Her silent maid, the only female deportee to be allowed in the Levu Islands, had followed them, looking neither right nor left as they had passed amongst the amateur builders.
He had said, “There is a brig coming from England soon.” He had looked at her, the way she held her head, the rich hair shining beneath her large straw hat. If anything she was lovelier than ever. “If you insist on going in her to Sydney, her master cannot refuse. And neither can your husband. You obeyed his wishes. The gesture was made. Nothing can be gained by your staying, and I’ll not let him stand by and watch you endanger your health.”
It was then that she had stopped and had taken his hands, pulling him round to face her.
“You don’t understand at all, do you, Richard?” She had smiled up at him, her eyes shining. “What if I did as you suggest? Take the next available ship to England, pack my belongings and go to your house in Falmouth?” She had shaken her head before he could protest. “I love you dearly, and because of that I want to stay. I need to be here! To be hundreds and hundreds of miles away, wondering, fearing for you and waiting for your ship to anchor would only add to my torment. Here, at least, I can see you. Touch you. Be near to you. I know that if I allow us to be parted again, it will be forever. If you are ordered to New South Wales, to India, to the ends of the globe, then I will go to your Falmouth, and gladly.” She had shaken her head again. “But leave you at James’s hands, never!”
Bolitho thought about it as he watched Raymond’s fingers leafing through his official papers.
She had been right. He had not understood. All he had considered had been her safety, her freedom from Raymond. But love pushed caution aside and made a fool of prudence.
“And now, gentlemen.” Raymond looked up. “This is what I believe to be our next objective. For myself, the expansion and protection of this settlement and its trade routes is important.” He smiled at de Barras’s finely chiselled features. “And you, M’sieu le Comte, will wish to recover your renegade and return to your homeland as originally intended.”
De Barras nodded slightly, his lips pursed, cautious, unwilling to show his hand too soon.
Raymond looked at Hardacre. “I know how you feel about what has happened, but I imagine it has been coming for months. Those who live in the midst of a problem are often the last to be aware it exists.” A gentle smile. “However, we are here, and whether they like it or not a few natives are going to have to put up with us. This is not one of John Company’s concessions now, nor a private enterprise. These islands are claimed by the Crown and are entitled to its protection.”
Bolitho watched de Barras. That last part had made him glance quickly at his lieutenant. Raymond was making his own position very clear, just supposing that the French might also have their eyes on the Levu Islands.
Then he looked at Herrick. Arms folded, blue eyes on the opposite wall. He was feeling out of place, uncomfortable. He was probably thinking of the ship. Repairs done, and all that still awaited his attention.
For a moment he saw Herrick again on that terrible beach. Sword in hand, his face towards a pack of angry, blood-maddened natives. A minute—no, seconds longer, and that chair would now be empty.
Raymond went on smoothly, “With the assistance of the Narval and her excellent crew, I trust that all our objectives can be gained. It is in our interest that the pirate Mathias Tuke and his men be excised and punished without further loss to us.”
Bolitho knew de Barras was looking across at him, to remind him no doubt of their other meeting. They were almost his exact words.
Raymond said, “In return we will do all we can to recapture the Comte’s prisoner.” He looked directly at the French captain. “I am certain that when I send my despatches to London to announce our success they will be equally well received in Paris, eh, M’sieu le Comte?”
De Barras stretched his legs and smiled. “I understand.”
And so do I. Bolitho would not have believed it, had he not been present. De Barras must have entertained Raymond very well, there was even a goodly supply of wine being carried into the settlement by some of his seamen as Bolitho had arrived. And yet, like all tyrants, de Barras was still open for compliments, ready to accept Raymond’s hint of a word in high places which could eventually benefit him in France. If, as Bolitho suspected, de Barras had been given his lonely command to keep him out of his own country until some trouble had been forgotten, then Raymond’s casual offer would mean even more.
