Stand into Danger

6. Divided Loyalties

TWO more days passed with no sign that the Portuguese Viceroy had returned, or, if he had, that he intended to receive Dumaresq.

Sweltering under a blazing sun, the seamen went about their work with little enthusiasm. Tempers flared, and on several occasions men were taken aft to be awarded punishment.

And as the bell chimed each passing watch, Dumaresq, whenever he appeared on the quarterdeck, seemed to be growing more intolerant and angry. A seaman was given extra work merely for staring at him, and Midshipman Ingrave, who had been acting as his clerk, was sent back to his normal shipboard duties with “Too stupid to hold a pen!” still ringing in his unhappy ears.

Even Bolitho, who had little experience of the politics used in foreign ports, was aware of Destiny’s enforced isolation. A few hopeful craft hovered near the ship with local wares for barter, but were openly discouraged by the vigilant guard-boat. And there had certainly been no message sent by the man called Egmont.

Samuel Codd, the purser, had gone aft to complain about his inability to preserve his supply of fresh fruit, and half of the ship must have heard Dumaresq’s fury break over him like a tidal wave.

“What do you take me for, you miser? D’you think I have nothing to do but buy and sell like a common tinker? Take a boat and get ashore yourself, and this time tell the merchant the stores are for me!” His powerful voice had pursued Codd from the cabin. “And don’t return empty-handed!”

In the wardroom the atmosphere was little changed. The usual grumbles and exaggerated yarns about what had happened during the daily routine. Only when Palliser appeared did the climate become formal, even strained.

Bolitho had seen Murray and had confronted him with the accusation of theft. Murray had firmly denied any part of it, and had pleaded with Bolitho to speak on his behalf. Bolitho was deeply impressed by the man’s sincerity. Murray was more resentful at the prospect of an unjust flogging than fearful. But that would come unless something could be proved.

Poynter, the master-at-arms, was adamant. He had discovered the watch in Murray ’s ditty-box during a quick search of several messes. Anybody could have put it there, but what was the point? It was obvious that something would be done to discover the missing watch. A careful thief would have hidden it in one of a hundred secret places. It did not make any sense.

On the evening of the second day the brigantine Heloise was sighted heading for the land, her sails shining in the dying sunlight as she completed a leisurely tack for the final approach.

Dumaresq watched her with his telescope and was heard to mutter, “Taking his damn time. He’ll have to do better if he wants promotion!”

Rhodes said, “Have you noticed, Dick? The freshwater lighters have not been sent out to us as promised? Our stocks must be running low. No wonder the lord and master grows pink with anger.”

Bolitho recalled what Dumaresq had told him. That Destiny was to take on water the day after anchoring. He had forgotten, with so much else to occupy his thoughts.

“Mr Rhodes!” Dumaresq strode to the quarterdeck rail. “Signal Heloise to anchor in the outer roadstead. Mr Slade’ll not likely attempt an entrance in the dark, but just to be sure, send a boat with my instructions to moor clear of the headland.”

The trill of calls brought the boat’s crew running aft. There were several groans when they saw how far the brigantine was standing from the land. A long, hard pull in two directions.

Rhodes sought out the midshipman of the watch. “Mr Lovelace, go with the boat.” He kept his face straight as he looked at Bolitho. “Damned midshipmen, eh, Dick? Must keep ’em busy!”

“Mr Bolitho!” Dumaresq was watching him. “Come here, if you please.”

Bolitho hurried aft until they were both at the taffrail, well out of earshot of everyone.

“I have to tell you that Mr Palliser is unable to discover any other culprit.” He watched Bolitho closely. “That troubles you, I see.”

“Yes, sir. I have no proof either, but I am convinced Murray is innocent.”

“I’ll wait until we are at sea. Then punishment will be carried out. It does no good to flog men before the eyes of foreigners.”

Bolitho waited, knowing there was more to come.

