Avery spoke evenly and without any obvious emotion, but Adam understood what it was costing, and what it meant to him.
At last, here was someone who had been there. Had seen what had happened.
Avery said simply, “I saw him fall.” The tawny eyes were distant. He almost smiled. “Allday was with me.”
Adam nodded, but dared not speak or interrupt. For Avery’s sake, but mostly for his own.
Avery was looking at the sloping stern windows, and the anchored ships beyond.
“He was the bravest and the most compassionate man I ever served, ever knew. When I was pulled out to your ship just now, I almost asked to be taken ashore. But I had to come. Not out of duty or respect-they are mere words. Not even because it was your right to be told. Above all, I thought I would feel resentment, because you are here and he is not. I now know that I did the right thing. He spoke of you often, even on the day he fell. He was proud of you, of what you had become. More like a son, he said.”
Adam said, quietly, “Did he suffer?”
Avery shook his head.
“I think not. He spoke to Allday. I could not hear what he said, and I had not the heart to question him afterwards.”
Afterwards.
Avery’s eyes moved to the table, and the envelope which was addressed to Vice-Admiral Bethune.
“I shall take it to him when I leave, sir.”
Duty, so often used as an escape from tragedy. Adam had learned it the hard way, better than most.
He said, “You could return later. We might sup together. Nobody else.” He felt like a hypocrite, but was glad when Avery declined. “Tomorrow, then. There will be a conference, I believe?”
Avery glanced down, and almost unconsciously plucked a solitary gold thread from his coat. Where he had once worn a twist of gold lace to distinguish him as an admiral’s flag lieutenant.
Bethune would already have one of his own, as Valentine Keen had had at Halifax. There could be resentment.
Avery said, “If you so requested, I should be pleased…” He smiled again, faintly, as though his mind were somewhere else. “Honoured to accompany you. I can still stand a fair watch, and I have nothing to go home for as yet.”
Adam recalled that Avery was the nephew of Sillitoe, that man of power whose name was rarely out of the news-sheets. Another nephew. Another coincidence.
He held out his hand. “I’m glad you came. I’ll not forget.”
Avery took a small package from his pocket and unwrapped it with great care.
The locket. He had seen his uncle wearing it whenever he had been on deck with his shirt unfastened. As I do. He took it and held it to the sunlight, the perfect likeness, Catherine’s bare shoulders and high cheekbones. He was about to turn it over to examine the inscription when he saw the broken clasp and severed chain. As clean a cut as if done by a knife. His fingers closed tightly upon it. No knife. The marksman’s shot must have done it.
Avery was watching him.
“I have been unable to find a local craftsman with skill enough to repair it. I would have sent it to her… Now, I think it better that you should be the one, sir.”
They faced one another, and Adam understood. In his way Avery had been in love with her also. Now that she needed help, there was no one.
“Thank you for saying that. Perhaps I shall be able to return it myself.”
Avery picked up his hat, knowing he would do nothing of the kind. Suddenly he was pleased at what he had done. He looked at Adam, and for a fleeting moment he saw the other face. He smiled. Like a good flag lieutenant.
Galbraith was at the entry port when they came on deck, and saw them shake hands, as if each was reluctant to break the contact. He noticed, too, that the visitor paused and glanced almost involuntarily at the mainmast truck, as if he still expected to see a flag there.
In his cabin once more, Adam took out the locket and read the inscription, and her voice seemed to speak to him as it did whenever he received a letter from her.
May Fate always guide you.
May love always protect you.
She must have remembered those words when she had watched Unrivalled standing out into Falmouth Bay. As she would always look for the ship which would never come.
He turned as Galbraith appeared by the open screen door.
“Concerning tomorrow, sir?”
It was the only way. Perhaps Galbraith understood, and in time might share it.
“Take a glass with me first, eh?”
He slipped the locket into his pocket, out of sight. But the voice still persisted.
“There is something we must discuss, before I meet the vice admiral tomorrow. You see, I have a plan…”
It was a new beginning for all of them.
5. A Contest
LIEUTENANT Leigh Galbraith strode across the quarterdeck and reported, “The watch is aft, sir!” Like his unerring steps over and past ringbolts and other obstacles, it was part of an unchanging routine at sea. He even touched his hat to the shadowy shape of Lieutenant Massie, whom he was about to relieve.
It was still quite dark, but when his eyes eventually became accustomed he would see the approach of dawn in the fading stars, the hardening of the horizon. Massie stifled a yawn.
“West-by-south, sir.” He stared up at the pale outlines of the sails, filling only occasionally with the wind across the starboard quarter.
Galbraith glanced at the helmsmen, eyes flickering in the shaded light from the compass. Other shapes were moving into position: the morning watch, when the ship would come alive again.
Galbraith looked at the tiny glow from the cabin skylight. Was the captain awake, or was it a ploy to keep the watch on its toes?
He thought of Captain Bolitho’s return from his meeting with the vice-admiral. Galbraith had no idea what had been said, but the captain had come back on board barely able to conceal his anger.
Galbraith tried to dismiss it. At first light they would sight and resume contact with another frigate, Matchless of forty-two guns. She had been in the Mediterranean for three years attached to one squadron or another, and would therefore be very familiar with shipping movements and the lurking danger of pirates. Corsairs.
Matchless was commanded by a senior post-captain named Emlyn Bouverie, a man who came from a proud naval family, and was thought likely for promotion to flag rank in the near future. Galbraith did not know him, but those who did apparently heartily disliked him. Not a tyrant or martinet like some he had known, but a perfectionist, who was quick to reprimand or punish anyone who fell below his own high standards.
He said, “You are relieved, sir.” He lifted the canvas hood from the master’s chart table and peered at the log with the aid of a tiny lantern. They would sight land before noon, according to Cristie. He had never known him to be wrong.
He steadied the light with care. The coast of North Africa: to most sailors a place of mystery and strange superstitions, and best avoided.
He studied Cristie’s fine handwriting. 6TH June, 1815. What would this day bring?
Captain Bolitho had called his officers and those of senior warrant rank together in his cabin. Galbraith straightened his back and glanced at the skylight again. Remembering it.
The captain had described the mission. A visit to Algiers, to investigate. Their intentions were peaceful, but guns’ crews would exercise twice a day all the same. It was said that Algiers was protected by some six hundred guns. It would not be much of a contest if the worst happened.
The captain had looked at their faces and had said, “There was a French frigate named La Fortune in the Western Mediterranean before Napoleon’s surrender. Others too, and it is known that the Dey of Algiers and the Bey of Tunis have offered sanctuary to such men-of-war in exchange for their services. The prisons are still filled with Christians, people snatched from passing vessels, and held on no more serious charge than their religious beliefs. Torture, slavery, and open acts of aggression against merchantmen sailing under our protection-the list is endless. With our ‘allies’…” he had made no effort to conceal his contempt “… we had a chance to put paid to this piracy once and for all. Now with Napoleon at the head of his armies again, the Dey in particular may use our predicament to gain even more control of these waters, and beyond.”