COLOURS ALOFT!

11. A TIME FOR CARING

IT WAS early morning when Bolitho made his way to the quarterdeck. Two days since Firefly had found them and Adam had given him the news.

Argonaute was lying comfortably on the larboard tack under topsails and jib, her decks damp from the night air, her seamen moving about in the half-light, clearing up loose lines and holystoning the poop under the supervision of their petty officers. There was a sickly smell from the galley funnel, and all hands would soon be dismissed for their breakfast.

Bolitho saw the officer-of-the-watch glance at him startled, then move hastily to the lee side. The helmsmen too straightened their backs when moments before they had been clinging to the big double wheel, tired after their watch, thinking only of breakfast, poor though it might be.

One or two of the seamen looked up at him from the main deck. They had seen very little of Bolitho since the injury, and later the smoke of battle had hidden him better than any disguise.

He shaded his eye and stared towards the land. Purple and deep blue above a steely horizon. There were clouds about, rimmed with pink and gold from the sunrise. The sea was calmer and the deck much steadier.

He walked a few paces inboard, his hands grasped firmly behind him. When he sought out individual figures he felt his heart quicken. He could recognize all but those in shadow between the guns.

He called to the lieutenant in charge of the watch.

"Good morning, Mr Machan." The officer touched his hat and hurried towards him.

"A fine day, Sir Richard." He sounded confused and pleased.

Bolitho studied him. Detail by detail. He could see him better than he had dared hope and recalled how he had once mistaken Sheaffe for another officer entirely.

He realized that Machan was visibly wilting under his stare.

Bolitho said, "Is Helicon in sight from the masthead?"

They had seen Inch's ship and her consort just as night had closed in, but daylight would bring them all together again except for Barracouta in her odd disguise, and they would be reduced again as soon as the flagship left for Malta.

It was madness, but Bolitho knew that the orders left nothing to chance or conjecture. If Keen was required to face a court of inquiry he must go in his own ship. To be sent as a passenger in some courier brig would be as good as condemning him and holding the door wide to a court martial.

He found he was pacing again, and that Machan had returned to his place at the lee nettings. The news would spread, first through the lower deck, then to every ship in the squadron. The admiral was up and about again.

Bolitho allowed his mind to grapple with Belinda's letter. He was still not sure what he had expected. Her letter was not brief, but lacked any personal contact. She had written of the estate, of Ferguson's plans for extending the market garden, of the old exciseman whose wife was having another baby.

It had been a strange experience, but he had not wanted Yovell or Ozzard to read it to him. Instead he had asked for the girl to be brought aft and to do it. Belinda's voice had become hers, but the letter had been light and evasive, no mention of London or the coolness of their parting.

Bolitho paused as a shaft of sunlight lanced through the shrouds, then took the letter from his pocket. He held it to the light, careful to hide what he was doing from the officer-of-the-watch and his midshipman.

He could just make out some of the words. Yesterday it would have been impossible.

It ended, "From your loving wife, Belinda."

He recalled the sound of her name on Zenoria's lips, how it had moved him and made him vaguely uneasy because of it.

The girl had handed him the letter and had said, "She is a fine lady, sir."

Bolitho sensed her despair and her envy. Keen had told her about Pullen.

Bolitho had said, "Sit closer." When she had joined him he had taken her hands, remembering how he had removed his coat with the proud epaulettes the first time he had met her.

He had said, "I shall keep my word, have no doubt of that." He had sensed her disbelief as she had replied, "How can you help me now, sir? They will be waiting." He had heard her frightened determination. "They'll not take me alive. Never!"

He had pressed her hands between his. "What I tell you must be our secret. If you tell my captain, he will be an accomplice and there must be no more blame."

She had hesitated. "I trust you, sir. Whatever you say."

Bolitho put the letter back in his pocket. He was still not sure how to deal with the matter. But her spirits must be held high. Otherwise, she might throw herself overboard or do some other injury to herself rather than face arrest and custody again.

The masthead lookout yelled, "Deck there, sail in sight to the sou'-east!"

Bolitho could picture Inch's ship, her sails like pink shells in the frail sunshine as she headed towards Argonaute.

He thought of the girl again. She would soon hear of the other ship's arrival. Another turn of the screw, hastening her passage to Malta and heartless authority.

Keen came on deck, hatless and without a coat. He stared at Bolitho and made to explain.