The door opened slightly and one of Hardacre’s servant girls peered inside, obviously overwhelmed by the presence of so much authority.
Raymond snapped, “See what she wants.”
The half-caste, Kimura, muttered something and then said, “The chief is here.” He gestured to the window. “He waits in the yard.”
“Let him wait.” Raymond seemed ruffled by the interruption.
Hardacre said, “Tinah is a great chief, Mr Raymond. A good friend. It would be wrong to treat him in this fashion.”
“Oh, very well. You go to him if you must.” Raymond eyed him coldly. “But none of your promises, d’you hear?”
Hardacre strode out, his big sandals flapping on the rush mats. “I hear .”
“Ah well.” Raymond realized the overseer was still present. “You can leave, too.” He smiled. “It is hard for them to appreciate progress.” The smile disappeared. “The youth who came from North Island with the news of the attack has not been found.”
Bolitho said, “He probably thought he would be seen as a traitor, sir. But it does prove that even on North Island there are some who trust Hardacre enough to come to him for aid.”
“Maybe. But the damage is done now. Tuke attacked your ship, but that was the deed of a felon and a murderer. Those friendly natives tried to kill your people and butchered most of Hardacre’s militia. That, in view of what you were trying to do at the time, is unforgivable!”
“They did not understand any difference between Tuke’s men and my own, and why should they?” Bolitho knew it was useless.
“Well, they will now, damn them!” Raymond swung round in his chair as Hardacre came in again. “What is it?”
Hardacre replied, “The chief says that his people are ashamed of what happened to my men.” He looked at Bolitho. “And yours. But the chief of North Island was killed at the first attack. Less stable heads are in charge there now. It has never been the most friendly of islands, and now because their boats are burned they will be in hard times. Our people here are afraid to visit them.”
Raymond sniffed. “I’m not surprised. And what did you promise them? A ship full of fat pigs and new boats?”
De Barras chuckled.
“I promised that you would give them help, sir, leave them unpunished—”
“You did what?”
Hardacre went on stubbornly, “In return they will bring news of Tuke. Do all they can to help in his capture. They have no cause to like him, and every reason to fear your reprisals.”
Raymond dabbed his mouth. “Help in his capture, you say?” He looked at de Barras. “Well now.”
He made up his mind. “Captain Bolitho. Go and speak with this, er, chief. Tell him you were a personal friend of Captain Cook, anything you like. But get him to talk with you.”
Hardacre followed Bolitho out of the room and stood outside the door breathing heavily, the planks creaking beneath his weight.
“He is a great chief! Not an idiot child!” He turned to Bolitho. “I could kill that man with less emotion than crushing a beetle.”
Bolitho went down the wooden stairway and towards the glaring sunlight. In the middle of the compound yard, on a small, ornate stool, the chief was sitting very erect and still, his dark eyes fixed on the empty gibbet. He was younger than Bolitho had expected, with thick, bushy hair and a small beard. His garment was of green cloth embroidered with coloured beads, and around his neck he wore a simple loop of gold wire.
His eyes shifted to Bolitho as Hardacr
e said, “Tinah, this is the English captain. From the ship.” He hesitated before adding, “A good man.”
Tinah’s eyes had not flickered or moved from Bolitho’s face during the introduction, but now he smiled, suddenly and disarmingly.
Bolitho asked, “What you have told Mr Hardacre about the pirates: is it possible you can find them for us?”
“Everything is possible.” His voice was deep, his accent halting, but Bolitho doubted if anyone could have looked more like a chief. “We have peace now. We wish to keep it, Captain. Your men were attacked. But what would your heart say if you saw your women being used and then killed, your home burned before your eyes? Would you stop to say, these men are good, those are bad?” He raised a thick, intricately carved rod and drove it hard into the ground. “No. You say, kill!”
Herrick came out of the building and looked at the seated chief and his small group of retainers who were waiting by the gates of the compound.
