Success to the Brave

15 Last Farewell

The weeks and then months which followed the attack on the harbour seemed to Bolitho like a slow record of Allday's fight against death. Any progress was often marked by an immediate set-back, and Bolitho guessed that he was fretting about his inability to move, his 'uselessness', as he put it.

A few vessels visited the island, and slowly but surely things returned to normal. There were no more attacks, and traders reported that they had not sighted any Spanish men-of-war or suffered further interference.

In October that year two hurricanes struck San Felipe with a ferocity which made a military attack puny by comparison. Great tidal waves had threatened Achates and destroyed smaller vessels, and torn the roofs off many of the houses. Plantations were laid to waste, and several people had been killed or badly injured, their livelihoods destroyed.

But it was the turning point between the islanders and the Achates' company. Without the disciplined efforts of the seamen and marines it seemed unlikely that anything of value would have been saved. The ship, once a symbol of law and oppression, had taken on a new guise, that of protector, so that for the officers and men alike the daily routine was less demanding.

Three months to the day after being cut down by a Spanish sword Allday walked across the Achates' quarterdeck for the first time. Ozzard went with him, but Allday, true to his fashion, would not lean on him for support.

Bolitho made a point of being on the poop and watched while Allday moved into the sunlight, his feet unsure and dragging, as if he had never walked a ship's deck before. Bolitho noticed too that several of Allday's friends were much in evidence, as they had been throughout his struggle to survive. But they understood and were careful to keep their distance, outwardly engrossed in their various trades.

Bolitho heard Adam's light step beside him and said, 'I never thought I would see this day, Adam.' He shook his head. 'Never.'

Adam smiled. 'He's doing well.'

Bolitho saw Allday reach the quarterdeck rail and grasp it with both hands as he took several breaths and looked down at the gun-deck.

Scott, the third lieutenant, who was in charge of the watch, took elaborate care not to see him, even walked to the compass and peered at it as though the ship was at sea and not alongside.

Bolitho turned and looked at his nephew. All these weeks and they had barely discussed Boston and what had happened there, although Tyrrell had told him the bones of the matter.

He said quietly, 'What we have done here is important, Adam. I put my views to the Admiralty, my beliefs as to what should happen hereafter we have gone.' He shrugged. 'I have to believe they will act upon them. Too many have suffered and died to throw it all away. I used to hear my father say we in England are so often like that. We do not take proper care of what we have won with blood and sweat.' He gestured towards the anchorage. 'Just a pair of frigates here and the Dons would never have attempted to seize the place. Likewise the French would have looked elsewhere to make a bargain.'

'Suppose their lordships still insist on handing over the island, Uncle?'

'The Spanish attack should have shown them the importance of San Felipe. If not, then I have failed here.' He touched his arm impetuously. 'But it was wrong to use you the way I did. I knew that Chase would trust you, would tell you what I needed to know. But as a result you lost a chance to win his niece. I cannot forgive myself for that.'

Adam moved his shoulder and felt the burn beneath his shirt. He gave a rueful smile. 'We were nearly too late anyway, Uncle.'

They both looked at the charred fragments in the shallows. Sea-birds were perched in rows on the blackened ribs of the fire-ship, and weeds grew where Tyrrell had driven his brigantine to her destruction to save them all.

Adam hesitated. 'At least I saw my father's house.'

Bolitho glanced at him and was glad that the jealousy had gone.

Adam sounded far away. 'I told her I would return some day.'

'Perhaps we shall go together. When that happens you can take me to see Hugh's old house.'

They looked at each other, sensing the bond between them. It was as if Hugh was very much here with them. Like this island, Bolitho thought, without threat or hostility.

He tensed as Allday swayed after releasing his grip on the rail.

Then Allday looked up to the poop and grinned. He had known they were there all the while, Bolitho thought.

He said,'Without Allday . . . ' He did not need to go on.

The midshipman of the watch clattered up the poop ladder and touched his hat.

Bolitho looked at him. 'Well, Mr Ferrier, are you going to tell me about the sail?'

The midshipman flushed, his carefully worded speech scattered.

