Honour This Day

10.Harbour

Two weeks after Phaedra's capture of the pirate brigantine and the release of the captives, Hyperion and Obdurate returned to Antigua.

The island was sighted at dawn, but as if to taunt their efforts, the wind all but died completely and it was nearly dusk before they edged their way into English Harbour and dropped anchor.

Bolitho had been on the quarterdeck for most of the afternoon, idly watching the hands trimming the sails while the island seemed to stand away at the same distance.

Any other time it would have been a proud moment. They had met with ships of Sir Peter Folliot's squadron, which even now would be escorting the treasure convoy all the remainder of the way to England.

The lookouts had eventually reported that there were three ships-of-the-line in harbour and Bolitho guessed they were the other vessels of his squadron, with each captain doubtless wondering about his immediate future under Bolitho's flag.

That too should have been like a tonic, after the strain of escorting the treasure and fighting a daily battle with the weather. Now, Bolitho was somehow grateful that it would not be until the next day that he could meet his new captains and while they studied him, he would measure the men who would be serving him.

When both the two-deckers finally dropped their anchors Bolitho had gone aft to his quarters where the great cabin was already transformed by several cheerful lanterns.

He walked to the stern windows and leaned out over the darkening water to watch a full-blooded sunset, but his mind was still hanging on to that moment when Catherine had been hoisted up the ship's side in the rough tarpaulin coat.

It did not seem possible that she had been here in this same cabin, alone with him.

Alone with him and yet still at a measured distance. He walked around the cabin and looked at his sleeping quarters, which he had given her during her brief stay on board. There should still be some sign of her presence. A breath of her perfume, a garment forgotten perhaps when she had been carried over to Admiral Folliot's flagship when the two formations of ships had found each other.

Bolitho crossed to the fine mahogany wine cabinet and ran his fingers along it. Made by one of the best craftsmen, it had been her gift to him after he had left her in London, where he had last seen her until Antigua. He smiled sadly as he remembered his old friend Thomas Herrick's disapproval when the cabinet had been brought aboard his Lysander, after he had been appointed Boli-tho's flag captain.

Herrick had always been a loyal friend, but had mistrusted anything and anyone he thought might damage Bolitho's name and career. Even young Adam had been involved because of the so-called liaison between them for that short, precious time. He had fought a duel with another hot-headed lieutenant at Gibraltar in defence of his uncle's reputation. It seemed as if everyone Bolitho cared for was hurt or damaged by the contact.

He turned and looked along the cabin, and saw the marine sentry's shadow through the screen door. She had stood here, quite still, only her breathing rapid and uncontrolled as she had stared around, the coat bunched to her throat as if she was cold.

Then she had noticed the cabinet, and for just a moment he had seen her mouth quiver.

He had said quietly, 'It goes everywhere with me.'

Then she had walked right up to him and had laid her hand on his face. When he had made to put his arms round her she had shaken her head with something like desperation.

'No! It is hard enough to be here like this. Do not make it worse. I just want to look at you. To tell you how much it means to be alive because of you. God, Fate, I know not which, once brought us together. And now I fear what it might do to us.'

He had seen the great rent in her gown and had asked, 'Can I not have it mended? Your maid, where is she?'

She had walked away but had kept her eyes on him. 'Maria is dead. They tried to rape her. When she fought them with her bare hands they killed her, cut her down like some helpless animal.' She added slowly, 'Your little ship came just in time. For me, that is. But I made sure that some of those filthy pigs never breathe the same air again.' She had looked at her hands, at the soiled fan which she still grasped in one of them. 'I wish to God I could be there when they make those vermin dance on their ropes!'

The screen door opened slightly and Jenour looked in at him.

'The Commodore's boat has been sighted, Sir Richard.' His eyes moved around the cabin. Maybe he could see her too.

'Very well.' Bolitho sat down and looked at the deck between his feet. Glassport was the last man he wanted to see just now.

He thought of that final moment when he had accompanied her across to Sir Peter Folliot's big three-decker.

The admiral was a slight, sickly man, but there was nothing wrong with his quick mind. Despite the poor communications he seemed to know all about the preparations for the raid on La Guaira, and the actual amount of booty down to the nearest gold coin.

'Quite an escapade, eh?' He had greeted Catherine with lavish courtesy, and had announced that he would place her in the care of one of his best frigate captains, who would make all speed to return her to her husband in Antigua.

Maybe he knew something about that as well, Bolitho thought.

