The Darkening Sea

15. A Feeling

Lieutenant George Avery walked away past the sentry and into the cabin, grateful for the cooler air between decks although he knew that it was little more than an illusion.

"You wanted me, sir?" He glanced round and tried to adjust his eyes to the searing brightness of the sea astern, and another bright shaft of sun that shone down from a skylight. Yovell was sitting on the bench below the stern windows, using some of his papers to fan his streaming face. Bolitho stood by the table, as if he had not moved since their last meeting.

When he looked up, Avery could see the dark shadows around his eyes, the lines of strain by his mouth. It troubled Avery to see him like this. And there had been weeks of it, the endless search of an apparently empty ocean. He could still feel it throughout the ship as it had been felt in the rest of the little squadron when Tyacke's brig Lame had arrived in Cape Town with the handful of dazed and wounded survivors whom his boats had managed to snatch from death. None of the Thruster's officers had lived, and of the rest only a surgeon's mate had been articulate enough to offer some description of the disaster. Two frigates, one obviously the big American Unity, had fallen on the brig and her convoy of prizes. The surgeon's mate had been below in his sickbay and had been spared the first horrific broadside. Fired at extreme range, the weight of iron had smashed the brig almost onto her beam-ends. Masts, spars, rigging and canvas had thundered on to the crouching gun crews, trapping them amidst the wreckage before they could return a shot.

As the surgeon's mate had said, his voice broken with emotion, "We could do nothing. The people were dying. What could we have done?" He had rallied for only a moment. "But our captain refused to surrender. I never saw him after the next broadside. There was an explosion, a magazine I think, and then I was in the water. After that, the boats came. I never really believed in God… until then."

Bolitho said, "No more ships reported attacked or seized. They know every move we make. I've spoken with the man Richie but he had nothing to offer. Where is Baratte? How much does he know of our plans to invade?" He imagined their extended forces as though on a chart, as he had been doing for weeks. "Major-General Abercromby and his army will be sailing from India. Our Major-General Drummond will complete the pincers and sail from Good Hope to Rodriguez, where we will re-form if necessary, and then on to He de France." He stared at the chart until his eye stung like fire. "Then Mauritius. The end of French power across our trade routes."

Avery said, "We know Baratte's one weakness, sir."

Bolitho looked at him, remembering. On the day that Thruster had been totally destroyed, the enemy had also fired on the privateer Tridente until she had shared Thruster's fate. It could only mean that Baratte did not yet have full facilities for docking or careening any of his vessels. To do so in Mauritius would be inviting an attack, even a cutting-out expedition. He would not risk that. Secrecy and timing were everything. For both sides. They were grasping at straws, and all the while with each turn of the glass the two armies would be completing their preparations for attack.

Avery asked warily, "How much are the Americans involved, sir?"

"I believe, very much." He glanced round as Allday, carrying his usual cloth, moved silently across the cabin to begin his daily ritual of polishing the old sword.

As he reached up for it Bolitho saw him stiffen, his arms in mid-air while the old pain lanced through him. It was never far away. He stooped slightly now, which he had never done before that terrible day when he had received a Spanish sword blade in his chest. It would have killed anyone but Allday. Bolitho saw him move his arms more slowly until the sword was safely in his grasp; he would know that he had seen it, just as he always knew when Bolitho was half-blinded by some harsh light. They both knew, and each pretended not to show it.

How long was it now? It had happened during the false Peace of Amiens: difficult to believe it had been all of eight years ago. The two deadly enemies resting briefly to lick their wounds and prepare for their next conflict. It was a wonder they had both survived. Too many familiar faces had not. How much would Unity be prepared to interfere to 'defend' American shipping and the rights of her sailors on the high seas? As Adam had commented, she would make a formidable adversary if used against his small mixed squadron.

Bolitho snatched a magnifying glass, and in his mind saw Tyacke's strong profile as he had described these waters he had come to know so well. "My compliments to the captain. Ask him to step aft." His voice was quite even, casual. Only the fact that Allday's polishing cloth had suddenly stilled showed that he recognised what was happening.