Dumaresq shaded his eyes to stare up at the masthead pendant. “A fair breeze.” Then he said, “I shall need another clerk. There is more writing and copying in a man-of-war than powder and shot.” His tone hardened. “Or fresh water, for that matter!”

Bolitho stiffened as Palliser came aft and then paused as if at an invisible line.

Dumaresq said, “We are done. What is it, Mr Palliser?”

“Boat approaching, sir.” He did not look at Bolitho. “It is the same one which brought the pork for cabin and wardroom.”

Dumaresq’s brows lifted. “Really? That interests me.” He turned on his heel, then said, “I shall be in my quarters. And on the matter of my clerk, I have decided to put the surgeon’s new helper, Spillane, to the task. He seems educated and well-disposed to his betters, and I’ll not spoil the good surgeon by overloading him with aid. He has enough loblolly boys to run his sick-bay.”

Palliser touched his hat. “So be it, sir.”

Bolitho walked to the larboard gangway to watch the approaching boat. Without a glass he could see no one aboard he recognized. He felt like mocking himself for his stupidity. What had he expected? That the man, Jonathan Egmont, would be coming out to see the captain? Or that his lovely wife would take the fatiguing and uncomfortable journey just to wave to him? He was being ridiculous, childish. Perhaps he had been at sea too long, or his last visit to Falmouth which had brought so much unhappiness had left him open to fantasy and impossible dreams?

The boat came to the main chains, and after a great deal of sign language between the oarsmen and a boatswain’s mate an envelope was passed up to Rhodes and then carried aft to the cabin.

The boat waited, idling a few yards from the frigate’s hull, the olive-skinned oarsmen watching the busy sailors and marines and probably assessing the strength of Destiny’s broadside.

Eventually Rhodes returned to the entry port and handed another envelope down to the boat’s coxswain. He saw Bolitho watching and crossed to join him by the hammock nettings.

“I know you will be sorry to hear this, Dick.” He could not prevent his mouth from quivering. “But we are invited ashore to dine tonight. I believe you know the house already?”

“Who will be going?” Bolitho tried to control his sudden anxiety.

Rhodes grinned. “The lord and master, all of his lieutenants, and, out of courtesy, the surgeon.”

Bolitho exclaimed, “I cannot believe it! Surely the captain would never leave his ship without at least one lieutenant aboard?” He looked round as Dumaresq appeared on deck. “Would he?”

Dumaresq shouted, “Fetch Macmillan and my new clerk, Spillane!” He sounded different, almost jubilant. “I shall require my gig in half an hour!”

Rhodes hurried away as Dumaresq added loudly, “I want you and Mr Bolitho and our gallant redcoat ready and presentable at that rime!” He smiled. “The surgeon, too.” He strode away as his servant scurried in his wake like a terrier.

Bolitho looked at his hands. They appeared steady enough, and yet, like his heart, they seemed to be out of control.

In the wardroom there was complete confusion as Poad and his assistants tried to produce clean shirts, pressed uniform coats and generally attempted to transform their charges from sea officers into gentlemen.

Colpoys had his own orderly and was cursing like a trooper as the man struggled with his gleaming boots while he examined himself in a hand-mirror.

Bulkley, as owl-like and crumpled as ever, muttered, “He’s only taking me because of the wrong he did in my sick-bay!”

Palliser snapped, “For God’s sake! He probably doesn’t trust you alone in the ship!”

Gulliver was obviously delighted to be left aboard in temporary command. After the long passage from Funchal he had seemingly gathered more confidence, and anyway he hated ‘the ways of the quality’, as he had once confided to Codd.

Bolitho was the first at the entry port. He saw Jury taking over the watch on the quarterdeck, their eyes met and then moved on. It would all be different once the ship was at sea again. Working together would drive away the differences, except that there was still Murray ’s fate to be considered.

Dumaresq came on deck and inspected his officers. “Good. Quite good.”

