Bolitho took a glass of wine from Ozzard, surprised that he could remain so calm.
"I know of him."
"And he of you."
Trevenen snapped, "Why was I not told? And if it's true…"
Adam retorted, "With respect, sir, you seemed more concerned with upbraiding me in front of as many of the people as possible! "
Bolitho said, "Easy, gentlemen." To Adam he asked, "Was the Unity a new ship? For I have surely never heard of her." It gave Adam time to control his sudden anger.
"She is the biggest frigate afloat."
Trevenen scoffed, "And what do you imagine Valkyrie to be?"
Adam glanced around the cabin. "She is larger even than this ship. She mounts at least forty-four guns." He looked at the other captain. "I am aware that that is only two more than this ship, but she carries twenty-four-pounders, and a sizeable ship's company, perhaps to act as prize-crews."
Bolitho took another glass of wine. Despite his joke about the army's hospitality he had drunk nothing ashore. That might come later, but it was still too soon to lower his guard.
He said, "I will send word in the next courier brig." He looked hard at the glass in his fingers. "That is far too big a vessel to lose, even in an ocean."
It had to be Baratte. It was not much, but it was like a piece of cod line to a drowning man. In the past Baratte had used neutrals, even one against the other to disguise or aid his motives.
Feet thudded on deck, and calls squealed as a lighter came alongside for unloading.
Adam said, "May I return to my ship, Sir Richard?"
Bolitho nodded. He knew Adam hated the formality of addressing him as he would any other flag officer.
He said, "Perhaps you will join me one evening before we leave Cape Town?"
Adam grinned, the boy again. "It would be an honour! "
Captain Trevenen too, as expected, made his own excuses and left.
Bolitho heard Ozzard bustling about in the pantry and wondered how long it would be before he was disturbed again.
He took out the first letter and opened it with great care. There was a small lock of her hair inside, tied with a piece of green ribbon.
My darling Richard. Outside the birds are still singing and the flowers are bright in the sunshine. I can only try to guess where you are, and I have used the globe in the library to ride in your wake like a creature of the ocean… Today I went to Falmouth, but I felt like a stranger. Even my lovely Tamara was looking for you… I miss you so, dearest of men…
He heard the bark of commands and knew Adam was leaving the ship. At
least he had been made aware of Trevenen's hostility, part of the old feud which he could not remember.
Ozzard entered with a tray and Bolitho placed the letter with its mate on the table beside him.
On deck Adam turned towards the other captain, his hand to his gold-laced hat as he prepared to leave.
Trevenen said in a fierce whisper, "Don't you dare abuse your authority with me, sir! "
Anybody watching would have seen only Adam's smile, his teeth very white in his sunburned face. But they would have been too far away to hear his response.
"And do not try to humiliate me in front of anyone, sir. I
had to put up with it when I was younger, but not any more. I think you know what I mean! " Then, to the trill of calls, he was down the side and into his gig-The first lieutenant crossed the deck. "They say he has quite a reputation in the field, sir. Sword or pistol, I'm told."
Trevenen stared at him. "You can hold your tongue, damn your eyes! Be about your business! "
Much later, as the cooler air of evening moved through the ship and her rigging alike, Bolitho allowed himself to re-read the first letter. Only once did he pause when he heard someone's voice, uninterrupted as if he were reading aloud. Prayers, perhaps. It came from Avery's little cabin, which separated his own quarters from the wardroom.
He turned back to the letter, all else forgotten.
My darling Richard…
Captain Robert Williams of the convict transport ship Prince Henry took a well-thumbed copy of the prayer book from his pocket, and waited as some of his men prepared a corpse for burial. The fourth since leaving England, and under these conditions there would be more before they reached Botany Bay.
He glanced around his ship, along the decks and gangways where watchful guards stood beside the loaded swivel-guns, and aloft where more seamen were working on the yards or hung from the rigging like primitive apes. It never stopped. The ship was too old for this kind of work, with
weeks and sometimes months at sea. He heard the clank of pumps and was grateful that the prisoners could be used for that back-breaking work if nothing else.
There were two hundred convicts in the ship, and because of their numbers they could only be allowed up from the foul-smelling holds a few at a time, some of them in manacles. Separated from them there were a few women, whores and petty thieves for the most part, deported by magistrates who merely wanted them out of their jurisdiction. The women at least would find no hardship in the colony, but many of the others would not survive.
His mate called, "Ready, sir! " Their eyes met. Each was thinking of the waste of time, when the corpse in question was that of a man who had killed another in a brawl and only escaped the gallows because of his skill as a cooper. But he had been a violent, dangerous prisoner, and it would be more fitting if they merely pitched his body outboard like so much rubbish.
But rules were rules and the Prince Henry sailed under "warrant, and was to all other purposes a government vessel.
"He's coming, sir."
Williams sighed. He was their only passenger, R.ear-Admiral Thomas Herrick, who had kept very much to himself during every dragging week. Williams had been looking forward to sharing his quarters with an officer of rank, one who had served his country well until his superiors had decided to offer him this appointment in New South Wales. To Williams it made very little sense. Even a junior admiral should be wealthy, by his simple reasoning, and Herrick could have refused the appointment and lived the rest of his life in ease and comfort. Williams himself had been at sea from the age of eight, and his had been a hard climb to his present command.
His lip curled. A rotten, stinking convict ship, with hull and rigging so worn that she could rarely manage more than six knots. Before this, the old Prince Henry had been carrying livestock to the many army outposts and garrisons in the Caribbean. Even the army's quartermasters and butchers had complained about the conditions the animals had been forced to endure on these long passages. But they were good enough apparently for humans, albeit the scum of the jails.
He touched his hat. "Morning, sir."
Herrick joined him by the rail, his eyes moving without conscious thought from the helmsman's compass to the set of every limply flapping sail. It was habit, as it had become since he had stood his first watch as a lieutenant.
"Not much wind."
Herrick shifted his gaze to the burial party. They were staring aft, waiting for the signal.
"Who was he?"
Williams shrugged. "A felon, a murderer." He did not hide his contempt.
Herrick's blue eyes fixed on his. "A man, nonetheless. Would you wish me to read something?"
"I can manage, sir. I've done it a few times."
Herrick thought of Bolitho when they had met at Freetown. He still did not really know what had made him react as he had. Because I cannot pretend. He was suddenly impatient with himself. He knew that Williams, the ship's master, had thought him mad for taking passage in a convict ship, with men he might have to discipline in places where the navy was the only mark of law and order. He could have chosen a fast packet, or been a passenger among his own kind in a man-of-war. A simple seafarer like Williams could never understand that it was because there had been a choice that Herrick had come aboard the Prince Henry.