Man of War

17. The Reckoning

Vice-Admiral Sir Graham Bethune walked to the companion ladder and shaded his eyes to stare at the land. The rugged hills were touched with a bright copper glow, like the sea. He groped for one of the guns to steady himself as the deck tilted and the helm went over. The metal was no longer cold. It might have just been fired.

The lookout's voice pealed out again.

"One ship under way, sir! "

Bethune snapped, "Find out what the fool has seen, will you?"

Adam called, "Go aloft, Mr. Evelyn, and take a glass."

It was hard to keep his tone level and unhurried.

Evelyn was the sixth lieutenant, Athena's most junior officer. But there was nothing wrong with his sharp intelligence or his eyesight.

A vessel big enough for the lookout to see at this distance could mean one thing only. The alarm had gone out. Any experienced slaver would rather risk a clash with the ships converging on the bay than meekly surrender. Once in open water there was always a chance of escape.

He forced himself to remain calm. In control. He had even remembered the lieutenant's name.

Evelyn must have chased up the ratlines like a monkey. His voice carried easily above the wind and sea.

Two ships making sail, sir! " A brief pause, probably to discuss it with the lookout. One of Stirling 's best, whatever Bethune thought.

He watched a tiny hump of land far across the starboard bow. Like a basking whale. But too dangerous to ignore.

He breathed out slowly as one of the leads men in the chains began to heave his line up and over his head, as if he were oblivious to the ship at his back and everything else.

The heavy lead soared away and splashed into the water well ahead of Athena's massive bows.

Aft came the cry: "No bottom, sir! "

Adam had taken chances in the past, and could admit it. He had seen his ship's entire shadow on the seabed once, and known he had been within a fathom of losing his command, and his life.

The leadsman was already coiling his line, his fingers automatically feeling and separating the distinguishing marks of leather, knots and bunting. An experienced leadsman could tell one from another in his sleep.

"Deck, there! " Evelyn again, his voice shrill with effort. One of the gun's crew nearby grinned at his mate.

Adam waited, thankful that sailors could still share a private joke, danger or not.

Evelyn shouted, "One small vessel, sir. The first one is a barque! "

Bethune dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief. "They'll all be scattering if we let 'em! "

The leadsman, unperturbed, yelled, "By th' mark ten! "

Adam saw the sailing master peer at his notes. Sixty feet under the keel.

Bethune said, "We must anchor if it shelves." He turned, caught off guard as two more shots echoed across the water. "We'll engage them after they try to break out! "

"An' deep sixteen! "

Eraser glanced at his master's mate and blew out his cheeks.

Adam pictured Athena's shadow as she moved slowly into deeper water. He stared along the starboard gangway and saw Lieutenant Barclay beside one of the crouching carronades. Doubtless listening to every sounding, ready to drop anchor at a few seconds' notice.

Another face fixed in his mind, when he had thought he would never become a part of this ship.

There was a chorus of groans and shouts. Audacity had been hit again; her whole foremast lay over the side. And there was smoke.

Adam climbed into the shrouds and tried to shade his eyes from the coppery glare. He saw the barque which had up-anchored, turning bat-like past some other moored craft. But he kept his eyes on the frigate, knowing she had been hit by heated shot, how badly he could not determine.

He heard Bethune call, "Where's Tolan? I want him here! "

The leadsman's voice was unimpressed. "No bottom, sir! "

"So there you are, man! " Bethune's face shone with sweat as he began to unfasten his heavy coat. He stared at Tolan's telescope. "What?"

Tolan looked past him at the nearest strip of land. There were tiny figures running along a beach, like spectators at some terrible contest.

He answered flatly, "It's the schooner, Sir Graham. Jacob's boat."

His eyes were cold as he watched the words strike home.

"Are you certain? It could be any vessel in this damned place! "

"I took your message, Sir Graham." He raised the telescope again. Poised and steady, as if he had done it all his life.

Jago stood near him, his face grim. "The errand you was on?"

Tolan nodded. "I'll lay odds she's aboard that schooner right now! "

No name was mentioned. Adam stared at the admiral. There was no need. Not the ordered routine of English Harbour, or London. It was here, a place where few of his men had ever visited. Where a ship was dying, and her people with her.

Somebody had brought the crippled Audacity under command. Her remaining canvas was coming about, filling to a wind across her quarter. But there was smoke, pale like steam as Audacity's men fought to douse the smouldering fire from one of the shots.