'I, er, the captain sends his respects, sir, and a courier-brig has been sighted to the east'rd.'

Bolitho nodded. 'Thank you. It is a while since I "enjoyed" the midshipman's berth, Mr Ferrier, but I have not yet forgotten how to read a signal.'

Adam exclaimed. 'You knew? And yet you carried on talking to me as if the brig and her news are of no importance!'

Bolicho watched the midshipman pausing to speak with two of his friends. The story would be enlarged somewhat by tonight, he thought.

Ferrier was the senior midshipman, and the brig's arrival would affect him too. Homeward bound and a lieutenant's examination, the young could always find room for optimism.

He said simply, 'It was important that we should talk. As to the rest, I shall have to fall back on Thomas Herrick's Lady Luck.'

Bolitho moved to the rail and looked along the upper decks. Men were on the gangways or working high overhead on the yards. But their eyes were towards the harbour entrance, and Bolitho could guess what many of them were thinking. They had been glad to leave England and the humiliation of being thrown on the beach like so much unwanted top-hamper. Now, after what they had seen and done together, they would be eager to return to their homes.

Bolitho thought of Falmouth, what they would say when they met again, whenever that might be? Of his very own daughter. What name had she chosen for her?

He said, 'I'm going below. My compliments to the officer of the watch and please tell him to keep the people working. I don't want any long faces if the news is bad.'

Adam stood back and touched his hat. It was difficult to know which tack his uncle would take next.

Bolitho hurried into his cabin and saw to his astonishment that Allday was hard at work putting a shine on the old sword.

'You should be resting, man! Will you never do as you are told, dammit?'

But for once his mock anger failed to have the right effect.

Allday ran the cloth once more along the blade and then looked at him squarely.

'The surgeon says I'll not be the same again, sir."

Bolitho walked to the open stern windows. So that was it. He should have guessed. He had seen that Allday was unable to straighten his back properly. As if the deepness and pain of his chest wound prevented it.

Allday added quietly, 'Not much of an admiral's coxswain I'll be an' I wanted ..."

Bolitho looked at him and said, 'You've earned your time ashore in comfort more than anyone I know. There's a place for you at Falmouth, but you know it.'

'I know, an' I'm grateful. It's not just that.' He looked at the sword. 'You won't need me any more. Not like this.'

Bolitho took the sword from him and laid it on the table.

'Like what? A bit knocked about, is that all? You'll be your old mutinous self in no time, you see.' He rested his hand on his shoulder. 'I'll never sail without you. Not unless you wish it. You have my word.'

Allday stood up and tried not to grimace as the pain probed through him.

'That's settled then, sir.'

He moved from the cabin, his feet dragging on the painted canvas.

His determination, his pride were as unbeatable as ever, Bolitho thought sadly. And he was alive.

Later that day, as the sun dipped towards a placid sea, Bolitho stepped into Achates' wardroom. After his own and Keen's cabins it seemed small and overcrowded, he thought.

Quantock said stiffly, 'All officers and senior warrant officers present as ordered, sir.'

Bolitho nodded. Quantock was a cold fish, even the action had not changed him. Nor would it now, he decided.

He heard his nephew close the door behind him and said, 'Please be seated, gentlemen, and thank you for inviting me here.'

It had always amused him. Any senior officer, even Keen, was a guest in his ship's wardroom. But had anyone ever denied one an entrance, he wondered?

He glanced around at their expectant faces. Sunburned, and competent. Even the midshipmen who were crammed right aft by the tiller-head looked more like men than boys now. The lieutenants and the two Royal Marines, Knocker, the priest-like sailing-master, and Tuson, the surgeon, he had grown to know and understand them in the time they had carried his flag at the fore.

Bolitho said, 'You will know that the courier-brig brought despatches from England. Their lordships have given full consideration to the reports on San Felipe, and to the large part your efforts played in an otherwise difficult mission.'

He saw Mountsteven nudge his friend the sixth lieutenant.