He had watched the powerful forty-four gun frigate making sail to take her away from him for the last time, and had stayed on deck until only the topgallant sails showed above the evening horizon like pink shells.

The big Indiaman had gone from the harbour, and he had pictured Catherine with her husband drawing further and further away with each turn of the glass.

The door opened again and Captain Haven took a few paces into the cabin.

'I am about to greet the Commodore, Sir Richard. May I signal your captains to repair on board tomorrow forenoon?'

'Yes.' It was all so empty, so coldly formal. Like a great wall between them.

Bolitho tried again. 'I did hear your wife was expecting a child, Captain Haven.' He recalled how tense Haven had been since he had received his letters from the courier brig. Like a man in a trance; he had even allowed Parris to manage the ship's affairs for him.

Haven's eyes narrowed. 'From whom, Sir Richard, may I ask?'

Bolitho sighed. 'Does it matter?'

Haven looked away. 'A baby boy.'

Bolitho saw his fingers clench around his cocked hat. Haven was driving himself mad.

'I congratulate you. It must have been on your mind a great deal.'

Haven swallowed hard. 'Yes, er, thank you, Sir Richard -'

Mercifully, shouted orders floated from the quarterdeck and Haven almost fled from the cabin to meet Commodore Glassport as he came aboard.

Bolitho stood up as Ozzard entered with his dress coat. Was it really Parris's child, he wondered? How would they settle it?

He looked down at Ozzard. 'Did I thank you for taking good care of our guest while she was amongst us?'

Ozzard brushed a speck of dust from the coat. He had mended Catherine's torn gown. There seemed no end to his skills.

The little man gave a shy smile. 'You did, Sir Richard. It was a pleasure.' He reached into a drawer and pulled out the fan she had brought with her from the sinking schooner.

'She left this.' He flinched under Bolitho's stare. 'I -1 cleaned it up. There was some blood on it, y'see.'

''Left it?' Bolitho turned the fan over in his hands, remembering it, seeing her expression above it. He turned aside from a lantern as his eye misted over very slightly. He repeated, 'Left it?'

Ozzard watched him anxiously. 'All the rush. I expect she forgot.'

Bolitho gripped the fan tightly. No, she had not forgotten it.

Feet tramped towards the door and then Commodore Glassport, followed by the flag captain and Jenour, entered the cabin. Glassport's features were bright scarlet, as if he had been running uphill.

Bolitho said, 'Be seated. Some claret perhaps?'

Glassport seemed to revive at the word. 'I'd relish a glass, Sir Richard. Dammee, so much excitement, I think I should have retired long since!'

Ozzard filled their glasses and Bolitho said, 'To victory.'

Glassport stuck out his thick legs and licked his lips.

'A very fair claret, Sir Richard.'

Haven remarked, There are some letters, Sir Richard; they came in the last packet ship.' He watched as Jenour brought a small bundle and laid it on the table by Bolitho's elbow.

Bolitho said, 'See to the glasses, Ozzard.' Then, 'If you will excuse me, gentlemen.'

He slit open one letter. He recognised Belinda's handwriting immediately.

His glance moved rapidly across the letter, so that he had to stop and begin again.

My dear husband. It was as if the letter was for someone else. Belinda wrote briefly of her latest visit to London, and that she was now staying in a house which she had leased to await his approval. Elizabeth had had a cold, but was now well and had taken to the nurse whom Belinda had hired. The rest of the letter seemed to be about Nelson, and how the whole country was depending on him as he stood between the French and England.

Jenour asked quietly, 'Not bad news, Sir Richard?'

Bolitho tucked the letter into his coat. 'Really, Stephen, I wouldn't know.'

There had been nothing about Falmouth and people there he had known all his life. No concern, not even anger or remorse at the way they had parted.

Glassport said heavily, 'It is a mite quieter here now that the King's Inspector General is departed.' He gave a deep chuckle. 'I would not wish to get on the wrong side of that one.'

Haven said primly, 'His is another world. It is certainly not mine.'

Bolitho said, 'I shall see my captains tomorrow -' He looked at Glassport. 'By how much was the Indiaman delayed?'

Glassport peered at him, his mind already blurred by several large glasses of claret.

'When the gale eased, Sir Richard.'

Bolitho stood up without realising it. He must have misheard. 'Without waiting for Lady Somervell? By what vessel did she take passage after she arrived in the frigate?' Surely even Somervell, so eager to present the treasure to His Majesty in person, would have waited to be assured of Catherine's safety?