On the tilting quarterdeck, Captain Trevenen paused in his heavy pacing and regarded the flag lieutenant suspiciously.

Avery was careful not to rouse his temper. "Sir Richard wishes to discuss a matter with you, sir."

"Another whim to act upon, is it? My ship is getting short of water, of everything. All we do is waste time! "

Avery knew that the men on watch could hear every word, just as he understood what would happen if he drew Trevenen's attention to the fact.

Trevenen strode past the first lieutenant and barked, "Keep an eye on these idlers, Mr. Urquhart! There'll be extra work for every laggard if I catch them! "

As they passed Avery saw the other lieutenant's mouth form a silent curse. Their eyes met and Avery smiled. Urquhart was human after all.

In the cabin again Trevenen's head seemed to brush the deck head as he strode to the table.

He sounded incredulous, as if it had been an insult even to ask him. "What? This place?"

Bolitho watched him, his face like a mask. What was the matter with Trevenen, the real reason for his foul temper?

"This place, Captain. It is called San Antonio."

Trevenen seemed vaguely relieved. "It's nothing, sir. A wretched pile of rock in the middle of the ocean! " He sounded contemptuous, or as close to it as he dared.

"You met Commander James Tyacke, I believe?"

"I've seen him."

Bolitho nodded slowly. "You are quite correct. One does not necessarily mean the other. And to know that fine officer is something even rarer and more valued because of it."

Bolitho looked at the chart again if only to hide his anger.

"James Tyacke is a very experienced navigator and knows these waters well. He once mentioned San Antonio to me. A bleak place, uninhabited except for a small monastery and occasionally a fishing community, when the season is right. A rare order of monks, I understand, with a code of poverty and devotion. What better place to observe our shipping movements? Hardly nothing, I'd have thought! "

He looked at Allday's homely face, the sudden pain in his eyes as he remembered that day at San Felipe. Another island, another ocean; and they had been ordered to hand back the place to the French because of the Peace of Amiens.

He saw ASlday nod very slowly. There had been a mission there too, and Allday had all but paid with his life.

He swung aft towards Yovell and said, "Prepare to copy out some orders." He put his hand to his eye as the endless panorama of glittering mirrors mocked him.

"I want you to signal Lame to close on us. Light a flare if need be, but I think James Tyacke will understand."

"That is more than I do, sir." Trevenen stared at him. "If you value my word, I must tell you I am against wasting more time."

"It is my responsibility, Captain. I should not need to remind you."

He heard Trevenen's heavy feet crossing the quarterdeck, and the sudden activity as Larne's number was bent on to the halliards.

In his mind's eye Bolitho saw his little command: Larne leading the invisible line with Jenour's Orcadia well up to windward, her topsails visible to the masthead lookout.

Far, far astern was the other frigate Laertes, the prize that had once been Baratte's own flagship.

He thought of Adam when they had last met at Cape Town, the rebellion in his eyes when he had been ordered to remain with Keen's convoy and escort. He was the vital link between them and their flag officer in Valkyrie.

Adam had argued that his place was in the van, not with the slow-moving transports. Not with Valentine Keen, he had really meant.

Bolitho had been as honest as was possible.

He had said, "You are arguably one of the best young frigate captains in the fleet. You have more than proved it on this station. The recapture of your prizes and Thruster's loss must not deflect your aim. Your true worth will be at my right hand when I call for it." He had watched Adam's resistance soften as he had added, "If I keep you with me all the while, which I am sorely tempted to do, it will reek of favouritism to the others, will it not?"

But it had proved that Catherine's worst fear about Adam and Zenoria must be justified.

He looked at Yovell's fat hand holding his pen, Avery making a few notes from the chart.

