Buccaneer

of their posteriors. This "lead" as you call it is a half-smelted silver from the Potosi mines. Fifty per cent pure. On its way for further smelting in Panama. I'd say it's worth seventy or eighty English pounds. Enough to set me up here as a shopkeeper.'

Jacques let out a groan, 'Hector, do you remember how many more of those ingots were in the Santo Rosario's bilge? Seven or eight hundred wasn't it? So many that we thought it was nothing more than ballast and paid no attention. We gave away a fortune. The Spaniards in Paita must still be laughing themselves sick at our stupidity.'

_EIGHTEEN

The sunny Caribbean had been left far behind. A small group of port officials, dressed in long cloaks and broad-brimmed hats, stood waiting patiently on the wharf for the ship to make fast. A cold penetrating drizzle was drifting down, soaking everything it touched. The fronts of the warehouses which lined the dockside were streaked with rainwater dripping from slate roofs. The air smelled of damp, fish refuse and wet sacking. This was Dartmouth in Devon on a blustery March day, and the four friends were sheltering under the awning rigged to protect the cargo hatch of the merchant ship that had brought them from Antigua. It had been a plodding six weeks' voyage across the Atlantic, and the ship's agent had insisted on being paid in English coin, grossly overcharging them. But they had been glad to accept his price, knowing that every mile would put them at a greater distance from the South Seas raid. Their only concern had been to discover that a dozen others of Trinity's former crew, including Basil Ringrose, were among their fellow passengers.

The mooring ropes were made fast, and the little covey of officials on the dockside moved forward as a gangplank was manhandled into place.

Without warning Jacques put out an arm, holding back his companions.

'What's the matter?' asked Hector.

'I'd recognise a police agent anywhere,' the Frenchman said softly.

'We don't have police in England,' Jezreel corrected him. 'That's only for uncivilised foreigners like you.'

'Call him what you want. But the tall fellow with the satchel is something to do with the law. And those other two close behind are the same. I spent too many months on the run in Paris not to recognise legal jackals when I see them.'

The tall man with the satchel was making his way onto the ship. Behind him, his two assistants took up position on either side of the gangplank, blocking it.

The ship's master, a rotund and genial Welshman with a beerswiller's belly, waddled forward from where he had been standing to supervise the process of docking. Hector was near enough to hear him demand of the stranger, 'From the customs office, are you?'

The tall man did not reply directly but opened his satchel and took out some sort of document which he showed to the captain. Hector watched the captain read through the paper, then glance nervously towards the place where Ringrose and the others from Trinity were gathered, waiting to disembark.

'Gentlemen!' he called out. 'Would you be kind enough to step this way? There's something which may require your attention.'

Ringrose and the others sauntered over though Hector could tell from their watchful manner that they were on their guard.

'This is Mr Bradley,' said the captain. 'He comes with a warrant from the High Court of Admiralty and has a watch list of persons whom he has been instructed to escort to London.'

The law officer consulted his hand bill. 'Which one of you is Bartholomew Sharpe?'

When there was no reply, he looked around the little group and read out Samuel Gifford's name. Again he received no acknowledgement, and this time he stared straight at Ringrose and said, 'I presume that you are Mr Ringrose. You fit the description I have here.' He consulted the paper again. 'About thirty years of age though may look younger, average height and well set up, curly chestnut hair and fair complexion.'

Ringrose nodded. 'I am Basil Ringrose.'

'You are to accompany me to London.'

'By whose authority?'

'I am a marshal of the court.'

'This is preposterous.' Ringrose's eyes flicked towards the gangway but he could see that there was no escape in that direction.

'He's taking only those who held some sort of rank on our expedition,' Jacques whispered to Hector.

Bradley folded up his paper and replaced it in the satchel. Turning towards Ringrose he announced, 'We leave for London in an hour's time by coach. Bring only essential personal possessions with you.'

'Am I under arrest?' demanded Ringrose.

'Detained for questioning.'

'And what am I to be questioned about?'

'His Excellency the Spanish ambassador has brought several complaints to the attention of the Court and demands redress. The charges include murder on the high seas, robbery and assault on Spanish possessions in contravention of existing treaties of friendship.'

'His Excellency the ambassador,' mimicked Jacques in the marshal's tight voice, but speaking softly, 'wields a broad brush. Where's that bastard going now? I doubt he's just getting himself out of the rain.' Bradley was following the captain towards his cabin.

'Probably off to inspect the ship's manifest,' said Dan, and was proved right when some minutes later, the captain's steward came over to where Hector was still standing with his friends. 'The marshal's asking for you by name,' the steward said, then added in a lower voice, 'He's a right puritan, that one.'