Bolitho smiled. "Easy, Val. I could not sleep. I needed to walk."

Keen grinned with relief. "Just to see you on deck again is like a tonic, sir!"

He became serious. "I do not wish to burden you further, but-"

Bolitho interrupted. "I have a plan." "But, sir,-"

Bolitho held up his hand. "I know what you will say, that you will insist that the responsibility is yours. You are wrong. My flag flies over this squadron, and while it does I will pilot the affairs of my officers and in particular those of my own captain." His voice sounded bitter as he added, "Ever since my brother deserted to the American Navy there have been those who have been eager to bring discredit on my family. My father suffered because of it, and more than once I have been a ready target for their malice and plotting. Adam too, but then you know that. So I shall not have you brought down merely because it might hurt me."

"You really think that someone intends you harm, sir?"

"I have no doubts at all. But nobody will expect me to release you from responsibility and take it on myself." No wonder Pullen, the carrion crow, had seemed so confident.

The realization chilled him, angered him with the same intensity as when he had almost ordered the last broadside on the French two-decker.

He heard himself say, "Let me deal with it my own way, Val. Then we can go after the real enemy, if it is not already too late!"

Keen watched him and saw the emotions, like the lines on a chart. Perhaps Bolitho's injury had affected his reasoning more than he realized. Keen had heard about the attacks on Bolitho's family, the way it had been used in the past to prevent promotion or stem recognition which had been bravely earned.

But surely, in the middle of a campaign, nobody would be mad enough to exploit such deep-rooted malevolence?

Keen said, "Just so long as Zenoria is safe, sir."

"She is merely being used, Val. I'm certain of that." He turned as the midshipman called, "Rapid's signalling, sir!"

Bolitho watched the flags breaking from the yard and heard Keen say, "You can see the signal, sir!"

Bolitho tried to conceal his excitement. "Well enough." He turned towards the poop. The other bandage would come off and to hell with Tuson's gloomy predictions. When Inch came aboard he would find his admiral again, not some faltering cripple. He strode beneath the poop and only once lost his balance as the ship dipped into a long trough.

The scarlet-coated sentry made to open the door for him but Bolitho said, "No need, Collins. I can manage."

The marine gaped after him, astonished that Bolitho had even remembered his name.

Yovell looked up startled from the desk, his spectacles awry as he saw Bolitho stride through the door.

"I want to prepare some instructions for Captain Inch of the Helicon, Mr Yovell. After that I will receive that gentleman on board before we part company again." He watched Yovell opening drawers and searching for a new pen.

"And after that I shall want Midshipman Hickling to lay aft, if you please."

Yovell nodded. "I understand, Sir Richard."

Bolitho eyed him keenly. You don't, but never mind.

Yovell said, "The surgeon is waiting to see you, sir."

Bolitho leaned both hands on his chair to study himself in the mirror. The small cuts had almost healed, and his eye looked almost normal. Even the occasional pricking sensation was less noticeable.

He said, "Send him in." He tugged the bandage. "I have a job for him directly."

Allday came through the other door and watched anxiously as Bolitho prepared to remove the bandage.

"If you're sure, sir?"

"I shall want you to perform as a barber later on."

Allday glanced at Bolitho's black hair. It looked suitable, he thought. But he knew better than to say or do anything which might dampen Bolitho's new mood.

Tuson made no bones about it; he even raised his voice as he said hotly, "If you won't listen to me, at least wait until you can be examined by someone more qualified, sir!"

The bandage had fallen to the deck and Bolitho had tried not to flinch or bunch his fists as Tuson had examined the eye for the hundredth time.

"It is no better," he said at length. "If you will but rest it, I-"

Bolitho shook his head. The vision was misty, clouded, but the pain held back as if surprised by his sudden action.

"I feel better, that is the important thing." He turned to Tuson and added simply, "Try to understand, my friend."

Tuson closed his bag angrily. "If you were a mere common seaman, Sir Richard, I'd say you were a damned fool." He shrugged. "But you are not, so I will say nothing."

Bolitho waited until the door closed then massaged his eye until he realized what he was doing.

Then he stared at himself in the mirror for several seconds. He would find and destroy Jobert's squadron no matter what. And, like Inch, when his men looked to him at the cannon's mouth, they must find confidence and not lose heart.

To the cabin at large he said, "So let us be about it."

