'Lieutenant Maurin, m'sieu. At your service.'
He bore no marks of rank, and his blue coat showed plenty of evidence of patching and repairs. He was tanned to the shade of old leather, and his eyes were those of a man who had been at sea for most of his life. Tough, self-assured, competent, it was all there on his face, Bolitho decided.
Bolitho nodded. 'And I am Captain Bolitho, of His Majesty's ship Undine.'
The lieutenant gave a wry smile. 'My capitaine 'as been expecting you.'
Bolitho glanced briefly at the cockade on Maurin's hat. It bore the small red beast instead of a French insignia.
He asked, 'And what is your nationality, Lieutenant?'
The man shrugged. 'I am employed in the service of Prince Muljadi.' He shrugged again. 'Naturally.'
Bolitho gave a wry smile. 'Naturally.'
He added sharply, 'I wish to meet your captain, and without delay. I have certain matters to discuss.'
'But of course, m'sieu.' The lieutenant was looking at the men on deck. His eyes were always moving. Calculating. He continued, 'Capitaine Le Chaumareys is prepared for-me to remain aboard as 'ostage to ensure your, er, good 'ealth!'
Bolitho hid his relief. Had Le Chaumareys been killed or replaced he might have had to alter his tactics.
He said calmly, 'It will not be necessary. I have every faith in your captain's honour.'
Herrick exclaimed, 'But, sir, you cannot mean it! Keep him, I say! Your life is too valuable to risk on a Frenchman's word!'
Bolitho looked at him and smiled. 'If Le Chaumareys is the callous brute you describe, do you imagine he would care about losing a lieutenant if it were to gain him a better bargaining point?' He touched his arm. 'I have made some notes in my cabin. They may help you to pass the time in my absence.' He touched his hat to the quarterdeck and said to Maurin, 'I am ready.'
For a moment longer he stood in the port, looking down into the boat alongside. There were about a dozen men aboard, naked but for a few scraps of rags, but armed to the teeth, and with the looks of men prepared to kill without question.
Maurin said quietly, 'You will be safe with me, m'sieu.' He lowered himself swiftly on to the boat's gunwale, adding, 'For the moment.'
Bolitho jumped the last few feet and steadied himself against a crude backstay, very conscious of the acrid stench of sweat and filth which floated unheeded in the bilges.
'You choose strange allies, Lieutenant.'
Maurin signalled for the boat to be cast off, one hand resting casually on his pistol.
'Lie with a dog and you arise with fleas, m'sieu. It is quite common.'
Bolitho glanced at his profile. Another Herrick perhaps?
Then as the sail billowed and cracked to the wind, and the slim hull began to gather way, he forgot Maurin, even the anxious faces on Undine's quarterdeck, as he considered what he was about to do.
Bolitho clung to the backstay as the boat scudded dangerously close to a line of black-toothed rocks and then went about to enter the main channel. He noticed that the current was strong and at odds with the incoming sea, and felt the hull leap and stagger as it straightened up for the final leg of the ourney. When he looked astern he could see nothing of his own ship. She was already hidden by a wedge of land, the side of which lay, deep in shadow.
Maurin asked suddenly, 'Why d'you take such risks, m'sieu?'
Bolitho looked at him impassively. 'Why do you?'
Maurin shrugged. 'I obey orders. But soon I will be going 'ome again. To Toulon. I 'ave not seen my family for…' He smiled sadly. 'Too long.'
Bolitho glanced across the lieutenant's shoulder and studied the grim fortress which was slipping past the port beam. It was still difficult to see the extent of its buildings. A high wall, undulating with the edge of the clifftop. The spaced windows were little more than black slits, like mournful eyes, while above, on the weatherworn battlements, he could see the muzzles of several large guns, just visible through their individual embrasures.
Maurin said, 'A foul place, is it not? But they are not like us. They live like crabs in the rocks.' He sounded contemptuous.
Bolitho saw several small boats bobbing at anchor, and a schooner similar to the one they had captured moored to a stone pier.
Maurin did not try to stop him looking at everything, to prevent his interest in the many figures which moved about the pier and up the sloping track to the fortress gates. Bolitho decided he was being brought by the main channel by careful design. So that he should see the growing strength of Muljadi's private army. And it was impressive. To think that a pirate, an alien to the Indies, could muster this force, and instil such discipline, was enough to impress anyone. Even a pompous fool like Major Jardine.
He turned as the boat's crew began to shorten sail, and saw the anchored frigate lying directly across the bows. Close to in a confined space she seemed even larger. Far bigger than Undine. Even his last command would have been reckless to match her deadly broadside of eighteen-pounders.
He remarked, 'A fine ship.'
Maurin nodded. 'The best. We 'ave been together for so long, we even think alike!',
Bolitho saw the activity around the entry port, the gleam of sunlight on fixed bayonets where a guard awaited his arrival.
A very carefully staged performance, he thought. He noticed that boarding nets were furled along the gangways where they could be spread without delay. Fear of a cutting-out attack? More likely he was taking no chances with his new 'ally'. It was the only promising thing Bolitho had seen so far.
A small fishing dory drifted abeam, and he saw some natives standing in it shaking their fists at him and baring their teeth like wild beasts.
Maurin said simply, 'They probably think you are a prisoner, eh?' It seemed to depress him.
Bolitho pushed him from his thoughts as the boat swung heavily towards the frigate's main chains. Capitaine Paul Le Chaumareys, a man about whom many tales had been told. Battles won, convoys harried and settlements destroyed. His record in the war had been formidable, just as Conway had described. But as an individual he was a mystery, mostly because he had spent much of his service far away from his own beloved France.
He ran his eyes the full length of the ship's side. Argus, the hundred-eyed messenger of Hera. Very appropriate for a man as elusive as Le Chaumareys, he thought. Sturdily built, and showing the scars and blemishes of hard service, she was a ship he would have been proud to command. She lacked Undine's grace, but had a heavier toughness which could not be ignored.
The boat had made fast to the chains, and the crew stood grouped by the mast as Bolitho climbed up to the gunwale. Nobody attempted to assist him. Then, a young seaman jumped down from the chains and held out his hand.
'M'sieu!' He grinned broadly. 'A votre service!'
Bolitho seized his wrist and levered himself towards the entry port. The French seaman could have been one of his own.
He removed his hat to the broad quarterdeck, and waited while the calls shrilled a salute and a guard presented muskets. Not crisply like Bellairs' marines would have done, but with a familiar jauntiness. Of long practice. Like the upper deck itself, he thought. Not dirty, but not gleaming and in perfect order either. Well used. Ready for anything.
'Ah, Capitaine!' Le Chaumareys stepped forward to greet him, his eyes fixed on Bolitho's face.
He was quite unlike anyone he had expected. Older. A good deal so. Perhaps in his middle forties. And one of the largest men he had ever met. Taller than six feet, with shoulders so broad that his bared head seemed tiny by comparison, especially as he wore his hair very short, like a convict.
'I welcome you to my ship.' He waved his hand around the deck. 'To my world, as it has been for so long.' He smiled, the effect lighting up his face in an instant. 'So come below to the cabin.'He nodded to Maurin. 'I will call for you when it is time.'