shaded his eyes to look across at the anchored transport, recalling the screams and frenzy of hand to hand fighting and killing.

  What did these poxy dolts know of such things? He looked down at Bolitho’s shoulders, the way he was gripping the hilt of that old, tarnished sword.

  Once, Allday had been thankful to see Viola Raymond parted from Bolitho. He had known what might happen, as it was happening now. But as in a fight, once committed, Allday believed in seeing it through. He would think about it. Slip in a good word or two when he got the chance.

  Bolitho watched the rise and fall of the oars, the carefully blank faces of the pigtailed seamen. They all knew. Some would be glad, others sympathetic. All would be interested in what was to happen next.

  He heard the creak of the tiller as Allday steered the boat past the stern of a Dutch trading schooner.

  Him most of all, he thought. He could almost feel Allday’s mind working. All of his loyalty, courage and cheek could not help him this time.

  He saw the side party mustered at Tempest’s entry port. The blue and white of the officers, the scarlet of Prideaux’s marines. Stand by to receive the captain.

  He straightened his shoulders and looked up at the ship. He was sailing as escort. It was not much of a bridge, but it was better than nothing. There was hope, and his determination, like Allday’s, was stronger than ever.

  7 THE NARVAL

  LIEUTENANT Thomas Herrick sipped at a mug of scalding, bitter coffee and watched Bolitho making notes beside his chart.

  A week out of port, and Herrick for one was glad to be at sea, doing something he understood. Six days they had lain at anchor, and it had been painful to watch Bolitho’s efforts to hide his anxiety, to contain his dismay as he looked at the anchored Eurotas and the town beyond.

 
; Even now Herrick was not sure what Bolitho was really thinking. To anyone who did not know him as he did he seemed his usual alert, interested self. He was studying the chart with care, comparing his notes with those of Lakey, the sailing master.

  Herrick did not know much about the Levu Islands, except that they were some two hundred miles to the north of where they had recaptured the Eurotas. Now they were plodding along, held back by the slower merchantman, while Tempest stayed watchfully to windward of her.

  Bolitho looked up, his eyes bright. “D’you remember old Mudge, Thomas?”

  “Aye.” Herrick smiled. Mudge had been the sailing master in Undine. “Must have been the oldest man in the King’s service. The oldest afloat maybe. He admitted to sixty, and kept to that. A great lump of a man, but a fine master. Pity he didn’t meet Mr Lakey. Maybe they’ll have a yarn in heaven one day.”

  Bolitho looked wistful. “He knew a lot about these waters. How he rebuked me when I ordered every sail to be set. But how he grumbled when we crawled like this.”

  Herrick looked up as Keen’s feet moved across the deck. Borlase was in charge of the Eurotas. It was a pity in some ways, he thought. Borlase might say too much to Raymond. He was like that. On the other hand, he was glad to be here with Bolitho. If he had gone across to the merchantman instead he might have spoken too forcefully to that scum Raymond.

  He asked, “What d’you expect to find in the Levu Islands, sir?”

  Bolitho walked to the stern windows and stared at the sloping horizon. There was mist about, and the glittering sea looked as if it was boiling from some great marine cauldron.