Bethune exclaimed, "Make a signal to Hostile…" His voice all but trailed away. "It's no use, is it?"

Adam watched the smoke. Bethune had ordered Hostile to stand away to the north, ready to run down on any slaver who managed to escape Pointer's eventual attack on the moorings.

Catherine might or might not be aboard the little schooner. Jacob was apparently well known for his dealings with the navy and felons alike. But somehow he knew she was here at San Jose, because of Bethune, and the man who had always protected her. Sillitoe.

Adam forced himself to use the big signals telescope again, to take time with each thought and reaction, and all the while his body seemed to shake with anger, and with hatred.

Audacity had been hit yet again, and was drifting with the wind, smoke rising above her main course like a cloud.

He said, "I intend to engage the shore battery, Sir Graham. Commander Pointer will soon be in position." He did not look at Jago as he added, "Remember Algiers. Boat action! "

He heard the snap of commands, Jago calling out names abruptly. Like that last time when Lord Exmouth's fleet had broken all the rules by choosing to fight against sited and entrenched guns. When every ship was a target.

He waited, knowing his last reserve would snap if Bethune overruled him. But Bethune was standing by the compass box, for another moment unaware of the helmsmen, and the gun crews on either side of the quarterdeck. Boatswain's mates, midshipmen, and the remaining section of Royal Marines. He could have been completely alone.

When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "Signal Hostile to close on Flag." Then he did look directly at his flag captain. "Lay a course to weather the headland. We will engage."

Adam heard the order run through the waiting seamen and marines with the speed of light. He saw Bethune peel off his coat and toss it to his servant. Most of all, he remembered Bethune's eyes, his expression. Like a stranger. An enemy.

The heavy coat lay on the deck where it had fallen. Tolan had hurried after Jago, while men snatched up weapons from the open arms chests.

Jago asked harshly, "You a volunteer?"

Tolan nodded, and said something he did not hear. But Jago looked past him and up to the rail by the poop ladder.

Adam saw him and lifted one hand in salute. Something only they had come to understand.

There was a dull explosion, the searing hiss of spark and flame in the bay. A ship had blown up. Twenty-eight years old, like her captain. Finished.

We will engage.

The leadsman called out from the chains, "No bottom, sir! "

Adam loosened his collar and touched the silk stocking she had given him, which he had wound around his neck.

Stirling shouted, "Ready, sir! " His eyes were on Athena's captain, not the vice-admiral.

Adam tightened his grip and heard her voice. Walk with me. The rest had been a dream.

"Steady she goes, sir! West sou' west! " The senior helmsman peered up as the canvas cracked when the wind fell away, and the land moved out to shield them.

Adam had climbed on to the nettings again, his eye smarting in the reflected glare. The water in the bay was like burnished metal, as if the seabed were on fire. There was smoke, too, from Audacity's burning hull or from the hidden guns ashore. He was conscious only of the ship's slow, unwavering advance; the people hurrying about her decks or working high aloft on the yards and rigging seemed merely incidental, as if Athena was her own mistress.

There was more activity amongst the moored ships. Patches of sail had appeared, but many of the slavers' seamen were probably ashore. Unless they had been expecting some form of action…

He tore his eyes away to watch Jago and two boats' crews running aft to haul their craft alongside.

He jumped down to the deck again and called, "Bring her up a point! "

He strode to the rail and stared along the full length of the ship. Every gun loaded, its crew grouped around it, some peering at the nearest land as it glided past above the starboard gangway. All the tackles were fully manned, with extra hands from the opposite side for the first, perhaps vital show of force. If Pointer was unable to get his men into position the slavers might still escape, and their attack would be futile. Far worse, it might cost the life of every man who fell into the enemy's hands.

Enemy… They were the enemy. Flags no longer counted for anything.

Then he saw Audacity, or what remained of her. Almost on her beam, and surrounded by burned flotsam and a spreading carpet of ash. One boat was nearby, the oars moving very slowly as it pulled past and among the wreckage. A few figures were clinging to broken spars and a half-burned hatch cover, others drifted beyond all aid or hope. The end of a ship. Something against which he should be hardened.

He was not.

There was silence on Athena's upper deck. Men stood by their guns and at the braces and halliards, and gazed at the burned-out ship. One of their own. There were no words for it.