He looked down at his gig alongside, at the oarsmen in their best checked shirts and tarred hats, with his coxswain ready and waiting.

“Well done, Johns.”

Bolitho thought of the other time he had gone ashore here with Dumaresq. How he had casually asked Johns to look into the matter of Jury’s missing watch. Johns, as captain’s coxswain, was held in great respect by the petty officers and senior hands. A word in the right place, and a hint to the master-at-arms, who never needed much encouragement when it came to harrying the people, and a swift search had done the rest.

“Into the boat.”

In strict order of seniority, and watched from the gangway by several of the off-duty seamen, Destiny’s officers descended into the gig.

Last of all, resplendent in his gold-laced coat with the white lapels, Dumaresq took his place in the stern-sheets.

As the boat moved carefully away from the frigate’s hull, Rhodes said, “May I say, sir, how grateful we are to be invited?”

Dumaresq’s teeth showed very white in the gloom. “I asked all my officers to join me, Mr Rhodes, because we are of one company.” His grin broadened. “Also, it suits my purpose for the folk ashore to know we are all present.”

Rhodes answered lamely, “I see, sir.” Clearly he did not.

In spite of his earlier misgivings and worries, Bolitho settled down and watched the lights on the land. He was going to enjoy himself. In a foreign, exotic country which he would remember and describe in detail when he returned to Falmouth.

No other thought would interfere with this evening.

Then he recalled the way she had looked at him when he had left the house, and felt his resolve giving way. It was absurd, he told himself, but with that glance she had made him feel like a man.

Bolitho stared along the loaded table and wondered how he would manage to do justice to so many glistening dishes. He was already wishing he had heeded Palliser’s curt advice as they had climbed ashore from the gig. “They’ll try to make you drunk, so take care!” And that had been nearly two hours ago. It did not seem possible.

The room was large with a curved ceiling and hung around with colourful tapestries, the whole made even more impressive by hundreds of candles, glittering chandeliers at regular intervals overhead, while along the table’s length were some candelabra which must be solid gold, Bolitho thought.

The Destiny’s officers had been carefully seated, and made patches of blue and white, separated by the richer clothing of the other guests. They were all Portuguese, most of whom spoke little English and shouted at one another to demand an instant translation or a means of making a point clear to the visitors. The commandant of the shore batteries, a great hogshead of a man, was matched only by Dumaresq in voice and appetite. Occasionally he would lean towards one of the ladies and bellow with laughter, or thump the table with his fist to emphasize his remarks.

A parade of servants came and went, ushering an endless procession of dishes, which ranged from succulent fish to steaming platters of beef. And all the time the wine continued to flow. Wine from their homeland or from Spain, sharp-tasting German hocks and mellow bottles from France. Egmont was certainly generous, and Bolitho had the impression that he was drinking little as he watched over his guests with an attentive smile on his lips.

It was almost too painful to look at Egmont’s wife at the opposite end of the table. She had nodded to Bolitho when he had arrived, but little else. And now, squashed between a Portuguese ship-chandler and a wrinkled lady who never seemed to stop eating, even to draw breath, Bolitho felt ignored and lost.

But just to look at her was breathtaking. Again she was dressed in white, against which her skin seemed golden by contrast. The gown was cut very low across her breasts, and around her neck she wore a double-headed Aztec bird with trailing tail feathers, which Rhodes had knowledgeably identified as rubies.

As she turned her head to speak with her guests the ruby tails danced between her breasts, and Bolitho swallowed another glass of claret without realizing what he had done.

Colpoys was already half drunk and was describing in some length to his lady companion how he had once been caught in a woman’s chamber by her husband.

Palliser on the other hand seemed unchanged, eating steadily but sparingly, and careful to keep his glass always half filled. Rhodes was less sure of himself now, his voice thicker, his gestures more vague than when the meal had begun. The surgeon held his food and drink very well, but was sweating badly as he tried to listen to the halting English of a Portuguese official and answer a question from the man’s wife at the same time.

