BEYOND THE REEF

3. ACCUSED

CAPTAIN Valentine Keen stood by Black Prince's quarterdeck rail and watched two unhappy-looking civilians being swayed up from a boat alongside, their legs dangling from boatswain's chairs.

The court martial was to be held in the great cabin, which had been stripped of everything, the dividing screens removed as if the ship was about to go into action.

The first lieutenant came aft and touched his hat. "That's the last of them, sir." He consulted his list. "The wine bills will probably be enormous."

Keen glanced at the sky. After the longest winter he could recall, it seemed as if April had decided to intervene and drive it away. A clear, bright blue sky and perfect visibility, with only a hint of lingering cold in the sea-breeze. The great ship seemed to tremble as the wind roused itself enough to rattle the rigging and halliards, or to make lively patterns across the harbour like a cat ruffling its fur. In days, perhaps, Keen would be gone from this proud command, something he still found hard to believe when he had time to consider it.

The members of the court, spectators, clerks and witnesses had been coming aboard since morning, and would soon be seated in their allotted places according to rank or status.

"You may dismiss the guard and side-party, Mr Sedgemore." He took out his watch. "Tell the gunner to prepare to fire at four bells." He looked up at the great spars overhead, the sails now in position and neatly furled, Bolitho's flag at the fore. "You know what to do."

Sedgemore lingered, his eyes full of questions. "I wish we were away from here." He hesitated, trying to judge his captain's mood. "We shall miss you when you leave with Sir Richard Bolitho… It is rumoured we may be going to Portugal's aid before much longer."

"I think it most likely." Keen looked past him towards the dockyard. The green land beyond, the smells of countryside and new growth. Sedgemore was probably already planning his next step up the ladder, he thought. He took a telescope from the midshipman-of-the-watch and levelled it on a spur of jetty. He had seen the bright colours of women's clothing but as they leaped out of the distance he saw they were merely a handful of harlots waiting for easy prey.

He thought of Zenoria's eyes when he had told her of his mission with Bolitho. What had he expected? Opposition, resentment? Instead she had said quietly, "I knew you were a King's officer when I married you, Val. When we are together we must enjoy our lives, but once apart, I would not stand between you and your duty."

It was like being lost in thick woodland, not knowing which way to turn or what to do. Perhaps she did not care; perhaps she was even relieved that he was going, to break the tension between them.

He saw a captain of marines passing below him with a sword carried in a cloth: Herrick's sword, a necessary part of this macabre ceremony. When the court had made its decision the sword on the table would tell Herrick if he was found guilty or innocent. What malicious mind had thrown up Admiral Sir James Hamett-Parker as a suitable president? He had been known as a tyrant for much of his service. Just eleven years ago when the fleet had erupted in the great mutiny at the Nore and Spithead, Hamett-Parker had been one of the first senior officers to be ordered ashore by the delegates. He would not forget that; nor would he allow anyone to interfere with his judgement. As flag captain Keen had met most of the others. A vice-admiral, a rearadmiral, and six captains. All of the latter held commands either at Portsmouth or in the Downs squadron. It was hardly likely they would want to annoy Hamett-Parker, with the war about to spread into the enemy's own territory.

Sedgemore said shortly, "Sir Richard is coming, sir." Then he was gone, probably still wondering why Keen should exchange this proud ship for some vague huddle of small vessels in Africa.

Bolitho said, "A fine day, Val." They walked to the side to be away from the watchkeepers. "God, I wish it was all over."

"Shall you give evidence, sir?"

Bolitho looked at him. There were shadows under Keen's eyes, tension around his mouth.

"I shall be there to explain our deployment on that morning." He seemed to hear Herrick's bitterness. To describe what you found after the battle. "It seems I am barred from asking questions. A witness after the event."

Keen saw the ship's gunner standing by as a crew loaded and then began to run out a twelve-pounder. When it was fired, and the Union Flag was run up to the peak, everyone would know that the trial had begun. When the flag flew from there, and only then, did it tell outsiders what was happening. The court-martial Jack would bring memories to some, pity from others, and indifference from the many who did not have to risk their own lives at sea.