Glassport sensed his sudden anxiety and said, 'She did not leave, Sir Richard. I am still awaiting her instructions.' He seemed confused. 'Lady Somervell is at the house.'

Bolitho sat down again, then glanced across at the fan which lay on the wine cabinet.

He said, 'Once again, please excuse me, gentlemen. I will speak with you tomorrow.'

Later, as he listened to the trill of calls and the thud of Glassport's launch alongside, he walked to the stern windows and stared at the land. Pinpricks of light from the harbour and the houses behind it. A slow, glassy swell which tilted Hyperion's heavy bulk just enough to make the rigging and blocks stir uneasily. A few pale stars. Bolitho took time to count them, to contain the sudden realisation which moments earlier had been disbelief.

Would you risk everything? The voice seemed to speak out loud.

Jenour re-entered silently and Bolitho saw his reflection in the thick glass beside him.

Bolitho said, 'Fetch Allday, if you would, Stephen, and call away my barge. I am going ashore directly.'

Jenour hesitated, unwilling to pit his beliefs against Bolitho's sudden determination.

Jenour had watched him when Glassport had blurted out about the woman Phaedra had snatched from the sea and the nearness of brutal rape and death. It had been like seeing a light rekindled. A cloud passing away.

He said, 'May I speak, Sir Richard?'

'Have I ever prevented you from doing so, Stephen?' He half turned, feeling the young lieutenant's uncertainty and discomfort. 'Is it about my leaving the ship?'

Jenour replied huskily, 'There is not a man under the flag who would not die for you, Sir Richard.'

Bolitho said, 'I doubt that.' He immediately sensed Jenour's dismay and added, 'Please continue.'

Jenour said, 'You intend to visit the lady, Sir Richard.' He fell silent, expecting an instant rebuff. When Bolitho said nothing he continued, 'By tomorrow the whole squadron will know. This rime next month, all England will hear of it.' He looked down and said, 'I -1 am sorry to speak out in this fashion. I have no right. It is just that I care very much.'

Bolitho took his arm and shook it gently. 'It took courage to speak as you did. An old enemy, John Paul Jones, was quoted as saying that "he who will not risk cannot win". Whatever his other faults may have been, a lack of courage was not one of them.' He smiled gravely. 'I know the risk, Stephen. Now fetch Allday.'

On the other side of the pantry door Ozzard withdrew his ear from the shutter and nodded very slowly.

He was suddenly grateful he had discovered the fan.

Bolitho barely noticed anything as he strode through the shadows to leave the harbour behind him. Only once he paused to regain his breath, and to try and test his feelings and the depth of his actions. He watched the anchored ships, their open gun-ports glittering across the even swell, the heavier, darker shape of the captured Ciudad de Sevilla. What would become of her? Would she be commandeered or sold to some wealthy merchant company, or even offered in trade to the Spaniards in an attempt to recover Consort? The latter was unlikely. The Dons would be humiliated enough at losing the treasure-ship and having another destroyed under their own fortress without adding to it.

When he arrived at the white walls of the house he paused again, conscious of his heart against his ribs, of the realisation that he had no plan in mind. Perhaps she would not even see him?

He walked up the carriage-drive and entered the main door, which was open to tempt any sea-breeze into the house. A sleeping servant, curled in a tall wicker chair by the entrance, did not even stir as Bolitho passed.

He stood in the pillared hall, staring at the shadows, some heavy tapestry glowing in the light from two candelabra. It was very still, and there seemed to be no air at all.

Bolitho saw a handbell on a carved chest by another door and played with the idea of ringing it. In that last fight aboard the treasure-ship, death had been a close companion, but it was no stranger to him. He had felt no fear at all, not even afterwards. He gripped his sword tightly. Where was that courage now that he really needed it?

Maybe Glassport had been mistaken and she had gone from here, overland this time to St John's. She had friends there. He recalled Jenour's anxiety, Allday's watchful silence as the barge had carried him to the jetty. Some Royal Marines on picket duty had scrambled into a semblance of attention as they realised that the vice-admiral had come ashore without a word of warning.

Allday had said, 'I shall wait, Sir Richard.'

'No. I can call for a boat when I need one.'

Allday had watched him leave. Bolitho wondered what he thought about it. Probably much the same as Jenour.

'Who is that?'

Bolitho turned and saw her on the curved stairway, framed against another dark tapestry. She wore a loose, pale gown, and was standing very still, a hand on the rail, the other concealed in the gown.

Then she exclaimed, 'You! I -1 did not know -'

She made no move to come down and Bolitho walked slowly up the stairway towards her.