Dumaresq was incredible. He turned nothing away and yet seemed completely at ease, his resonant voice reaching along the table to keep a lagging conversation alive or to arouse one of his worse for wear officers.

Bolitho’s elbow slipped from the table and he almost fell forward amongst the decimated dishes. The shock helped to steady him, to realize just how badly the drink had taken effect. Never again. Never, never again.

He heard Egmont announce, “I think, gentlemen, if the ladies are about to withdraw, we should transfer to a cooler room.”

Somehow Bolitho managed to get to his feet in time to assist the wrinkled lady from her chair. She was still chewing as she followed the others through a door to leave the men at their ease.

A servant opened another door and waited for Egmont to lead his guests into a room which looked out over the sea. Thankfully, Bolitho walked on to the terrace and leaned on a stone balustrade. After the heat of the candles and the power of the wine the air was like water from a mountain stream.

He looked at the moon and then across the anchorage where the lights from Destiny’s open gun-ports glittered on the water as if the ship was burning.

The surgeon joined him by the balustrade and said heavily, “That was a meal of substance, my boy!” He belched. “Enough to feed a village for a month. Just imagine it. All that way from France or Spain, no expense spared. When you consider some people are lucky to get a loaf of bread, it makes you wonder.”

Bolitho looked at him. He had thought about it, although not from the point of injustice. How could a man like Egmont, a stranger in this foreign land, make so much wealth? Enough to obtain anything he wanted, even a beautiful wife who must be half his age. The double-headed bird about her throat was gold, a fortune in its own right. Was that part of the Asturias ’s treasure? Egmont had known Dumaresq’s father, but had obviously never met his son before. They had barely spoken, when you thought about it, and when they had it seemed to be through one of the others, light and trivial.

Bulkley leaned forward and adjusted his spectacles. “There’s a work-hungry master, eh? Can’t wait for the morning tide.”

Bolitho turned and looked at the anchorage. His practised eye soon discovered the moving vessel, in spite of the queasiness in his stomach.

A vessel under way, her sails making a flitting shadow against the riding lights of other anchored craft as she headed out into the roadstead.

Bulkley said vaguely, “Local man, must be. Any stranger’d go aground here.”

Palliser called from the open doorway. “Come in and join us.

Bulkley chuckled. “Always a generous fellow when it’s someone else’s cellar!”

But Bolitho remained where he was. There was enough noise coming from the room anyway, laughter and the clink of glasses, and Colpoys’ voice rising higher and higher above the rest. Bolitho knew his absence would not be noticed.

He walked along the moonlit terrace, letting the sea air cool his face.

As he passed another room he heard Dumaresq’s voice, very close and very insistent.

“I did not come all this way to be fobbed off with excuses, Egmont. You were in it up to the neck right from the beginning. My father said as much before he died.” The contempt in his voice was like a whip. “My father’s ‘gallant’ first lieutenant who held off when he was sorely needed!”

Bolitho knew he should draw back, but he could not move. The tone of Dumaresq’s voice seemed to chill his spine. It was something which had been pent-up for years and now could not be restrained.

Egmont protested lightly, “I did not know. You must believe me. I was fond of your father. I served him well, and always admired him.”

Dumaresq’s voice was muffled. He must have turned away with impatience, as Bolitho had seen him do often enough aboard ship.

“Well, my father, whom you so much admired, died a pauper. But then, what could you expect for a discarded sea-captain with one arm and one leg, eh? But he kept your secret, Egmont, he at least understood the meaning of loyalty! This could be the end of everything for you.”

“Are you threatening me, sir? In my own home? The Viceroy respects me, and will soon have something to say if I choose to complain!”

“Really?” Dumaresq sounded dangerously calm. “Piers Garrick was a pirate, of gentle birth maybe, but a bloody pirate for all his manners. If the truth had leaked out about the Asturias, even his letter of marque would not have saved his neck. The treasure ship put up a good fight, and Garrick’s privateer was severely damaged. Then the Don struck his colours, probably did not realize that Garrick’s hull was so badly shot through. That was the worst thing he ever did in his life.”