'Furthermore, I have been advised that French interference in the Mediterranean, and their pressures on His Majesty's Government to evacuate Malta in accordance with the same treaty which obliged us to hand this island to them, makes further negotiations impossible. As a direct result, gentlemen, all French and Dutch colonies which we had agreed to restore will now be retained. That, of course, will apply to San Felipe.'

It seemed impossible. In the neatly phrased despatches it was still hard to compare the complex negotiations which had swayed back and forth across Europe while Achates had been fighting for her very survival.

Bonaparte, now named Consul for life, had annexed Piedmont and Elba and showed every intention of retaking Malta once the British flag came down in the name of independence.

Bolitho saw the excitement transmit itself around the wardroom. So much for the Peace of Amiens. The signatures were barely dry on it.

He said, 'I am ordered to remain here until sufficient forces are despatched from Antigua and Jamaica to reinforce the garrison.'

He saw Keen drop his eyes. He knew what was coming next.

'The recent governor will be replaced as soon as possible. Sir Humphrey Rivers will be returning to England to stand trial for treason.'

He could find no satisfaction in that. After the luxury and wealth of his little kingdom he would be taken home in a King's ship, the first of any size which could be made available. And after that, with this totally unexpected shift of events, he would very likely hang.

He looked from face to face and added, 'You have performed very well, and I should wish you to carry my thanks to the people also.'

Keen watched as Bolitho smiled for the first time since he had begun to speak. Whatever anyone else might think, Keen could see plainly enough where the strain and responsibility had made their mark.

Bolitho said quietly, 'And after that, we are going home.'

Then they were all on their feet shouting and laughing like boys.

Keen opened the door and Bolitho slipped away. He had two letters from Belinda, and now there was time he would re-read them from the beginning.

Keen and Adam followed him up the companion and then Keen asked, 'Will it be war, sir?'

Bolitho thought of the young and jubilant faces he had just left behind, of Quantock's sour disapproval.

'There is little doubt in my mind, Val.'

Keen stared around in the gloom, as if already preparing his ship for another battle.

'God, we've hardly recovered from the last one, sir!'

Bolitho heard Allday's unfamiliar dragging footsteps and turned towards his cabin with its motionless scarlet sentry.

'Some never will, my friend. It's too late.'

Keen sighed and said, 'Join me, Mr Bolitho, and share a glass. Doubtless you'll be getting a command of your own if war does come about.' He gave a smile. 'Then you'll discover what hardship really means!'

Aft in his cabin Bolitho made himself comfortable in a chair and opened the first letter.

Going home. They would have been surprised had they known just how much it meant to their vice-admiral.

Then he listened to her voice again as it lifted from the page.

My darling Richard . . .

'See that these letters are put aboard the packet with the others, Yovell.'

Bolitho listened to the squeak of tackles through the cabin skylight, the stamp of feet on deck as another net of fresh food supplies was hoisted above the gangway.

After all the waiting it was difficult to accept that the moment had arrived. Not that time had been allowed to drag on their hands, he considered.

A smart frigate and two bomb-vessels were now anchored below the battery, and a big armed transport had brought more soldiers as promised to reinforce the garrison. He smiled at Lemoine's reaction when a full colonel had taken charge.

'I was just getting a taste for power, sir,' the lieutenant had said.

He heard Allday coming through the dining space and looked up to greet him. Allday had made great strides where his health was concerned and the colour had returned to his face. But he still could not straighten his shoulders, and his smart blue coat with the gilt buttons seemed loose on his big frame.

It must be close on six months since he had been struck down, three since the brig had arrived here with the Admiralty's final instructions on the island's future.

Bolitho said, 'It will be spring in England when we reach there. A year since we left.'

He watched Allday's expression but he merely shrugged and replied, 'Probably all have blown over by that time, sir.'

'Maybe.'

He was still brooding. More afraid of the land than the hazards at sea. Allday had once told him that an old sailor was like a ship. Once tied up and unwanted, and with nothing useful to do, both were doomed.

And Allday had been a lot younger when he had said it.

Galls shrilled along the upper deck and voices barked commands as some marines marched to the entry port.