"Boats, starboard bow, sir! "

Adam wiped his face and stared beyond the bow. The small schooner had either hove to, or her steering had gone. She was beam on, some half mile beyond Audacity's remains. The boats were almost hidden by Athena's beak head and jib, but there was no room for doubt. He saw the glint of steel, and the tiny flash of a pistol or musket.

Perhaps the trader named Jacob was trying to get away, detach himself from any blame or retaliation.

He saw Stirling by the massive trunk of the mainmast, arms folded as he watched the guns, and the spread of pale canvas towering overhead. Two midshipmen waited with him, ready to pass a message or carry an order without losing a second. One of them could have been David.

A sharp glance aft and he saw Bethune standing by some nettings, Troubridge beside him.

Adam watched the land again, a small, rounded hill with an isolated clump of trees straying down one side, like scattered fugitives.

He cupped one hand to his mouth. There was no point in reporting to Bethune what he must already know. He who will not risk. He shut his mind to it.

"Open the ports to starboard! " He made himself count the seconds as the port lids squeaked open from bow to stern along both gun decks.

Where he had walked with Jago, and had spoken with these same men, and the one who came from Helston, from "God's county'. And they had cheered him.

Only hours ago. This very day.

The ports on the lee side would remain closed until it was time to bring the other broadside to bear.

He looked up and into the bay. If they ever reached that far.

Midshipman Manners shouted, "Listen! Listen, sir! " His youthful face was filled with disbelief. He took off his hat and waved it with wild excitement. "Huzza! Huzza! "

Vincent snapped, "Silence on deck there! " But even he seemed at a loss.

Adam heard it. Faint at first, then carried on the offshore breeze it blended into a wave of cheering.

Dugald Fraser said, "Cheerin' MS! And I thought I'd seen all there was to see! "

Adam swallowed hard and saw some of the small figures in the water twisting round to watch Athena's slow approach. Maybe the first time any of them had found time to look for her.

He said, "Run out, Mr. Stirling! "

The decks quivered as every gun squeaked up to its open port, men throwing all their strength and weight on the tackles to haul their massive charges into the sunlight.

Adam leaned on the quarterdeck rail, although he did not recall having moved. He did not need a glass. Here was the headland, the white buildings he had seen through the signals telescope, drifting smoke in blotches against the sky, insects no longer. A brief glance at the tilting compass card, seeing the helmsman's fist opening and closing around a spoke, as if beating time to something.

He heard a shot, perhaps two, and looked up as a ball punched a hole through the main topgallant sail.

He saw Stirling 's arm shoot out, like a man controlling an excited horse. "Steady, lads! " His eyes must have moved along every gun, while down in the semi-darkness of the lower gun deck they would all be listening, waiting for the signal from aft.

Adam stared at the land again and felt the silence like something physical.

"On the uprolir There was no sense in calling a target. At this range they could not miss.

He felt the deck tilt as the wind refilled the sails and pictured Athena'?, double line of teeth lifting to maximum elevation.

"Fire! "

The effect was devastating as every gun along the ship's starboard side roared out as one, each hurling itself inboard on its tackles, the crews yelling and gasping as smoke funnelled through the open ports. Dazed by the tremendous broadside, men were already sponging out and preparing to reload even before the combined thunder had died, and still the echo thrown from the land lingered above and around them. Adam held his hand across his mouth, his mind blurred by the power of the guns. It was as if Athena lay side by side with an enemy in some invisible line of battle, while below decks in the gloom and whirling smoke it must have felt as if the ship had run aground.

He peered up at the sails and to the masthead pendant, still whipping out toward the larboard bow, when all else was partly hidden by smoke.

He saw gun captains standing by their crews, one fist and then another raised and ready. It was as if everything else was moving, while Athena remained as before.

The big barque which had been the first one to make sail lay across the larboard bow, on a converging tack, desperate now to clear the headland and reach open water.

He held up his arm and saw Stirling acknowledge him. Men, their bodies shining with sweat, were running across to await the next command.

"Open the ports! "

Stirling swung round as the forgotten leadsman shouted, "By th' mark five! " Just thirty feet under the keel. Adam found a second to wonder how the seaman could think and concentrate on the line snaking through his fingers while the ship, his world, reeled about him.

"Run out! " Easier for the depleted crews as the deck heeled in their favour to another flurry of wind.