Bolitho waited, holding his breath, fearful that the sudden silence meant they had somehow discovered his presence.

Then Dumaresq added quietly, “Garrick scuttled his own command and took control of the Asturias. He probably butchered most of the Spaniards, or left them to rot somewhere where they could not be found. It was all made so simple for him. He sailed the treasure ship into this port on some excuse or other. England and Spain were at war, Asturias would be allowed to remain here for a short while, outwardly to effect repairs, but really to prove she was afloat after Garrick’s alleged encounter with her.”

Egmont said shakily, “That is surmise.”

“Is it? Let me continue, and then you shall decide if you intend to call for the Viceroy’s aid.”

His voice was so scathing that Bolitho could almost feel pity for Egmont.

Dumaresq continued, “A certain English ship was sent to investigate the loss of Garrick’s vessel and the escape of the treasure which should rightfully have been a King’s prize. That ship was commanded by my father. You, as his senior, were sent to take a statement from Garrick, who must have realized that without your connivance he was for the gallows. But his name was cleared, and while he gathered up his gold from where he had hidden it after destroying the Asturias, you resigned from the Navy, and quite mysteriously rose to the surface right here in Rio where it all began. But this time you were a rich man, a very rich man. My father, on the other hand, continued to serve. Then in ’62, when he was with Rear-Admiral Rodney at Martinique, driving the French from their Caribbean islands, he was cruelly wounded, broken for life. There is a moral in that, surely?”

“What do you want me to do?”

He sounded dazed, stunned by the completeness of Dumaresq’s victory.

“I shall require a sworn testimony to confirm what I have just said. I intend to enlist the Viceroy’s aid if need be, and a warrant will then be sent from England. The rest you can well imagine for yourself. With your statement and the power invested in me by His Majesty and their lordships, I intend to arrest Sir Piers Garrick and take him to England for trial. I want that bullion, or what is left of it, but most of all I want him! ”

“But why do you treat me like this? I had no part in what happened to your father at Martinique. I was not then in the Navy, you know that yourself!”

“Piers Garrick was supplying weapons and military stores to the French garrisons at Martinique and Guadeloupe. But for him my father might have been spared, and but for you, Garrick would not have had the chance to betray his country a second time!”

“I-I must have time to think, to…”

“It has all run out, Egmont. All thirty years of it. I require to know Garrick’s whereabouts and what he is doing. Anything you can tell me about the bullion, anything. If I am satisfied, I will sail from here and you shall not see me again. If not…” He left the rest unsaid.

Egmont said, “Can I trust you?”

“My father trusted you. ” Dumaresq gave a short laugh. “Choose.”

Bolitho pressed his shoulders against the wall and stared up at the stars. Dumaresq’s energy was not merely inspired by duty and an eagerness for action. Hate had kept him sifting vague information, hate had made him hunt down the key which would unlock the mystery surrounding Garrick’s rise to power. No wonder the Admiralty had selected Dumaresq for the task. The added spur of revenge would put him leagues ahead of any other captain.

A door banged open and Bolitho heard Rhodes singing and then protesting as he was dragged bodily back into the room.

He walked slowly along the terrace, his mind reeling from what he had heard. The enormity of the secret was unsettling. How could he go about his duties without giving away what he had discovered? Dumaresq would see through him in seconds.

He was suddenly completely sober, the dullness gone from his mind like a sea mist.

What would become of her if Dumaresq carried out his threat?

He swung angrily on his heel and made his way towards the open doors. When he entered he realized that some of the guests had already gone, and the commandant of the batteries was bowing almost to the floor as he swept his hat across his corpulent belly.

Egmont was there with his wife, his face pale but otherwise impassive.

