Avery saw his hand tighten around the boy’s body, and noticed that Napier had removed the noisy shoes, and his feet were bare on the checkered deck covering.
“Young Paul here is a comfort!” He contained another cough, and Napier dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth, gently and without hesitation, as if he had been trained for it.
But he was nothing like Lovatt’s son in appearance, being taller and about four years older. Was Lovatt really deceived? Or perhaps it was a need, a desperate need.
Adam rested his hands on the trestle. “You spoke earlier of the other supply ship, Captain Lovatt?”
Lovatt twisted his head from side to side, as if he could hear something. Or someone.
“Mercenaries! War makes us all hunger for something!” He was quiet again as the cloth moved gently over his brow. “I could not offer my men a reason for dying, you see? It was a gesture. A final conceit!”
He seemed to see Avery for the first time.
“Who is this? A spy? A witness?”
O’Beirne moved as if to restrain him but Adam shook his head.
“This is George Avery. He is a friend.”
“Good.” Lovatt closed his eyes and O’Beirne gestured quickly to another basin. It contained a folded dressing, soaked in blood.
Avery watched a thin tendril drip from Lovatt’s mouth, like red silk against his ashen skin. The boy dabbed it away, frowning with concentration as Avery had seen him do when he had poured the captain’s wine.
“Thanks, Paul. I-I’m so sorry…”
Avery had seen many men suffer, and had endured great pain himself. And yet still he thought, with immense bitterness, why did death have to be so ugly, so without dignity?
Pain, suffering, humiliation. A man who had once hoped and loved, and lost.
“Where lies the land, Captain?” Stronger again.
Adam said quietly, “We are nor’-east of Bona. Ship’s head, west-by-south.”
The eyes found and settled on his face. “You will see to his safety, Captain?”
“I will do what I can.” He hesitated. Where was the point? “You have my word on it, Captain Lovatt.”
Lovatt let his head fall back and stared at the white deckhead. Adam saw the boy Napier show fear for the first time, and guessed that he thought Lovatt had died.
He must not leave it now. Could not.
“There were two other frigates in harbour.” He repeated the question, and saw the hazel eyes focus again.
“Two. Did I tell you that?” He looked at Napier and tried to smile. “So like your mother, you know? So… like… her.”
Adam leaned over the trestle, hating it, the despair, the pain, the surrender. The very stench of death.
He asked sharply, “Will they sail?”
He could feel O’Beirne’s disapproval, his unspoken objections. Avery was very still, a witness; it was impossible to guess what he was thinking.
Something thudded on the deck overhead, and there were sounds of tackle being hauled through the blocks. Normal, everyday shipboard noises. And there were men up there too. Who depend on me.
I must not care what others think.
He persisted, “Will they sail?”
“Yes.” Lovatt seemed to nod. “So run while you can, Captain.” His voice was failing, but he tried once more. “But promise me…” He gave one small cry and more blood choked the words in his throat. This time it did not stop.
O’Beirne dragged the dead man’s arm from Napier’s waist and pushed him away, knowing that any show of sentiment would make a lasting impression.
Adam laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“That was well done. I am proud of you.”
Napier was still staring at Lovatt’s contorted, bloodied face. Although he seemed quite calm, his body was shaking uncontrollably.
Adam said, “Send for the first lieutenant.”
He kept his hand on Napier’s shoulder. For his sake or for mine?
O’Beirne said, “I shall have my people clean up in here, sir.” He studied the captain, as if he was discovering something he had previously missed. “He should be buried soon, I think.”
“Tell the sailmaker. Did he have any possessions?” Did. Already in the past. Not a man any more. A thing.
As if reading his thoughts, O’Beirne said bluntly, “It were better he had been killed outright!”
Galbraith was already in the great cabin, grim-faced, reassuring.
Adam said, “We shall bury him at dusk.”
Avery listened intently, afraid something had eluded him. Some seamen were here now, accustomed to death, and to concealing their feelings in its presence.
Galbraith said, “He had nothing but the sword, sir.”
Adam looked at him, his eyes distant. But promise me… What had he been going to say? He turned and saw the dead man’s son standing just inside the door, his eyes wide and unblinking. He stared at the trestle bed, and may have seen Lovatt’s face before one of the seamen covered it with a piece of canvas. The same boy who had refused to come to his father’s side when he was dying, even at the last… His anger faded as quickly as it had flared. The boy was quite alone. As I once was. As I am now. He had nothing left.
He turned away, aware that Avery was watching him. There was so much to do. Lovatt had called it a final conceit. Was that all it meant?
The boy said, “I would like the sword, capitaine.” His voice was very controlled, and clear, so that even his mother’s French inflection was noticeable.
Adam said to Napier, “Take him forrard and report to my cox’n. He will tell you what to do.”
Then, to the boy, he said, “We will speak of the sword later.”
He walked to the stern windows and stared at the sky, feeling the ship around him. Second to none.
Galbraith was back. “Orders, sir?” Once again, the lifeline. To normality. To their world.
“Sail drill, Mr Galbraith. See if the topmen can improve their timing.”
Galbraith smiled.
“And tomorrow I thought we might exercise the eighteen pounders, sir.”
Adam looked back at the sleeping compartment. It was bare but for his own cot, which he had been unable to use. There was only Lovatt’s sword leaning against the hanging wardrobe. Final.
He recalled Galbraith’s remark.
“I think not, Leigh.” He saw Avery clench his fist. So he already knew. “I fear that tomorrow it will be in earnest.”
11. The Last Farewell
GALBRAITH stifled a yawn and walked up to the weather side of the quarterdeck. Another morning watch, when a ship came alive again and found her personality. A time for every competent first lieutenant to delegate work, and to discover any flaws in the pattern of things before his captain drew his attention to them.
He felt a growing warmth on his cheek, and the ship sway to a sudden gust of wind. He saw the helmsmen glance from the flapping driver to the masthead pendant, licking out now across the larboard bow, easing the spokes with care to allow for it.
It would be hot today, whatever the wind decided. The decks had been washed down at first light, and were now almost dry, and some of the boatswain’s crew were filling the boats with water to prevent the seams opening when the sun rose to its zenith. His eye moved on. Hammocks neatly stowed, lines flaked down ready for instant use, without the danger of tangling and causing an infuriating delay.
A brief glance aloft told him that more men were out on the yards, searching for breaks and frayed ends, another daily task.
He saw the cabin servant, Napier, making his way aft, a covered dish balanced in one hand, and recalled the burial, Lovatt’s body sliding over the side after the captain had spoken a few words. A seaman, one of Lovatt’s, tugged off his tarred hat: respect or guilt, it was hard to tell. Napier had been there also, standing in the dying light beside Lovatt’s son. As the body had been tipped on a grating Napier had put his arm around the other boy’s shoulder.
Galbraith saw another gust crossing the heaving water, ruffling it like a cat’s fur. The large ensign was standing out from the peak, and beyond the naked figurehead the hazy horizon tilted to a steeper angle. In for a blow… He smiled. As the master had predicted. The wind had shifted, veered overnight, north-easterly across the starboard quarter.