Adam took a telescope from a master's mate and trained it abeam. One of the long buildings and a crude-looking pier had taken most of the broadside, and one entire wall had collapsed in the old fortifications, leaving a gap like missing teeth.

He saw Fitzroy, the fourth lieutenant, walking unhurriedly along the eighteen pounders under his charge. He might have been alone in a country lane.

"As you bear! Lay for the foremast! On the up roll

Just seconds. To some an eternity; then, "Fire! "

The water was hidden by smoke, the air cringing to the irregular crash of shot as each gun captain gauged the moment before jerking his firing lanyard.

The barque had been badly hit, and her fore and main topmasts seemed to bow to each other as the double-shot ted broadside smashed through them.

Some one yelled out, "Not just slaves this time, you bastard! "

As if he saw only a single enemy. Perhaps he was right.

Adam gripped the rail as he felt the deck jerk under his feet.

And then another, deep in the lower hull. Heated shot or not; they would soon know.

He tried to keep his mind clear of everything but the shifting panorama across and beyond Athena's beak head with Bethune's flag casting a shadow above the taut jib.

The pumps were going, and there was water in every kind of cask if the worst happened.

A flurry of shots, from the barque or one of the drifting boats nearby. A seaman running to join the boatswain's men at the braces seemed to falter, and look around as if something had caught his attention. Then he fell, his face shot away.

Another figure ran toward him but stopped when a petty officer shouted to him.

Clough, Athena's carpenter, was hurrying forward with his own crew, his face intent, the true professional. Few ever considered that when a King's ship left port, her carpenter had to be ready for anything from repairing, even building some kind of boat, to dealing with every seam and plank above or below deck.

A hand seized his arm, and for an instant Adam believed he had been hit by some invisible marksman.

But it was Bethune, staring through the drifting smoke, his eyes reddened by strain and something more. Desperation.

"Yonder, Adam is that the schooner?"

Adam heard some one cry out, and saw two marines dragging a limp figure clear of the starboard gangway.

He saw the little schooner, some boats apparently trying to grapple alongside. Two other boats were moving toward her, the oars rising and falling like wings, the best Jago could get at such short notice. Adam licked his lips, recalling his curt order.

Boat action. All Jago would need. And for what?

"Aye, sir. She's out of command." He stared at the land again, measuring it. Watching the changing colours in the bay, very aware of Fraser and his mates, and Stirling 's motionless figure by the guns.

And all the others he could not see, who obeyed because they had no choice. Because there was none.

"I intend to come about directly, Sir Graham, and rake their defenses as we leave. Without those guns to support them they'll crack, and Commander Pointer will get his chance. Until then…" He winced as a seaman fell from the mainyard and hit the deck, his face staring at the copper sky.

"Sir! " It was Kirkland, the lieutenant of Royal Marines; surprised, shocked, it was beyond either.

Adam strode to the nettings and climbed on to them. He felt cordage cutting his knee where his breeches had been torn open. It was madness. There was more blood by a stanchion, where another man had been cut down. Yet all he could hold in his reeling mind was a picture of Bowles, and his horror when he had seen his captain donning his best uniform before beating to quarters.

The smoke was thinner down on the low foreshore, and he could see some upended boats near the water close to a rough road or track. No fifes or drums, no commands to bark out the pace or the dressing, but the scarlet coats and white crossbelts of Athena'?" Royal Marines marched in perfect order, Captain Souter in the lead, hatless and with a bandage around his head, but with all the style of a barracks parade.

There were flames at the top of the bay: a ship ablaze, or Pointer's own signal of success.

"Stand by to come about! "

He heard the leadsman's cry. "Deep four! " No doubt wondering if any one heard or cared with iron beating into the hull, and men dying.

The sailing master had heard well enough.

"Christ, she'll be sailing on wet grass in a minute! "

Athena drew eighteen feet.

Men were running to the braces, while somewhere high overhead axes were slashing away broken cordage and sails torn apart by haphazard shots from the land and from the barque, which had taken the full brunt of Athena'?" vengeful broadside. For revenge it was. Adam looked at Bethune's face. There was no deception now. If anything, it was despair.

He looked at the marching figures on the land, joined now by others, sailors from other ships of English Harbour, redcoats from the garrison. He had heard Bethune's servant speak of them, an English county regiment. Not what they had been expecting when they had left home.

He measured the distance again, and gauged the wind. It had to be now.