"I wanted to speak with you, Val, about your views. You were there also-you saw it, and the aftermath." Bolitho glanced around the upper deck. "We too lost some good men here that day. But for the enemy swallowing the bait, and our false Danish flag, it might have gone very differently."

Keen regarded him steadily. "I have known RearAdmiral Herrick for much of my life. As a first lieutenant, a captain and now a flag officer. In those early times I came to appreciate both his courage, and I think, his sincerity."

Bolitho sensed his uncertainty, his search for an explanation which might not be painful, or worse, come between them.

"You can speak freely to me, Val."

Keen bit his lip. "I think he has always been surprised at being given flag rank, sir."

"That is shrewd of you. He has often said as much to me."

Keen made a decision. "But I cannot forgive or forget that he was about to stand me in the very predicament he now finds himself in. He would listen to no reason; he was guided only by the book. But for your intervention on my behalf-" He stared across at Portsmouth Point, the sea lapping below it as if the land itself were on the move. "So I am afraid I do not see his actions in quite the same light."

"Thank you for telling me, Val. It meant much to you, and now it means a great deal to me."

Keen added, "I once said that I thought I knew what you would have done if committed to the same circumstances-" He glanced round sharply as a lieutenant touched his hat from the foot of the ladder. "What is it, Mr Espie?"

The lieutenant looked at Bolitho. "I beg your pardon, Sir Richard. The Judge Advocate sends his respects and wishes you to know that the Court is about to assemble."

"Very well." To Keen he remarked, "I understand that your dear Zenoria is meeting with Catherine today while we are thus employed. I am glad they are close by." He saw Keen's face suddenly laid bare, the inner anxiety as plain as if he had called out aloud. He touched his sleeve. "We have seen many storms and have weathered them, Val. We are friends."

The words mocked him. He'd said the same thing to Herrick at the Swan Inn. He turned and walked aft to the companion-way.

Minutes later the air reverberated to the crash of a single charge, while from aft, perfectly timed, the court-martial Jack broke to the breeze. It had begun.

The great cabin was barely recognisable. Even two of the twenty-four-pounders had been hauled and handspiked around to make more room for the many lines of chairs. Bolitho seated himself and handed his hat to Ozzard, who scurried down the narrow aisle between the mass of figures without apparently noticing any of them. The little man's sense of outrage, perhaps, at seeing his personal domain, where he served and cared for his vice-admiral, demeaned by what was happening.

Bolitho had seen many heads turn to watch his entrance.

Some would know him, may even have shared his exploits. Others would only savour the scandal, his open affair with Lady Somervell. Those who knew him very well would appreciate his feelings today, and his concern for a man who had known the same dangers and shared similar perils.

They all rose respectfully as the members of the Court came along the same narrow aisle and seated themselves in silhouette against the tall stern windows, Hamett-Parker at the centre of the table, with his fellow members paired off on either side of him in strict order of seniority.

He gave a curt nod to the Judge Advocate, a tall, heavy man who had to stoop between the deckhead beams, and who looked more like a farmer than an official of Admiralty.

"Be seated, gentlemen."

Bolitho saw Herrick's sword for the first time, glittering faintly in the reflected sunlight, lying before the President. Then he realised that Hamett-Parker was looking straight at him. Recognition, curiosity, perhaps dislike; it was all there.

He said, "You may bring in the accused, Mr Cotgrave."

The Judge Advocate bowed slightly. "Very well, Sir James."

Bolitho touched the locket beneath his shirt. Help me, Kate.

He stared hard at the stern windows and concentrated on the shimmering panorama of moored shipping and blue sky. At these windows he had sat and dreamed or planned. Had watched Copenhagen burning under the merciless bombardment of artillery, and the huge fireballs from the Congreve rockets.

He heard Herrick's limping step and the crisp click of boots from his escort.

Then he saw him, to one side of the table, regarding the men who would judge him with little more than a mild interest.

The President said, "You may be seated. There is no point provoking the pain from your wound."

Bolitho found that his fists were so tightly clenched that they hurt. With relief he saw Herrick sit down on the proffered chair. He had expected he might refuse, and so set the tone of the whole proceedings.