Bolitho stood up and waited for Ozzard to bring his dress-coat. The new governor had arrived in San Felipe aboard the frigate. A small, birdlike man, he seemed dull by comparison with Rivers.

His warrant made it clear that Rivers was to take passage in Achates. A cruel twist of fate for both of us, Bolitho thought.

As Keen had remarked, 'Why this ship, damn his eyes? A plague on the man!'

Ozzard patted the gold-laced coat into place and eyed the epaulettes with professional interest. He reached for the fine presentation sword on its rack but dropped his hands as Bolitho gave a quick shake of the head.

He waited for Allday to take the sword and clip it to his belt. As he had always done.

Bolitho had written to Belinda about Allday's courage and the price he had paid for it. She, better than anyone, would know what to do. In a fast packet his letters would reach home long before Achates.

'Thank you. I shall go and meet our, er, guest.'

He glanced quickly round the cabin but Ozzard had already gone.

'Ready, Allday?'

Allday made to straighten his back but Bolitho said, 'Not yet. It takes time." He watched his despair. 'As it did when I nearly died, remember? When you cared for me every hour of the day?'

He saw something of the old sparkle in Allday's eyes. 'I'll not forget that, sir.'

Bolitho nodded, moved by Allday's pleasure at the memory.

'Flag at the fore, remember that too? I'll see you an admiral's coxswain yet, you scoundrel!'

They went on deck together and Bolitho saw Rivers waiting by the entry port flanked by an escort of soldiers. He wore manacles on his wrists, and Lieutenant Lemoine, who was in charge, said hastily, 'My colonel's orders, sir.'

Bolitho nodded impassively. 'Sir Humphrey is under my protection, Mr Lemoine. There will be no irons here.'

He saw Rivers' look of extraordinary gratitude and shock. Then he watched as his eyes moved up the foremast truck where the flag lifted in a fresh breeze. As a vice-admiral himself he was probably hanging on to this moment as his other world fell in ruins.

'Thank you for that, Bolitho.'

Bolitho saw Keen frowning in the background and said, 'It is all and also the least I can do.'

Rivers looked across at the waterfront. People had flocked there to watch him leave. No cheers, no rebukes either. San Felipe was that sort of place, Bolitho thought. With a stormy past and a future just as uncertain.

Why should I care? Even feel sorry for the man, he wondered? A traitor, a respectable pirate who had caused too many deaths because of his own selfish greed. Rivers had two sons in London, so it was likely he would be well defended at his trial. He might even talk his way out of it. After all, if war came, the island's security owed much to him, whatever the true reasons had been.

In his heart Bolitho knew that the real blame lay with powerful men in London. Who had allowed Rivers to extend his role here for his own advantage.

Keen watched Rivers being escorted below and said, 'I'd have put him in the cells.'

Bolitho smiled. 'When you've been a prisoner, Val, and I hope that never happens to you, you'll understand.'

Keen grinned, unabashed. 'But until then, sir, I don't have to like him!'

Ferrier, the senior midshipman, touched his hat to Keen.

'Mr Tyrrell's come aboard, sir.'

Bolitho turned. He had imagined that Tyrrell had stayed ashore for most of the time since Vivid" s loss because he did not want to talk about it. Or, independent to the end, he had been seeking a berth in some other vessel.

He had heard Achates was sailing very soon. The whole island seemed to know. There would likely be a few more babies on the plantations, black and white, after Achates had crossed the ocean. It was good to hear the seamen calling out to the people in the boats in the harbour and along the waterfront. The yards of the ships were festooned with coloured streamers, and every inch of space had been filled with fresh fruit and gifts from the islanders who had once hated and feared them.

He saw Tyrrell's shaggy head appear above the ladder to the quarterdeck and walked to meet him.

'Thought I'd make a quick farewell, Dick. To you an' the youngster. Next time he an' I meet he'll be a post-cap'n.'

Like Allday, he was finding it hard, and at any second he would blunder away on the wooden pin which he hated so much.

Bolitho tried to gauge the moment, knowing that any careful speech would be taken as charity, even condescension.

'Will you go back home now, Jethro?'