'I'll be there in just a moment,' Hector assured him, and as soon as the steward was out of earshot he turned to his friends. 'Get off the ship as soon as you can, and disappear! Take my sea chest and my prize money. Anything that may connect me with the Trinity.'

'You'll need to keep some money by you if they're taking you to prison, to sweeten the gaolers,' Jacques said.

'I've a few coins in my purse. Enough to see me through. I'll contact you when I know what's happening. Where will I find you?'

'In Clerkenwell,' said Jezreel at once. 'I'll take Dan and Jacques there and find lodgings for us. Ask for "Nat Hall" or the "Sussex Gladiator" in Brewer's Yard behind Hockley in the Hole. That's the name they would know me by from the days when I used to perform the stage fights. It's a rough part of town where few questions are asked. Also it's full of foreign mountebanks who perform in the sideshows when there's bull and bear baiting.'

As Hector turned to go, Jacques clapped him on the shoulder and said, 'Keep your wits about you, Hector, and rejoin us soon. Otherwise Jezreel will have me performing conjuring tricks, and Dan put up on display as a painted Indian.'

Ducking in through the low door to the captain's cabin, Hector came face to face with the marshal.

'Your name is Hector Lynch?' Bradley asked. He had taken off his hat, revealing that he wore his straggly grey hair long and tied back in a queue.

There was no point in denying it. That was the name Hector had used when buying his passage, and it was entered on the ship's passenger roster.

'You speak Spanish?'

The question took Hector by surprise. 'My mother was Spanish. Why do you ask?'

'My instructions are to detain one Hector Lynch, but the name appears on a separate warrant and no physical description is given. Only that he speaks good Spanish. It is important that I make the correct identification.' The marshal had the list of wanted men in his hand. 'His Excellency the Spanish ambassador has particularly requested that you be brought to justice promptly.'

Hector was thunderstruck. "Why have I been singled out in this way?'

'That I am not at liberty to say,' replied the marshal stiffly. He gave a small, brittle cough. 'Please be ready to leave within the hour.'

During the long, slow and muddy journey to London in the coach provided for their transport, Hector and Ringrose talked much about the marshal's watch list. When Hector told his companion about the interview with the lieutenant governor of Antigua, Ringrose gave a snort of disgust.

'The greedy swine! He didn't have enough men to seize Trinity so he took his bribe. Then the moment we were gone, he informed on us. There was plenty of time for his message to get here ahead of us in that tub of a merchantman, and have the marshal waiting on the quayside.'

'Do you think that Sharpe, Gifford and the others have been picked up as well?' Hector asked.

Ringrose looked thoughtful. 'Probably not Sharpe. He's astute. He told me he was going to Nevis before finding a ship bound for England. He must have suspected that vessels arriving direct from Antigua would be watched.'

The coach gave a sudden jolt on its unsprung axle as a wheel dropped into a rut. Both men had to hold on to their wooden seats or be thrown to the floor.

'Lynch, how is it that marshal's list is so accurate? He even had my physical description.'

'Maybe Henry Morgan had a hand in it. A poacher turned gamekeeper never relents.'

'But I've never met Sir Henry so he could not know what I look like.'

Hector watched the drenched countryside drag by and did not answer. He had his own suspicions of the informer's identity, but he was far more perplexed that the Spanish ambassador should be showing such a special interest in him. He could think of no reason why the ambassador was so anxious to arrange his prosecution.

Finally, after six days of sluggish progress, the coach deposited him and Ringrose at the destination that Mr Bradley had arranged — the Marshalsea Prison in Southwark. Despite brick walls topped by revolving iron spikes and a massive entry gate plated with iron, the Marshalsea proved much more comfortable than Trinity s dank and rat-infested accommodation. They were shown to a set of well-appointed rooms and told that their meals would be brought in from the outside.

'Tomorrow morning, Mr Lynch, you are required to attend a preliminary assessment of your case,' Bradley told him in his punctilious manner. 'Customarily the High Court of Admiralty deals with matters of prizes taken by sea. It decides their legitimacy and value and awards portions. But there are new procedures to adjudicate on matters which might normally be dealt within a criminal court . . . that is to say, you will be appearing before a Court of Instance not a Court of Prize. Mr Brice, an attorney to the court, has been appointed to determine how your case should be dealt with.'