Herrick's blue eyes turned and then settled on him. He gave a brief nod of recognition and Bolitho recalled his own anger and hurt when they had met at the Admiralty; it felt like a thousand years ago. Bolitho had shouted after him, stung by Herrick's rebuff over Catherine. Are we so ordinary? It had been a cry from the heart.

Hamett-Parker spoke again in the same flat tones.

"You may begin, Mr Cotgrave."

Herrick's escort, a debonair captain of marines, leaned forward but Herrick was already on his feet again. He had attended enough court martials to know every stage of the procedure.

The Judge Advocate faced him and opened his papers, although Bolitho suspected he knew them as a player knows his lines.

"In accordance with the decision made by their lordships of Admiralty, you, Thomas Herrick Esquire, RearAdmiral of the Red, are hereby charged that on diverse dates last September as stated in the Details of Evidence, you were guilty of misconduct and neglect of duty. This is contrary to the Act of Parliament dated 1749, more commonly called the Articles of War."

Bolitho was conscious of the great silence that hung over his flagship. Even the footfalls of the watchkeepers and the occasional creak of tackles were faraway and muffled.

Cotgrave glanced at Herrick's impassive features before continuing, "Contrary to Article Seventeen, whilst you were appointed for the convoy and guard of merchant ships, you did not diligently attend to that charge. Further, you did not faithfully perform that duty, nor did you defend the ships and goods in said convoy without diverting to other parts or occasions, and if proven guilty shall make reparation of the damage to merchants, owners and others. As the Court of Admiralty shall adjudge, you shall also be punished criminally according to the quality of the offences, be it by pains of death or other punishment as shall be adjudged fit by the court martial. God Save the King!"

Admiral Sir James Hamett-Parker's thin mouth opened and closed like a poacher's trap.

"How plead you?"

"Not guilty." Herrick's reply was equally curt.

"Very well. Be seated. You may presently proceed, Mr Cotgrave, but before doing so, I would remind you that there are some persons present who have no experience of sea fights and strategy other than what they… read." This brought a few smiles despite the seriousness of the moment. "So it may be required from time to time to explain or describe these terms and variations." He pressed his fingertips together and stared at the assembled people. "So be it."

Bolitho leaned forward and watched intently as the Judge Advocate described the various positions of Herrick's convoy, the North Sea Squadron, and the major fleet commanded by Admiral Gambier, who had been in control of operations at and around Copenhagen.

It was the second day of the court martial, the first having been made up mostly of written evidence and sworn statements. There had also been a dying declaration, which had been further testimony to the ferocity of that battle. A junior lieutenant in Herrick's Benbow had managed to make it under oath after a second amputation of his crushed legs.

Bolitho had sensed the moment, not here in the great cabin, but on that terrible day when the enemy ships had bombarded Benbow until she had run with blood, and her masts had been torn out of her like rotten sticks. The lieutenant had died even as he had been describing how he had run aft from his division of upper-deck guns, where most of his men had been cut down or dragged below to the surgeon. He had called on Herrick to strike in the name of pity. We were all dying to no purpose, he had said. He had claimed that the rearadmiral had clutched a pistol in one hand and had threatened to shoot him if he did not return to his station. Then the maintopmast had fallen and crushed his legs. But he persisted in his claim that Herrick's answer had stayed with him. We shall all die today.

One of the clerks had peered at Herrick as if to compare the man on trial with what he was writing.

Another sworn statement had come from Benbow's surgeon, who was also in hospital. He had stated that he had been unable to deal with the great flood of wounded and dying men. He had sent word to the quarterdeck but had received no reply. The Judge Advocate had looked around the court. "We must keep in mind of course that the ship was fighting for her life. The man sent aft with the message, if indeed that was the case, may well have been killed."

It had been very damning, all the same. There had followed a short pause for a meal and some wine, the senior officers and important guests to Keen's own quarters, the remainder to the wardroom.

