Bolitho felt a growing pressure against his spine as some of the fallen timber shifted to the brigantine's motion. He heard a scraping sound somewhere overhead, the clang of metal as one of the guns broke free and tumbled across the deck. The angle was more acute, and he could hear the sea piling against the hull, but much higher than before as the vessel continued to settle deeper and deeper.

There was still some shooting, but it seemed as if the victors were standing off to wait for the sea to complete their work for them.

Slowly, but with mounting desperation, Bolitho tried to wriggle free from the debris across his body. He could hear himself groaning and pleading, gasping meaningless words as he struggled to rid himself of the trap.

It was useless. He only succeeded in dislodging some more broken woodwork, a piece of which ploughed past his head like a spear.

With something like panic he heard sounds of a boat being manned, some hoarse cries and more musket shots.

He clenched his fists and pressed his face against the deck planking to prevent himself from screaming. The vessel was going fast and Palliser had ordered her to be abandoned.

Bolitho tried to think clearly, to accept that his companions were doing what they must. It was no time for sentiment or some useless gesture. He was already as dead as the others who had been shot down in the heat of the fighting.

He heard voices and someone calling his name. Needles of light probed through the tangled wreckage, and as the deck gave another lurch Bolitho shouted, 'Go back! Save yourselves!'

He was shocked and stunned by his words and the strength of his voice. More than anything he had wanted to live until he had realized someone had cared enough to risk death for his sake.

Stockdale's throaty voice said, "Ere, work that spar clear!' Somebody else said doubtfully, 'Too late, by the looks of it, mate. We'd best get aft.'

Stockdale rasped, 'Take 'old like I told you! Now, together, lads! 'Eave!'

Bolitho cried out as the pain pushed harder into his spine. Feet moved down from the other side of the pile and he saw Jury on his knees peering though a gap to look for him. 'Not long, sir.' He was shaking with fear but trying to smile at the same time. 'Hold on!'

As suddenly as it had smashed him down the weight of broken planking and one complete spar were levered and hoisted clear.

A man seized Bolitho's ankles and dragged him roughly up the sloping deck, while Stockdale appeared to be holding back a wall of wreckage all on his own.

Jury gasped, 'Quickly!' He would have fallen but for a seaman's. ready grip, and then they were all staggering and lurching like drunks running from a press-gang.

On deck at last, Bolitho forgot the pain and the lurking moments of bare terror.

In the strengthening light he saw that the Heloise was already a total wreck; her fore-topmast gone completely and her main nothing more than a jagged stump. Her canvas, broken spars and an entangled mesh of fallen rigging completed the scene of devastation.

To drive it home, Bolitho saw that both boats were manned and standing clear, and the nearer of the two was already higher than the Heloise's lee side.

Palliser stood in the cutter directing some of his men to use their muskets on one of the schooners. The dying brigantine acted as a barrier, the only thing which still stood between the enemy and their-chance to run down on the boats and finish the one-sided fight.

Stockdale grunted, 'Over th' side, lads!'

His mind reeling, Bolitho saw that two of the men who had come back for him were Olsson, the mad Swede, and one of the farm-workers who had volunteered to his Plymouth recruiting party.

Jury kicked off his shoes and secured them inside his shirt. He looked at the water as it came swirling over the bulwark and exclaimed huskily ,'It's a long swim!'

Bolitho flinched as a musket ball smacked into the deck and raised a splinter as high as a goose quill within feet of where they were standing.

Now or never!' He saw the sea thundering through the companion and turning one of the corpses in a wild dance as it forced the bows deeper and deeper below the surface.

With Stockdale panting and floundering between them, Bolitho and Jury sprang into the water. It seemed to take an age 'to reach the nearest boat, and even then they had to join the others who were hanging to the gunwales and trying not to hamper the oarsmen as they headed for the dismasted Rosario.

Most of the men around Bolitho were strangers, and he realized they must be the released prisoners. Olsson had looked so wild it was a wonder he had not left them to drown with their ship.

Then all at once the brig's side towered above them. She was a small vessel, but viewed from the water as he fought for breath and clung to a thrown line, Bolitho thought she looked as, big as a frigate.

Eventually they were pushed, dragged and man-handled up and over the side where they were confronted by the brig's own company, who stared at them as if they had come from the sea itself.

Palliser left nobody in doubt as to who was in command.

'Little, take the prisoners below and put them in irons. Pearse, discover the chance of a jury-rig, anything to give us steerage-way!' He strode past some dazed and bleeding men and snapped, 'Have these guns loaded, d'you hear? God dammit, you're like a pack of old women!'

A man of some authority pushed through his sailors and said, 'I am the master, John Mason. I know why you're here, but I give thanks to God for it, sir, though I fear we are no match for them pirates.'

Palliser eyed him coldly. 'We shall see about that. But for now, do as I direct. How you and your people behave today may decide what happens to you.'

The man gaped at him. 'I don't understand, sir?'

'Do you have a passenger, one Jonathan Egmont?' Bolitho leaned on the bulwark sucking in great gulps of air,

the sea-water streaming from his limbs to mingle with the blood around the nearest gun.

'Aye, sir, but .. .'

'Alive?'

'Was when I last saw him. I put my passengers below when the attack began.'

Palliser gave a grim smile. That is fortunate. For both of us,I think.' He saw Bolitho and added sharply, 'Make sure Egmont is secure. Tell him nothing. ' He was about to turn his attention to one of the schooners but instead watched the Heloise's final moment, as with a last burst of spray from her hatches she plunged to the bottom. He said, 'I am glad you were able to stay with us. I ordered the vessel to be abandoned.' His eyes rested momentarily on Jury and Stockdale. 'However .. .'

Bolitho staggered to an open hatch, his bruised mind still grappling with the Rosario's lay-out as she pitched about in the swell.

The brig had taken a terrible beating. Upended guns, corpses and pieces of men lay strewn with the other debris, ignored in the frantic efforts to keep their attackers from boarding.

A seaman with one hand wrapped in a crude bandage, the other gripping a pistol, called, 'Down 'ere, sir!'

Bolitho clambered down a ladder, his stomach rebelling against the stench of pain and suffering. Three men lay unconscious or dying, another was crawling back to his station as best he could in makeshift dressings and a sling.

Egmont stood at a table, wiping his hands on a rag, while a seaman trimmed a lantern for him.

He saw Bolitho and gave a tired shrug. 'An unexpected meeting, Lieutenant.'

Bolitho asked, 'Have you been attending the wounded?' 'You know the Navy, Lieutenant. For me it is a long, long time ago since I served your captain's father, but it is something you never lose.'

Bolitho heard the urgent clank of pumps, the sounds of blocks and tackles being hauled noisily across the upper deck. The Destiny's seamen were working again, and he was needed up there to help Palliser, to keep them at it, driving them by force if necessary.

They had been in a savage fight and some had died, as he had nearly done. Now they were needed again. Let' them falter and they would drop. Allow them time to mourn the loss of a friend and they would lose the stuff of fighting.

But he-asked, 'Your wife, is she safe?'

Egmont gestured towards a bulkhead door, 'In there.' Bolitho thrust his shoulder against it, the fear of being trapped below decks still scraping at his mind.

By lantern-light in a sealed" airless cabin he saw three women. Aurora Egmont, her maid and a buxom woman he guessed to be the master's wife.

He said, 'Thank God you're safe.'

. She moved towards him, her feet invisible in the cabin's gloom so that she appeared to be floating. She reached up and felt his wet hair and his face, her eyes large as she said quietly, 'I thought you were still in Rio.' Her hands touched his chest and his arms as they hung at his sides. 'My poor lieutenant, what have they done to you?'

Bolitho could feel his head swimming. Even here, amidst the stench of bilge and death, he was conscious of her perfume, the cool touch of her fingers on his face. He wanted to hold her, to press her against his body like the dream. To share his anxiety for her, to reveal his longing.

'Please!' He tried to step away. 'I am filthy. I just wanted to be sure you were safe. Unhurt.'

She pushed his protest aside and put her hands. on his . shoulders. 'My brave lieutenant!' She turned her head and called sharply to her maid, 'Stop weeping, you silly girl!

Where is your pride?'

In those few seconds Bolitho felt her breast press against his wet shirt, as if there was nothing between their bodies.

He murmured, 'I must go.'

She was staring at him as if to memorize everything about him. 'Will you fight again? Do you have to?'

Bolitho felt the strength returning to his body. He could even smile as he said, 'I have someone to fight for, Aurora.' She exclaimed, 'You remembered!'

. Then she pulled his head down and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Like him, she was shaking, her earlier anger with her maid a pretence like his own. She whispered, 'Be careful, Richard. My young, so young lieutenant .'

With Palliser's voice ringing in the distance, Bolitho walked back to the ladder and ran to the upper deck.

Palliser was examining the two big schooners with a telescope, and without lowering it he asked dryly, 'May I assume that all is well below?'

. Bolitho made to touch his hat, but remembered it had gone a long time ago. 'Aye, sir, Egmont is helping the wounded.'

'Is he indeed?' Palliser closed his glass with a snap. 'Now listen. Those devils will try to divide our defenses. One will stand off while die other attempts to board.' He was thinking aloud. 'We may have survived one fight, but they will see Heloise's loss as their victory. They'll give no quarter now.'

Bolitho nodded. 'We might hope to hold them off .if we had every gun fully manned, sir.'

Palliser shook his head. 'No. We are adrift and cannot prevent one or both of them from raking our stern.' He glanced at some of the brig's seamen as they staggered past with a trailing serpent of rigging. 'These people are done for, no stomach left. It's up to us.' He nodded firmly, his mind made up. 'We shall allow one of the buggers to grapple. Divide them and see how they like that.'

Bolitho looked at the fallen masts and sprawled bodies, amongst which Destiny's seamen moved like scavengers on a battle-field. Then he touched his mouth with his fingers, as if he expected to feel a difference there where she had kissed him with such fervent passion.

He said, 'I'll tell the others, sir.'

Palliser eyed him bleakly. 'Yes. Just tell them. Explanations may 'come later. If they do, we shall know we have won. If not, they won't matter.'