Mr Brice proved to be a man so unassuming and nondescript that for a moment Hector mistook him to be an under-clerk. The attorney was waiting to interview Hector in the prison governor's office next morning. Of middling height and indeterminate age, Brice's pallid features were so bland that Hector would later have difficulty in recalling exactly what Brice looked like. His clothing gave no clue to his status for he was dressed in a suit of plain drab whose only effect was to make him even less obtrusive. Had it not been for the gleam of penetrating intelligence when he caught Hector's eye, Brice would have seemed a very ordinary person of little consequence.

'My apologies for disturbing you, Lynch,' Brice began in an affable tone. Various legal-looking documents and scrolls were spread on the governor's desk and Brice was leafing through them casually. 'I need to ask you a few more questions in relation to a charge arising from information provided by our lieutenant governor in Jamaica. Namely, that you were an originator of an illegal scheme to despoil the territories of a ruler in treaty and friendship with our king.

'What is the evidence for this charge?'

Brice frowned. 'We will come to that. First, would you be kind enough to write a few words on this sheet of paper for me?'

'What should I write?'

'Some of those exotic Caribee names that we hear from time to time — Campeachy, Panama, Boca del Toro, half a dozen will do.'

Hector, bewildered by the request, wrote down the names and handed the sheet back. Brice sprinkled sand on the wet ink, fastidiously poured the excess sand away, then laid the sheet on the desk. Selecting a large scroll from the pile of documents beside him, he undid the ribbon which held it. Hector had presumed the scroll was some sort of legal document but now he recognised it as a map. His mind leapt back to the days in Port Royal. It was one of the sheets that he had copied for the surveyor Snead in Jamaica.

Brice compared Hector's writing with the names written on the map and gave a small cluck of recognition. 'The same hand,' he announced. 'The deposition placed before the Court states you provided maps and charts, knowing they were to be used in the planning and execution of an expedition contrary to the interests of His Majesty.'

'Who accuses me of this?'

Brice glanced down at his notes. 'The witness has signed his statement and sworn to its truth. He sent this map as his evidence. His name is John Coxon, and he styles himself "Captain". Do you know him?'

'I do.'

'There is also a letter from Sir Henry Morgan, the lieutenant governor in Jamaica. Sir Henry affirms that Captain Coxon's testimony is credible.'

Hector felt a twinge of satisfaction mixed with outrage. He had guessed correctly. It was Coxon who had provided Morgan with the names of those who had been on the South Seas raid. Coxon was the turncoat and informer. He was still seeking to curry favour with Morgan just as he had done when he had tried to hand Hector over, believing him to be related to Governor Lynch.

The attorney was speaking again. 'Did you provide maps to assist the planning and execution of this illegal raid?'

'I was destitute and without employment. I had no idea that the charts would be used in that manner.'

'Can anyone vouch for the truth of this or provide you with character?'

Desperately Hector tried to think of someone who might speak up on his behalf. Snead was far away and would never admit to copying. There was no one else who might speak up for him. Then he remembered the carriage ride from Morgan's plantation in company with Susanna and her brother and the friendship that seemed to blossom between them.

'There is someone,' he said, 'Mr Robert Lynch, the nephew of Governor Lynch, would speak up for me. He was in Jamaica when all this took place.'

Brice looked disappointed. His lips set in a thin line. 'Sir Thomas Lynch is unavailable as he left London only recently to return to his duties as governor. Unfortunately Robert Lynch also cannot be here.'

Hector detected the sombre note in the reply. 'Has something happened to Robert Lynch?'

'Six months ago he died of the flux and, it is said, of chagrin. He had lost a great deal of money in indigo plantation.'

'I'm sorry to hear it. He was kind-hearted and generous.'

'Indeed. Have you no one else to substantiate your story?' Brice was looking at him as if genuinely interested in helping him.

Taking a deep breath, Hector said, 'Perhaps Mr Lynch's sister, Susanna, would be able to give evidence on my behalf in place of her brother.'

The attorney raised his eyebrows in shock. 'Mr Lynch, if I were you I would think carefully before approaching that person. Sir Thomas Exton would not take it kindly that his daughter-in-law is called as a character witness in a criminal case.'

Hector tried to make sense of the reply. 'I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean.'

'Sir Thomas Exton is the Advocate General. He is also the senior member of the Admiralty Court. This means that he will be president of the Court if your case comes to trial. Last month his oldest son John - whom I may say has the reputation as an up-and-coming attorney in his own right — married Miss Susanna Lynch. That is why Sir Thomas delayed his departure for Jamaica. To celebrate the wedding.'

Hector's spirits sagged. The news of Susanna's wedding was not unexpected. He had always imagined that she would one day marry someone of her own background. But the knowledge that she was now the wife of a lawyer somehow made the announcement more hurtful.