During the five and a half days it took for Argonaute to take passage to Malta, Bolitho remained for much of the time in his quarters. It allowed Keen time and scope to complete his repairs, and to change his watch-bill whenever he discovered a weakness in his company. Gun and sail drill, he kept them at it on each monotonous day. They might curse their captain, but the results were clear to Bolitho as he heard the creak of gun trucks on deck or the yells of the petty officers as they drove some reluctant land-men aloft to the dizzy yards.

As he studied his orders and information he was conscious of their slow progress, sometimes only six knots, often less. He became very aware that it would take just as long to return to his patrol area if the enemy decided to move.

He trusted Inch as a skilful and experienced captain. He did not lack initiative, but often hesitated about using it. It troubled Bolitho, for over the years Inch with his eager horse-face had become like a brother.

Keen reported as soon as the masthead had sighted the island.

"It will be late afternoon, maybe in the dogwatches, before I can anchor, sir, unless the wind freshens."

Bolitho looked at him and saw Keen trying not to stare at his unbandaged eye. It was never mentioned now but it was always there, like a threat.

"Very well. I shall come on deck when we enter the Grand Harbour."

Keen left him alone and Bolitho sat down in his new chair. What would the next move be? An order to remove him because of his injury? Replace him entirely? It was all too much of a coincidence to think, as Keen probably did, that he was imagining it.

There had been many letters sent home from the squadron in Firefly.

Bolitho frowned as he pictured his officers, his captains. Houston of the Icarus was the most likely. Anger and an obvious resentment made him first choice. He certainly had no love for either his admiral or his flag-captain.

He went on deck only briefly to train a telescope on the blue hump of islands as Malta appeared to drift sleepily towards them. He made up his mind. If things went badly wrong nothing he could say would save their accusations, or the girl either. But he had to be ready. He knew Keen had been to visit the girl in her cabin. It would have been a difficult farewell, each trusting Bolitho, neither knowing if or when they might ever meet again. They could not even speak freely with Tuson and a marine sentry close by.

Bolitho returned to his cabin. "Ozzard, send for Allday. Now." He walked to the windows and watched a small high-prowed fishing boat bobbing astern. Malta, fought over, won and lost, now accepting the Navy's protection more as a defence against the French than from any sense of loyalty.

Allday had obviously been very near. He entered the cabin and waited, his face expressionless as he gauged Bolitho's mood.

Bolitho said, "Fetch her, please."

Allday took a deep breath. "I'm not at all certain about it, Sir Richard."

"About what, old friend? You have heard nothing."

Allday sighed. It was fine now, but there would be squalls later if it misfired.

He padded from the cabin, an unspoken argument left hanging in the air.

Bolitho swore silently as the deck tilted and he heard the clatter of blocks and helm as the ship altered course slightly. He had almost lost his balance again. It was unnerving, like the mist which hung over his eye like a piece of fine silk.

The door opened, then Allday closed it behind her.

"It is almost time." Bolitho led her to a chair and watched her grip its arms, making a lie of her composure.

He walked behind her and touched her long hair. "Are you sure, brave Zenoria?"

She nodded and held the chair even more tightly.

Allday muttered hoarsely, "Lie back, Miss."

She laid her head on the chairback and after a brief hesitation unbuttoned her shirt and bared her neck.

Bolitho took her hand. No wonder Keen adored her.

Allday said despairingly, "I can't do it, sir. Not like this."

She said quietly, "Do it. Please. Now."

Allday released a great sigh and then pulled her hair out behind her, his scissors poised like steel jaws.

Bolitho watched the hair falling to the deck and said, "I will be on deck." He squeezed her hand; it was like ice in spite of the cabin's humid air. "Allday will care for you." Then he bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Your courage will yet sustain all of us, Zenoria."

Later, as he joined Keen on the quarterdeck and watched the white forts and harbour opening up to receive the slow-moving seventy-four, he had forcibly to restrain his anxiety.

The salutes began to boom across the placid water and a flag dipped above the nearest battery.

There were many ships at anchor and several large men-of-war. He raised a telescope and held it carefully to his good eye. A smart two-decker lay nearest to the jetty, a rear-admiral's flag flapping only occasionally from her mizzen.

He felt a catch in his throat. There was no mistaking the Benbow. Pictures flashed through his mind. He had been a rear-admiral, when was it? Three years back in the Baltic when his nephew had been the ship's third lieutenant and Herrick his flag-captain.