Whatever it was, it would have to wait. He saw Allday give his lazy grin as he said, "Thought I'd forgotten, did you, Sir Richard? When we was together in Old Katie?" Even the affectionate nickname for Bolitho's little two-decker Achates brought it all back. "Strange to see how things slide along. Commodore was the captain, an' young Cap'n Adam was your flag lieutenant." He smiled almost shyly. "An' then there was me."

Bolitho touched his thick arm as he walked back to the table. "I thought I'd lost you that day, old friend." He spoke with such emotion that Avery and Yovell stopped to listen. Bolitho did not notice.

A midshipman tapped at the door and he saw the marine sentry's scarlet arm out-thrust, as if the boy was not important enough to be admitted.

"Beg pardon, Sir Richard. The captain's respects, and Lame has acknowledged."

Bolitho smiled at him. "Quite a mouthful, Mr. Rees. Thank you."

Allday murmured, That'll go through the young gentlemen's berth, an' that's no error."

Yovell said, "I'm ready, Sir Richard."

Bolitho touched Avery's shoulder. "I am going to put a landing party ashore. I want you to go with it."

Avery replied calmly, "For the experience, sir?"

Bolitho smiled. "Don't take offence at everything I say! " He shook his head. "Mr. Urquhart is a good officer." He almost added, if he is allowed to be. "But beneath his lieutenant's coat there is still only a boy." He glanced at Allday, but not before he had seen the surprise on Avery's face. "I would take it a favour if you would accompany my flag lieutenant, Allday."

He turned, but Bolitho was already standing behind Yovell's round shoulder, his face unusually stern with concentration.

To all captains and officers-in-charge of such vessels under my command…

He thought suddenly of the last courier schooner that had run down on them. He could not recall when it had been. One day was much like all the rest.

There had been no more letters from Catherine. He felt another touch of anxiety and concern. He could still hear her voice nonetheless. Don't leave me…

But all Avery saw was the vice-admiral.

It took another full day, even under all the sail Valkyrie could carry, before the small island of San Antonio was sighted by the masthead. Without the other ships in company it had been strangely lonely, and many times Bolitho had seen seamen pause in their work to stare at the sea as if they expected to sight another friendly vessel.

The island seemed to rise from the ocean itself as the Valkyrie tilted to the unwavering south-westerly. It was, as Tyacke had described, a bleak place. It could have been the remaining half of an extinct

volcano, on the side of which Bolitho saw the crude monastery like an extension of the terrain it was built on.

With the coming of dawn every available glass was trained on it while the sailing master and his mates studied the chart, which they had mounted near the wheel itself.

Avery joined Bolitho by the quarterdeck rail, his jaw still moving discreetly on a piece of salt pork which was too tough to swallow.

"How long, sir?"

Bolitho rested his hands on the rail, feeling the rising heat that would soon engulf the whole ship.

Two hours. More or less." He rubbed his eye and trained the telescope once again. There was some smoke rising from a saddle in the land which he had taken earlier for haze. There was life here. He had heard that the monastery had had many changes of occupant during the course of its long life. Disease had taken a toll, and once, Tyacke had told him, all the monks had died of starvation simply because the sea had been too rough to launch any of their boats. What sort of men would give up the real world for such a demanding life, and, some would say, pointless sacrifice?

He heard Trevenen snapping out orders to his lieutenants. He was very much on edge, for the safety of his command, perhaps?

The sailing master called, "Steady on nor' nor' east, sir! "

Trevenen folded his hands behind his back. "Leadsman in the chains, Mr. Urquhart, lively now! "

The first lieutenant was with the master. "But there's no bottom hereabouts, sir."

"Damn it, do I have to repeat everything I say? Do as I tell you! "

Bolitho could understand any captain's anxiety for his ship. But this place was known for its isolation, and for the impossibility of landing here without the use of boats.

Avery thought the same but said nothing. He watched

Urquhart hurry past, his face flushed with humiliation at being upbraided in front of the hands.