Dumaresq too seemed as before, nodding to the departing Portuguese, kissing the gloved hand of the chandler’s lady. It was like seeing two different people from the ones he had overheard just a few rooms away.

Dumaresq said, “I think my officers are unanimous in their delight at your table, Mr Egmont.”

His glance settled on Bolitho for a second. No more, but Bolitho sensed the question as if it had been shouted aloud.

“I hope we can repay your kindness. But duty is duty, as you will know from experience.”

Bolitho glanced round, but nobody had noticed the sudden tension between Egmont and the captain.

Egmont turned away and said, “We will say good-night, gentlemen.”

His wife came forward, her eyes in shadow as she held out her hand to Dumaresq.

“It is good-morning now, no?”

He smiled and kissed her hand. “You are a delight to see at any hour, ma’am.”

His gaze lingered on her bared bosom, and Bolitho flushed as he recalled what Dumaresq had said about the girl who had watched their carriage.

She smiled at the captain, her eyes clear now in the candlelight. “Then I think you have seen enough for one day, sir!”

Dumaresq laughed and took his hat from a servant while the others made their farewells.

Rhodes was carried bodily from the house and laid in a waiting carriage, a blissful smile on his face.

Palliser muttered, “Damned disgrace!”

Colpoys, whose pride was the only thing which prevented his collapsing like Rhodes, exclaimed thickly, “A fine night, ma’am.” He bowed and almost fell over.

Egmont said tersely, “I think you had better go inside, Aurora, it grows damp and chill.”

Bolitho stared at her. Aurora. What an exquisite name. He retrieved his hat and made to follow the others.

“Well now, Lieutenant, have you nothing to say to me?”

She looked at him as she had the first time, her head slightly on one side. He saw it in her eyes, the dare, the challenge.

“I am sorry, ma’am.”

She held out her hand. “You must not apologize so often. I wish we had had more time to speak. But there were so many.” She tossed her head and the ruby tails flashed on her bosom. “I hope you were not too bored?”

Bolitho realized that she had removed her long white glove before she offered her hand.

He held her fingers and said, “I was not bored. I was in despair. There is a difference.”

She withdrew her hand, and Bolitho thought he had ruined everything by his clumsiness.

But she was looking at her husband who was listening to Bulkley’s parting words. Then she said softly, “We cannot have you in despair, Lieutenant, now can we?” She looked at him steadily, her eyes very bright. “It would never do.”

Bolitho bowed and murmured, “May I see you?”

Egmont called, “Come along, the others are leaving.” He shook Bolitho’s hand. “Do not delay your captain. It does not pay.”

Bolitho walked out to one of the waiting carriages and climbed inside. She knew and understood. And now, after what he had overheard, she would need a friend. He stared blindly into the darkness, remembering her voice, the warm touch of her fingers.

“ Aurora.” He started, realizing he had spoken her name aloud.

But he need not have bothered, his companions were already fast asleep.

She was twisting in his arms, laughing and provoking him as he tried to hold her, to feel the touch of her bare shoulder against his lips.

Bolitho awoke gasping in his cot, his head throbbing wildly as he blinked at the lantern above his face.

It was Yeames, master’s mate, his eyes curious as he watched the lieutenant’s confusion, his reluctance to let go of a dream.

Bolitho asked, “What time is it?”

Yeames grinned unsympathetically. “Dawn, sir. The ’ands is just turnin’ to to ’olystone and scrub down.” He added as an afterthought, “The cap’n wants you.”

Bolitho rolled out of his cot and kept his feet well apart on the deck for fear of falling. The brief respite on Egmont’s cool terrace had gone, and his head felt as if it contained a busy anvil, while his throat tasted vile.

Dawn, Yeames had said. He had not been in his cot for more than two hours.

In the next cabin he heard Rhodes groaning as if in agony, and then yelping in protest as an unknown seaman dropped something heavy on the quarterdeck overhead.

Yeames prompted, “Better ’urry, sir.”