Palliser lowered his telescope and said bitterly, 'They are better manned than I thought.'

Bolitho shaded his eyes to watch the two schooners, their big fore and aft sails like wings against the bright sky as they tacked slowly to windward of the helpless brig.

The larger of the two vessels, her canvas pock-marked by their canister-shot during the dawn engagement, was a topsail schooner. She touched off a memory and Bolitho said, 'I think she was the one I saw leaving harbour when we were at Egmont's house. I recognize her rig.'

'Most probably. Not many of them in these waters.' Palliser was studying the schooners' methodical approach. One standing well up to windward, the other maneuvering towards the Rosarios's larboard bow where she would be best shielded from her remaining guns. They were sturdy six-pounders, and under Little's skilled supervision could still make a mark on anything which ventured too close.

Palliser handed Bolitho the glass. 'See for yourself.' He walked over to speak with the brig's master and Slade by the compass box.

Bolitho held his breath and steadied .the glass on the nearest schooner. She was weather-worn and ill-used, and he could see the many men who were staring across at the defiant, mastless brig. Some were waving their weapons, their jeers and threats lost only in distance.

He thought of the girl in the cabin, what they would do to her, and gripped his hanger so tightly that it hurt his palm.

He heard the brig's master say, 'I can't argue with a King's officer to be sure, but I'll not answer for what may happen!'

And Slade said urgently, 'We'll never hold 'em; sir, and it's not right to put it to the test!'

Palliser's voice was flat and uncompromising. 'What do you suggest? Wait for a miracle perhaps? Pray that Destiny will rise from the deep and save all our-wretched souls?' He did not conceal his sarcasm or his contempt. 'God damn your eyes, Slade, I'd ,have expected better from you!'

He turned and saw Bolitho watching the tense little group. In about fifteen minutes that cut-throat will try to grapple us, If we drive him off he will stand clear and the both of them will rake us for a while. Then they will try again, and again.' He waved his arm slowly towards the torn decks and weary, red-eyed seamen. Do you see these people holding out?'

Bolitho shook-his head. 'No, sir.'

Palliser turned away. Good.'

But Bolitho had seen the expression on' his face. Relief perhaps, or surprise that someone was agreeing with him in spite of the terrible odds.

Then Palliser said, 'I am going below. I must speak with the prisoners we took from Heloise.'

Little said quietly to his friend the boatswain's mate, 'Them stupid clods won't know wot side they be on, eh,' Ellis?' They both guffawed as if it was some huge joke.

Jury asked, 'What will we do next?' Ingrave suggested shakily, 'Parley, sir?'

Bolitho watched the approaching schooner, the expert way her mainsail was being reset to give her a perfect heading for the last half cable.

'We shall meet them as they attempt to board.'

He saw his words moving along the littered deck, the way the seamen gripped their cutlasses and axes and flexed their muscles as if they were already in combat. The brig's men were only hired hands, not professional and disciplined like Destiny's people. But the latter were tired, and there were too few of them when set against the threatening mob aboard the schooner. He could hear them now, yelling and jeering, their combined shouts like an animal roar.

If there had been only one vessel they. might have managed. Perhaps it would have been better to die with tHe Heloise rather than prolong the agony.

Palliser returned and said, 'Little, stand by the forrard guns. When I so order, fire at will, but make quire certain the shots do no real damage.' He ignored Little's disbelief. 'Next, load the remainder with a double charge of grape and canister. At the moment of coming alongside I want those bastards raked.' He let his words drive home. 'If you lose every man in doing it, I need .those guns to fire!' .

Little knuckled his forehead, his heavy features grim with understanding at last. The brig's bulwark offered little protection, and with the other vessel grinding alongside to grapple them together, the gun crews could be cut down like reeds.

Palliser unclipped his scabbard and tossed it aside. He sliced his sword through the air and watched the bright sunlight run along the blade like gold.

'It will be warm work today.'

Bolitho swallowed, his mouth horribly dry. He too drew his hanger and removed the leather scabbard as he had seen Palliser do. To lose a fight was bad enough, to die because you had tripped over your scabbard was unthinkable.

Muskets banged across the narrowing strip of water between the two hulls, and several men ducked as the balls struck the timbers or whined menacingly overhead.

Palliser sliced down an imaginary foe with his sword and then said sharply, 'Fire!'

The leading guns hurled themselves inboard on their tackles, the smoke billowing back through the ports as their crews did their best to follow Little's orders.

A hole appeared in the schooner's big fore-sail, but the other shots went wide, throwing up spindly waterspouts hearer to the other vessel than the one which was bearing down on them.

There were wild cheers and more shots, and Bolitho bit his lip as a seaman was hurled back from the bulwark, his jaw smashed away by a musket ball.

Palliser called, 'Stand by to repel boarders!'

All at once the long schooner was right there opposite them, and Bolitho could even see his own shadow on her side with those of his companions.

Musket shots whipped past him and he heard another man cry out, the sound of the ball smashing into his flesh making Ingrave cover his face as if to save himself from a similar fate.

The sails were falling away, and as the tide of men surged . across the schooner's deck, grapnels soared above them' to clatter and then grip the Rosario's hull like iron teeth.

But someone aboard the schooner must have anticipated a last trick from men who could fight like this. Several shots swept through the crouching gun crews and two men fell kicking and screaming, their blood marking their agony until they lay still.

Bolitho glanced quickly at Jury. He was holding his dirk in one hand, a pistol in the other.

Between his teeth Bolitho said, 'Keep with me. Don't lose your footing. Do what you told me to do.' He" saw the wildness in Jury's eyes and added, 'Hold on!'

There was a great lurch as with a shuddering crash the schooner came hard downwind and continued to drive alongside until the grapnel lines took the strain and held her fast.

'Now." Palliser pointed with his sword. 'Fire!'

A gun belched flame and smoke and the full charge exploded in the exact centre of the massed boarders. Blood and limbs flew about in grisly array, and the momentary terror changed to a wild roar of fury as the attackers formed up again and hurled themselves over the side and on to the brig's hull.

Steel scraped on steel, and' while a few men tried to fire and reload their muskets, others thrust wildly with pikes, flinging shrieking boarders between the two hulls to be ground there like bloody fenders.

Palliser yelled, 'Another."

But Little and his men were cut off on the forecastle, a wedge of slashing, yelling figures already on the deck between them and the remaining unfired cannon. Its crew lay sprawled nearby, either dead or dying Bolitho did not know. But without that final burst of grape and canister they were already beaten.

A seaman crawled towards the gun, a slow-match gripped in one fist, but he fell face down as an attacker vaulted over the bulwark and hacked him across the neck with a boarding axe. But the force of the blow threw him off balance and he slipped helplessly in ,his victim's blood. Dutchy Vorbink shouldered Jury aside and charged forward, his jaws wide in a soundless oath as he struck the scrambling figure on the head with his cutlass. The blade glanced from his skull, and Bolitho saw an ear lying on the deck even as Vorbink finished the job with a carefully measured thrust.

When he looked again, Bolitho saw Stockdale by the abandoned gun, his shoulder bleeding from a deep cut, but apparently oblivious to it as he swept up the slow-match and jabbed it to the gun.

The explosion was so violent that Bolitho imagined it must have split the barrel. A whole section of the schooner's bulwark had vanished, and amidst the charred woodwork and cut rigging the men who had been waiting their chance to leap across were entwined in a writhing heap.

Palliser yelled, 'At 'em, lads!' He cut down a running figure and fired his pistol into the press of boarders as the thin line of defenders surged to meet it.

Bolitho was carried forward with the rest, his hanger rasping against a cutlass, the breath burning in his lungs as he parried the blade clear and slashed a wild-eyed man across his chest. A pistol exploded *almost in his ear, and he heard Jury cry our to someone to watch his back as two kicking, yelling boarders cut their way through the exhausted seamen.

A pike slid past Bolitho's hip and pinioned a man who had been trying to follow his comrades through the breach. He was still screaming and dragging at the pike with his bloodied fingers as Stockdale loomed out of the throng and killed him with his cutlass.

Midshipman Ingrave was down, holding his head with both hands as the fight-maddened figures lurched over him in a tide of hatred.

Above it all Bolitho .heard Palliser's voice. 'To me, my lads!' It was followed by a burst of cheering and wild cries, and with amazement he saw a tightly packed crowd of men surge through the companionway and forward hatch to join Palliser amidships, their Bared blades already clashing with The surprised boarders.

'Drive 'em back!' Palliser pushed through his men, and this seemed to inflame them to greater efforts ..

Bolitho saw a shadow waver towards him and struck out with all his strength. The man coughed as the hanger's blade took him right across the stomach and fell to his knees, his fingers knitted across the terrible wound as the cheering sailors blundered over him.

It could not be happening, but it was. Certain defeat had changed to a renewed attack, and the enemy were already falling back in a broken rout as the wave of men charged into them.

Bolitho understood that they must be the prisoners, the Heloise's original crew, which Palliser had released and had put to his own use. But it was all confused in his mind as he cut and thrust with the rest, his shoulder knotted in pain, his sword arm like solid lead. Palliser must have offered them something, as Dumaresq had done for their master, in exchange for their aid. Several had already fallen, but their sudden arrival had put back the heart into the Destiny's men.

He realized too that some of the pirates had gone over the side, and when he lowered his guard for the first time he saw that the lines had been severed and the schooner was already drifting clear. .

Bolitho let his arm fall to his side and stared at the other vessel spreading her sails and using the wind to stand away from the mastless, blood-stained but victorious brig.

Men were cheering and slapping each other on the back. Others ran to help their wounded companions, or called the names of friends who would never be able to answer.

One of the pirates who had been feigning death ran for the bulwark when he finally realized his own vessel was breaking off the battle. It was Olsson's moment. With great care he drew a knife from his belt and threw it. It was like a streak of light, and Bolitho saw the running man spin round, his eyes wide with astonishment as the haft quivered between his shoulders.

Little jerked out the knife and tossed it* to the pale-eyed Swede. 'Catch!' Then he picked up the corpse and pitched it over the bulwark.

Palliser walked the length of the deck, his sword over his shoulder where it made a red stain on his coat.