The leadsman's cry echoed aft. "No bottom, sir! "

Bolitho raised the telescope and studied the hard landscape as it continued to grow and reach out on either bow. There was a patch of green below the monastery, a possible kitchen garden.

The sea was deep, and he watched a big swell at the foot of some fallen rocks. According to Tyacke and the chart there was a tiny cluster of huts used by visiting fishermen when their favourite catch was in season.

Bolitho saw Allday lounging against an eighteen-pounder, his new cutlass already in his belt. Urquhart might resent having Avery and Allday with him, especially as he was in charge. Trevenen would see to that.

Ozzard appeared at his side. "Shall I bring your coat, Sir Richard?"

Bolitho shook his head. "No. Someone may be watching us. It is better this way." He saw Ozzard's expression as he stared at the island. As if he loathed what he saw. What had done this to him?

"No bottom, sir! "

Trevenen said, "Shorten sail, Mr. Urquhart! Take in the t'gallants and stays' is We are moving too fast over the water! "

Men swarmed to the ratlines. With their captain on deck they needed no urging.

Bolitho stiffened. There was the landing place, and he could see one of the wooden huts beyond it. Even a castaway would feel wretched here.

He said "You may assemble the landing party, Captain."

Trevenen touched his hat but did not look at him.

Bolitho watched one of the cutters being swayed up from the boat tier. The chosen party of men looked capable enough. They were all armed, and he saw the gunner getting ready to supervise the mounting of a swivel in the boat's bows once it was in the water.

Urquhart had donned his sword, and looked vaguely ill at ease as he handed over his duties to the second lieutenant.

Bolitho watched the courses being brailed up to the yards and felt the way go off the ship as she rolled heavily in the offshore swell.

He said, "Just make certain that all is well, Mr. Urquhart. These are men of peace, and any unnecessary show of force would be resented. Discover what you can." He glanced at Allday. "And be careful."

Urquhart nodded stiffly, very aware of his captain standing nearby with a sardonic smile on his lips.

Trevenen said, "Stand by to wear ship. We shall heave-to! "

It would be a hard pull for the oarsmen, Bolitho thought. Nevertheless, he sensed that the sailors who were remaining on board envied the landing party.

"Sway out the boat! " As Valkyrie came up into the wind with all remaining sails flapping in confusion, the selected men clambered down into the cutter alongside. The last to board were the two lieutenants. Bolitho noticed that Urquhart was careful to climb down last, as if he needed to prove that, on this occasion at least, he was the senior officer.

"Bear off! Out oars! "

The cutter looked deceptively small in the great glassy swell, but was soon under command and cleaving through the steep water like a dolphin.

Bolitho said, "You may get under way again, Captain. But stand no further offshore."

Valkyrie steadied again as the courses and topsails were reset, and with neither Allday nor Avery to talk to be felt strangely depressed. Instinctively he reached up to his damp shirt and touched the locket inside. I am here. You are never alone.

He rubbed his left eye and winced. It must be getting worse. They must never know.

He took up the telescope again and looked for the boat but it was merging with the shore, moving briskly towards the landing-place, possibly aided by an undertow.

He went down into the cabin and dabbed his eye with water.

Yovell said gently, "Is there anything I can do, Sir Richard?"

He dropped the cloth, angry with himself. He had told others to delegate and to trust those they commanded, so what was the matter with him?

He answered, "I think everyone believes I am wasting time."

Yovell smiled inwardly. Bolitho meant the captain. "Never mind, Sir Richard. Mr. Avery and Allday will get a warm welcome. Fresh faces must be more precious than Christianity in this place! " He was surprised as Bolitho turned to stare at him, his eyes wild in the reflected light. Then without a word he snatched the old hanger from the bulkhead, and was still buckling it around himself as he ran to the companionway.

"Captain Trevenen! " He swung round blindly, unable to see him, caught off-guard by the sun's power. "Heave-to immediately! " He saw the others looking at him as if they thought him mad. Dyer, the second lieutenant, was turning to the captain, not knowing what to do.