He said, “Pardon the interruption, sir, but Mr Hardacre is wanted upstairs.” He smiled. “I almost said, on deck, sir. It seems the gallant French captain wishes to enquire about water and provisions on the surrounding islands.”
Hardacre nodded grimly. “I’ll go. It is vital that his ship enters each anchorage in a peaceful manner. I don’t want these people to see him as an enemy.” He added, “No matter what I think.”
Herrick looked hard at the chief. “There was a man taken prisoner. His name was Finney.”
“I knew Finney.” Tinah glanced at the building. “I did not tell my friend how he died. Just that he did die.”
Herrick asked harshly, “Can you tell me?”
“If your captain wishes.” The chief sighed. “North Island is not like this one. Finney was tied to a stake and covered with clay taken from the stream. His breath was kept for him by a reed through the clay.” His eyes were fixed on Herrick’s. “Then his body was held over a very slow fire.”
Herrick turned away, revolted. “Baked alive, for God’s sake!”
Tinah shrugged. “My father told me of such things. But in North Island . . .”
Herrick nodded. “I know. They are different from your people.”
The chief watched Herrick as he returned to the building. “That must be the strong one. The man who stood alone.” He nodded. “Yes, I have heard of him.”
Hardacre came back and said, “It is done.” He looked at Bolitho. “If that’s all, Captain?”
Bolitho touched his hat. “Yes.”
Hardacre and the chief obviously had things to discuss. A rift to heal before it could destroy both of them.
In Raymond’s room again he found the others taking wine.
The other door opened, and a servant stood aside to allow Viola Raymond to enter.
Raymond introduced her to de Barras, who bowed from the waist and kissed her hand, saying, “My dear lady, I was so grieved that you did not come to my humble quarters with your husband, the Resident.”
She replied, “Thank you, M’sieu le Comte, perhaps another time.”
The French lieutenant bowed stiffly and mumbled something in very broken English.
Viola looked at Herrick and held out her hand. “Why, Lieutenant, it is so nice to see you again.”
Herrick’s tan hid what must have been a blush. “Er, thank you, ma’am. It’s good to see you, too. Indeed it is.”
She crossed to Bolitho and offered her hand. “Captain?”
Bolitho touched her fingers with his lips. “Mrs Raymond.”
Their eyes met, and he felt the gentle pressure of her fingers on his.
As she moved away to speak with the servant, de Barras walked to Bolitho’s side and said softly, “Ah, now I think I know why she did not come to my ship, oui?”
He returned to his lieutenant, laughing quietly to himself.
Herrick whispered, “Did you hear that, sir? Impudent dog!” He turned his back to the others. “But you see how it goes, sir? You must take care!”
Bolitho looked past him, watching her hair lying across her shoulders. Take care. Herrick did not know what it was like to stand meekly by and watch the one you loved so dearly held at arm’s length.
The only bright piece of news had been that brought by the young chief, Tinah. If they could run the pirates to earth, and destroy their power once and for all, there was the very real possibility that Tempest would be ordered home, to England. And then?
Herrick watched his captain sadly. It was hopeless. It was like telling a bull not to charge, a cat not to chase mice.
He saw a table being prepared in the adjoining room and counted the chairs.
Well, we might as well make the best of it while it lasts, he decided.
12 THE WORST ENEMY
THE FRENCH frigate weighed and put to sea two days after the conference in Raymond’s spartan headquarters.
Her departure seemed to restore some of the readily offered hospitality from the islanders, and it was rare not to find some of them on Tempest’s deck or alongside in their swift-moving canoes. Bartering, bringing gifts, or merely watching the hands at work on the dwindling list of repairs, it all helped to ease the tension.
The islanders had no cause to fear or dislike the French sailors, and in fact they had had no opportunity of meeting many of them. Only small parties had gone ashore to gather fuel or supplies, each escorted by heavily armed men.