After that, Captain Varian, at one time in command of the frigate Zest in Herrick's squadron, and himself awaiting the convenience of a court martial, gave evidence on what he had come to expect under the rearadmiral's flag. Bolitho had listened with contempt. This was the man who had failed to support Truculent in which Bolitho had been taking passage from Copenhagen, having been sent on a secret mission to parley with the Danes in a futile attempt to avoid war. Truculent had been shadowed by French men-of-war, a trap from which there had been no escape. Only the arrival of Adam's Anemone had saved the day. But not before Truculent's captain, Poland, had been killed and many of his men with him.

On that occasion, as now, in the great cabin Varian claimed that Herrick never gave any scope or initiative to his captains. He had only been obeying instructions as RearAdmiral Herrick would have demanded.

At length the President turned to Herrick. "You are entitled to question this witness. You refused a defence, so it is your privilege."

Herrick barely glanced at Varian's pale features. "I do not care to discuss this matter with a man already facing a charge of cowardice."

He said it with such disgust that it had brought a gasp from the assembled visitors. "He is a coward and a liar, and but for the intervention of others I would have had him arrested myself."

It had all been much like that. An old carpenter who described the state of Benbow's hull, with the pump barely containing the intake of water and only wounded men available to use it.

The last witness to be called, even as dusk made it necessary to light all the lanterns in the cabin, had been Herrick's servant, Murray. A rather pitiful little figure against so much gold lace and glittering regalia.

Under examination he had admitted that Herrick had been drinking very heavily, which had been more than just unusual.

The Judge Advocate had said, "Just what you know, Murray-opinions have no place here."

He had glanced at Herrick, who had replied, "I was drinking more than usual, he is quite right."

As the little servant had hurried gratefully away, John Cotgrave had rustled through his papers, gauging the time to a second.

"Of course, I had overlooked the fact you have only recently lost your wife."

Herrick had seemed oblivious to everyone else there. "She was everything to me. After that-" He had given a tired shrug.

"So it might be suggested that because of grief and personal distress you threw everything into a fight you could not win against overwhelming odds, with a total disregard for the lives in your care?"

Herrick had stared at him coldly. "That is untrue."

Today had begun with more professional witnesses. Three masters from merchant ships in the convoy, and written testimonies by others who had managed to survive. Several of them had claimed that they could have outsailed the enemy had they been allowed to quit the convoy.

Herrick denied this. "We had to stand together-the enemy had frigates as well as line-of-battle ships. It was our only chance."

The President leaned forward. "I understand that Admiral Gambier suggested in his despatches to you that you might release your only frigate to his command for the attack on Copenhagen? Did he not leave it to your discretion?"

Herrick faced him. "It seemed urgent. In any case I thought I would meet up with the North Sea squadron for the final approach."

The Judge Advocate said, "The squadron commanded by Sir Richard Bolitho?"

Herrick did not even blink. "Just so."

Cotgrave continued, "Now we reach a vital part of the matter, prior to your meeting with the enemy."

Hamett-Parker tugged out his watch. "I trust it is not a lengthy business, Mr Cotgrave? Some of us would wish to take refreshment!" Somebody laughed but stopped instantly as Hamett-Parker's cold eyes sought him out.

Cotgrave was unimpressed. "I will try not to waste the court's time, Sir James."

He turned to his clerk. "Summon Commander James Tyacke." To the great cabin he added, "Commander Tyacke is serving in the brig Larne of fourteen guns. A most gallant officer. I must ask all those present to try and show him respect rather than sympathy. It is a matter of…" He got no further.

Something like a sigh of dismay came from all sides as Tyacke's tall figure strode aft beneath the deckhead beams. In his early thirties, he had been with Bolitho at the Cape, when he had taken a fireship to destroy anchored enemy supply vessels and so cut short the siege of the town and harbour. In doing so he had seen his beloved command, the little schooner Miranda, sunk by the enemy. Bolitho had personally promoted him and given him the brig.

Tyacke would have been handsome, as his profile suggested, but one complete side of his face had been scored away to leave it like raw flesh; how the right eye had survived was a miracle. He had been at the battle of the Nile as a lieutenant on the lower gun deck of the old Majestic. They had come up to the big French Tonnant and had continued close-action until the enemy had hauled down her colours. Had the French captain known the true state of the English third-rate he might have persisted. The dead had been everywhere; even her captain, Westcott, had been killed. Tyacke had been flung across the deck, his face seared and torn, although he could never remember afterwards precisely what had happened. An exploding charge, an enemy wad through a gunport; he simply did not know, and there had been nobody near him left alive to tell him.