Trevenen sounded very calm, almost defiant. "You ask me to perform some strange things, Sir Richard! "

"I am not asking you. Just do it! " He could not resist adding, "Do I have to repeat everything I say?" It was petty, and later he might regret it. But there was no time. Above the squeal of blocks and the boom of canvas he shouted, "I want two boats, a squad of marines in each one! " Men seemed to be scampering in all directions, dodging the hands at the braces and halliards as they brought the ship into the wind again.

Bolitho saw Plummer, the sergeant of marines, near the nettings and called, "Your best marksman and lively with it! " There was no time to seek out the debonair Captain Loftus. It might already be too late.

Why did I not think?

"I demand to know what is happening, Sir Richard! As officer appointed to command…" Trevenen got no further.

"Damn your eyes, sir! Stand closer inshore and watch for signals! " Then he was over the side and scrambling over the tumble home into the nearest boat.

"Let me, Sir Richard! " It was Captain Loftus of the marines. He was actually grinning. "I guessed something was up! "

Bolitho stared round, barely aware that the boats were away from the frigate's side, the oars thrashing at the water until they found the stroke.

It seemed so wrong without Allday at his side. I should never have sent him.

"Can you tell me, Sir Richard? I appear to be the only officer present."

Boitho gripped his arm. They will think me insane.

But thank goodness Loftus was keeping his head. He peeked over the oarsmen as they dipped then rose above him, their eyes grim and intent. The shore seemed no nearer.

He said, "My secretary saw it. I did not. It was a feeling and nothing more. Because I had nothing left."

"Sir?" He was trying to understand.

Bolitho asked sharply, "Is the marksman with us?"

Loftus nodded. "Behenna, Sir Richard. From your part of the world, I understand." He smiled. "A poacher, in fact. It was a choice between the Corps or the rope. I am not sure if he believes he made the right decision! "

The casual humour did more than anything to steady Bolitho's racing thoughts.

Tell your poacher to load his piece now. If ordered to shoot I fear there may be blood on my hands."

The word ran through the boat and then the other one, so that men tightened their grip on the looms while others reached down in the bottom boards for their weapons.

The marksman in the bows turned and stared along the length of the boat at the vice-admiral in his flapping shirt, with the old blade between his knees.

Bolitho lifted one hand towards him. The poacher was trying to tell him something with a glance. Like the young seaman that day with the bruise of a starter on his bare shoulder.

Suppose things went badly wrong? He touched the locket again and knew Loftus was watching him. Don't leave me… It seemed so wrong that Yovell, the most peaceful and un warlike person he knew, should have seen it, and pondered on the island's total lack of welcome.

In his heart he answered her. Never. What he had said when they had abandoned the Golden Plover. And had lived to tell of it.

He heard the boom of water in some cave below the cliff and knew they were closer. He gripped his sword with all his strength and whispered, I'm coming, but he spoke only to himself.

"It all seems quiet enough." Lieutenant Urquhart looked at the others, his frown deepening. "Well, we're here, so I suppose we shall have to search the place, though it is God's truth I know not for what! " He glanced around for a boatswain's mate and snapped, "Protheroe, take your party to the huts yonder. Find out what you can! " He pointed at a young midshipman. "You go with them, Mr. Powys, and take chargeV

Avery murmured to Allday, "What were you saying to Sir Richard?"

Allday grinned, but his eyes were on the rocks. "I says a lot o' things to Sir Richard."

"About the place where you were so badly wounded."

"Oh, when we were in Old Katie together?" He watched the little midshipman strutting away with the party of seamen. He was the one who had caused the man Jacobs to be flogged until he had eventually died under the lash. Little toad, he thought.

Then he said, "At San Felipe, it was. Just after you were released from a French prison, I reckon." He saw the shot strike home. Always the pain.

Surprisingly Avery gave a rueful smile. "Even prison was better than this god-forsaken place! "

Urquhart seemed rather desperate. "I shall go up to the monastery, if that's what they call it! "

Avery watched him. The first lieutenant was seeing all the pitfalls, and the end of it when Trevenen would vent his temper on him.