He heard more shots hammering into the hull, men shouting, saw the tell-tale smoke seeping from one of the hatch gratings. The gun crews were poised with handspikes ready, slow matches in their tubs in case the flintlocks should fail at the moment of action.

Small scenes stood out and gripped his attention, even though every fibre was screaming for him to begin what might be his last moments in this, the only world he truly understood. A midshipman writing busily on his slate, as if it was all that mattered. Bethune shaking his head as Troubridge tried to offer him the heavy coat again, perhaps because of a tall splinter which had been levered from the deck like a quill a few yards from where he was standing.

Adam knew Stirling was watching him, judging the moment, and the remaining time for Athena, his ship, to come about.

He walked swiftly to the rail and touched the sailing master's arm, but did not take his eyes from the upper yards and the masthead pendant.

"Remember what you said to me when I came to Athenal That she was a fine sailer even close to the wind?"

He saw Eraser stare at him, and then nod. "Good as any frigate, sir! " Determination, and perhaps relief that his captain had not cracked under the strain.

"Stand by to come about! " He saw Bethune walk across the deck, his eyes on the nearest land, the ground and hillside still smoking from their first broadside.

"Aim for the battery." He leaned on the rail. "Put the helm down! "

The spokes were spinning round; the helmsmen needed no urging.

"Helm a-lee, sir! "

Some one had loosened the awning across the empty boat tier, and some of the released water was surging across the deck where seamen were already forming a bucket chain.

"Off tacks and sheets! "

Still turning into the wind, a few boats pulling away as if they imagined they were the new target.

Adam felt the deck tilting, the land sliding past, the rounded hill suddenly standing like a marker on the opposite bow. The yards were as tightly braced as they could bear, the canvas almost aback as the ship came slowly into the wind. Small things stood out. The hole punched in the topsail had spread across the full breadth of canvas; torn rigging trailed down toward the deck like dead creeper. Then the tip of the headland itself, some crumbling fortifications clearly etched now against the sky. And directly beyond it, like water piled in a great dam, was the open sea.

"Steady as you go! "

He could see a tiny pyramid of sail, like pale shells in the strengthening sunlight as the frigate Hostile hurried to obey Athena's last signal, to close on the flagship.

He saw Bethune by the poop ladder, leaning across an unmanned swivel gun to stare at the small schooner. He wondered what Jago would think when he saw Athena sail past, heading once more for open water.

"East by north, sir! "

He saw Fraser watching him from the compass box. He knew. It was as close to the wind as Athena would come. Perhaps even better than he had promised.

Each gun captain was ready. Here a handspike moved to adjust the muzzle's elevation, or a tackle squeaked to train a gun a fraction more, until the eye over the breech was satisfied.

"Ready, sir! " That was Stirling again. The ship had come about and was on the opposite tack. The drills and careful selection of seamen known for their skill and reliability, in all weathers and in the face of death itself, had been his main concern, a first lieutenant's role, ship of the line or little sixth-rate like Audacity.

Adam knew that Bethune had joined him. Perhaps already trying to gauge the final outcome, perhaps the blame when the repercussions began, as they surely would. Renegades or not, this was Cuba, Spanish territory. Face would have to be saved, until the next time.

Bethune watched Adam raise his hand over his head.

He said, "After this, Adam. I have to know." His eyes were steady, even calm. "I must know! "

Adam saw the nearest gun captain testing his trigger line. It was taut. To him, nothing else mattered. He was right. Leave questions to others.

His arm sliced down. "Fire! "

It took even longer for the dust and smoke to settle. The hillside looked much as before the broadside, but merged now with the fallen walls and rooftops where the battery had been sited to command the approaches.

"Reload, sir?"

Adam shaded his eyes to stare along the foreshore, where he could just discern the scarlet coats of the marines. They would wait to ensure there was no further resistance while the slavers were seized by Pointer's prize crews, or scuttled where they lay.

"I think you should see this, sir." It was Troubridge, pale and tight-lipped. But somehow more mature, confident.

Adam trained the glass on the bearing Troubridge was indicating. Faces leaped into focus, vignettes of excitement, and pain. And pride. The sailor's lot.

He saw the little schooner, boats still tied or drifting alongside. His fingers tightened on the warm metal. And a flag. A smaller version of the one which Athena had flown since leaving English Harbour.