'I admit that I copied the maps but I was merely using my experience in cartography in the same way that I assisted Mr Ringrose in making drawings and plans of all the anchorages and places we visited in the South Seas.'

For the first time in the interview Hector sensed that he had said something to assist his case. Brice said softly, 'You made maps in the South Seas? Tell me about them.'

'Mr Ringrose always took sketches of the places where we anchored, and he drew profiles of the coast whenever we were near land. I helped him. Occasionally we took soundings with lead and line. Much as the Spaniards do when they prepared their own deroteros and pilot books.'

'You have seen a pilot book for the Peruvian coast?' Belatedly Hector realised that Brice knew exactly what a derotero was.

'There was one aboard a vessel we captured — the Santo Rosario.,'

'What happened to it?'

'It was returned to the Spaniards.'

A flicker of disappointment crossed the attorney's face.

'But we made notes and sketches before it was handed back,' Hector hastened to add.

'We?'

'My colleague Dan and I.'

Brice looked at Hector with narrowed eyes.

'If you still have this material, I would like to see a sample.'

'If you allow me to contact my friend, that can be arranged.'

Brice began rolling up the Caribbean chart. 'We will continue our discussion just as soon as you can produce some of those notes. Do you think you could have them available next week, perhaps on Thursday?'

'I'm sure that can be arranged.'

'I'll ask Mr Bradley to bring you to somewhere more congenial than these rather depressing surroundings.' He glanced around the prison governor's austere office as he wound the ribbon neatly around the rolled-up chart, pausing only to say in a quiet, confidential voice, 'Mr Lynch, I would be grateful if you talked to no one about my visit here today.'

'As you wish,' Hector assured him, though he was wondering why a lawyer like Brice knew such a complicated way to tie the ribbon. Either Brice was a fly-fisherman or he had seagoing experience.

By Thursday, when Bradley came to collect him, Hector had assembled the material Brice had requested. Dan had brought the bamboo tube containing the notes and sketches, and Ringrose had lent his journals from the South Sea. After Hector introduced Dan to the marshal, the three of them set off on foot into Southwark's tangle of alleyways. An overcast grey sky threatened yet another day of blustery showers as they joined the slow-moving mass of pedestrians, carts and carriages using London Bridge to cross the river. On the far side they turned right into a street lined with tall commercial buildings. After about a quarter mile they came to a shop front over which hung a trade sign showing an outline map of Britain and Ireland. Here Bradley led them down a narrow passageway and then up a flight of outside stairs to a large first-floor room at the rear of the building. Several windows looked out across London Pool and its constant activity of wherries and lighters attending to the needs of the anchored shipping. Beside a broad table littered with drawing instruments, Brice was waiting. With him was a stooped, rather bookish individual wearing a pair of spectacles.

The lawyer came quickly to the point. 'Mr Lynch, please show to Mr Hack your material from the South Sea.'

From his bamboo tube Hector slid the page copied from Captain Lopez's notes which he and Dan had consulted as they tried to decide where Trinity had so nearly been wrecked. The paper was creased and stained, and there were scuff marks where they had laid it out on the rock many months ago. Hack walked over to the window to examine their handiwork in the light. Beyond him the surface of the Thames suddenly flecked with white as a gust of wind riffled the water. A moment later came the sound of raindrops spattering against the window glass.

'What do you make of it, Mr Hack?' Brice was asking.

There was a long pause. 'Very interesting. The entrance to the Fretum Magellanicum agrees with Mr Jansson's depiction in his atlas, but here it is in greater detail.'

'Would such information help a navigator attempting the Strait?'

'Most certainly.'

'This provides extra detail,' said Hector holding out Ringrose's journal.

Hack took it from him and began to turn the pages slowly and deliberately until he came to Ringrose's sketch of the anchorage where they had mended Trinity?, rudder. Several moments passed before he looked up and said, 'If I had time to correlate the details in this journal with the page of navigation notes, I would be hopeful of providing a chart for this section of the coast.'

Earlier Hector had thought that Hack might be a sea captain. Now he knew that Hack was a professional cartographer.

Brice glanced at the bamboo tube Hector was holding. 'Mr Lynch, you say that you have other pages of navigation notes. Who made them?'

'The captain of the Santo Rosario. He was a very experienced mariner, and conscientious. Besides making his own observations, he compiled information from other captains, going back many years. There are details of anchorages and navigation dangers and port facilities.'

Brice picked up a pair of compasses from the mapmaker's table and began fiddling with them, opening and closing them as he considered Hector's statement. 'Mr Lynch, the Spanish ambassador, Senor Ronquillo, is pressing to have your case decided by the Court. He has personally intervened with His

Majesty who has agreed to his demand. I have an offer to make to you.'