'Got no home. All gone, dammit, I told you!' He relented immediately. 'Sorry about that. Bein' with you again has unsettled me quite a bit.'

'Me too.'

'Really?' Tyrrell stared at him, wary of a lie.

'I was thinking ..." Bolitho saw Knocker from the corner of his eye hurry to the first lieutenant, who in turn looked at the captain. Bolitho knew why. He had felt the shift of wind on his cheek even as he had been speaking with Rivers. It was not much, but with the winds here so perverse it must not be wasted. But just as when Ferrier had come to tell him about the brig's arrival, so now he would not break the spell by looking up at the masthead pendant. He continued, 'There's England, you know.'

Tyrrell threw back his head and laughed. 'Hell, man what are you sayin? What would I do over there?'

Bolitho looked past him at the shore. 'Your father came from Bristol. I recall you telling me. It's not all that far from Cornwall, from us.'

Tyrrell watched the sudden activity as the relaxation on deck changed to purpose and movement. He knew all the signs. A ship leaving was nothing new. But homeward bound . . .

He said desperately 'I'm a cripple, Dick, what th' hell use am I?'

'There are plenty of ships in the West Country.' He dropped his voice. 'Like Vivid.'

He saw Keen moving nearer. It could not wait.

Bolitho said, 'Anyway, I want you to come.'

Tyrrell gazed around as if he could not trust his own judgement.

'I'd work my passage, I'd insist on that!'

Bolitho smiled gravely. 'It's settled then.'

They shook hands and Tyrrell said, 'By God, I'll do it!'

Bolitho turned to his flag-captain.

'You may get the ship under way when it suits.'

Keen yelled, 'Hoist all boats inboard! Both watches of the hands, Mr Quantock!'

He looked at Bolitho and the one-legged man by the quarterdeck rail and shook his head.

Men were dashing aloft and out along the yards, and with her capstan manned Achates shed her ties with the land and moved slowly out to her anchor.

Adam said excitedly, 'Hear them, Jethro? They're cheering us!'

Along the waterfront the handkerchiefs waved and voices echoed across the water as the great capstan continued to clink round.

Tyrrell nodded. 'Aye, lad, this time they are.'

Captain Dewar marched across the deck and touched his hat with a flourish.

Keen caught the mood too. 'Very well, Major, you may play us out if that was what you were about to suggest?'

Bolitho found that he was gripping the worn rail with unusual force. He had seen it all before countless times, but somehow this was quite different.

'Anchor's hove short, sir!'

'Loose the heads'ls!'

Bolitho turned and saw Allday beside him. His right arm.

'Man the braces there!' Quantock strode about, his head jutting forward, immersed for the moment in the complexities of his trade.

'Anchor's aweigh, sir!'

It was not a blustery departure, with the ship heeling over under a pyramid of canvas. With all the dignity of her years Achates swung slowly across the wind, the sunlight glancing off her figurehead, the armour-bearer, and along her sealed gun-ports and freshly painted tumblehome.

'Get the t'gan's'ls on her, Mr Scott! Your division are like old women today!'

The sails hardened and shivered at their yards, and with barely a ripple below her dolphin-striker Achates glided towards the harbour mouth.

Bolitho watched the narrow strip of water. It looked no wider than a farm gate. A glance at Keen's tense features told him that he was remembering that wild charge through it in total darkness.

'Steady as you go!' That was Knocker. Even he seemed different as he called, 'Mr Tyrrell, you may be able to offer some local knowledge. If so, I'd be obliged.'

Here was the fortress. The sloping track where the marine drummer had died, where Rivers had made his greatest mistake.

The flag above the old battery dipped in salute and Bolitho saw a line of redcoats on the jetty, bayonets fixed, colours lowered, as Achates' topgallant sails made little patches of shadow on the fortress wall.

Allday murmured, 'They'll not forget Old Katie in a hurry.'

He turned his head to listen as the small cluster of fifers and drummers broke into The Sailor and His Lass.

Once Bolitho saw him thrust one hand to his wound, and then he removed it from his fine blue jacket and laid it on the rail beside his.

As if, like the island, he was leaving the pain astern.