Bolitho met his gaze and said huskily, 'We did it, sir. I never thought it would work.'

Palliser watched the released prisoners handing back their weapons and staring at each other as if stunned by what they had done. ~

'Nor I, as a matter of fact.'

Bolitho turned and saw Jury tying a bandage round Ingrave's head. They had survived.

He asked, 'D'you think they'll 'attack again?'

Palliser smiled. 'We have no masts. But they have, with the masthead lookouts who can' see far further than we. I have no doubt we owe our victory to more than a momentary and unorthodox ruse.

Palliser, as always, was right. Within the hour Destiny's familiar pyramid of sails was etched against the horizon in bright sunshine. They were no longer alone.

10 No Childish Desire

The Destiny's stern cabin seemed unnaturally large and remote after the embattled brig.

In spite of what he had endured, Bolitho felt wide awake, and wondered what had given him this renewal of energy.

All day the frigate had been hove to with the mastless Rosario wallowing in her lee. While the rest of Palliser's party and the wounded had been ferried across to Destiny, other boats had been busy carrying men and material to help the brig's company set up a jury-rig and complete minimum repairs to take them into port.

Dumaresq sat at his table, a Jitter of papers and charts scattered before him, all of which Palliser had brought from the Rosario. He was without his coat, and, sitting in his shirt, his neckcloth loosely tied, he looked anything but a frigate captain.

He said, 'You did well, Mr Palliser.' He looked up, his widely spaced eyes turning on Bolitho. 'You also.'

Bolitho thought of that other time when he and Palliser had been demolished by Dumaresq's scathing attack.

Dumaresq pushed the papers aside and leaned back in the chair. 'Too many dead men. Heloise gone too.' He brushed the thought aside. 'But you did the right thing, Mr Palliser, and it was bravely done.' He gave a grin. 'I will send Heloise's people with the Rosario. From what we have discovered, it would seem that their part in all this was of no importance. They were hired or bribed aboard the brigantine, and by the time they realized they were not going on some short coastal passage they were well out to sea. Their master, Triscott, and his mates, rook care to ensure they remained in ignorance. So we'll release them into Rosario's care.' He wagged a finger at his first lieutenant. 'After you have selected and sworn in any good hands you can use to replace those lost. A spell in the King's service will make a lively change for them.'

Palliser reached out and took a glass of wine as Dumaresq's servant hovered discreetly beside his chair.

'What of Egmont, sir?'

Dumaresq sighed. 'I have ordered that he and his wife be brought across before nightfall. Lieutenant Colpoys. has them in his charge. But I wanted Egmont to remain to the last moment so that he could see what his greed and treachery has cost the brig's company as well as my own.' He looked at Bolitho. 'Our plump surgeon has already told me about the vessel you both saw leaving Rio with such stealth. Egmont was safe while he lay hidden, but whoever gave the order for the Rosario to be waylaid and seized wanted him dead. According to the brig's charts, her final destination was St Christopher's. Egmont was prepared to pay the master anything to take him there, even to avoid his other ports of call in order that he should reach St Christopher's without delay.' He gave a slow smile. 'So that is where Sir Piers Garrick will be.' He nodded as if to emphasize his confidence. 'The hunt is almost over. With Egmont's sworn evidence, and he has no choice left now, we shall run that damn pirate to earth once and for all.' He saw Bolitho's open curiosity and added, 'The Caribbean has seen the making of much wealth. Pirates, honest traders, slavers and soldiers of fortune, they are all there. And where better for old enemies to simmer undisturbed?'

He became business-like again. 'Complete this coming and going without too much delay, Mr Palliser. I have advised Rosario to return to Rio. Her master will be able to relate his tale to the Viceroy, whereas I was unable to tell mine. He will know that a guise of neutrality must not be

so one-sided in future.' As Palliser and Bolitho stood up he said, 'I am afraid we are short of fresh water because of my hasty departure. Mr Codd was able to get all the yams, greens and meat he could desire, but water will have to be found elsewhere.'

Outside the cabin .Palliser said, 'You are temporarily relieved of your duties. Even extreme youth has a limit. Go to your quarters and rest while you can.' He saw Bolitho's uncertainty. 'Well?'

'I - I was wondering. What will become of Egmont?' He tried to keep his voice unconcerned. 'And his wife?'

'Egmont was a fool. By remaining quiet he aided Garrick. Garrick was trying to help the French at Martinique against us, and that makes Egmont's silence all the more serious. However, if he has any sense he will tell the captain all he knows. But for us he'd be dead. He'll be thinking of that just now.'

He turned to leave, his movements showing little of the strain .he hag been under. He was still wearing .his old sea-going coat which now had the additional distinction of a blood-stain on one shoulder where he had rested his sword.

Bolitho said, 'I should like to put Stockdale's name forward for advancement,* sir.'

. Palliser came back and lowered his head to peer at Bolitho beneath a deck-beam. 'Would you indeed?'

Bolitho sighed. It sounded rather like the old Palliser again.

But Palliser said, 'I've already done that. Really, Mr Bolitho, you'll have to think more quickly than that."

Bolitho smiled, despite the ache in his limbs and the confusion in his thoughts which the girl named Aurora had roused with a kiss.

He entered the wardroom, his body swaying to the . frigate's heavier motion. Poad greeted him like a warrior.

'Sit you down, sir! I'll fetch .something to eat and drink.'

He stood back and beamed at him. Right glad we are to see you again, sir, an' that's the truth!'

Bolitho lay back in a chair and allowed the drowsiness to flow over him. Above and around him the ship was alive with bustling feet and the clatter of tackle.

A job had to be done, and the seamen and marines were used to obeying orders and holding their private thoughts to themselves. Across the darkening water the brig was also busy with working sailors. Tomorrow the Rosario would make her way towards safety, where her story would be retold a thousand times. And they would speak of the quiet Englishman with the beautiful young wife who had lived amongst them for years, keeping to themselves and outwardly content with their self-imposed exile. And of the frigate with her grotesque captain which had come to Rio and had slunk away in the night like an assassin.

Bolitho stared up at the deck head, listening to the ship's noises and the sound of the ocean against her hull. He was privileged. He was right in the midst of it, of the conspiracy and the treachery, and very soon now she would be here, too.

When Poad returned with a plate of fresh meat and a jug of madeira he found the lieutenant fast asleep. His legs were out-thrust, the breeches and stockings torn and stained with what appeared to be blood. His hair was plastered across his forehead and there was a bruise on his hand, the one which had been gripping his hanger at the start of the day.

Asleep, the third lieutenant looked even younger, Poad thought. Young, and for .these rare moments of peace, defenceless.

Bolitho walked slowly up and down the quarterdeck, avoiding flaked lines and the mizzen bitts without conscious effort. It was sunset and a full day since they had parted company with the battered Rosario to leave her far astern. She had looked forlorn and as mis-shapen as any cripple with her crude jury-rig and such a sparse display of sails it would take her several days to reach port.

Bolitho glanced aft at the poop skylight and saw the glow of lanterns reflecting on the driver-boom above it. He tried to picture the dining cabin with her there and the captain sharing his table with his two guests. How would she feel now? How much had she known from the beginning, he wondered?

Bolitho had seen her only briefly when she had been brought across from the brig with her husband and a small mountain of luggage. She had seen him watching from the gangway and had made to raise one gloved hand, but the gesture had changed to less than a shrug. A mark of submission, even depair.

He looked up at the braced yards, the topsails growing darker against the pale fleecy clouds which had been with them for most of the day. They were steering north-north- east and standing well out from the land to avoid prying eyes or another would-be follower.

The watch on deck were doing their usual rounds to inspect the trim of the yards and the tautness of running and standing rigging alike. From below he heard the plaintive scrape of the shantyman's fiddle, the occasional murmur of voices as the hands waited for their evening meal.

Bolitho paused in his restless pacing and grasped the . nettings to steady himself against the ship's measured roll and plunge. The sea was already much darker to larboard, the swell in half shadow as it cruised slowly towards their quarter to lift Destiny's stern and then roll beneath her keel in endless procession.

He looked along the upper deck at the regularly spaced guns lashed firmly behind the sealed ports, through the black shrouds and other rigging to the figurehead's pale shoulder. He shivered, imagining it to be Aurora reaching out like that, but for him and not the horizon.

Somewhere a man laughed, and he heard Midshipman Lovelace reprimanding one of the watch who was probably old enough to be his father. It sounded even funnier in his high-pitched voice, Bolitho thought. Lovelace had been awarded extra duties by Palliser for skylarking during the dog-watches when he should have been pondering on his navigational problems.

Bolitho recalled his own early efforts to study, to keep awake and learn the hard-won lessons laid down by his sailing master. It all seemed so long ago. The darkness of the smelly orlop and the midshipman's berth, trying to read the figures and calculations by the flickering light of a glim set in an old oyster shell.

And yet it was no time at all. He studied the vibrating canvas and marvelled at the short period it had taken to make so great a step. Once he had stood almost frozen with fear at the prospect of being left alone in charge of a watch. Now he felt confident enough, but knew if the time came he would and must call the captain. But no one else. He could not turn any more to seek out his lieutenant or some stalwart master's mate for aid or advice. Those days were gone, unless or until he committed some terrible error which would strip him of all he had gained.

Bolitho found himself examining his feelings more closely. He had been afraid when he had believed he was going to go down, trapped below decks in the Heloise. Perhaps the closest to terror he had ever been. And yet he had seen action before, plenty of times, even as a twelve- year-old midshipman in his first ship he had gritted his teeth against the thunder of the old Manxman's massive broadside.

In his cot, with the flimsy screen door of his cabin shut to the rest of the world, he had thought about it, wondered how his companions saw and judged him.

They never seemed to worry beyond the moment. Colpoys, bored and disdainful, Palliser, unbreakable and ever-watchful over the ship's affairs. Rhodes appeared carefree enough, so perhaps his own ordeal in the Heloise and then aboard the brig had made a deeper impression than he had thought.

He had killed or wounded several men, and had watched others hack down their enemies with apparent relish. But surely you could never get used 'to it? The smell of a man's breath-against your own, the feel of his body heat as he tried to break your guard. His triumph when he thought you were falling, his horror as you drove your blade into muscle and bone.

