"What is it to be?" He wanted to leave, but needed to know.
Sillitoe took his arm and guided him to an anteroom where the din of cheers and tipsy laughter were muffled, if not quenched completely.
"Advise me, Richard, and I will advise the Duke of Portland. The French intend to strangle our trade our lifeline, if you like."
"I read of the latest attacks. If we had not captured the French rear-admiral Andre Baratte I would see his hand in this."
Sillitoe smiled gently. "You are very shrewd. But Baratte was released, exchanged for Lord Derwent who was captured in Spain. You see? So soon back in England and already you are proving your worth." The smile widened but did not reach his eyes. "Especially to me! "
He pulled out his watch and yawned. "My carriage is outside. I will take you to Chelsea, if you like. We can talk in peace."
In sight of the Thames again, the street deserted in an unexpected rainfall, Sillitoe lost no time in questioning Bolitho about the threat to merchant shipping.
"I am all ears, Richard, eager for knowledge. I would never make a sailor in five hundred years! "
Bolitho was still pondering the stupidity of those who had chosen to exchange Baratte for some English aristocrat. Baratte had had a high reputation as a frigate captain and then as commodore of a squadron before being promoted to his rank. Several attempts had been made to capture him in battle, all unsuccessful. It had fallen to Bolitho's Tybalt to change matters by seizing Baratte's frigate and the man himself when all the odds had decreed otherwise. It was said that Baratte hated the English as much as he loved France; and now he was gone, probably better aware of England 's strength or weakness than before his capture.
Sillitoe remarked, "We hold Good Hope, largely thanks to you. Surely that should be enough?"
Bolitho saw the straggling trade routes in his mind, from India and the East Indies, as far as New South Wales and the expanding colony there. Baratte would have the pick of any ship or cargo he chose to attack. But he would need a base, somewhere to water and provision his ships and unload his prizes. It could be no half-hearted operation like the haphazard killing and plunder practised by common pirates.
He said, "We would need a small, fast-moving squadron, a flotilla even. Six frigates with a competent captain…" He sensed Sillitoe's reaction and said, "I know. It is like asking for the moon. But without a planned and practical strategy the losses will become worse and their lordships will be forced to release more men-of-war, no matter how badly they are needed in home waters." He glanced out of the window and wished that Sillitoe were sitting on his right. His eye was sore, and he wanted to touch it even though he knew it would not help.
He said, "Like Baratte, I suppose I have always been a frigate captain at heart. I commanded three. It was like nothing else."
"Oh? What of SparrowT
He tensed. "She was a sloop-of-war, not even as big as a sixth-rate." Like Hamett-Parker, the mysterious Sillitoe had done his research well.
"I see."
Bolitho continued. "There are the anti-slavery patrols that run out of Good Hope and Freetown. Their aid could be useful. They would know all the likely anchorages, if only from interrogating the slavers when they catch them." He was reminded again of Tyacke. A dedicated seaman, alone because of his terrible disfigurement, and yet able to command respect and a kind of strange affection from the men who served with him. That day when they had been close to death, the sight of Lame had made even the hardest survivor gasp out his thanks to heaven.
Sillitoe was saying, "That is one of the things I like about you. You don't merely toss away ideas without consideration. You think them through, as only a professional officer can. Our new lord of Admiralty is not yet ready to bend. In time he will have to."
"Why did Godschale leave?"
Sillitoe said coolly, "You are also very direct. Godschale, as I think you know, was fond of the ladies. But he was neither consistent nor careful. He compromised a lady of quality, then spurned her for another. It was unfortunate that the one he turned his back on was the wife of a certain member of the House of Lords. More I cannot say."
"He will not like Bombay."
Sillitoe watched him from the shadows. That is an understatement."
It was very dark when they reached the house but the rain had stopped, and there were stars already showing between the clouds.
"I have a favour to ask you, Richard."
Bolitho half-turned, one hand on the carriage door. "Well?"
"You will need a good flag-lieutenant when you take up your next appointment, now that young Jenour has become the amateur captain. I think I have the right one for you." He sounded as if he were smiling in the darkness. "My nephew, to be exact. At present serving as lieutenant in the old Cano-pus. The ship is undergoing extensive repairs at the Nore."
"I would have to see him."
"Naturally. I will arrange it. He is not one of those pompous little upstarts… he is intelligent, better educated than many who wear the King's coat."
"I cannot promise anything." It was strange to think of Sillitoe having a nephew, or any relations for that matter. Catherine had told him that Sillitoe had known her dead husband, Viscount Somervell. In what role, he wondered. Gambler, duel list or cheat? One usually led to the others. But not Sillitoe. He was too clever, too secretive.
He was looking out at the darkened house. "My regards to Lady Catherine. A pity she is not at home." He rapped the carriage roof. "Drive on! "
Bolitho touched his eye. He always trusted Catherine's instincts about people. Wait and see, she had said. Where Sillitoe was concerned it was sound advice.
The housekeeper opened the door and said, "I've a table laid for you, Sir Richard."
"Thank you, no, I've no appetite. I shall go to our room."
Our room. He closed the door behind him and looked around at their other haven. Her perfume was here; the gown she wore so often when she came to bed because he liked it so much, as if she might enter at any moment.
He hurried to the window as a carriage slowed down at the street corner. But it carried on past the house. They had been separated only because she had feared he could be blamed for snubbing the reception. Hamett-Parker would know he had left early; he would also be told that he and Sillitoe had been together. He tossed his heavy dress coat on to a chair, and smiled when he thought how indignant Ozzard would be about it.
He lay staring at the dancing shadows cast by a solitary candle and thought of her kneeling over him, or lying with her dark hair spread out in disorder across the pillows while she waited for him, unashamed, even proud of the body which he would explore until they could delay no longer.
He was soon asleep, and even then she was with him.
5. No Secrets
By mid-August 1809 the general attitude of England 's population was one of apathy and disinterest, except for those who had loved ones at sea or in the army abroad. With Welles-ley's victories in the Peninsular War and his return home to receive the title of Duke of Wellington from the King, the real enemy, France, seemed suddenly remote. Only in the City of London, in the counting houses and the world of insurance, was the true damage to trade and shipping really understood.
Bolitho had been twice to the Admiralty where he had been welcomed by four of their lordships, two of whom were senior officers and the others civilians. He had come away bemused by the casual fashion in which the Admiralty Board appeared to be run, with hundreds of instructions and orders being despatched every week to squadrons and solitary vessels, many of which were already obsolete by the time they were delivered.
Reunited with Catherine, he had been troubled by her reluctance to discuss her visit to Zenoria. He had gathered that the girl was still overwhelmed by the Keen family, suffocated by kindness; and when they received an invitation to the christening in Hampshire he had sensed that Catherine's mood went even deeper.