The admiral turned, lightly for a man of his girth: there was obviously nothing wrong with his hearing.
“My barge crew? They do nothing else all day. Mister …” He cocked his head. “Vincent? Correct?” And without pausing, “I shall want to talk to you about the Moonstone affair before the day is out. You were the boarding officer. When the last ‘survivor’ was discovered?”
The flag lieutenant leaned forward and interjected, “It was not Lieutenant Vincent who found him, sir.” He was consulting an open notebook. Langley stared coldly beyond him.
“I wasn’t aware that I was asking you.”
Adam said, “I should have explained, sir,” and Langley gave him the now familiar, humourless smile.
“You did, I believe.” Then he said abruptly, “May we pause, Bolitho?”
Adam saw Vincent give an almost imperceptible nod and hurry aft.
Langley was looking at the windsails. “Might be a little cooler below-and we can talk.” He turned just as swiftly and beckoned to Midshipman Huxley. “And who are you?”
Adam saw the flag lieutenant open his mouth and close it again.
“Huxley, sir.”
“Oh. I thought perhaps …” He seemed about to walk on toward a line of seamen, but stopped and swung round again. “Huxley? I trust not related to …”
He left the rest unspoken, but it was enough. Huxley’s face had closed, and Adam saw his fist clench before he thrust it out of sight.
He said, “I think I am very fortunate in Onward‘s midshipmen, sir.”
Langley pulled out a large handkerchief and dabbed his mouth. “Well, time will tell, as every captain must know!” He looked aft again. “I think I’ve shown the flag enough for the moment.” He waited for Vincent to present himself. “You may carry on now, Lieutenant. A smart ship. Are you satisfied?”
Vincent answered without hesitation, “Ready for sea, sir.”
Langley stepped into the shade with obvious relief, remarking, “As it should be.”
They reached the cabin, where the screen door was already open, the Royal Marine sentry at attention, his eyes fixed discreetly on some point above the admiral’s epaulette.
The flag lieutenant had his little book open again, but Langley snapped, “Not now, Flags! That can wait.”
Inside the great cabin it seemed cool after the upper deck. The stern windows were open, and an unfinished letter on Adam’s small desk was stirring slightly in the breeze.
Langley strode across the cabin and tossed his hat onto a chair, ducking his head, his fair hair almost touching the deckhead.
“This takes me back.” He did not elaborate. Then he saw the bergere facing astern, in the place of honour, as Jago always called it. Langley lowered himself into it slowly and carefully, while his aide hovered nearby.
He stretched his legs. “More like it, eh?” He patted the arms of the chair and turned his pale eyes on Adam. “This could tell a few tales, I’ll wager.”
Adam smiled to himself. The flag lieutenant had probably recorded all the details in his little book. “It belonged to my uncle, sir.”
“Guessed as much.” Langley nodded and stroked the worn leather. “Sir Richard. I am honoured!” A pause. “I know that Captain Tyacke served under him, and was with him at the end.” He brushed something imaginary off his sleeve. “But trying to get him to talk about their service together is like getting blood out of a stone!”
Adam saw the pantry door move an inch. Hugh Morgan was standing by.
“May I offer you some wine, sir? I’m not sure about the time, but you must have been on the move for most of the day.”
Langley pouted and said genially, “Not over yet, either. Never is.” He leaned further back in the chair. “Anything will be more than welcome, Bolitho!”
He gazed out of the stern windows, his pale eyes shaded by the overhang of the poop. “I often wonder what our people in London actually know of our problems out here. They worry about slavery, even though all the major powers are doing their utmost to stamp it out.” He wagged a finger. “There will always be men willing or reckless enough to continue in the trade, as long as the prize outweighs the risk. Given time, I might suggest …” He fell silent as Morgan glided into the cabin; he could move like a shadow when required.
Langley appraised the two expensive goblets. “I could become too comfortable in your company, I fear.”
Feet thudded across the deck above, and as if to a signal the flag lieutenant rose and hurried to close the skylight.
Langley said, “Just a precaution, Bolitho. Busy ears, y’ know?”
Adam sipped his wine. Langley’s glass was being refilled. The flag lieutenant’s remained untouched.
Langley said, “I’ve looked into the Moonstone‘s unexpected,” he lifted a finger, “and of course tragic, loss. She had been in our service under charter or direct warrant for some years. Patrol and liaison work, and more recently transporting some natives rescued or freed from slavery and landing them close to their place of origin. Where, and if, it was considered safe. In some cases, not so easy as it sounds.” He leaned forward as if to confide something. “Moonstone had seen better days. But for your sighting and boarding her, it might all still remain a mystery. She had been fired on, and there were no survivors save one. Yes, I read your report. Pirates, slavers, we might never know for certain. And there were sharks in the area …” He glanced at the screen door, which was now shut, and toward the pantry.
He said slowly, “There have been many changes here since I took command, and more since you were last here in-Unrivalled, wasn’t it?
‘Power to the Victor,’ is that what they call it? Beginnings of empire. And we are a part of it.” He banged his hands on the arms of the chair. “Like it or not.”
He stood up, and walked to the stern bench as if to peer out at the anchorage. “Improve communications but cut the costs: a constant demand from their lordships, and from government. If only they knew or understood.” He turned away from the light. “There is a new settlement to the south of us. With its own governor, and a local militia. To save money.”
Adam said, “Yes, I know. It is on the latest chart. New Haven.”
Langley betrayed surprise for the first time. “Well, it may be a part of empire, perhaps, but this is still Africa, for God’s sake!” Just as quickly he was calm again, the pale eyes steady. “I’m sending you there to meet the new governor, since he has not seen fit to offer me an invitation. Moonstone was under charter to him more than once. He will want to know what happened to her. And when he comes to me in the future …” The silence was significant.
He gestured to his flag lieutenant, who immediately handed him a folded sheet of official stationery. “All the necessary details are here. If the wind allows, I want you to get under way tomorrow. Make a signal to confirm it.” Langley turned to his weary-looking aide once more. “Before that, I want to speak to the officer who was mentioned in the captain’s report.”
“Midshipman Napier, sir?”
“If that is agreeable to you, Bolitho?”
Adam scarcely heard him. Even the writing on the page seemed blurred. “I would like to be present, sir.”
“Good thinking. He might forget something, or close up like an oyster. It happens at that age.”
Adam folded the paper. Only the new governor’s name stood out. It was Ballantyne, the name David Napier would never forget.
Nor shall I.
David Napier stepped into the midshipmen’s berth and stared around blankly. It was empty and somehow spacious, his home and hiding place since he had first joined the ship, along with Simon Huxley. Always full of noisy conversation, argument, and laughter. There were just six members of the mess, but it usually sounded like three times as many.