One of the two helmsmen said, 'Steady as she goes, sir. Nor'-nor'-east .'

He turned in time to see the captain's thickset Shadow emerging from the companionway.

Dumaresq was a heavy man but had the stealth of a cat.

'All quiet, Mr Bolitho?'

'Aye, sir.' He could smell the brandy and guessed the captain had just finished his dinner.

'A long haul yet.' Dumaresq tilted on his heels to study the sails and the first faint stars. He changed the subject and asked; 'Are you recovered from your little battle?'

Bolitho felt stripped naked. It was as. if Dumaresq had been reading into his very thoughts.

'I think so, sir.'

Dumaresq persisted. 'Frightened, were you?'

'Part of the time.' He nodded, remembering the weight across his back, the roar of water through the deck below where he had been trapped.

'A good sign.' Dumaresq nodded. 'Never become too hard. Like cheap steel, you'll snap if you do.'

Bolitho asked carefully, 'Will we De carrying the passengers all the way, sir?'

'To St Christopher's at least. There I intend to enlist the governor's aid and have word sent to our senior officer there or at Antigua.'

'The treasure, sir. Is there still a chance of recovering it?'

'Some of it. Bur I suspect we may recognize it in a very different form from that originally intended. There is a smell of rebellion in the air. It has been growing and smouldering since the end of the war. Sooner or later our old enemies will strike at us again.' He turned and stared at Bolitho as if trying to make up his mind. 'I read something of your brother's recent success when I was at Plymouth. Against another of Garrick's breed, I believe? He caught and destroyed a man who was fleeing to America, a man once respected but who proved to be as rotten as any common felon.'

Bolitho replied quietly, 'Aye, sir. I was there with him.' 'Indeed?' Dumaresq chuckled. 'There was no mention of that in the Gazette. Your brother wanted all the glory for himself perhaps?'

He turned away before Bolitho could ask of the connection, if there was one, between the dash down the Channel just a few months back and the mysterious Sir Piers Garrick.

But Dumaresq said, 'I am going to play cards with Mr Egmont. The surgeon has agreed to partner him, whereas I shall have our gallant marine for mine.' He gave a rich chuckle. 'We might empty one of Egmont's money-boxes before we drop anchor off Basseterre!'

Bolitho sighed and walked slowly to the quarterdeck rail. Half an hour and the watch would change. A few words with Rhodes, then down to the wardroom.

He heard Yeames, master's mate of the watch, murmur with unusual politeness, 'Why, good even in , , ladies.' Bolitho swung round, his heart pounding in immediate response as he saw her moving carefully along the side of the quarterdeck, her arm entwined with that of her maid.

He saw her hesitate and was of two minds what to do next.

'Let me assist you.'

Bolitho crossed the deck and took her proffered hand. Through the glove he felt the warmth of her fingers, the smallness of her wrist.

'Come to the weather side, ma'am. There is less spray and a far better view.'

She did not resist as he led her up the sloping deck to the opposite side. Then he pulled out his handkerchief and bound it quickly round the hammock nettings.

He explained as calmly as he could that it was to protect her glove from tar or any other shipboard substance.

She held herself close to the nettings and stared abeam across the dark water. Bolitho could smell her fragrant perfume, just as he was very aware of her nearness.

Then she said, 'A long way to St Christopher's Island, is it not?' She had 'turned to look at him but her eyes were in shadow.

'It will take us over two weeks, according to Mr Gulliver, ma'am. It is a good three thousand miles.

He saw her teeth white in the gloom, but did not know if she was showing dismay or impatience.

'A good three thousand miles, Lieutenant?' Then she nodded. 'I understand.'

Through the. open skylight Bolitho heard Dumaresq's deep laugh and Colpoys saying something in reply. Dealing his cards, no doubt.

She had heard too and said quickly to her maid, 'You may leave us. You have worked hard today.'

She watched the girl reaching for the companionway and added, 'She has lived all her life on hard dry land. This ship must be strange to her."

Bolitho asked, 'What will you do? Will you be safe after all that has happened?'

She tilted her head as Dumaresq laughed again. That will depend on him.' She looked past Bolitho, her eyes shining like the spray alongside. as she asked, 'Does it matter so much to you?'

Bolitho said, 'You know it does. I care terribly.'

'You do?' She reached out and gripped his arm with her' free. hand. 'You are a kind boy.' She felt him stiffen and added gently, 'I apologize. You are a 'man to have done what you did back there when I thought I was going to be killed.'

Bolitho smiled. 'I am the one to apologize. I want you to like me so much that I act like a fool.'

She twisted round and moved closer to look at him. 'You mean it. I can tell that, if nothing else.'

'If only you could have remained in Rio.' Bolitho was searching his mind for some solution which might help. 'Your husband should not have risked your life.'

She shook her head, the movement of her hair striking at Bolitho's heart like a dagger.

'He has been good to me. Without him I would have been lost long ago. I was a stranger in Rio. I am of Spanish blood. When my parents died I was to have been bought as a wife by a Portuguese trader.'

She gave a shudder. 'I was only thirteen. He was like a greasy pig!'

Bolitho felt betrayed. 'Was it not love which made you marry your husband?'

'Love?' She tossed her head. 'I do not find men very attractive, you know. So I was content with his arrangements for me. Like his many fine possessions, I think he sees me as a decoration.' She opened the shawl which she had carried on deck., 'Like this bird, yes?'

Bolitho saw the same two-headed bird with the ruby tail feathers she had worn at her house in Rio.

He said fervently, 'I love you!'

She tried to laugh but nothing came. She said, 'I suspect you know even less about loving than I do.' She reached up and touched his face. 'But you meant what you said. I am sorry if I hurt you.'

Bolitho grasped her hand and pressed it firmly against his cheek. She had not laughed or piled scorn on him for his clumsy advances.

He said, 'You will be left in peace soon.'

She sighed. 'And then you will come like a knight on your charger to save me, yes? I used to dream of such things when I was a child. Now I think as a woman.'

She pulled his hand down and pressed it against her skin, so that the warmth of the jewelled bird on his fingers was like a part of her.

'Do you feel that?' She was watching him intently.

He could feel the urgent beat of her heart rising to match his own as. he touched the smooth skin and the firm curve of her breast.

That is no childish desire.' She made to move away but when he held her she said, 'What is the use? We are not alone to act as we please. If my husband thinks I am betraying him, he will refuse to help your captain.' She put her hand on his lips. 'Hear me! Dear Richard, do you not see what that would mean? My husband thrown into some English prison to await trial and death. I, as his wife, might be taken also, or left destitute to await another Portuguese trader, or worse.' She waited for him to release her and then murmured, 'But do not think I would not or could not love you.'

Voices echoed along the deck and Bolitho heard a boatswain's mate calling out names as the watch trooped aft to relieve his own men.

In those few seconds Bolitho found himself hating the boatswain's mate with all his soul.

He exclaimed, 'I must see you again.'

She was already making her way to the opposite side, her slim outline like a ghost against the dark water beyond.

Three thousand miles you said, Lieutenant? It is such a long way. Each day will be torture.' She hesitated and glanced back at him. 'For both of us.'

Rhodes clattered up through the companionway and stood aside to let her pass. He nodded to Bolitho and remarked, 'A beauty indeed.' He seemed to sense Bolitho's mood, that he was prepared to be hostile if he mentioned her again.

He added, 'That was clumsy of me. Stupid, too.'

Bolitho pulled him to one side, oblivious of the watch mustering beyond the quarterdeck rail.

'I am in hell, Stephen! I can tell no one else. It is driving me mad.'

Rhodes was deeply moved by Bolitho's sincerity and by the fact he was sharing his secret with him.

He said, 'We shall think of something.' It sounded so unconvincing in the face of his friend's despair that he said, 'A lot can happen before we sight St Christopher's.' The* master's mate touched his hat. 'The watch is aft, sir. '

Bolitho walked to the companionway and paused with one foot on the ladder. Her perfume was still hanging there, or if not it must be clinging to his coat.

Aloud he exclaimed, 'What can I do?'

But the only answer came from the sea and the rumble of the rudder beneath Dumaresq's cabin.

The "first week of the Destiny's passage passed swiftly enough, with several blustery squalls to keep the hands busy and to hold back the scorching heat.

Up and around Cabo Branco then north-west for the Spanish Main and the Indies. There were longer periods of low breezes, and some of no wind at all when the boats were put down and the gruelling work of warping the ship by muscle and sweat was enforced.

Fresh water ran lower as a direct consequence, and with neither rain nor the prospect of an early landfall it was rationed. After a week it was cut further still to a pint a day per man .

. During his daily watches under the blazing sun, Bolitho saw very little of Egmont's wife. He told himself it was for her good as well as his own. There were troubles enough to contend with. Outbreaks of insubordination which ended in fists and kicks or the use of a petty officer's starter. But Dumaresq refrained from having any of his men flogged, and Bolitho wondered if it was because he was eager to keep the peace or holding his hand for his passengers' benefit.

Bulkley was showing signs of anxiety, too. Three men had gone down with scurvy. In spite of his care and the regular issue of fruit juice, the surgeon was unable to prevent it.

Once, while he had been lingering in the shadow of the big driver, Bolitho had heard Dumaresq's voice through the cabin skylight, dismissing Bulkley's pleas, even blaming him 'for not taking better precautions for his sick seamen.

Bulkley must have been examining the 'chart, 'because he had protested, 'Why not Barbados. Captain? We could anchor off Bridgetown and arrange for fresh water to be brought out 'to us. What w@ have left is crawling with vermin, and I'll not answer for the people's health if you insist on driving them like this!'

'God damn your eyes, sir! I'll tell you who you shall answer to, believe me! I'll not go to Barbados and shout to the whole world what we are doing. You attend to your duties and I shall do the same!'

And there it had ended.

Seventeen days after parting from the Rosario the wind found them again, and with even her, studding-sails set Destiny gathered way like the thoroughbred she was.