'What do you have in mind?' Hector asked.

'If you agree to work with Mr Hack, correlating your notes with the general maps of the South Sea coast, I am willing to represent you in any action brought against you by the ambassador. I will ensure that you receive a fair hearing.'

Hector looked Brice in the eye. He was reassured by that same gleam of penetrating intelligence that he had noted on their first encounter. He decided that he had nothing to lose by trusting the attorney.

'If I'm to work on the maps, I'll need Dan to help me.'

'Of course. That will be easy. There is no mention of him or your other companions on the watch list we received from the Caribees.'

Brice spoke to the mapmaker. 'Mr Hack, I suggest that Mr Lynch and his colleague Dan spend some time with your staff. Not here at your official premises, but somewhere in the close vicinity.'

Brice gazed out of the window, thinking aloud. 'Of course the Spaniards are aware that we must have acquired some knowledge of the Peruvian coast. But as yet they don't know how much.'

'We also found a folder of more general charts aboard the Santo Rosario. They cover the coast all the way from California to the Cape and the Land of Fire,' Hector said.

'And where is this folder now?'

'It was given to Captain Sharpe.'

'Then we will find Captain Sharpe and get it. Our sources tell us that Captain Sharpe has reached London and is staying in lodgings in Stepney,' said Brice. He seemed remarkably well informed. The lawyer looked across at the marshal who had been standing patiently near the door. 'Mr Bradley, do you have with you the watch list?'

Bradley handed him the document, and Brice took a pen and struck out a name.

'It would seem sensible that I remove Mr Ringrose's name from the list of Gaol Delivery.'

'Why's that?' Hector dared to ask.

'Because Mr Ringrose will be your unwitting ally. With his help I'm sure that Mr Hack here can produce a South Sea atlas which will satisfy and distract the king. The basis of that atlas will be the folder of maps now in the possession of Captain Sharpe. The new atlas will be a work of art. It will be beautiful but of little practical use to navigators, and serve the dual purpose of reassuring the Spanish ambassador that we have learned little of real value. Meanwhile the more detailed version - your prime derotero as we may call it - will be lodged with the Admiralty against the time when it might come in useful.'

Brice's expression became very serious. 'Lynch, the Spanish ambassador remains most insistent that you are put on trial for piracy. I gather his people have been working hard to prepare evidence to place before the Court.'

Hector was taken aback. 'But I thought the Court of Admiralty was to oversee the gathering of evidence?'

Brice allowed himself a weary grimace. 'The ambassador has friends in high places, and permission has been granted for his legal counsellor to question you and prepare witness statements.'

'When is this to happen?'

'In three days' time marshal Bradley must bring you to the ambassador's residence where you will be interviewed. I have arranged that I will be present at the meeting and, as promised, I will do my best for you. But please bear in mind that officially we have never met, and that the outcome of the questioning will decide your future.'

Wild House, the Spanish ambassador's mansion near Lincoln's Inn Fields, was a building designed to impress the visitor. Hector was intimidated by the imposing facade, its array of glittering windows separated by tall ornamental pilasters, and set off with a balustraded parapet which ran the full width of the building. Wild House was screened from public view by a tall brick wall and Hector had the sense of entering a secluded, private world as marshal Bradley escorted him across the broad gravel forecourt. A major domo opened the ornate double front doors and escorted the two visitors across a tiled entrance hall under a cupola decorated with scenes from classical mythology. Beyond it a long corridor, hung with tapestries, led to the rear of the house. There, without a word, the major domo indicated that Bradley was to wait in the corridor while he ushered Hector into what was evidently a private library. Most of the wall space was taken up with shelves of books, and the only light came in through a leaded window looking out on a small garden. A log fire was burning in a large grate to keep out the chill.

Involuntarily, Hector was reminded of his examination by the Alcalde of Paita. The furniture had been arranged in much the same manner. At a table, seated with his back to the window, was Brice, now wearing a lawyer's sombre black suit with a white tab collar. He glanced briefly at Hector, as if he had never seen him before, and then looked down and began to arrange the papers on the table before him with the same neat gestures that Hector recognised from the fiscal in Paita. It set him wondering if all lawyers were alike, with identical mannerisms and the same circumspect outward show. Next to Brice a secretary was ready to take notes, and at a separate desk a few paces away sat a man dressed with great elegance in a sleeveless jacket embroidered with silver thread over a white satin shirt. A glimpse of his feet beneath the table revealed that he was wearing fine chamois leather shoes. Hector supposed that he was an embassy counsellor who was to conduct the cross-examination.