Bolitho had decided that despite or because of their simple standards and judgements the islanders had sensed the oppression aboard the Narval as he had done, and not understanding it had rejected it.
Life aboard Tempest was hard enough, especially at anchor in a sheltered bay, with the sun seeming to grow hotter each hour to add to the discomfort. But in the dog watches it was rare not to hear the scrape of a shantyman’s fiddle or the slap of bare feet as off-watch seamen took part in one of their ritual hornpipes.
From the Frenchman they had heard nothing. Just the chime of a watch-bell, the occasional order being piped between decks. Cowed, humiliated, the ability to seize even the smallest enjoyment had been crushed out of them.
With Narval gone from the bay, Bolitho soon discovered that Raymond intended to keep his word on the matter of responsibility. When not being employed aboard, Tempest’s specialists, like the carpenter and the cooper, the sailmaker and the boatswain, would be required on the island, using their skills to help with the modest but much needed building programme, both of huts and the blockhouses to defend them.
The surgeon too was more on land than in his sickbay, tending to the wounded and the rarer illnesses amongst the villagers. It was an arrangement which suited Gwyther very well, Bolitho knew, and when he returned to the ship he rarely appeared without some tropical find, a violently coloured plant or some strange-looking fruit.
Captain Prideaux attended to the siting of the new blockhouses, despite the obvious resentment of the two Corps officers.
When they had protested to him he had snapped, “You keep telling me that this or that is not your job. That you should not have been sent here by the Governor of New South Wales anyway, and I am heartily sick of it! In a King’s ship you have to be ready to attempt anything, no matter how you may feel about it.”
One of them had replied hotly, “You insult us, sir!”
Prideaux had looked almost happy. “Then I will give satisfaction, to both of you if need be!”
To his disappointment they had retired with some haste.
As he had walked through the village or down along the glistening beach Bolitho had wondered what Narval was doing. De Barras had promised to make a long patrol around North Island and on to the next group. To see, and be seen. If he was lucky enough to flush out one or more of Tuke’s vessels, he would certainly exploit the victory and press on with his search.
Bolitho had enough to keep him occupied for most hours of every day. In mounting heat, he went about his duties with impassive determination, knowing Raymond was waiting to complain, to criticize, if he lo
wered his guard.
It was common enough for sea officers to do what he was doing. Even the commander of a modest sloop-of-war or brig was expected to show his King’s authority when need be. As Prideaux had hotly remarked, no matter how you may feel about it!
But he felt vulnerable, knowing she was never far from him and yet rarely able to meet her without Raymond being present. Was Raymond trying to pretend that everything was as before as far as she was concerned? Or was he merely enjoying Bolitho’s dismay and want whenever they met?
And although he tried to tell himself he was being too protective, he was worried for her health. She spent some of her time accompanying the surgeon on his rounds, and did not spare herself or share the attitude of the islanders— when it bears heavy on you, stop work.
Lieutenant Keen was employed in charge of the shore parties, and Bolitho had seen him more than once with a native girl of slender beauty who seemed to regard him as one of the gods. In his turn, Keen watched her with an expression of one completely lost. Bolitho had found himself feeling depressed and envious of their blissful understanding.
By the end of the month Herrick took him on a tour of inspection of the ship, and Bolitho shared some of his well-justified satisfaction. Under the hands of his craftsmen, the cunning uses of wood and tar, paint and hemp, Tempest showed little sign of the terrible moment when she had been snared and mauled in Tuke’s well-laid trap.
Later he reported as much to Raymond, who for once had little complaint to make, nor did he offer his usual comparison with the efficient de Barras.
Instead he said, “I am uneasy about the brig from England.”
“It is common enough to be delayed, sir. It is a demanding passage around the Horn.”
Raymond did not seem to bear him. “I feel deaf and blind here. I get no messages from Sydney, and nobody brings me the support I need if I am to make anything of this place.”
Passage to Mutiny Page 21