He faced the court now, his terrible wound in shadow, a private man, a man of courage. He had nothing but his ship. Even the girl he had loved had turned away from him when she learned what had happened.

He saw Bolitho, and smiled faintly in recognition. No, he was not quite alone any more. He had come to admire Bolitho more than he could have believed possible.

The Judge Advocate confronted him, angry with the court and perhaps with himself for trying to avoid Tyacke's impassive stare.

"You were the first to sight the French vessels, Commander Tyacke."

Tyacke glanced at Herrick. "Yes, sir. We came on the ships quite by accident. One of the big three-deckers was unknown to me. I discovered much later that she was in fact Spanish, taken into the French command, so we had no cause to recognise her." He hesitated. "Vice-Admiral Bolitho knew her, of course."

One of the court leaned over to whisper something and Hamett-Parker said, "She was the San Mateo, which destroyed Sir Richard's flagship Hyperion before Trafalgar." He nodded irritably. "Continue."

Tyacke looked at him with dislike. "We beat as close as we could but they were on to us, and gave us a good peppering before we could show them a clean pair of heels. Eventually we found the convoy and I closed to report to the rearadmiral in charge."

One of the captains asked, "Had the frigate already left the convoy?"

"Aye, sir." He paused, expecting something further, then he said, "I told RearAdmiral Herrick what I had seen."

"How did he receive you?"

"I spoke through a speaking-trumpet, sir." He added with barely concealed sarcasm, "The enemy were too close for comfort, and there seemed some urgency in the air!"

The Judge Advocate smiled. "That was well said, Commander Tyacke." The mood changed back again. "Now it is very important that you recall exactly what the rearadmiral's reply was. I imagine it would have been written in Larne's signal book?"

"Probably." Tyacke ignored his frown. "As I recall, RearAdmiral Herrick ordered me to find Sir Richard Bolitho's North Sea squadron. Then he changed his mind and told me to report directly to Admiral Gambier's flagship Prince of Wales off Copenhagen."

Cotgrave said quietly, "Even after seven months, during which time you must have had much to occupy your attention, the fact that RearAdmiral Herrick changed his mind still seems to surprise you? Pray tell the court why."

Tyacke was caught off guard. He replied, "Sir Richard Bolitho was his friend, sir, and in any case…"

"In any case, Commander Tyacke, it would have been sensible, would it not, to find Sir Richard's squadron first, as it was only in a supporting role against the Danes at that time?"

The President snapped, "You will answer, sir!"

Tyacke said evenly, "That must have been what I was thinking."

Cotgrave turned to Herrick. "You have a question or two perhaps?"

Herrick regarded him calmly. "None. This officer speaks the truth, as well as being a most gallant fighter."

One of the captains said, "There is a question from the back, sir."

"I am sorry to interrupt the proceedings, even delay refreshment, but the President did offer to have matters explained to a mere landsman."

Bolitho turned round, remembering the voice but unable to identify the speaker. Someone with a great deal of authority to make a joke at Hamett-Parker's expense without fear of attack. Dressed all in black, it was Sir Paul Sillitoe, once the Prime Minister's personal adviser, whom Bolitho had first met at a reception at Godschale's grand house near Blackwall Reach. That had been before the attack on Copenhagen.

Sillitoe was thin-faced and dark, with deep hooded eyes, very self-contained; and a man one would never know, really know. But he had been charming to Catherine on that occasion when the Duke of Portland, the prime minister at the time, had attempted to snub her. Standing amidst so many now, he was still quite alone.

Sillitoe continued, "I would be grateful if you would clarify the difference 'twixt two seafaring terms which have been mentioned several times already." He looked directly at Bolitho and gave the briefest of smiles. Bolitho could imagine him doing the very same while peering along the barrel of a duelling pistol.