"But perhaps it was already too Late to prevent some kind of explosion. It was like a chain reaction. Slade, the master's mate, still brooding over Palliser's contempt, and knowing it would likely hinder, even prevent any chance of promotion, poured abuse on Midshipman Merrett for failing to calculate the ship's noon position correctly. Merrett had overcome his early timidity, but he was only twelve years old. To be berated S6 harshly in front of several hands and the two helmsmen were more than enough for him. He burst into tears .

. Rhodes was officer of the watch and could have intervened. Instead he remained, by the weather side, his hat tilted against the sun, his ears deaf to Merrett's outburst.

Bolitho was below the mainmast watching some of his topmen reeving a new block at the topgallant yard and heard most of it.

Stockdale was with him, and muttered, 'It's like an overloaded waggon, sir. Somethin's got to give.'

Merrett dropped his hat and was rubbing his eyes with his knuckles when a seaman picked up the hat and handed it to him, his eyes angry as he glanced at the master's mate.

Slade yelled, 'How dare you interfere between your betters?'

The seaman, one of the after-guard, retorted hotly, 'Darmmit, Mr Slade, 'e's doin' 'is best! It's bad enough for the bloody rest of us, let alone fer 'im!'

Slade seemed to go purple.

He screamed, 'Master-at-arms! Secure that man!' He turned on the quarterdeck at large. 'I'll see his backbone at the gratings!'

Poynter and the ship's corporal arrived and seized the defiant seaman:

The latter showed no sign of relenting. 'Like Murray, eh? A good 'and an' a loyal shipmate, and they was goin' to flog 'im, too!'

Bolitho heard a growl of agreement from the men around him.

Rhodes came out of his torpor and called, 'Pipe down there! What's going on?'

Slade said, 'This man defied me, and swore at me, so he did!' He was becoming dangerously calm and glaring at the seaman as if he would strike him dead.

Rhodes said uncertainly, 'In that case ... '

'In that case, Mr Rhodes, have the man put in irons. I'll have no defiance in my ship.'

Dumaresq had appeared as if by magic.

Slade swallowed and said, 'This man was interfering, sir.'

'I heard you.' Dumaresq thrust his hands behind his back. 'As did the whole ship, I would imagine.' He glanced at Merrett and snapped, 'Stop snivelling, boy!'

The midshipman stopped, like a clock, and looked about him with embarrassment.

Dumaresq eyed the seaman and added, 'That was a costly gesture, Adams. A dozen lashes."

Bolitho knew that Dumaresq could do nothing but uphold his subordinates, right or wrong, and a dozen lashes was minimal, just a headache, the old hands would term it.

But an hour later, as the lash rose and then cracked with terrible force across the man's naked back, Bolitho realized just how frail was their hold over the ship's company with land so far away.

The gratings were unrigged, the man named Adams was carried below grunting with pain to be revived with a wash-down of salt water and a liberal dose of rum. The spots of blood were swabbed away, and to all intents everything was as before.

Bolitho had relieved Rhodes in charge of the watch, and heard Dumaresq say to the master's mate, 'Discipline is upheld. For all our sakes.' He fixed Slade with his compelling stare. 'For your own safety, I would suggest you stay out of my way!'

Bolitho turned aside so that Slade should not see him watching. But he had seen Slade's face. Like that of a man who had been expecting a reprieve only to feel his arms being pinioned by the hangman.

All that night Bolitho thought about the girl named Aurora. It was impossible to get near her. She had been given half of the stern cabin, while Egmont made the best of a cot in the dining space. Dumaresq slept in the chartroom nearby, and there was always the servant and the marine sentry to prevent any casual caller from entering.

As he lay in his cot, his naked body sweating in the unmoving air, Bolitho pictured himself entering her cabin and holding her in his arms. He groaned at the torment, and tried to ignore the thirst which had left his mouth like a kiln. The water was foul and in short supply, and to keep drinking wine as a substitute was inviting disaster.

He heard uncertain footsteps in the wardroom and then a gentle tap on his screen door.

Bolitho rolled out of the cot, groping for his shirt as he asked, 'Who is it?'

It was Spillane, the captain's new clerk. Despite the hour he was neat and tidy, and his shirt looked as if it had just been washed, although how he had managed it was a mystery.

Spillane said politely, 'I have a message for you, sir.' He was looking at Bolitho's tousled hair and casual nakedness as he continued, 'From the lady.'

Bolitho darted a quick glance around the wardroom.

Only the regular creaks and groans of the ship's timbers and the occasional murmur of canvas from above broke the silence.

He found he was whispering. 'Where is it, then?' Spillane replied, 'By word of mouth, sir. She'd not put pen to paper.'

Bolitho stared. Now Spillane was a conspirator whether he wanted to be or not:

'Go on.'

Spillane lowered his voice further still. 'You take over the morning-watch at four o'clock, sir.' His precise, landsman's expression made him Seem even more out of place here. 'Aye.'

'The lady will endeavour to come on deck. For a breath of air, if someone is bold enough to question her.'

'Is that all?'

'It is, sir;' Spillane was watching him closely in the faint light from a shuttered lantern. 'Did you expect more?'

Bolitho glanced at him guardedly. Was that last remark a show of familiarity, a testing insolence because of their shared conspiracy? Maybe Spillane was nervous, eager to get it over with.

He said, 'No. Thank you for telling me.'

Bolitho stood for a long moment, his body swaying to the motion, as he went over everything Spillane had said.

Later, he was still in the wardroom, sitting in a chair, the same shirt dangling from his fingers as he stared into the shadows.

A boatswain's mate found him and whispered, 'I see you don't need a call, sir. The watch is musterin' now. Fair breeze up top, but another blazin' day is my guess.'

He stood back as Bolitho pulled on his breeches and fumbled around for a clean shirt. The lieutenant was obviously half asleep still, he decided. It was a cruel waste to don any clean garment for the morning-watch. It would be a wet rag by six bells.

Bolitho followed the man on deck and relieved Midshipman Henderson with the briefest possible delay. Henderson was next in line for lieutenant's examination and Palliser had allowed him to stand the middle watch on his own.

The midshipman almost fled from the deck, and Bolitho could well imagine his thoughts as he tumbled into his hammock on the orlop. His first watch alone. Reliving it. What had nearly gone wrong, when he had nearly decided to rouse Palliser or the master. The feeling of triumph as Bolitho had appeared, knowing the watch was ended without mishap.

Bolitho's men settled down in the shadows, and after checking the compass and the set of the topsails he walked towards the companionway.

Midshipman Jury crossed to the weather side and wondered when he would get his chance to stand a watch unaided. He turned and saw Bolitho moving aft by the mizzen-mast, and then blinked as another pale figure glided to meet him.

He heard the helmsmen whispering together and noticed that the boatswain's mate of the watch had moved discreetly to the weather gangway.

'Watch your helm there!' Jury saw the seamen stiffen at the great double-wheel. Beyond them the two pale figures seemed to have merged into one.

Jury walked to the quarterdeck rail and gripped it with both hands.

To all intents he was standing his first watch unaided, he thought happily.

11 A Close Thing

Under topsails, forecourse and jib only, the Destiny headed slowly towards the green humpbacked island. So gentle was the breeze that her progress was a snail's pace, an impression which grew as she approached the small ridge of land.

The masthead had sighted it the previous day, just before dusk, and throughout the night-watches until the break of dawn there had been a-buzz of speculation from wardroom to messdeck.

Now, in the harsh forenoon sunlight it lay, across their bows and shimmered in a low haze, as if it might vanish at any second like a mirage.

It was higher towards its centre, where thick clusters of palms and other foliage were bunched together, to leave the slopes and the tiny, crescent-shaped beaches totally devoid of cover.

'Deep six!'

The hollow chant from a leadsman in the chains reminded Bolitho of the shallows nearby, the hint of a reef lying to starboard. A few sea-birds dotted the water, and others cruised watchfully around the topgallant mastheads.

Bolitho heard Dumaresq conferring with Palliser and the master. The island was marked on the chart but apparently unclaimed. The known survey was poor, and Dumaresq was probably regretting his impulse to touch land in search for water.

But the ship was down to her last barricoes of water, and the contents were so vile that Bulkley and the purser had joined forces in another plea to the captain for him to seek a new supply. Enough at least to take them to their destination. 'By th' mark seven!'

Gulliver tried to relax his stance as the keel glided into deeper water. The ship was still standing two cables clear of the nearest beach. If the wind rose or changed direction, Destiny might be in trouble, with no depth at all to beat free of the land and out-thrust reef.

Every man but the cook and the sick ones in Bulkley's care was on deck or clinging to the shrouds and ratlines, strangely silent as they peered towards the little island. It was one of hundreds in the Caribbean, but the hint of fresh, drinkable water made it appear special and priceless.

'By th' mark five!'

Dumaresq grimaced at Palliser. 'Hands wear ship. Stand by to anchor, if you please.'

With her sails barely flapping in the intense heat, the frigate turned wearily on the blue water until the order to let go was yelled along the deck. The anchor splashed down, pushing great circles away from the bows and churning up pale sand from the bottom.

Once anchored the heat seemed to force into the ship still more, and as Bolitho made his way to the quarterdeck he saw Egmont and his wife standing right aft by the taffrail, sheltering beneath a canvas awning which George Durham, the sailmaker, had rigged for them.

Dumaresq was studying the island slowly and methodically with the signal midshipman's big telescope.

He remarked, 'No smoke, or signs of life. Can't see any marks on the beach either, so there aren't any boats on this side.' He handed the glass to Palliser. 'That ridge looks promising, eh?'

Gulliver said cautiously, 'Could be water there, right enough, sir.'

Dumaresq ignored him and turned instead to his two passengers. 'Might be able to stretch your legs ashore before we weigh.' He chuckled.

He had addressed both of them, but Bolitho somehow knew that his words had been aimed at the woman.

He thought of that one moment when she had come on deck to see him. It had been unreal but precious. Dangerous, and all the more exciting because of it.

They had spoken very little. All through the following day Bolitho had" thought about it, relived it, hung on to each moment for fear of losing something.

He had held her close to his body while the ship had ploughed into the first misty light of dawn, feeling her heart beat against his, wanting to touch her and afraid he would spoil it with his boldness. She had freed herself from his arms and had kissed him lightly on the mouth before merging with the remaining shadows to leave him alone.