"No need, sir." Allday eased his cutlass very slightly in his belt. "The old fellow himself is coming down to us."

Avery wondered if he would ever get used to Allday's humour. But there was awareness too, like a fox on the prowl when a hunter is near. They all looked up the path that led from the monastery's crumbling outer wall. It was so steep in places that here and there crude stairs had been hacked out to give access.

Avery watched the slow-moving figure in the brown robe, the hood pulled up over his head to keep out the wet, salty breeze. Each stair, like the stones of the building itself, had doubtless been cut by hand. He turned to seek out the frigate,

but she had moved or drifted around the out-thrust spur of land. To see the water so empty sent an unexpected chill up his spine.

He shook himself angrily and looked at Urquhart. It was obvious he did not know what to do.

The figure was nearer now, still moving at the same steady pace. In one hand he carried a long, polished staff on which he leaned occasionally as if to get his breath. When he drew nearer Avery could see the fine carved crucifix on the top of the staff, below which was a plain gold band. It was probably the most valuable object in this dismal hole, he thought.

Urquhart said urgently, "He must be the abbot! You see, I was right. There's nothing to worry about! " When Avery said nothing he insisted, "He will demand to know what we're doing on this this sacred land! "

Allday spat in the sand but Urquhart was too agitated to notice it.

Avery said, Tell him, then. If he becomes unreasonable, we can give him some ship's stores. Can we not?"

Urquhart nodded, relieved. "Yes, I shall."

Allday grunted. In ten minutes Urquhart would imagine it was all his idea. He knew that Bolitho thought the first lieutenant would be a good officer. He chuckled. But not this week.

The abbot stopped on one of the last stairs and held up the staff so that the crucifix faced Urquhart and his companions. Then he shook his head firmly while he held the staff. It all took place in complete silence, but he might have been denying them entry into the monastery with a voice like thunder.

Urquhart had removed his hat and now gave a brief bow.

He said, "I come in the name of King George of England…"

The abbot stared down at him, his eyes expressionless. Then he shook his head several times.

Urquhart tried again. "We mean no harm. We will leave you in peace." He turned helplessly and exclaimed, "He speaks no English! "

Avery felt the wildness surging through him. Something he thought he had lost or learned to contain.

The others stared at him as he said quietly, "Duncere Classem Regem Sequi."

The abbot could only gape at him, and he added in a harsher tone, "Nor Latin either, it would seem! " He knew Urquhart was unable to understand, and he shouted, "Take this man! "

A seaman seized the man's robe but he was too strong for him.

Allday pushed past them. "Sorry, Father! " Then he smashed his fist into the man's face and sent him reeling down the steps.

Someone yelled, There be boats comin', sir! "

Allday straightened up and allowed the imposter's hand to fall on the stones. "See the tar, sir! If he's a cleric, I'd be the Queen of England! " Then he seemed to realise what had been shouted and said with relief, "Sir Richard, then. I knew it somehow! "

They all stared around as two shots cracked out, their sharp echoes repeating and ringing around the narrow landing-place as if twenty marksmen were firing.

Someone gave a shrill scream, and even as their ears cringed to that a corpse fell from the rocks overhead, still clinging to a smoking musket until he hit the ground and rolled off into the water below.

"Who was hit?" Urquhart stared round, his eyes wild.

A seaman called, "Mr. Powys, sir! He's dead! "

Somebody else said, "He's no bloody loss."

"Silence! " Urquhart was trying to assert himself.

Bolitho and the captain of marines appeared at the landing place, and a squad of scarlet coats fanned out amongst the rocks, their bayonets very bright in the sunshine.

Bolitho climbed up beside them and nodded to Allday. "Well, old friend?"

Allday grinned, but the pain in his chest had been awakened and he had

to speak carefully.