'The purpose of this meeting is to establish whether you should face a charge of murder and piracy,' began Brice. 'Senor Adrian,' the counsellor gave a slight inclination of his head, 'is to present the evidence. The proceedings will be conducted in English as far as practicable.'

Hector was not invited to sit so he remained standing, feeling the thick carpet beneath his feet. Brice turned towards the Spaniard. 'Perhaps we may begin?'

The counsellor picked up a paper from his desk, cleared his throat and in strongly accented English began to read aloud. After a few sentences it was clear that he intended to deliver a lengthy preamble to the case. Brice held up his hand to stop him.

'Senor Adrian, from what I have already seen of the documents, the crux of what we have to decide today concerns the capture of the ship named Santo Rosario off the coast of Peru. Perhaps we can proceed directly to that event.'

With an exasperated look the counsellor searched through his pile of documents until he found the one he wanted, then once again he began to read aloud. He described the events of that day: the slow approach of Trinity, the moment when Captain Lopez had grown suspicious, the firing of the first cannon shot, the musketry that followed. As he listened, Hector slowly became aware that he had heard the contents before. It was, word for word, the same deposition that Hector had heard at Paita, read out to Maria. Grudgingly he had to admire the thoroughness of Spanish bureaucracy. Somehow the colonial officials in Peru had managed to supply the document from half a world away.

Senor Adrian came to the end of his recitation, and Brice turned his attention to Hector.

'Were you present during these events?'

Hector felt trapped. Faced with such a precise and accurate account of what had happened, he could see no way of saving himself except to tell an outright lie and pit his word against Maria's testimony. Yet he knew that to contradict her sworn statement was a betrayal of what he felt about her, her honesty and her courage. He hesitated before answering, and when the words finally came out, there was a catch in his voice as he uttered the falsehood.

'I know nothing of the events you describe. I was aboard Trinity early in her voyage and only for a few weeks.'

The Spanish counsellor looked at him with open disbelief. 'All the accounts we have from Peru speak of a young man, of your age and description, who acted as interpreter and negotiator. You - alone of all the pirates — were seen face to face by our officials.'

'You'll have to prove that,' intervened Brice.

'I will, beyond all doubt,' snapped the counsellor. Turning to the secretary he said, 'Summon our first witness.'

The secretary rose from his chair and, crossing the library, left by a far door. He returned a few moments later. Behind him walked Coxon.

Hector suppressed a gasp of surprise. The last time he had seen Coxon had been at Panama on the evening before the buccaneer captain departed to return to the Caribbean. Then Coxon had been carrying plunder looted from the Spanish. Now he was serving them. Hector wondered how the buccaneer had managed to convince the Spaniards of his new allegiance, and at the same time maintain his links as an informant for Morgan. Whatever Coxon had arranged, he was clearly prospering. He was expensively dressed in a dark blue coat worn over a fashionably long waistcoat whose sleeves had been turned back to show his ruffled lace shirt-cuffs. Coxon had also put on weight. He was chubbier than before, there was even more grey in his reddish hair, and he was beginning to go bald. Hector enjoyed an instant of satisfaction from observing that Coxon had powdered his face and neck thickly in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the blotches and sores on his skin. Hector hoped that the damage to Coxon's complexion was permanent and owed something to the Kuna salve. Coxon gave him a malicious glance, full of quiet triumph, before turning to face the Spanish counsellor.

'Your name is Captain John Coxon?'

'Yes.'

'And you took part in the assault on His Catholic Majesty's possessions in the Americas two years ago?'

'Only briefly. I had been led to believe that we were campaigning against the heathen savages of the area, and they had been troubling the civilised settlers. As soon as I realised the truth, I withdrew my men.'

Hector was stunned. Involuntarily he thought of the phrase his shipmates used to describe a turncoat. He 'turned cat in the pan'. Hector stole a glance towards Brice. The lawyer's face was expressionless. Hector had a worrying feeling that Coxon's presence had also taken Brice by surprise.

'Do you recognise this person standing here?' asked the embassy counsellor.

Coxon's face was hard-set. He looked Hector up and down as if identifying an item of lost property. Hector was reminded of the pitiless reptilian look he had seen when Coxon seized the L'Arc-de-Ciel.

'He was one of the worst on the expedition. A number of your countrymen lost their lives when he promised them safe conduct, knowing that the savages were waiting in ambush to murder them.'

'Where did this happen?'

'At Santa Maria, in the Darien.'