And now, just to hear Dumaresq's casual familiarity towards her, his mention of stretching her legs, was like a barb, a spur of jealousy which he had never known before.

Dumaresq broke his thoughts. 'You will rake a landing-party, Mr Bolitho. Determine if there is a stream or any useful rock pools. I will await your signal.'

He walked aft, and Bolitho heard him speaking again with Egmont and Aurora,

Bolitho flinched. He saw Jury watching him and imagined for an instant he had again spoken her name aloud.

Palliser snapped, 'Get a move on. If there is no water, we'd best know about it quickly.'

Colpoys was standing languidly by the mizzen. 'I will send some of my fellows as pickets, if you wish.'

Palliser exclaimed, 'Hell's teeth, we're not expecting a pitched battle!'

The cutter was hoisted outboard and lowered alongside.

Stockdale, now promoted to gun-captain, was already detailing some hands for the shore-party, while the boat's coxswain supervised the loading of extra tackle for the water-barricoes should they require them.

Bolitho waited until the boat was manned and then reported to Palliser. He saw the girl watching him, the way one hand was resting on her necklace, remembering perhaps, or reminding him that his had once lain there.

Palliser said, 'Take a pistol. Fire it if you find anything.' His eyes narrowed against the fierce glare. 'Once the casks are filled they'll discover something else to grumble about!' The cutter pulled away from the side, and Bolitho felt the sun burn across his neck as they left the Destiny's protective shadow.

'Give way all!'

Bolitho trailed his arm over the side, feeling the sensual touch of cool water, and imagined her with him, swimming and then running hand in hand up the pale beach to discover each other for the first time.

When he looked over the gunwale he saw the bottom quite clearly, dotted with white stones or shells, and isolated humps of coral, deceptively harmless in the shimmering reflections.

Stockdale said to the coxswain, 'Looks like nobody's ever been 'ere, Jim.'

The man eased the tiller-bar and nodded, the movement bringing a trickle of sweat from under his tarred hat. 'Easy all! Bowman, boat yer oar!'

Bolitho watched the cutter's shadow rising to meet them as the bowman vaulted over the side to guide the stem into the sand while the others hauled their blades inboard and hung panting over the looms like old men.

And then there was total stillness. Just a far-off murmur of surf on a reef, the occasional gurgle of water around the grounded cutter. No bird lifted from the crowded hump of palms, not even an insect.

Bolitho climbed over the gunwale and waded to the beach. He was wearing an open shirr and breeches, but his body felt as if he was dressed in thick furs. The thought of tearing off his crumpled clothing and running naked into the sea mingled with his earlier fantasy, and he wondered if she was watching from the ship, using a telescope to see him.

Bolitho realized with a start that the others were waiting. He said to the coxswain, 'Remain with the boat. The crew, too. They may have to do several journeys yet.' To Stockdale he said, 'We'll take the others up the slope. It's the shortest way and probably the coolest.'

He ran his eye over the small landing-party. Two of them were from the Heloise's original company, now sworn-in members of His Majesty's Navy. They still appeared dazed at their swift change of circumstances, but they were good enough seamen to avoid the harsher side' of the boatswain's tongue.

Apart from Stockdale, there was none of his own division in the group, and he guessed there had been little enthusiasm for volunteering to tramp round an uninhabited island. later if they discovered water, it would be very different.

Stockdale 'said, 'Follow me!'

Bolitho walked up the slope, his feet sinking in the loose sand, the pistol in his belt burning his skin like a piece of hot iron. It felt strange to walk here, he thought. A tiny, unknown place. There might be human bones nearby. Shipwrecked mariners, or men cast adriftand marooned by pirates to die horribly without hope of rescue.

How inviting the palms looked. They were moving gently, and he could hear them rustling as he drew nearer. Once he stopped to look back at the ship. She seemed far away, balanced perfectly on her own reflection. But in 'distance she had lost her rakish fines, and her masts and loosely furled sails seemed to be swaying and bending in the haze, as if the whole ship was melting.

The small party of seamen tramped gratefully into a patch of shade, their ragged trousers catching in some large fronds which displayed teeth like barbs around the edges. There were different smells here, too, of rotting undergrowth, and from vividly coloured blossoms.

Bolitho looked up at the sky and saw a frigate-bird circling high overhead, its scimitar-shaped wings motionless as it ghosted on the hot current. So they were not completely alone.

A man called excitedly, 'Look yonder, sir! Water!'

They pressed forward, all tiredness momentarily forgotten.

Bolitho looked at the pool with disbelief. It was shivering slightly, so he guessed there was some sort of underground source close by. He could see the surrounding palms reflected on its surface and the images of his men as they peered down at the water.

Bolitho said, 'I'll have a taste.'

He clambered along the sandy bank and dipped his hand into the water. It was a false impression, but it felt as cold as a mountain stream. Hardly daring to hope, he raised his cupped hand to his lips and after a slight hesitation swallowed deeply.

He said quietly, 'It's pure.'

Bolitho watched the seamen throwing themselves down on their chests and scooping the water over their faces and shoulders, swallowing great gulps of it in their eager excitement.

Stockdale wiped his mouth with satisfaction. 'Good stuff.'

Bolitho smiled. Josh Little would have called it a 'wet'. 'We'll stand easy a while, then signal the ship.'

The seamen drew their cutlasses and drove them into the sand before squatting down against the palms or leaning over the shimmering water as if to make-sure it was still there.

Bolitho walked away from them, and as he examined his pistol to ensure that it was free of sand and damp he thought of that moment when she had joined him on Destiny's quarterdeck.

It must not end, it could nor be allowed to die. 'Something wrong, sir?' Stockdale lumbered up the slope.

Bolitho realized he must have been frowning in concentration. 'Not wrong.'

It was uncanny how Stockdale always seemed to know, to be ready in case .he was needed. Yet it was something very real between them. Bolitho found it easy to talk to the big, hoarse prize-fighter, and the reverse was true also, without any hint of subservience or as a means to gain favour.

Bolitho said, 'You go and make the signal.' He watched the pistol half disappear in Stockdale's great fist. 'I need to think about something.'

Stockdale watched him impassively. 'You're young, an' beggin' yer pardon, sir, I think you should stay young for as long as you can.'

Bolitho faced him. You never really knew what Stockdale meant with his brief, halting sentences. Had he implied that he should keep away from a woman who was ten years older than he was? Bolitho refused to think about it. Their life was now, when they could find it. They could worry about differences later.

He said, 'Be off with you. I wish it was that simple.' Stockdale shrugged and strode down the' slope towards the beach, his broad shoulders set in such a way that Bolitho knew he was not going to let it rest there.

With a great sigh Bolitho walked back towards the pool to warn his men that Stockdale was about to fire the pistol. Sailors cooped up in a ship-of-war often became nervous of such things when they were put ashore.

One of the seamen had been lying with his face half under the water, and as Bolitho approached he stood up dripping and grinning with pleasure.

Bolitho said, 'Be ready, men ... ' He broke off as someone gave a piercing scream and the seaman who had been grinning at him pitched forward into the water.

All-at once there was frantic pandemonium amounting to panic as the sailors scrabbled in the sand for their weapons and others stared with horror at the drifting corpse, the water reddening around it from a spear thrust between the shoulders.

Bolitho swung round, seeing the sunlight partially broken by running, leaping figures, the glitter of weapons and a terrifying scream of combined voices which made the hair rise on his neck.

'Stand to!'

He groped for his hanger and gasped with shock as another seaman rolled down the slope, kicking and spitting blood as he tried to tug a crude shaft from his belly.

'Oh, God!' Bolitho shaded his eyes against the bars of sunlight. Their attackers had it behind them and were closing in on the stampeding seamen, that terrible din of screaming voices making it impossible to think or act.

Bolitho realized they were black men, their eyes and mouths wide with triumph as they hacked down another sailor and pounded his face to a bloody pulp with a piece of coral.

Bolitho ran to meet the attack, dimly aware that more figures were rushing past him as if to separate him from his remaining seamen. He heard someone shrieking and pleading, the sickening sound of a skull splintered open like a coconut.

He found he had his back to a tree and was striking out wildly, wasting his strength, leaving himself open for one of those fire-hardened spears.

Bolitho saw three of his men, one of whom had been wounded -in the leg, standing together, hemmed in by screaming, slashing figures.

He pushed himself away from the tree, hacked open a black shoulder, with his hanger and bounded across the trampled sand to join the embattled seamen.

One cried, "S'no use! Can't 'old th' buggers!'

Bolitho felt the hanger knocked from his hand and realized he had not fastened the lanyard around his wrist.

He searched desperately for another weapon, seeing that his men were breaking and running towards the beach, the injured one hopping only a few paces before he too was cut down.

Bolitho got a terrifying impression of two staring eyes and bared white teeth, and saw the savage charging towards him, scooping up a discarded cutlass as he came.

Bolitho ducked and tried to leap to one side. Then came the impact, too great for pain, too powerful to measure.

He knew he was' falling, his forehead on fire, while in another world he could hear his own voice calling out, brittle with agony.

And then, mercifully, there was nothing.

When consciousness finally returned, the agony which accompanied it was almost unendurable.

Bolitho tried to force open his eyes, as if by doing so he could drive away the torment, but it was so great he could feel his whole body contracting to withstand it.

Voices murmured above his head, but through his partially closed eyes he could see very little. A. few hazy shapes, the darker shadows of beams directly overhead.

It was as if his head was being crushed slowly and deliberately between two heated irons, torturing his cringing mind with probing pains and brilliant flashes like lighting.

Cool cloths were being dabbed over his face and neck and then across his body. He was naked, not pinioned by force but with hands touching his wrists and ankles in case he struggled.

Another thought made him cry out with terror. He was badly injured elsewhere than in his head and they were getting ready for him. He had seen it done. The knife glittering in the feeble lanterns, the quick cut and turn of the blade, and then the saw.

'Easy, son.'

That was Bulkley, and the fact he was here helped to steady him in some way. Bolitho imagined he could smell the surgeon, brandy and tobacco.