This fellow must be one of them, Sir Richard." He held up a pistol. "Not quite right an' proper for a man of the cloth, eh?"

Bolitho looked at the abbot who was trying to recover his senses. Then he said, "We've much to do here."

Protheroe, who had been with the unpopular midshipman,

appeared on the slope, his eyes dull with shock. As a boatswain's mate he was one of those required to carry out a flogging, and yet by the navy's own code he was not blamed for what he must do. Especially under Trevenen's command.

"What is it, man?"

Protheroe wiped his mouth. "Two women we found, sir. Raped several times is my guess, then cut about something' terrible! " He was shaking despite everything he had seen in his service.

Bolitho glanced at the figure in the brown robe and saw his eyes move. He said calmly, "There appear to be no trees here. Take this man to the water's edge. Captain Loftus, you will detail a firing party. At once! "

Captain Loftus looked so grim that it was likely he would shoot the man himself. As he stepped forward the imposter flung himself forward, and would have gripped Bolitho's shoes but for Allday's heavy foot across his neck.

"Down, you scum! Butchering women is that all you're good for?"

"Please! Please! " The man's earlier composure, which had so convinced Urquhart, had vanished like smoke. "It wasn't me! It was some of the others! "

"Strange how often it's the others! "

Avery felt his hand trembling on his sword hilt but managed to say, "Speaks English now well enough!"

"How many of you are there here?" Bolitho turned away. He was beyond pity. The women were probably fishermen's wives, daughters even. What a terrible way to end. Later he would see the corpses for himself, and tend to them. But now… his voice hardened. "Speak out, man! "

The man did not struggle as a marine dragged off the robe and took the fine staff from him as if it might break.

The cowering figure sobbed, "We was ordered to stay here, sir! I speak the truth! The monks are safe enough, sir! I'm a religious man I was against what happened. Have mercy, sir! "

Bolitho snapped, "Get a flag of truce for this creature, Mr. Urquhart, and go with him to the door. His friends will know they cannot be rescued while we are here. If they resist I will have the door broken down, and there will be no quarter."

Urquhart was staring at him as if he had never seen him before.

Bolitho watched as the man was dragged to his feet and a white rag produced from somewhere. He did not notice at the time, but it had blood on it. It was probably the hated midshipman's shirt.

"How many men? I did not hear a reply! "

But the prisoner was gaping at something beyond him, and without turning Bolitho knew it was the Valkyrie moving past the entrance. She more than anything would convince the pirates, or whatever they were.

Avery whispered, "I'll go, Sir Richard. If they recognise you…"

Bolitho tried to smile. "Like this?" He plucked at his grubby shirt. Had that hidden marksman seen him in uniform, he and not Midshipman Powys would be lying dead. He noticed that Avery had used his title despite what he had told him. It revealed that he was not as calm as he appeared.

He walked up the steps and asked, "What of the Abbot? Did you murder him too?"

The man tried to turn but two marines gripped him fast. He whined, "No, sir! A man of God?" He sounded almost shocked at the suggestion. "He's locked in a room with the other prisoner! "

It was as if someone had spoken in his ear. "You had better not be lying."

The door was already opening when they reached it. There were ten of them. Had they wanted to they could have held the place against an army. But they were throwing down their weapons and getting a few blows from the marines as they drove them into a corner.

Bolitho saw the marksman swoop up an expensive-looking pistol from the floor, his eyes gleaming. Despite his smart uniform he still looked like a poacher in the guise of a ferret.

Their voices rang and echoed around the walls, which were dripping with moisture. The sound of chanting in this place must be like the cries of the damned.

His heart was beating so painfully that he had to pause on the stairs to recover his breath.

"Captain Loftus, search the building, though I doubt if you'll find anything. Have the prisoners taken to the beach. Tie them up if need be." He was speaking in a harsh, clipped tone he barely recognised as his own, and his mouth was as dry as dust.

Allday said, This is the place, I think, Sir Richard." He sounded very wary.