Jago had done it. As they had arranged. So he must be safe. He looked across the bay where they had seen the last of Audacity. If only…

"I propose to anchor directly, Sir Graham." For a moment he thought he had not heard, but Bethune said, "Do so. I shall see that your part in this affair does not pass unnoticed."

He knew Troubridge was watching, perhaps realizing for the first time that he knew his admiral better than he had thought.

Bethune said quietly, "I should like to go across, Adam."

He was not demanding. If anything, he was pleading.

It was like being on the outside of something. Orders were being shouted or relayed by the piercing twitter of Spithead Nightingales. Men stood back from their guns, while others clung to halliards and braces, the ship under command while they peered around, seeking special friends, or staring at the damage.

Bowles hurried past with a list of names, men who had been killed or were in the orlop being treated, or dying.

No great action this time, but the price was always too high.

Some were cheering, letting go, the blues and whites of officers and warrant ranks mixing with all the others. Some were looking aft, at the quarterdeck where their lives could be changed or ended without question or blame.

Bethune said, "I must go below. Let me know when…" He did not end it.

He would find no peace or escape there. The admiral's quarters would still be cleared for action, like his own and the whole ship. He thought of her portrait. Waiting.

It was as if some one else had spoken. He said, "I think you should stay a while, Sir Graham." He glanced at the faces below the quarterdeck rail. "They look to you. Trust, obedience, I'm never sure."

Troubridge joined him by the ladder, and watched as Bethune made his way to the main deck and walked along the line of guns. Hesitant at first, the sailors jostled around him, some reaching out as if to touch him, others laughing and calling his name.

Adam was glad he could not see his face.

He knew people were waiting to see him: Stirling about casualties, and rearranging the watch bills, filling the gaps. The surgeon with his bill. Men to be buried. Repairs were already being carried out; sailors could not waste much time on regrets and tears.

But for a few moments longer… They look to you.

Troubridge said, "When you need a lieutenant, I'd be obliged if you'd bear me in mind."

Adam turned, his eyes cold. But it passed as quickly.

He touched his sleeve and said, "I shall never see my own flag up there, my friend." He saw Stirling looming through the seamen and strode to meet him. To escape.

Troubridge smiled. I would serve you in any capacity!

One hour later, with a different leadsman in the chains, Athena turned slowly into the wind again, and dropped anchor.

Her remaining boats were being warped alongside, crews called or pushed to the tackles for hoisting them inboard. The aftermath of battle. Any battle. Men putting their ship in order. Ready to fight if need be, to face a storm, to survive. There was a smell of rum in the air but there had been no time to open the spirit store. Hoarding rum was an offense, but today men drank to each other, and to absent friends whom they would never see again.

Stirling strode aft and touched his hat. "Boat's ready, sir. The second cutter." It sounded like an apology, but Adam doubted if Bethune would even notice. He glanced at the flag at the foremast truck. Perhaps Athena would never see an admiral's barge being hoisted aboard.

"Very well. Man the side." He wondered if anything would or could move this unbreakable man. He saw smoke on the wind, but it was the galley funnel, the first priority after a fight. But the thought of food made him feel light-headed.

He followed Stirling to the entry port where a small squad of Royal Marines were already paraded and being inspected by their lieutenant. Two boatswain's mates waited with their silver calls to pipe Bethune into the boat.

While Athena swung to her cable the land remained invisible to the assembled side party. There was only the sea, bright now, almost blinding in the reflected glare.

Adam saw Hostile making her final approach, and even without a glass he could see her people clinging to shrouds and high on the yards. Here, Vincent was ready with his signals party, unsmiling as he watched flags being pulled from their locker.

Perhaps it was better, safer, to be like Vincent, or the lieutenant of marines. Or Stirling, secure in his strength and his loneliness, with only the ship to sustain him.

"Ere he comes, boys! "

That was the sailor named Grundy, who had once served under Bethune when he had been a captain. Whom he had pretended to remember, even recognize, when he had hoisted his flag over Athena. Another lie… Grundy raised a cheer which was taken up by others, working on repairs and hoisting new cordage aloft for the sail maker crew. The cheers were soon quelled by the master-at-arms.

And here was Bethune, brushing aside any one who attempted to assist him through the entry port. He looked strained, but nodded to the Royal Marines, some of whom carried the stains and scars of the morning. Adam saw that his uniform was perfect by comparison. As if, like that first day, he had just stepped aboard.

