It was like a dream. Down the sloping track to the pier and into the boat, and for most of the way pursued by Muljadi's voice, which had lapsed into another language, although the threat was no less evident.
Bolitho said coldly, 'The frigate. She was English.'
Le Chaumareys nodded wearily. 'Yes. Damaged in battle in '82, she was beached near here and her company removed by another vessel. We have been working on her for two years almost. Putting her to rights. I was ordered to hand her to Muljadi ready for use, before I am allowed to return home.'
Bolitho did not look at him. He was supporting the Spanish commandant against his knees, feeling his sobs and his misery.
'Then I hope you are proud of your work, m'sieu. And what it may mean when Muljadi puts her to work.'
The French frigate's yards loomed above the boat, and Bolitho followed the other captain up to the entry port.
Le Chaumareys said abruptly, 'Maurin will attend to the transfer.'
He looked searchingly at Bolitho for several seconds.
'You are still young. One day you might have understood. Now that is past.' He thrust out his hand. 'When we meet again, as I fear we must, it will be for the last time.'
He turned on his heel and strode to the cabin hatch.
Bolitho pulled out his watch and examined the gold pendant. If he had been mistaken, or Potter had given him wrong information… He stopped his train of thought there and then. It did not bear even conjecture.
Then he thought of the captured frigate. But for Muljadi's flare of anger he would never have known of it. The knowledge was little help, but it was better than nothing, he decided.
Maurin said cheerfully, 'I will take a boat away to your ship, m'sieu. They will be surprised to learn of your safety, as I am.'
Bolitho smiled. 'I was well protected, thank you.' He glanced at the cabin hatch, but was uncertain what he meant.
16. No Better, No Worse than Most
Bolitho walked slowly along the upper rampart at the inland side of the settlement, watching the steamy haze rising from the jungle, the afternoon sunlight playing on the dripping leaves and fronds nearest the palisade. Undine had anchored shortly before noon below an empty blue sky, and yet during their slow approach towards Pendang Bay he had seen the land dark under the weather,, and had almost envied the isolated downpour. He sighed, smelling the thick, heady scents from the jungle, the drowsy aromas of rotting leaves and roots hidden in deep shadow below the trees.
For the last two days Undine had been plagued with opposing wind, and when at last it had changed in their favour there had been little more than a breath to bring life to the sails.
He watched some red-coated sepoys working beyond the palisade, and two native women approaching the gateway with heavy bundles on their heads. At a glance it seemed nothing had changed, but now as he waited to confront Conway for the second time within the hour he knew everything was different.
He continued his walk to the next corner of the crude timber rampart and saw Undine riding easily to her cable, the captured schooner close abeam. As he looked towards the shallows where he had last seen the brig Rosalind when Undine had set sail for Muljadi's stronghold, it was all he could do to stop himself from cursing aloud. Like the transport Bedford, she had gone. Back to Madras, to carry despatches and Raymond's own appreciation of the situation to Sir Montagu Strang.
Bolitho had been shocked by Conway's appearance when he had reported ashore within thirty minutes of dropping anchor. Wild-eyed, more shrunken than ever, he had been almost beside himself with anger and despair.
He had shouted, 'You dare to stand here and tell me that you actually chose to ignore my orders? That despite the importance of my instructions you made no attempt to parley with Le Chaumareys?'
Bolitho had stood very still, his eyes on Conway's distorted features. An empty decanter lay on the table, and it was obvious he had been drinking heavily for some time.
'I could not parley, sir. To do so would have been to recognise Muljadi. Which is exactly what the French want.'
'Are you telling me something I do not already know?' Conway had gripped the table violently. 'I ordered you to tell Le Chaumareys to return Colonel Pastor unharmed! The Spanish government would have raised a savage argument against England if we had allowed him to remain a prisoner, and right under my nose!'
Bolitho recalled his own voice. Taut and flat. Not daring to arouse Conway's fury any more than it was.
'When I found I had captured Muljadi's son I knew I could bargain, sir. There was a good chance I would succeed As it turned out, we arrived in time. I fear that Pastor would have died in a few more days.'
Conway had screamed, 'Pastor be damned! You took Muljadi's son, and you dared to release him! We could have had that bloody pirate crawling at our feet, pleading for his
son's life!'
Bolitho had said abruptly, 'There was a frigate lost in these waters during the last months of the war.'
Conway had been taken off guard. 'Yes, yes. The Imogene, Captain Balfour.' He had squinted against the sun's glare from a window. 'Twenty-eight guns. Had been in battle with the French and then got caught by a gale. Drove aground, and her people were taken off by one of my sloops. What the hell does she have to do with it?'
'Everything, sir. But for my meeting with Muljadi I would never have known until we were totally unprepared. The frigate, the Imogene, is there, sir, in the Benuas, and from what I saw, about ready to weigh anchor.'
Conway had lurched against the table, as if Bolitho had actually struck him.
'If this is some trick, some ruse to deter my-'
'She is there, sir. Refitted and repaired, and I have no doubt well trained by Le Chaumareys' officers.' He could not conceal his bitterness. 'I had hoped the brig would still be here. You could have sent word. Demanded help. There is no choice in the matter now.'
The next part had been the worst. Conway walking unsteadily to the sideboard and fumbling with another decanter, and muttering, 'Betrayed, right from the start. Raymond insisted on sending the brig to Madras. She's a Company vessel, and I could hold her no longer. He had all the arguments. All the answers, too.' Claret had slopped over his shirt like blood as he had shouted, 'And me? Nothing but a cat's-paw! A tool for Strang and his friends to use as they please!'
He had smashed a goblet with the decanter and groped hurriedly for another, adding, 'And now you, the one man I trusted, tells me that Muljadi is ready to attack my settlement! Not merely content with showing me to be incompetent, Raymond will now tell his damned superiors that I cannot even hold this territory under the British flag!'
The door had opened noiselessly and Puigserver had moved into the room. He had glanced briefly at Conway and had said to Bolitho, 'I stayed until your return. My men have sailed in the Bedford, but I could not leave also without offering my gratitude for securing Don Pastor's release. You seem to make a habit of risking your life for others. I trust that this time it will not go unrewarded.' His black eyes had moved to Conway again. 'Eh, Admiral?'
Conway had stared at him vaguely. 'I must think.'
'We all must.' The Spaniard had settled in a chair, his eyes still on Conway. 'I heard some of it through the door.' He had shrugged. 'Not spying, you understand, but your voice was somewhat forceful.'
Conway had made a new effort to control himself. 'Conference. Immediately.' He had fixed Bolitho with a bleary stare. 'You wait outside. I must think.'
Now, as he looked emptily at the small figures below the palisade, Bolitho could feel his returning anger, a sense of urgency.
'Richard!'
He swung round and saw her at the corner of the square tower. She was well covered against the sun, and wore the same wide-brimmed hat as before. He hurried to her and seized her hands.