Conway had remained terribly sober, or if not, Bolitho
thought he must be a better actor than he had imagined. When then, had the actual moment of decision arrived? He had found himself on the upper rampart with her at his side, leaning over the rough timber to look at the anchored ships in the bay. They had made a fine picture. Tiny lights reflected on the uneasy water, the pale splash of oars as a guardboat patrolled monotonously around its heavier charges. Without looking at him she had said, 'I want you to stay on shore tonight. Will you?'
Perhaps that had been the moment? He had felt reckless, dangerously so.
'I'll send a message to my first lieutenant.'
He turned to stare along the deck. Herrick was still talking to Shellabeer, and he wondered if he had guessed what had occurred.
He could remember the room exactly. More like a cell, with fewer luxuries than a lieutenant's cabin in a man-of-war. He had lain on the bed, his fingers locked behind his head, listening to the strange noises beyond the walls and the rapid beats of his own heart.
Cries from the jungle, the occasional call of a picket challenging one of the sergeants of the guard. Wind murmuring around the square tower without response from deck or rigging which was his normal life.
Then he had heard the sound of her footstep in the passageway, a quick whisper to her maid before she opened the door and shut it quickly behind her.
It was becoming harder to remember in perfect sequence. The continuity was confused. He could recall holding her tightly against his body, the warmth of her mouth on his, the sudden, overwhelming, desperate need which threw all last caution to the winds.
There had been no light in the tiny room, but that from the moon. He had seen her only briefly, her bare shoulder and thigh shining like silver before she had climbed on to the bed, pulling him down and down, until at last, spent and gasping with the extent of their desire they had lain together as one.
He could not remember sleeping at all. Just holding her, needing her, tortured by the realisation it could not last.
Once during the night and towards dawn she had whispered in his ear, 'Do not reproach yourself. It is not a question of honour. It is a part of life.' She had put her lips to his shoulder and had added softly, 'What a lovely smell you have. Of the ship. Salt and tar.' She had giggled quietly. 'I must have it, too.'
Then the nervous tap on the door, the quick scramble to pull on her gown as her faithful maid warned of the coming of another day.
But for Bolitho it had been different from all other days. He felt totally unlike anything he had been before. Alive, yet restless. Replete, but needing more.
He heard steps on the deck and saw Herrick watching him.
'Yes, Mr. Herrick?'
'Wind's freshening again, sir. Shall I call the hands to reef tops'ls?' He ran his eyes across the ship. 'Rigging's straining a'piece by the sound of it.'
'We'll give her her head a while longer. Until eight bells if possible, when we -change tack and run to the west'rd. No sense in tiring the hands when one operation will suffice.' He leaned back, hands on hips as he stared at the main topgallant masthead, the long pendant undulating in the wind. 'She's a lot of power to offer us yet.'
'Aye, sir.' Herrick sounded tired.
'Is anything wrong?'
Bolitho walked to the weather rail and out of earshot of Soames and two seamen who were splicing halliards.
Herrick said quietly, 'You know already, sir. I've said my piece. What's done is done.'
Bolitho watched him gravely. 'Then let us leave it well alone.'
Herrick sighed. 'Very well, sir.' He looked at the helmsmen.
'I'm sorry I could only get four extra hands. Neither Bedford nor the Rosalind were eager to part with any more. And those I did obtain are troublemakers by the cut of them.' He gave a slow smile. 'Although Mr. Shellabeer assures me they will change their ways before another dawn.'
Midshipman Armitage ran up the ladder and touched his hat.
To Herrick he stammered, 'Mr. Tapril's respects, sir, and would you join him in the magazine.'
Herrick asked, 'Is that all?'
The boy looked uncomfortable. 'He said you'd promised, sir.' 'And so I did, Mr. Armitage.'
As the midshipman hurried away Herrick said, 'I was going to arrange to have the powder casks inspected and marked again. No sense in losing good powder.' He lowered his voice. 'Look, sir, are you sure you cannot see the folly of what you are doing? There is no telling what damage it might do to your career.'
Bolitho swung towards him and then saw the anxious concern on Herrick's face.
He replied, 'I am relying on your lady luck, Thomas!'
He walked towards the cabin hatch, adding for Soames's benefit, 'Call me the moment there is a change.'
Soames watched him go and then walked aft to the compass.
Fowlar watched him warily. Once back in England, he, too, would get the chance to obtain a commission as lieutenant. The captain had said as much, and that was good enough. But if he did make that first all-important step up the ladder, he hoped he would be happier about it than Lieutenant Soames appeared to be.
Soames rasped, 'Mr. Fowlar, your helmsmen are wandering off a point or so! Damn my eyes, I don't expect that from you!'
Fowlar watched him move away and smiled to himself. There was nothing wrong with the helm, and Soames knew it. It was part of the game.
He said, 'Watch your helm, Mallard.'
Mallard transferred a plug of tobacco from one cheek to the other and nodded.
'Aye, Mr. Fowlar, sur.'
The watch continued.
Before the last dog watch had run its course it was obvious the rising wind made it necessary to reef topsails.
Bolitho gripped the hammock nettings and faced along his ship's length as he watched the petty officers checking their men in readiness for going aloft, while Shellabeer and his own hands were already busy scrambling about the boat-tier with further lashings.
Herrick shouted above the wind, 'A second reef within the hour, sir, if I'm any judge!'
Bolitho turned aft and felt the spray as it hissed freely above the weather quarter. The wind- had backed rapidly and now blew lustily from the south-east, making the motion both violent and uncomfortable.
He replied, 'We will steer due west once we have reefed. On the larboard tack she will be steadier.'
He watched the great, steeply banked swell, like serried lines of angry glass hills. When the wind got up further, those rounded rollers would break into heavy waves.
Bolitho heard Mudge shout, 'We're in for a blow right enough, sir!' He was'clinging to his misshapen hat, his small eyes watering in the wind. 'The barometer is poppin' about like a pea on a drum!'
Davy shouted, 'All mustered, sir!'
'Very well. Hands aloft.' Herrick held up his hand. 'Keep them from racing each other, and stop the bosun's mates from using their rope's-ends.' He glanced at Bolitho. 'One slip, and a man would go overboard without a chance of recovery.'
Bolitho agreed. Herrick always remembered things like that.
He said, 'I hope this doesn't last too long. If we have to ride it out it will upset Admiral Conway's other arrangements, I have no doubt.'
He looked up as faint shouts and curses told him of the struggle the topmen were having with the violent, unruly canvas. Fisting and kicking, pitching this way and that, with the deck far below, the very sight of their efforts made him feel queasy.
It took the best part of an hour to master the sails to Herrick's satisfaction, and by then it was time to take in yet another reef.