He tried to thrust her fat, black-and-buff hull from his mind as, with something close to physical force, he continued to examine the busy anchorage.

Thank God. The lens settled on a sturdy brig which was anchored almost end on. No wonder he had not seen her. He waited impatiently for the gentle breeze to swing her again on her cable until the sunlight glinted on her glided counter.

Bolitho read her name, Lord Egmont, although he already knew it well. She was one of the oldest in the fleet of Falmouth packets; he had known her since he had been a junior lieutenant.

He had felt certain she would be here; he had seen her name in his Admiralty instructions. But wind and sea, a change of events could have altered things, and even nowHe lowered the glass and the brig fell away into hazy distance again.

The last smoke from the salute still hung over the yards as men were piped to hoist out the two cutters in case the wind was insufficient to turn the ship at her anchorage. A swaying guard-boat with a limp anchor flag in her bows waited, pinned down on the glittering water, probably the only interested group to watch their arrival. Warships were too common for comment; only the transports and the mail carriers from England excited real attention nowadays.

Keen cupped his hands. "Be ready to let go, Mr Paget!"

He glanced quickly at Bolitho, his expression suddenly apprehensive, but not for himself.

Bolitho shaded his eyes and stared at the waterfront with its ancient fortifications and busy markets. A sailor's port, a warren of activity. He bit his lip. A place for spies too.

The admiral would be watching; Pullen too.

Keen said, "Firefly's already gone, sir."

"Aye." Adam at least would be well out of it, no matter how he wanted to help. Is it something about us, the Cornish, he wondered?

A senior officer had once told him to his face, "Cornishmen? Pirates and rebels the whole bunch of you!"

It seemed to take an age before Argonaute finally took up her anchorage, her sails furled neatly to her yards. Awnings were spread and the ship settled down to await events.

Bolitho watched the boats coming to the chains, the officer-of-the-guard, a chandler from the dockyard, an embarrassed-looking ensign from the garrison who had come to collect Millie the maid. She seemed unwilling to leave and, despite the grins of the watching sailors, clung to the ship's corporal as if her life depended on it.

Keen watched from the poop, his thoughts elsewhere as visitors and some of his own officers waited to make their claims upon his time.

He saw Lieutenant Stayt speaking with the boatswain and then a party of seamen loosening the lashings on the barge in readiness for hoisting her outboard.

Bolitho was going ashore. Earlier than he had expected, and it made him uneasy.

The officer-of-the-guard touched his hat and handed Keen an official-looking envelope. He looked ill at ease, like someone performing his duty against his nature, but at the same time afraid of being tainted by too close a contact.

It was a summons from the admiral's headquarters to appear before a court of inquiry two days hence. The flag-officer-in-charge must have sent it as soon as Argonaute's sails had been sighted. Stayt waited for the guard-boat to leave the chains and then came aft.

"I have to take Sir Richard's despatches to the flag-officer here, sir."

Keen nodded. So Stayt was taking the barge. That explained it. He noticed that Bankart, the second coxswain, was in charge of the bargemen. That was unusual, he thought. Allday usually handled her when they were in harbour or under the eyes of the fleet.

He heard Midshipman Hickling request permission to take the jolly-boat to a nearby merchantman, and Paget's approval when he learned that there was a message to be carried across from the admiral.

Keen glanced up at the flag. When it was hauled down again it might mean the end for both of them.

Midshipman Sheaffe hurried up to the poop ladder and said, "The admiral's compliments, sir, and would you see him at eight bells."

Keen tightened his jaw. If Bolitho had any good news for him he would not wait for another hour.

Almost savagely he called to Paget, "I want all boats lowered. Send a lieutenant in each one to examine the hull."

It was unlikely that they had overlooked any damage from the brief battle, and Keen knew he was being unfair to give them extra work.

Eventually Keen heard the bell chime from the forecastle. It was time.

He thought suddenly of his home in Hampshire. It would be cold there, probably wet too as the villagers prepared for winter and, if need be, an attempted invasion by the French. What would his brothers and sisters say when they heard the news of his court martial, and he could see no alternative to one. His father would be distressed, especially as he had been against his youngest son entering the Navy in the first place.

He passed the sentry and stepped into the glowing lights of the stern cabin.