Sillitoe went on silkily, "One witness will describe the convoy's possible tactics as being 'scattered,' and another will term it 'dispersed. ' I am all confusion."

Bolitho thought his tone suggested otherwise, and could not help wondering if Sillitoe had interrupted the Judge Advocate for a different purpose.

The latter said patiently, "If it pleases, Sir Paul. To scatter a convoy means that each ship's master can go his own way, that is to say, move out from the centre like the spokes of a wheel. To disperse would mean to leave each master to sail as he pleases, but all to the original destination. Is that clear, Sir Paul?"

"One further question, if you will bear with me, sir. The ships' masters who have claimed they could have outsailed the enemy ships-were they all requesting the order to disperse?"

Cotgrave glanced questioningly at the President and then replied, "They did, Sir Paul."

Sillitoe bowed elegantly. "Thank you."

Hamett-Parker snapped, "Then if that is all, gentlemen, this hearing is adjourned for refreshments." He stalked out, followed by the other members of his court.

"You may dismiss, Commander Tyacke."

Tyacke waited until most of those in the cabin had bustled away and Herrick had left with his escort. Then he shook Bolitho's hand and said quietly, "I hoped we would meet soon, Sir Richard." He glanced at the deserted table where the sword was still shining in the April sunlight. "But not like this."

Together they made their way out to the broad quarterdeck, where many of the visitors had broken into small groups to discuss the trial so far, all to the obvious irritation of watchkeepers and working seamen alike.

"Is everything well with you?" Bolitho stood beside him to stare at a graceful schooner tacking past; he guessed Tyacke was comparing her with his lost Miranda.

"I should have written to you, Sir Richard, after all that you did for me." He gave a great sigh. "I have been appointed to the new anti-slavery patrol. We sail for the African coast shortly. Most of my men are volunteers-more to escape from the fleet than out of any moral convictions!" His eyes crinkled in a grin. "I never thought they'd get it through Parliament after all these years."

Bolitho could agree with him. England had been at war with France almost continuously for fifteen years, and all the while the slave traffic had gone on without hindrance: a brutal trade in human beings which ended in death from the lash as often as from fever.

And yet, there were many who had voted against its abolition, describing the traders and plantation owners in the Caribbean as loyal servants of the Crown, men ready to defend their rights against the enemy. Supporters usually added the extra bait for their cause, that a plentiful supply of slaves would continue to mean cheaper sugar for the world's market, as well as releasing other men for active duty at sea or in the army.

This new patrol might suit Tyacke very well, he thought. The private man with a small company which he could educate to his own standards.

Tyacke said, "I fear I did little good for RearAdmiral Herrick's cause just now, Sir Richard."

Bolitho replied, "It was the truth."

"Will he win the day, do you think, sir?"

"We must." He wondered afterwards if Tyacke had noticed that he had not said he.

Tyacke remarked, "Ah, here comes your faithful cox'n."

Allday moved effortlessly through the chattering groups and touched his hat.

"Begging your pardon, Sir Richard, but I thought you might want to take your meal in the Master's chartroom." He gave a grim smile. "Mr Julyan was most firm on the matter!"

Bolitho answered readily, "That would suit very well. I have no stomach for this today." He glanced around at the jostling, apparently carefree people who were waiting to be called to their refreshment, seeing instead this deck as it had been on that dismal September morning. The dead and the wounded, the first lieutenant cut cleanly in half by a massive French ball. "I do not feel I belong here."

Tyacke held out his hand. "I have to leave, Sir Richard. Please offer my best wishes to Lady Somervell." He glanced at Keen, who was waiting to see him over the side to his gig. "And to you too, sir."

Keen had known what it must have cost Tyacke to go all the way to Zennor to see him marry Zenoria, to experience again the shocked stares and brutal curiosity to which he would never become accustomed.

"I thank you, Commander Tyacke. I shall not forget."

Tyacke raised his hat and the marines' muskets thumped in salute, a cloud of pipeclay floating from their crossbelts like smoke. The calls shrilled and Bolitho gazed after him until the gig was pulling strongly away from the ship's great shadow.

"Join me in the Master's quarters, will you, Val?"