He tried to speak but his voice was a hoarse whisper. 'What happened?'

Bulkley peered over his shoulder, his owl-like face with the little spectacles poised in the air like a comic bladder.

'Save your breath. Breathe slowly.' Bulkley nodded. 'That's it."

Bolitho gritted his teeth as the pain tightened its hold. It was worst above his* right eye where there was a bandage. His hair felt tight, matted with blood. Vaguely the picture re-formed: the bulging eyes, the cutlass swinging towards him. Oblivion.

He asked, 'My men, are they safe?'

Bolitho felt a coat sleeve brush against his bare arm and saw Dumaresq looking down at him, his shape made more grotesque by the angle. The eyes were no longer compelling, but grave.

'The boat's crew are safe. Two of your original party reached it in time.'

Bolitho tried to move his head, but someone held it firmly.

'Stockdale? Is he ... ?'

Dumaresq smiled. 'He carried you to the beach. But for him all of the people would have been lost. I shall tell you later. Now you must endeavour to rest. You have lost a lot of blood.'

Bolitho could feel the darkness closing over him again.

He had seen the quick exchange of glances between Dumaresq and the surgeon. It was not over. He might die. The realization was almost too much and he felt the tears smarting in his eyes as he gasped, 'Don't ... want ... to ... leave ... Destiny. Mustn't ... go ... like ... this.'

Dumaresq said, 'You will recover.'

He rested his hand on Bolitho's shoulder so that he could feel the strength of the man, as if he were transferring some of his power into him.

Then he moved away, and Bolitho realized for the first time that he was in the stern cabin and that beyond the tall . windows it was pitch-dark.

Bulkley watched him and said, 'You have been unconscious all day, Richard.' He wagged his finger at him. 'You had me somewhat troubled, I can tell you.'

'Then you are not worried for me now?' Again he tried to move, but the hands gripped him firmly like watchful animals.

Bulkley made a few adjustments to the bandages. 'A severe blow to the head with a heavy blade is never a thing to be scoffed at. I have done some work on you, the rest will depend on time and care. It was a close-run fight. But for Stockdale's courage, and his determination to rescue you, you would be dead.' He glanced round as if to ensure that the captain had gone: 'He rallied the remaining seamen when they were about to flee from the beach. He was like a wild bull, yet when he carried you aboard he did it with the gentleness of a woman.' He sighed. 'It must be the costliest cargo of fresh water in naval history!'

Bolitho could feel a new drowsiness closing in to withstand the pounding anguish in his skull. Bulkley had given him something.

He whispered, 'You would tell me if .. .'

Bulkley was wiping his fingers. 'Probably.' He looked up and added, 'You are being well cared for. We are about to weigh anchor, so endeavour to rest yourself.'

Bolitho tried to keep a grip on his senses. About to weigh anchor. Here all day. So the water must have been obtained. Men had died. Many more afterwards, he thought, when Colpoys' marines took their revenge.

He spoke very slowly, knowing his words were getting slurred, but knowing too that he must make himself understood'.

'Tell Aur ... , tell Mrs Egmont that ... '

Bulkley leaned over him and pulled at his eyelids. 'Tell her yourself. She has been with you since you were brought aboard. I told you. You are well cared for.'

Then Bolitho saw her standing beside him, her black hair hanging down over either shoulder, glossy in the lantern light.

She touched his face, her fingers brushing his lips as she said softly, 'You can sleep now, my lieutenant. I am here.'

Bolitho felt the hands relax their hold from his wrists and ankles, and sensed the surgeon's assistants withdrawing into the shadows.

He murmured faintly, 'I - I did not want you to see me like this, Aurora.'

She smiled, but it made her look incredibly sad. 'You are beautiful,' she said.

Bolitho closed his eyes, the strength gone from him at last.

By the screen door Bulkley turned to look at them. He should be used to pain and the gratitude of recovery , but he was not, and he was moved by what he saw. It was more like a painting from mythology, he thought. The lovely woman weeping by the fallen body of her hero.

He had not lied to Bolitho. It had been very close, and the cutlass had not only made a deep scar above the eye and into the hairline but had scored the bone beneath. Had Bolitho been an older man, or the cutlass expertly used, it would have ended there.

She said, 'He is asleep.' But she was not speaking to Bulkley. She removed her white shawl and very gently spread it across Bolitho's body , as if his nakedness, like her words, was something private.

In Destiny's other, ordered world a voice bellowed, 'Anchor's aweigh, sir!'

Bulkley put out a hand to steady himself as the deck tilted to the sudden pressure of wind and rudder. He would go to his sick-bay and have several long drinks. He had no wish to see the island as it fell astern in the dusk. It had given them fresh water, but had taken lives in exchange. Bolitho's party at the pool had been massacred but for Stockdale and two others. Colpoys had reported that the savages who had attacked them were once slaves who had possibly escaped when on passage to an island plantation.

Seeing Bolitho and his men approaching, they had doubtless imagined they were there to hunt them down and award some brutal reprisal. When Destiny's boats, roused by the pistol-shot from the beach and the sudden panic amongst the cutter's crew, had reached the shore, those same slaves had run towards them. Nobody knew if they had realized Destiny was not a 'blackbirder' after all and were trying to make recompense. Colpoys had directed the swivel guns and musketoons which were mounted in each boat to rake the beach. When the smoke had drifted away there had been nobody alive to explain.

Bulkley paused at the top of the ladder and heard the clatter of blocks, the pad of bare feet as the seamen hauled at halliards and braces to set their ship on her true course.

To a man-of-war it was only an interlude. Something to be written up in her log. Until the next challenge, the next fight. He glanced aft at the swaying deck head lantern and the red-coated sentry beneath it.

And yet, he decided, there had been a lot of worthwhile things, too.

12 Secrets

The days which immediately followed Bolitho's return to the living were like parts of a dream. From the age of twelve, since he had first gone to sea as a midshipman, he had been used to the constant demands of a ship. Night or day, at any hour and under all conditions he had been ready to run with the others to whatever duty was ordered, and had been under no illusions as to the consequences if he failed to obey.

But as Destiny sailed slowly northwards through the Caribbean he was forced to accept his inactivity, to remain still and listen to the familiar sounds beyond the cabin or above his head.

The dream was made more than bearable by the presence of Aurora. Even the terrible pain which struck suddenly and without mercy she somehow held at bay, just as she saw through his pitiful attempts to hide it from her.

She would hold his hand or wipe his brow with a damp cloth. Sometimes when the agony probed his skull like a branding iron she put her arm beneath his shoulders and pressed her face to his chest, murmuring secret words into his body as if to still the torment .

. He watched her whenever she was in a position where he could see her. While his strength held he described the shipboard sounds, the names of the sailors he knew. and how they worked together to make the ship a living thing. He told her of his home in Falmouth, of his brother and sisters and the long Bolitho ancestry which was part of the sea itself.

She was always careful not to excite him with questions, and allowed him to talk as long as he felt like it. She fed him, but in such a fashion that he did not feel humiliated or like a helpless child.

Only when the matter of shaving arose was she unable to keep a straight face.

'But, dear Richard, you do not seem to need a shave!' Bolitho flushed, knowing it was true, as he usually- shaved but once a week.

She said, 'I will do it for you.'

She used the razor with great care, watching each stroke, and occasionally glancing through the stern windows to see if the ship was on even keel.

Bolitho tried to relax, glad - that she imagined his tenseness was out of fear of the razor. In fact, he was more than aware of her nearness, the pressure of her breast as she leaned over him, the exciting touch on his face and throat.

'There.' She stood back and studied him approvingly. 'You look very ... ' she hunted through her vocabulary' ... distinguished. '

Bolitho asked, 'Could I see, please?' He saw the uncertainty. 'Please.'

She took a mirror from the cabin chest and said, 'You are strong. You will get over it.'

Bolitho stared at the face in the mirror. It was that of a stranger. The surgeon had sheared away his hair from the right temple, and the whole of his forehead from eyebrow to where the hair remained was black and purple with savage bruising. Bulkley had appeared content when he had removed the dressing and bandages, but to Bolitho's eyes

. the length and depth of the scar, made more horrific by the black criss-cross of the surgeon's stitches, was repellent.

He said quietly, 'It must sicken you.'

She removed the mirror and said, 'I am proud of you.

Nothing could spoil you in my heart. I have stayed with you from that first moment when you were carried here. Have watched over you, so that I know your body like my own.' She met his gaze proudly. That scar will remain, but it is one of honour, not of shame!'

Later she left his side in answer to a summons from Dumaresq.

The cabin servant, Macmillan, told Bolitho that Destiny was due to sight St Christopher's on the following day, so it seemed likely that the captain was about to clarify Egmont's statement and make certain he would stand by it.

The hunt for the missing bullion, or whatever form it had taken since Garrick's seizure of it, seemed of no importance to Bolitho. He had had plenty of time to think about his future as he sweated in pain or had found recovery in her arms. Perhaps too much time.

The idea of her stepping ashore, to rejoin her husband in whatever new enterprise he dictated, and not to see her ever again, was unbearable.

To mark the progress of his recovery he had several visitors. Rhodes, beaming with pleasure to see him again, unabashed as ever as he said, 'Makes you look like a real terror, Richard. That'll get the doxies jumping when we reach port!' He was careful not to mention Aurora.

Palliser came too and made as close as he knew how to an apology.

'If I had sent a marine picket as Colpoys suggested, none of it would have happened.' He shrugged and glanced round the cabin, at the female attire draped near the windows after being washed by the maid. 'But it apparently has its brighter aspects.'

Bulkley and Dumaresq's clerk supervised the first walk away from the cabin. Bolitho felt the ship responding beneath his bare feet, but knew his weakness, the dizziness which never seemed far away, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it.

He cursed Spillane and his medical knowledge when he said, 'Might be a severe fracture there, sir?'

Bulkley replied gruffly, 'Nonsense. But still, it's early days.'

Bolitho had expected to die, but with recovery apparently within his grasp it seemed unthinkable there was yet another course he might have to rake. To be sent home in the next available ship, to be removed from the Navy List and not even retained on half-pay to give some hope of re-employment .