Bolitho tugged on his breeches and groped for his shirt which had been tossed in one corner of the tiny space. “Trouble?”

Yeames shrugged. “Depends wot you mean by trouble, sir.”

To him Bolitho was still a stranger and an unknown quantity. To share what he knew, merely because Bolitho was worried, would be stupid.

Bolitho found his hat, and tugging on his coat he hurried through the wardroom and blundered aft towards the cabin.

The sentry called, “Third lieutenant, sir! ” and Macmillan, the captain’s servant, opened the screen door as if he had been waiting behind it.

Bolitho stepped through into the after cabin and saw Dumaresq by the stern windows. His hair was awry, and he looked as if he had not found time to undress after his return from Egmont’s house. In a corner by the quarter windows, Spillane, the newly appointed clerk, was scratching away with his pen, trying to show no concern at being called at such an early hour. The other two present were Gulliver, the master, and Midshipman Jury.

Dumaresq glared at Bolitho. “You should have come immediately! I do not expect my officers to dress as if they are going to a ball when I need them!”

Bolitho glanced down at his crumpled shirt and twisted stockings. Also, with his hat clamped beneath one arm, his hair was falling over his face, just as it had been on the pillow. Hardly suitable for a ball.

Dumaresq said, “During my absence ashore, your seaman Murray escaped. He was not in his cell, but being taken to the sick-bay because he had complained about a severe pain in his stomach.” He turned his wrath on the master. “God damn it, Mr Gulliver, it was obvious what he was doing!”

Gulliver licked his lips. “I was in charge of the ship, sir. It was my responsibility. I saw no cause for Murray to suffer, an’ the man not yet found guilty as charged.”

Midshipman Jury said, “The message was brought aft to me, sir. It was my fault.”

Dumaresq replied tersely, “Speak when you are addressed. It was not your fault, because midshipmen do not have responsibility. Neither do they possess the wit or the brains to be in a position to say what this or that man shall do!” His eyes trained round on Gulliver again. “Tell Mr Bolitho the rest.”

Gulliver said harshly, “The ship’s corporal was escorting him when Murray pushed him down. He was outboard and swimming for the shore before the alarm was raised.” He looked downcast and humiliated at having to repeat his explanation for a junior lieutenant’s benefit.

Dumaresq said, “So there it is. Your trust in that man was wasted. He escaped a flogging, but when he is taken he will hang.” He glanced at Spillane. “Note it in the log. Run.”

Bolitho looked at Jury’s dismay. There were only three ways for a man to quit the Navy, and they were noted as R, D, or DD, Run implied desertion, D stood for discharged. Murray ’s next entry would be the last. Discharged-Dead.

And all because of a watch. And yet, in spite of the disappointment over his trust in Murray, Bolitho was strangely relieved at what had happened. The punishment for a man he had known and liked, who had saved Jury’s life, was no longer a threat. And its aftermath of suspicion and bitterness had been averted.

Dumaresq said slowly, “So be it. Mr Bolitho, you will remain. The others may carry on.”

Macmillan closed the door behind Jury and Gulliver. The master’s shoulders were stiff with resentment.

Dumaresq asked, “Hard, you are thinking? But it may prevent weakness later on.”

He calmed as only he could, the rage falling away without apparent effort.

“I am glad you carried yourself well last night, Mr Bolitho. I hope you kept your eyes and ears open?”

The sentry’s musket thumped on the deck again. “First lieutenant, sir! ”

Bolitho watched as Palliser entered the cabin, his routine list of work for the day beneath his arm. He looked gaunter than usual as he said, “The water lighters may come out to us today, sir, so I shall tell Mr Timbrell to be prepared. Two men are to see you for promotion, and there is the question of punishment for the ship’s corporal for negligence and allowing Murray to desert.”

His eyes moved to Bolitho and he gave a curt nod.

Bolitho wondered if it was mere chance that Palliser always seemed to be nearby whenever he was with the captain.