Avery lifted a large key from a hook beside the door and after a slight hesitation he opened it.

There was bright sunshine streaming in through a window, alien in this place, which was without furniture. The floor was strewn with loose straw. A man with a white beard was leaning against the wall, his leg chained to a ringbolt, his breathing laboured and shallow.

Bolitho said softly, "Send word to the ship and have the surgeon attend here."

He bent and then knelt beside the other man who was propped against the wall, one hand in filthy bandages. For a moment longer Bolitho thought he was dead.

He said, "Thomas. Can you hear me?"

Herrick lifted his chin, then very slowly opened his eyes. Blue in the sunlight, they seemed the only living thing about him.

A marine handed Bolitho his water flask, and Herrick stared at the man's bright uniform as if he could not believe it was real.

Bolitho held the flask to his lips and saw Herrick's pathetic attempt to swallow some water.

Herrick said suddenly, "Allday! It's you, you rascal! " Then he coughed and water ran down his chin.

Allday watched, his face like stone. "Aye, sir. You can't get rid o' me that easy! "

Bolitho looked round and noticed Herrick's best uniform coat hanging on a wall, carefully protected from dust and damp by a piece of linen.

Herrick must have seen his eyes move toward it, and said, "They wanted to parade us together, so they had to keep my clothing nice and clean." He almost laughed, but he groaned with the pain.

Bolitho took the bandaged hand very carefully and prayed that the surgeon would soon come.

"Who did this to you, Thomas? Was it Baratte?"

"He was here, but I did not see him. It was another man."

"American or French?"

Herrick stared at the crude bandage. "Neither. A bloody Englishman! "

"Save your strength, Thomas. I think I know the man now."

But Herrick was staring past him again, at the prisoner who had taken the abbot's place. "Whoever he was, he knew he was wasting his time when he questioned me about the squadron." His body shook with silent laughter. "Not that I had anything to tell. Remember, I was on my way to the great country." Then he became very calm. "So this renegade, or whoever he is, made me a promise before he left. That I would never hold a sword for the King again." He gestured with his head to a stone block in the corner. "They held my arm and smashed my hand with that! " He held up the bandage and Bolitho could imagine the damage and the agony. "But they even made a mistake there, eh, Richard?"

Bolitho looked down, his eyes blurring. "Yes, Thomas, you are left-handed."

Herrick was fighting to stay conscious. "That prisoner by the door. He did it."

Then he fainted. Bolitho held him in his arms and waited while a marine prized open the leg-iron with his bayonet.

He looked round, thinking that Herrick had called him by name; and that while he had been struggling to speak, something had stopped, like a clock.

Sergeant Plummer said quietly, "The old gentleman has died, sir."

It was rare for a man to look dignified in death, Bolitho thought. He said, "Remove his leg-iron, Sergeant, then take him to where the others lie dead." He walked to the door as more men with Lieutenant Urquhart hurried in.

Avery asked, "And what about this man, sir?"

The prisoner's eyes watched him like bright stones.

"We'll leave him with the others. Dead."

The man's protests filled the barred room so that Herrick seemed to stir as if in a bad dream.

"I will not take him to the ship. The people have had enough examples of authority to witness." He watched the horror and disbelief on the man's face. "The only witnesses will be the women you destroyed! "

Outside the door Bolitho leaned against the wall, the stones surprisingly cold through his shirt. He listened to the man's screams and pleading cries as he was dragged down the steep stairs.

Avery waited with Allday as some sailors carried Herrick's limp body carefully through the door.

Avery asked bluntly, "What does it mean? You can tell me, man! "

Allday looked at him sadly. "It means he's found his friend again."

They fell in step to follow the others, then Allday asked, "What did you say to that rat, sir?"

"Well, I was not certain, you see. But all priests speak Latin. I was answering the question he should have asked. I said, To Lead the Fleet, to Follow the King."

A single shot echoed over the monastery and Allday spat on the ground.

"Hope he said his prayers! "