Keen was surprised to find Bolitho dressed in his long boat-cloak, and for an instant imagined that Stayt had misunderstood his orders.

But Bolitho said calmly, "I am going ashore, Val. I will take your gig, if I may." He gave a quick smile as if he was on edge. "Less formal, I thought."

Keen said, "The ship is secured, sir, and both watches have been stood down."

Bolitho watched him gravely. "Except for certain lieutenants, I gather?" He nodded. "Good. Never trust to luck where hull damage is concerned."

Allday padded across the cabin and took down the old sword.

Keen watched. So Bolitho was not going to visit the admiral who commanded in Malta? It was getting a bit late for formalities anyway, he decided.

Bolitho settled his sword against his hip and said, "Take charge of the gig, Allday." He glanced towards the stern windows. The thick glass was twinkling with countless lights from the shore. Like the dawn, the night came swiftly.

There was a quick exchange of glances, but Bolitho faced Allday steadily and said, "We don't have much time."

Allday looked at Keen but said nothing.

They were alone. Bolitho said, "I shall be aboard the Lord Egmont before I step ashore."

Keen nodded. He had seen the packet preparing to up-anchor, men swarming on her deck to secure some extra cargo, probably her master's own booty.

Bolitho said, "This were better done quickly, Val." He raised his voice. "Are you ready?"

Keen stared as the midshipman entered from the opposite screen door.

"I did not realize you were-"

He stared as the girl met his gaze and looked at him. She was dressed in a complete midshipman's uniform, and even wore a finely gilded dirk at her side.

Keen stepped towards her, his hands outstretched as she removed her hat, and he saw what Allday had done to her hair. It was short, the ends tied neatly with a black ribbon as befitted a "young gentleman" about to take charge of his admiral's boat.

Bolitho watched them, suddenly glad of what he was doing. With a court of inquiry about to begin and the enemy stirred into the mood for revenge, there was little room for mere people.

He said, "I'll be on deck. No side party, eh?"

As the door closed Keen took her in his arms. He could feel her heart pounding against him despite the padding she wore beneath her shirt to disguise her figure.

"You did not tell me?" Even as he said it he guessed what Bolitho had done, his sudden agitation as they had entered harbour. The Lord Egmont would be sailing to Falmouth. She was as familiar there as Pendennis Castle.

"He asked me to remain silent." She looked up at him, her lashes shining in the soft lights. "I have a letter and some money, in case-"

He hugged her against him still tighter. He had prayed for her safety, even if it meant losing her. But now that the moment had come he could scarcely bear it.

She said softly, "Now I must tell you, my dearest one. You must be brave. For both of us."

A boat clattered alongside and Keen heard Allday's voice taking command.

"When I reach England-"

She put her hands to his face and held it. "I will be waiting." She watched him steadily. "No matter what happens, I shall be there. For you." She kissed him slowly and then stood away. "I love thee, my dear captain."

He watched her replace her hat and tilt it over her eyes. She was very contained, like brittle steel.

"Ready, sir?"

He nodded, wanting to hold her again, but knowing it would finish both of them.

"Carry on, if you please, Mr Carwithen."

It was almost dark on deck and Keen saw that the lantern by the entry port had been doused.

The boat was waiting below the stairs, and there were few figures on deck to notice that someone was leaving the ship.

Keen saw that Tuson was there, Paget too, but nobody spoke; even the master's mate-of-the-watch stood back as Bolitho passed, as if he did not exist.

Keen brushed her arm, the small contact tearing him apart.

"It is their way. They will miss you too."

She looked into the gloom and then touched her hat before she clambered down the side.

Bolitho glanced at Keen. "The LordEgmont's master is an old friend, Val. I made certain he was still in command before I entrusted our passenger to his care." He flung his cloak over one shoulder. "There is not a moment to delay."

Keen said, "We were just in time, sir."

Bolitho looked down into the boat where Allday would be worrying about his descent.

"A time to care, Val. There must always be room for that."

Then without another glance he lowered himself down to the boat. As the oars slashed at the water Keen could just see Allday in the sternsheets, one hand covering hers on the tiller, but hidden from the oarsmen by Bolitho's shoulders.

Ozzard bounded across the deck and exclaimed in a desperate whisper, "The gown, sir! She's forgot it!"

Keen watched until the gig had merged with the anchored shadows and then replied, "No matter. I shall hand it to her myself, in England."