“Very well, Mr Palliser, though I’ll believe those water lighters when I see them.” He looked at Bolitho. “Go and put your appearance to rights and take yourself ashore. Mr Egmont has a letter for me, I believe.” He gave a wry smile. “Do not dally too long, although I know there are many distractions in Rio.”

Bolitho felt his face going hot. “Aye, sir. I’ll leave directly.”

He hurried from the cabin and heard Dumaresq say, “Young devil!” But there was no malice in his voice.

Twenty minutes later Bolitho was sitting in the jolly-boat being pulled ashore. He saw that Stockdale was acting as the boat’s coxswain, but did not question him on this. Stockdale seemed to make friends easily, although his fearsome appearance might also have something to do with his apparent freedom of movement.

Stockdale called hoarsely, “Easy all!”

The oars rose dripping in the rowlocks, and Bolitho realized that the jolly-boat was losing way in order not to be run down by another vessel. She was a brig, a sturdy, well-used vessel with patched canvas and many a scrape on her hull to mark encounters with sea and weather.

She had already spread her topsails, and there were men sliding down backstays to the deck to set the forecourse before she cleared the rest of the anchored vessels nearby.

She moved slowly between Destiny’s jolly-boat and some incoming fishermen, her shadow falling across the watching oarsmen as they rested on their looms and waited to proceed.

Bolitho read her name across the counter, Rosario. One of hundreds of such craft which daily risked storm and other dangers to trade and to extend the outposts of a growing empire.

Stockdale growled, “Give way all!”

Bolitho was about to turn his attention to the shore when he saw a movement at the stern windows above the name Rosario. For an instant he imagined he was mistaken. But he was not. The same black hair and oval face. She was too far off for him to see the violet of her eyes, but he saw her looking towards him before the brig changed tack and the sunlight made the windows into a fiery mirror.

He was heavy-hearted when he reached the house with the age-old wall around it. Egmont’s steward told him coolly that his master had departed, his wife, too. He did not know their destination.

Bolitho returned to the ship and reported to Dumaresq, expecting a further eruption of fury at this latest set-back.

Palliser was with him as Bolitho blurted out what he had discovered, although he did not mention he had seen Egmont’s wife in the Rosario.

He did not need to. Dumaresq said, “The only vessel to leave here was the brig. He must be aboard. Once a damned traitor always a traitor. Well, he’ll not escape this time, by God no!”

Palliser said gravely, “So this was the reason for the delay, sir. No fresh water, no audience with the Viceroy. They had us over a gate.” He sounded suddenly bitter. “We can’t move, and they know it!”

Surprisingly, Dumaresq gave a great grin. Then he shouted, “Macmillan, I want a shave and a bath! Spillane, prepare to write some orders for Mr Palliser.” He walked to the stern windows and leaned on the sill, his massive head lowered towards the rudder. “Select some prime seamen, Mr Palliser, and transfer to the Heloise. Do not rouse the guard-boat’s attention with too much fuss, so take no marines. Weigh and chase that damned brig, and don’t lose her.”

Bolitho watched the change in the man. It explained why Dumaresq had stopped Slade from entering the protected anchorage. He had anticipated something like this and had a trick to play, as always.

Palliser’s mind was already busy. “And you, sir?”

Dumaresq watched his servant as he prepared a bowl and razor by his favourite chair.

“Water or no water, Mr Palliser, I shall weigh tonight and come after you.”

Palliser eyed him doubtfully. “The battery might open fire, sir.”

“In daylight maybe. But there is a lot of so-called honour at stake here. I intend to test it.” He turned away, dismissing them, but added, “Take the third lieutenant. I shall require Rhodes, even if his head is still falling apart from his drinking, to assume your duties here.”

At any other time Bolitho would have welcomed the offer gladly. But he had seen the look in Palliser’s eyes, and remembered the face at the brig’s cabin windows. She would despise him after this. Like the dream, it was over.