Brice interrupted. 'Senor Adrian, this line of questioning is irrelevant. The charge we are here to substantiate is one of piracy on the high seas. The event your witness has described took place on land and within the overseas territory of Spain, and is therefore outside the jurisdiction of the Court of Admiralty. It will not be admissible.'

The Spaniard looked exasperated. He made a gesture of impatience. 'Captain Coxon, please wait outside. I will need you to give evidence in support of my next witness.'

As Coxon left the room, the smug expression on his face left no doubt that the buccaneer would take pleasure in doing Hector as much harm as possible.

'Please call the second witness,' said the counsellor. He was looking towards the door with an air of triumphant expectation.

Maria walked in.

Hector felt as if all the air had suddenly been emptied from his lungs. Maria was dressed in a plain russet gown with a lace collar, and her head was uncovered. She wore no jewellery and she looked the same as he remembered her, perhaps a little more mature, but just as composed. Hector was reminded of the moment when he had seen her standing in the little fishing boat early on the morning they had landed at Paita. Then, as now, she had seemed so self-contained, so sure of herself, and just as beautiful.

'You are Maria da Silva, and you are companion to Dona Juana, the wife of the Alcalde of Paita?' asked the counsellor.

'That is correct.' Maria's response was strong and clear.

'And you were aboard the Santo Rosario when the vessel was attacked by pirates, and witnessed the murder of her captain, Juan Lopez?'

'I did not witness his death but I saw his body later.'

'And you spent the next three weeks aboard the Santo Rosario, in company with your mistress, while the vessel was in the hands of the pirates.'

'That too is correct.'

Hector could not take his eyes off Maria. The initial shock of seeing her had given way to an urge to attract her attention, to re-establish contact with her and somehow not let it slip away. But she did not look towards him. Her gaze seemed to be fixed on the papers lying on the counsellor's polished desk.

Her questioner ground on. 'During that time or at any other time, did this man offer you violence or rob your possessions?'

Only then did Maria turn her head and look directly at Hector and their eyes met. He could read nothing in her expression, however hard he tried. To his dismay he saw a disinterest, a blankness as if he was a stranger.

'He did not.'

'As far as you know was he responsible for the death of Captain Lopez?'

'As I said, I did not see Captain Lopez die. I have no knowledge of the matter.'

The counsellor was becoming irritated. Hector detected that he wanted to clinch the matter.

'Maria da Silva, was this man a member of the crew of pirates?'

Maria looked again towards Hector. There was a pause of a few heartbeats and then she said quietly, 'He may have been aboard the other ship, but he never set foot on the Santo Rosario.'

Hector thought that he had misheard.

The counsellor was looking utterly taken aback. 'Do you say that he was not aboard the Santo Rosario?' 'Yes.'

The counsellor picked up the written deposition, and held the paper out for Maria to inspect.

'Do you recognise your signature at the bottom of this document?'

'Of course. That is my signature.'

'And was this statement not prepared in the presence of this young man and the Alcalde of Paita?'

'It was prepared in the office of the Alcalde. But I have never set eyes on the young man before.'

The counsellor took a sharp breath, expressing utter disbelief. 'Maria da Silva, this is a serious matter. You have been brought from Peru to serve as a witness to the piracy of the Santo Rosario and the murder of Captain Lopez. Yet you claim not to know one of the gang of brigands who was involved.'

'I repeat, I do not know this man. There has been some mistake.'

Angrily, the counsellor tossed the sheet on the table before him. Maria looked down at the floor and clasped her hands in front of her in a gesture that Hector recognised. It was a sign that Maria was stubborn and unshakeable.

Brice intervened smoothly. 'Senor Adrian, perhaps you have other witnesses?'

The Spanish counsellor was finding it difficult to conceal his exasperation. 'Not now,' he snapped.

'Then we should ask the young lady to withdraw.'

Hector watched Maria leave the room, his mind racing. He wanted desperately to believe that Maria had denied knowing him in order to protect him, but her repudiation of him had been absolute. It appeared that she had no difficulty at all in wiping out any recollection of him. Her rejection had been definitive and credible, and he felt as though a vast, icy space had opened between them. He no longer understood her.

'That will be all, Mr Lynch,' 'Brice was saying. 'You may leave this inquiry.'

Bradley was waiting outside, seated on a bench in the passageway. He got up with a look of concern on his face as Hector emerged from the library, and took him by the arm. 'Are you all right?' he asked anxiously. 'You seem pale. Mr Brice wanted to meet us after the interview, to discuss its outcome. His chambers are not far, in Lincoln's Inn. We should make our way there slowly and wait for him to conclude his business here.'