He said, 'I have just heard. I believed you gone.' He paused with one foot on the next step, afraid she would turn away. The Indiaman sailed without you.' He was careful not to mention Somervell by name. 'I could not bear to think of you here. Alone.'

She turned and he realised that she was holding a pistol.

He said, 'Give it to me.' He moved closer and held out his hand. 'Please, Kate.'

He took it from her fingers and realised it was cocked, ready to fire. He said quietly, 'You are safe now.'

She said, 'Come to the drawing room.' She might have shivered. 'There is more light.'

Bolitho followed her and waited for her to close the door behind them. It was a pleasant enough room, although nothing looked personal; it was occupied too often by visitors, strangers.

Bolitho laid the pistol on a table and watched her draw shutters across the window, where some moths were tapping against the glass, seeking the light.

She did not look at him. 'Sit there, Richard.' She shook her head vaguely. 'I was resting. I must do something to my hair.' Then she did turn to study him, a lingering, searching glance, as if she was seeking an answer to some unspoken question.

She said, 'I knew he would not wait. He took his mission very seriously. Put it above all else. It was my fault. I knew the matter was so dear to him, so urgent once you had made the plan into reality. I should not have gone in the schooner.' She repeated slowly, 'I knew he would not wait.'

'Why did you do it?'

She looked away and he saw her hand touch the handle on the other door, which was in deep shadow, away from the lights.

She replied, 'I felt like it.'

'You might have been killed, and then -'

She swung round, only her eyes flashing in the shadows. 'And then?

She tossed her head with something like anger. 'Did you ask yourself that question too when you went after the Ciudad de Sevilla^ The snip's name seemed to intrude like a person. It had rolled so easily off her tongue, a cruel reminder that she had been married to a Spaniard. She continued, 'Someone of your value and rank, you of all people must have realised that you were taking a terrible risk? You knew that, I can see it on your face – must have known that any junior captain could have been sent, just as you once seized the ship I was aboard, when I first laid eyes on you!'

Bolitho was on his feet and for several seconds they stared at each other, both hurt and vulnerable because of it.

She said abruptly, 'Do not leave.' Then she vanished through the other door although Bolitho did not even see it open and close.

What had he expected? He was a fool, and looking a worse one. He had harmed her enough, too much.

Her voice came from beyond. 'I have put down my hair.' She waited until he faced the door. 'It is not quite right yet. Yesterday and today I walked along the foreshore. The salt air is cruel to vain women.'

Bolitho watched the long, pale gown. In the deep shadows she appeared to be floating like a ghost.

She said, 'You once gave me a ribbon for it, remember? I have tied it around my hair.' She shook her head so that one shoulder vanished in shadow, which Bolitho knew was her long dark hair.

'Do you see it, or had you forgotten that?'

He replied quietly. 'Never. You liked green so much. I had to get it for you -' He broke off as she put out her arms and ran towards him. It seemed to happen in a second. One moment she was there, pale against the other door, and the next she was pressed against him, her voice muffled while she clutched his shoulders as if to control her sudden despair.

She exclaimed, 'Look at me! In God's name, Richard, I lied to you, don't you see?'

Bolitho took her in his arms and pressed his cheek into her hair. It was not the ribbon he had bought in London from the old lady selling lace. This one was bright blue.

She ran her hand up to his neck and then laid it against his face. When she raised her eyes he saw that they were filled with emotion, pity.

She whispered, 'I did not know, Richard. Then, before you sailed with the convoy, I – I heard something about it – how you -' She held his face between her hands now. 'Oh, dearest of men, I had to be sure, to know!'

Bolitho pulled her closer so that he could hide his face above her shoulder. It must have been Allday. Only he would take the risk.

He heard her whisper, 'How bad is it?'

He said, 'I have grown used to it. Just sometimes it fails me.

Like the moment you stood there in the shadows.' He tried to smile. 'I was never able to outwit you.'

She leaned back in his arms and studied him. 'And the time you came to the reception here, when you almost fell on the stair. I should have known, ought to have understood!'

He watched the emotions crossing her face. She was tall and he was very aware of her nearness, of the trick which had misfired.

He said, 'I will leave if you wish.'

She slipped her hand through his arm. She was thinking aloud as they walked around the room, like lovers in a quiet park.

'There are people who must be able to help.'

He pressed her wrist to his side. They say not.'

She turned him towards her. 'We will go on trying. There is always hope.'