He said, "I should like you to accompany me, Captain Bolitho."

Clipped and formal.

Adam was deeply moved. Another lie, and he was unprepared for it. He climbed down into the cutter, Lieutenant Evelyn standing in the stern sheets to receive him.

Above the boat he heard the slap of muskets, and the trill of calls as Bethune climbed down to join him.

"Out oars! Give way together! "

Adam touched the thwart where a stray musket ball had scored its mark. The faces of the oarsmen, ones he had believed he would never know, watched the stroke, the blades dipping and rising together, the tension and the fear already draining away.

And all at once the schooner was looming over them. More faces he recognized, even some of Captain Souter's landing party, their scarlet coats at odds with the others, and some he assumed were the schooner's own men. Bethune clambered up the side, hardly waiting for the bowman to hook on.

And here was Jago, teeth bared in a grin as he seized Adam's hands and pulled him aboard.

He said, "Made it as fast as I could, Cap'n! Them bastards boarded the schooner. It was touch an' go. I wanted to send the gig, but '

He turned as Bethune said, "Where is she?"

Adam realized that two of the marines were guarding a tall man who, like Bethune, appeared unmarked by the events Jago had described.

Somehow he knew it was Sillitoe, the central figure whose name had featured in most of Bethune's despatches.

Captain Souter said, "In the cabin, Sir Graham. There was nothing we could do."

Adam said, "Let me…" but Bethune pushed past him. Only for a few seconds he stared over the side toward the same sloping headland.

"Why?"

Jago said quietly, "We'd just got aboard, y' see, Cap'n. They started shootin', so did we. Then I see her comin' on deck. I think she saw the ship." He gazed over the water, remembering. "Our ship."

Adam heard something fall, the movement of boats alongside. And Bethune's voice.

Jago shook his head. "There was blood, but she seemed to be smiling." He shook himself. "I ain't sure, Cap'n."

Adam took his arm, like those other times. "Try to remember, Luke. What she said."

Jago looked at him fully, his unshaven features suddenly calm.

"She said, "It's Richard! " He looked away, toward the sea. "Then she fell."

Bethune had reappeared on the littered deck. He looked around, but seemed to see nothing.

Then he became aware of Adam, and said brokenly, "I've lost her, Adam. Lost her…"

Sillitoe said, with great contempt, "She was never yours to lose, damn your bloody eyes! "

Captain Souter snapped, "Take that man across to Athena, Corporal, in irons if you see fit! "

Adam saw that Bethune was carrying a green shawl, and heard him murmur, "She was always fond of this colour."

He walked to the bulwark and stood staring down at the cutter.

"I want her taken to English Harbour, Adam. She was happy there, I believe." He seemed to realize for the first time that Jago was beside him.

He said, "I'll take the cutter. You stay with the flag captain."

Jago watched the boat pull clear of the side, frowning at the stroke.

Then he said, "I'll 'ave the gig ready when you says the word, Cap'n."

Adam looked at him and saw that Tolan, Bethune's loyal servant, was still on board, and recalled that they had ignored one another.

Then he saw Jago's face.

"What is it?"

Jago pushed through some seamen and leaned over the gunwale again. Athena's gig was tugging at her painter, two injured sailors squatting on the bottom boards as if nothing had happened.

"Where did you find him?" He could scarcely form the words.

"The bloody Royals got him, would you believe." He could not control his pleasure, but it was far more than that.

Adam stared at the slight figure propped in the stern sheets partly covered by a jacket, the white collar patches very clear in the sun's glare. His legs were bare, and he could see the same savage scar, as if it had just happened.

Jago said, "There was two middies when they found 'em. But the other one was dead. It seems that young David swam with him to the shore after Audacity went down."

Adam saw the boy looking up at him, saw him smile, and the two seamen turning to share the moment.

Jago was saying, "He's a bit weak. But he's through the worst of it."

"What did you tell him?" He thought of Bethune's anguish, and the woman who lay in the cabin below their feet.

Jago smiled freely for the first time.

"I told him you would be takin' him home, Cap'n."

Soon he would be that captain again. But now, the words would not come.

Jago had found two mugs from somewhere, and put one in Adam's hand.

He glanced over at Athena's loosely brailed topsails, and something flashing from her poop, catching the sun.

Then he looked at Adam, and was glad. "Not a bad old ship in some ways, eh, Cap'n?"