They had to wait for almost an hour. Brice's offices were what Hector had come to expect of him — two small rooms discreetly tucked away down a side street. Brice's clerk, a taciturn figure with the bony frame and frequent cough of a consumptive, brought them a small tray with two glasses and a bottle of canary wine and then left them alone. By the time Hector had drunk his second glass, he was beginning to feel less numb from the shock of his encounter with Maria. Gathering himself, he forced the recent image of her to the back of his mind, and tried to concentrate on his immediate difficulties: the likelihood of being tried at the Admiralty Court presided over by Susanna's potentially hostile father-in-law and Coxon's perjured claim that he had been involved in the planning for the South Sea Adventure. The future seemed very bleak.

To his surprise Brice, when he arrived, was looking as pleased with himself as his habitual reticence would allow.

'The Spanish ambassador is dropping his complaint against you, Hector,' he said. 'I discussed the matter with his counsellor, Serior Adrian, and we agreed that in the absence of his star witness, that attractive young lady, there is little prospect of his case succeeding.'

Hector took a moment to digest the unexpected news. 'The counsellor seems to have given up very easily.'

'It all goes back to those missing navigation notes. I managed to plant the idea in Senor Adrian's mind that if anyone had possession of them, it would be your captain, Bartholomew Sharpe. Doubtless the Embassy will now concentrate their enquiries in his direction.'

'What about Captain Coxon's accusation that I provided maps and charts for an illegal venture? Will I still have to answer for that?'

Brice allowed himself the glimmer of a smile. 'I am recommending to the Court that Captain Coxon's charge is dropped for lack of evidence. Should he continue to make such allegations, based on the map he sent us, I shall enquire how he acquired it in the first place. I will use the same threat if I hear he is again offering his services to Senor Ronquillo.'

He reached into his pocket and drew out a letter. 'This was handed to me as I was leaving Wild House after my discussions with Counsellor Adrian.' From his guarded look, Hector guessed Brice had read the contents. He took the page and, unfolding it, read:

Dearest Hector,

Denying you was the hardest thing that I ever had to do in my life. Not until I entered the room did I realise why I had been brought to London and what the consequences might be. I hope you will understand my response. By the time this note reaches you, I expect I will be on my way back to Peru. There I rejoin Dona Juana whose husband has been promoted to the audiencia. I cherish every hour that we spent together. You will always be in my thoughts.

Maria.

Brice had been watching his reaction. 'I would suggest that as soon as your work with Mr Hack is done, it would be prudent if you quietly disappeared. This would avoid any difficult questions which might arise later. If you were thinking of a sea career, a position as a ship's navigator could be arranged for you. Clearly your talents lie in that direction.'

Hector's mind was in a whirl. His circumstances seemed to be changing by the minute. New opportunities were opening up. Yet all he could think of was Maria and what she had been feeling as she stood opposite him in the interview. Above all, that he had mattered to her ever since the days in the South Sea. Belatedly he became aware of Brice waiting for a response.

'What about my friends? Two of them, Jezreel and Jacques, are already lying low. They were with me in the South Sea. They too might be picked up and questioned. And I'll have to ask Dan what his plans are after we've completed our work on the South Sea charts.'

'Berths could also be found for all your friends, if they care to join you,' Brice assured him.

Hector's thoughts were racing ahead. 'If I am to go to sea again, it is on one condition.'

'What is that?'

'That I have a choice of the ship on which we sail.'

Already he was thinking that he would try to persuade his three friends to join a vessel on a westward voyage. That was the direction in which - if he persevered and fortune was with him — he might eventually find his way to Maria again.

HISTORICAL NOTE

On Saturday 10 June 1682 Captain Bartholomew Sharpe and two of Trinity's crew appeared on a charge of piracy and murder before the High Court of Admiralty in Southwark. The advocate general, Sir Thomas Exton, presided. The jury found all three men not guilty, though gave no reason for their decision. The Spanish ambassador to London, who had pressed for their trial, was outraged. Four months later William Hack produced a lavishly illustrated book of Pacific charts, with a dedication to King Charles II from Bartholomew Sharpe. This atlas was of limited practical use to mariners, but other, much more detailed versions of this South Sea atlas entered private circulation.

Basil Ringrose, who had played a major role in navigating the Trinity, was never brought before the court. His journal, illustrated with coastal views and harbour plans along the South American coast, was published three years later, also with Hack's cooperation.

Captain John Coxon continued to operate in the Caribbean and turned 'cat in the pan' several more times. Governor Lynch even hired him to hunt down pirates, but Coxon could not resist reverting to his former trade as a buccaneer. He attacked Spanish settlements and looted foreign ships. Several warrants were issued for his arrest. He was never captured.