Bolitho said, 'To know that you care so much means everything.' He half-expected, her to stop him but she remained quite still, her hands in his, so that their linked shadows appeared to be dancing across the walls.

'Now that we are together I never want to lose you. It must sound like madness, the babbling of some besotted youth.' The words were flooding out of him and she seemed to know how he needed to speak. 'I thought my life was in ruins, and knew that I had done a terrible harm to yours.' Then she made to speak but he shook her hands in his. 'No, it is all true. I was in love with a ghost. The realisation ripped me apart. Someone suggested I had a death-wish.'

She nodded slowly. 'I can guess who that was.' She met his gaze steadily, without fear. 'Do you really understand what you are saying, Richard? How high the stakes may be?'

He nodded. 'Even greater for you, Kate. I remember what you said about Nelson's infatuation.'

She smiled for the first time. To be called a whore is one thing; to be one is something very different.'

He gripped her hands even tighter. 'There are so many things -'

She twisted from his grip. 'They must wait.' Her eyes were very bright. 'We cannot.'

He said quietly, 'Call me what you did just now.'

'Dearest of men?' She pulled the ribbon from her hair and shook it loose across her shoulder. 'Whatever I have been or done, Richard, you have always been that to me.' She looked at him searchingly. 'Do you want me?'

He reached for her but she stepped away. 'You have answered me.' She gestured towards the other door. 'I need just a moment, alone.'

Without her the room seemed alien and hostile. Bolitho removed his coat and sword, and as an afterthought slid the latch on the door. His glance fell on the pistol and he uncocked it, seeing her face when she had discovered him. Knowing that she would have fired at the first hint of danger.

Then he walked to the door and opened it, the shadows and the fears forgotten as he saw her sitting on the bed, her hair shining in the candelight.

She smiled at him, her knees drawn up to her chin like a child.

'So the proud vice-admiral has gone, and my daring captain has come in his place.'

Bolitho sat beside her, and then eased her shoulders down onto the bed.

She wore a long robe of ivory silk, tied beneath her throat by a thin ribbon. She watched him, his eyes as they explored her body, remembering perhaps how it had once been.

Then she took his hand and pulled it to her breast, tightening his fingers until he thought he must hurt her.

She whispered, 'Take me, Richard.' Then she shook her head very slowly. 'I know what you fear now, but I tell you, it is not out of pity, it is from the love I have never given to another man."

She thrust her hands out on either side like one crucified and watched as he untied the ribbon and began to remove the robe.

Bolitho could feel the blood rushing through his brain; while he too felt momentarily like an onlooker as he bared her breasts and her arms until she was naked to the waist.

He gasped, 'Who did this to you?'

Her right shoulder was cruelly discoloured, one of the worst bruises he had ever seen.

But she reached up with one hand and dragged his mouth down to hers, her breathing as wild as his own.

She whispered, 'A Brown Bess has a fearsome kick, like a mule!'

She must have been firing a musket when the pirates had attacked the schooner. Like the pistol.

The kiss was endless. It was like sharing everything in a moment. Clinging to it, never wanting it to finish, but unable to hold on for a minute longer.

He heard her cry out as he threw the robe on the floor, saw her fists clench as he touched her, then covered her in his hand as if to prolong the need they had for each other.

She watched him tear off his clothes and touched the scar on his shoulder, remembering that too, and the fever she had held at bay.

She said huskily, 'I don't care about afterward, Richard.'

He saw her looking at him as his shadow covered her like a cloak. She said something like 'It's been so long -' Then she arched her body and gave a sharp cry as he entered her, her fingers pulling at him, dragging him closer and deeper until they were one.

Later, as they lay spent in each other's arms and watched the' smoke standing up from the guttering candles, she said softly, 'You needed love. My love.' He held her against him as she added, 'Who cares about the tomorrows.'

He spoke into her hair. 'We shall make them ours too.'

Down on the jetty Allday seated himself comfortably on a stone bollard and began to fill his new pipe with tobacco. He had sent the barge back to the ship.

Bolitho would not be needing it for a bit yet, he thought. The tobacco was rich, well dampened with rum for good measure. Allday had dismissed the barge but found that he wanted to remain ashore himself. Just in case.

He put down a stone bottle of rum on the jetty and puffed contentedly on his new clay.

Perhaps there was a God in Heaven after all. He glanced towards the darkened house with the white walls.

Only God knew how this little lot might end, but for the present, and that was all any poor Jack could hope for, things were looking better for Our Dick. He grinned and reached down for the bottle. An' that's no error.