Someone was ringing a bell, and the small tide of visitors began to flow towards the temptation of food, brought on board, it was said, from the George Inn itself.

Ozzard had prepared a meal which seemed to consist mostly of several kinds of cheese, fresh bread from Portsmouth, and some claret. He had learned very well what Bolitho could and could not take when he was under great strain.

Keen asked, "What do you think, Sir Richard?"

Bolitho was still thinking of what he had observed before entering the chartroom. Near the big double-wheel the Judge Advocate had been in close conversation with Sir Paul Sillitoe. They had not seen him, but had separated before continuing up to Keen's quarters.

"If only he had called someone to defend him. This is all too personal, too cleancut for outsiders to understand." He toyed with the cheese, his appetite gone. "I think it will be over quite soon. This afternoon Captain Gossage will give evidence. He can say little of the battle because he was wounded almost as soon as Benbow engaged. But it will depend much on his earlier assessment, his guidance as flag captain when the truth of the situation was apparent."

"And tomorrow?"

"It will be our turn, and Thomas's."

Keen stood up. "I had better be seen to welcome the senior officers to my quarters, I suppose." He did not sound as if he liked the prospect.

"A moment, Val." Bolitho closed the chartroom door. "I have a suggestion-or rather, Catherine put forward the idea."

"Sir? I would always be guided by that lady."

"While we are away on passage to the Cape, we think Zenoria should be offered the use of our house in Cornwall. You have rented one here, I believe, while Black Prince is fitting out, but in Cornwall she would be with people who would care for her. There is another reason." He could sense Keen's instant guard; it was so unlike him. Matters were worse than they had feared. "Zenoria once told Catherine she would take it as a great favour if she could make use of the library there. It is extensive… it was built up by my grandfather."

Keen smiled, his eyes clearing. "Yes, I know she wishes to educate herself more, to learn about the world." He nodded slowly. "It was kind of Lady Catherine to concern herself with this, sir. Zenoria's first time alone as a married woman."

He did not continue. He did not need to.

"That's settled then."

Later when the court convened, Bolitho ran his eyes over the seated spectators, for that was what they had become. Like onlookers at a public hanging. There was no trace of Sir Paul Sillitoe.

Herrick looked tired, and showed considerable strain. He too must be thinking of tomorrow.

The Judge Advocate cleared his throat and waited for Hamett-Parker to offer him a curt nod.

"This court is reassembled. Please call Captain Hector Gossage." He glanced around at the intent faces as if expecting another interruption. "He was flag captain to the accused at the time of the attack."

Herrick turned and looked directly at his sword on the table. It was as if he expected to see it move, or perhaps he already imagined it pointing towards him.

Gossage's entrance was almost too pitiful to watch; he seemed to have shrunk from the bluff, competent captain Bolitho had met on several occasions. Now his face was lined, and one cheek was pitted with small splinter scars; one sleeve of his dress coat was empty, pinned up and useless, and he was obviously still in great pain. A chair was brought and Gossage assisted into it by two orderlies who had accompanied him from the hospital here at Haslar Creek.

Hamett-Parker asked not unkindly, "Are you as comfortable as we can make you, Captain?"

Gossage stared around as if he had not properly heard. So many senior officers and guests. "I should be standing, sir!"

Hamett-Parker said quietly, as if daring anyone to so much as cough or move, "You are not on trial here, Captain Gossage. Take your time and speak in your own words. We have studied the Details of Evidence, heard the opinions, for they were little more than that, of many witnesses. But Benbow was the flagship and you were her captain. It is your story we wish to hear."

It was then that Gossage seemed to see Herrick opposite him for the first time.

He began brokenly, "I-I'm not her captain any more. I've lost everything!" He tried to move round so that Herrick could see his empty sleeve. "Look what you've done to me!"

Hamett-Parker gestured to the surgeon and snapped, "The court is adjourned until the same time tomorrow." To the surgeon he added, "Take good care of Captain Gossage."

As the little group shuffled toward the rear of the cabin, Hamett-Parker spoke to the Judge Advocate, his tone severe. "That must not occur again in this court, Mr Cotgrave!" But when he glanced round Bolitho saw only triumph in his eyes.