He wished he could have thanked Stockdale, but even his influence had so far failed to get him past the sentry at the door.

All the midshipmen, with the noticeable exception of Cowdroy, had been to visit him, and had stared at his terrible scar with a mixture of awe and commiseration. Jury had been quite unable to hide his admiration and had exclaimed, 'To think that I cried like a baby over my pin-prick!'

It was late evening before she returned to the cabin, and he sensed the change in her, the listless way she arranged his pillow and made certain his water-jug was filled.

She said quietly, 'I shall leave tomorrow, Richard. My husband has signed his name to the documents. It is done. Your captain has sworn that he will leave us to go as we, please once he has seen the governor of St Christopher's. After that, I do not know.'

Bolitho gripped her hand and tried not to think of Dumaresq's other promise to the Heloise's master before he had died. Had died from Bolitho's own blade.

He said, 'I may have to leave the ship, too.'

She seemed to forget her own troubles and leaned over him anxiously.

'What is this? Who said you must go?'

He reached up carefully and touched her hair. Like silk. Warm, beautiful silk.

'It doesn't matter now, Aurora.'

She traced a pattern on his shoulder with her finger. 'How can you say that? Of course it matters. The sea is your world. You have seen and done much, but all your life 'still lies before you.'

Bolitho felt her hair touch his skin and shivered.

He said firmly, 'I shall quit the Navy. I have made up-my mind.'

'After all you have told me of your family tradition, you would throw it all away?'

'For you, yes, I will.'

She shook her head, the long black hair clinging to him as she protested, 'You must not speak like this!'

'My brother is my father's favourite, and always has been.' It was strange that in moment of crisis he could say it without bitterness or remorse, even knowing it was the truth. 'He can uphold the tradition. It is you I want, you I love.'

He said it so fiercely that she was obviously moved. Bolitho saw her hand rest on her breast, a pulse beating in her throat which made her outward composure a lie.

'It is madness! I know all about you, but of me you know nothing. What sort of life would you have, watching me grow older while you yearn for the ships, for the chances you threw away?' She placed her hand on his forehead. 'It is like a fever, Richard. Fight it, or it will destroy both of us!'

Bolitho turned his face away, his eyes pricking as he said, 'I could make you happy, Aurora!'

She stroked his arm, soothing his despair. 'I never doubted it. But there is more to life than that, believe me.' She backed away, her body moving in time with the ship's gentle roll. 'I told you earlier. I could love you. For the past days and nights I have watched you, touched you. My thoughts were wicked, my longing greater than I would dare admit.' She shook her head. 'Please, do not look at me like that. Perhaps, after all, the voyage took too long, and tomorrow comes too late. I no longer know anything.'

She turned, her face in shadow as she was framed against the salt-stained windows.

'I shall never forget you, Richard, and I will probably damn myself for turning your offer aside. But I am asking for your help. I cannot do it alone.'

Macmillan brought the evening meal and said, 'Beg pardon, ma'am, but the cap'n an' 'is officers send their respects, an' will you dine with them tonight? It bein' the last time, so to speak.'

Macmillan was really too old for his work, and served his captain in the same fashion as a respected family retainer. He was totally unaware of the tension, the huskiness in her voice as she replied, 'I will be honoured.'

Nor did he see the despair on the lieutenant's face as he watched her walk into the screened-off part of the cabin where her maid spent most of the day.

She paused. 'The lieutenant is stronger now. He .will manage.' She turned away, her words muffled. 'On his own.'

With Bulkley's supporting hand at his elbow, Bolitho ventured on to the quarterdeck and looked along the ship's length towards the land.

It was very hot, and the scorching noon sun made him realize just' how weak be still was. Seeing the bare-backed seamen bustling about the upper deck, others straddled along the yards as they shortened sail for the final approach, he felt lost, out of things in a way he had not known before.

Bulkley said, 'I have been to St Christopher's previously.' He pointed towards the nearest headland with its writhing line of white surf. 'Bluff Point. Beyond it lies Basseterre and the main anchorage. There will be King's ships a'plenry , I've no doubt. Some forgotten flag-officer who'll be anxious to tell our captain what to do.'

Some marines marched past, panting loudly in the red coats and heavy equipment.

Bolitho gripped the nettings and watched the land. A small island, but an important link in Britain's chain of command. At another time he would have been excited at a first visit. But now as he stared at the nodding palms, the occasional glimpse of native boats, he could only see what it represented. Here they would part. Whatever his own fate might be, here it was ended between them. He knew from the way Rhodes and the others avoided the subject that they were probably thinking he should be thankful. To have lived through that murderous attack and then be nursed by so beautiful a woman should be enough for any man. But it was not.

Dumaresq came on deck and glanced briefly at the compass and at the set of the sails.

Gulliver touched his hat. 'Nor'-nor'-east, sir. Steady as she goes.'

'Good. Prepare a salute, Mr Palliser. We shall be up to FortLondonderry within the hour.'

He saw Bolitho and held up his hand. 'Stay if you wish.' He crossed the deck to join him, his glance taking in Bolitho's eyes, dulled by pain, the horrible scar laid bare for all to see. He said, 'You will live. Be thankful.'

He beckoned the midshipman of the watch. 'Get aloft with you, Mr Lovelace, and spy out Fleet Anchorage. Count the ships, and report to me as soon as you are satisfied.' He watched the youth swarm up the ratlines and said, 'Like the rest of our young gentlemen, he has grown up on this voyage.' He glanced at Bolitho. 'That applies more to you than anyone.'

Bolitho said, 'I feel a hundred, sir.'

'I expect so.' Dumaresq grinned. 'When you get your own command you will remember the pitfalls, I hope, but I doubt if you will pity your young lieutenants any more than I do.'

The captain turned aft, and Bolitho saw his eyes light up with interest. Without looking he knew she had come on deck to see the island. How would she see it? As a temporary refuge or a prison?

Egmont seemed unchanged by his ordeal. He walked to the side and remarked, 'This place, has altered little.'

Dumaresq kept his voice matter of fact. 'Garrick will be here, you are certain?'

'As sure as anyone can be: He saw Bolitho and nodded curtly. 'I see you are recovered, Lieutenant." .

Bolitho forced a smile. 'Thank you, sir, yes. I ache, but I am in one piece.

She joined her husband and said steadily, 'We both thank you, Lieutenant. You saved 'our lives. We cannot repay that.'

Dumaresq watched each in turn, like a hunter. 'It is our purpose. But some duties are more rewarding than others.' He turned away. 'To see Garrick taken is all I ask, damn him. Too many have died because of his greed, too many widows are left by his ambitions.'

Palliser cupped his hands. Take in the forecourse.' Dumaresq's calm was slipping as he snapped, 'God damn his eyes, Mr Palliser, what is Lovelace doing up there?' Palliser peered up at the mainmast cross-trees where Midshipman Lovelace sat precariously balanced like a monkey on a stick.

Egmont forgot Bolitho and his wife as he picked upon the captain's changed mood,

'What is worrying yon?'

Dumaresq clasped and unclasped his-strong fingers across the tails of his coat.

'I am not worried, sir. Merely interested.'

Midshipman Lovelace came sliding down a backstay and landed on the deck with' a thud. He swallowed hard, visibly shrinking under their combined stares.

Dumaresq asked mildly, 'Must we wait, Mr Lovelace? Or is it something so stupendous you cannot bear to call it from the masthead?'

Lovelace stammered; 'B-but , sir, you told me to c-count the vessels yonder?' He tried again. 'There is only one man-o'-war, sir, a large frigate.'

Dumaresq took a few paces back and forth to clear his thoughts. 'One, y'say?' He looked at Palliser. The squadron must have been called elsewhere. East to Antigua to reinforce the admiral perhaps.'

Palliser said, 'There may be a senior officer here, sir. In the frigate maybe.' He kept his face immobile. Dumaresq would not take kindly to being outranked by another captain.

Bolitho did not care. He moved closer to the quarterdeck rail and saw her put her hand on it.

Dumaresq shouted, 'Where is that damned quill-pusher? Send for Spillane at once!'

To Egmont he said, 'I must discuss a few trivial matters before we anchor. Please come with me.'

Bolitho stood beside her and briefly touched her hand with his. He felt her tense, as if she shared his pain, and said quietly, 'My love. I am in hell.'

She did not turn to look at him but said, 'You promised to help me. Please, I will shame us both if you continue.' Then she did look at him, her eyes steady but just too bright as she said, 'It is all wasted if you are to be unhappy and your life spoiled because of something we both value.'

Palliser yelled, 'Mr Vallance! Stand by to fire the salute!' Men ran to their stations while the ship, indifferent to an of them, continued into the bay.

Bolitho took her arm and guided her to the companionway. 'There will be a lot of smoke and dust directly. You had best go below until we are closer inshore.' How was it possible to speak so calmly on unimportant matters? He added, 'I must talk with you again.'

But she had already gone down into the shadows.

Bolitho walked forward again and saw Stockdale watching from the starboard gangway. His gun was not required for the salute, but he was showing his usual interest.

Bolitho said, 'It seems I am at a loss when it comes to finding the right words, Stockdale. How can I thank you for what you did? If I offered you reward, I suspect you would be insulted. But words are nothing for what I feel.'

Stockdale smiled. 'You bein' 'ere for us all to see is enough. One day you'll be a captain, sir, an' grateful I'll be. You'll be needin' a good-cox'n then.' He nodded towards Johns, the captain's own coxswain, smart and aloof in his gilt-buttoned jacket and striped trousers. 'Like old Dick yonder. A man o' leisure!' It seemed to amuse him greatly, but the rest of his words were lost in the controlled crash of gun-fire.

Palliser waited for the fort by the anchorage to reply and then said, 'Mr Lovelace was right about the frigate.' He lowered the telescope and glanced grimly at Bolitho. 'But he failed to note that she is wearing Spanish colours. I doubt that the captain will be greatly amused!'

Bulkley said anxiously, 'I think you should rest. You have been on deck for hours. What are you trying to do, kill yourself?'

Bolitho watched the clustered buildings around the anchorage, the two forts, each well placed at either side like squat sentinels.

'I'm sorry. I was thinking only of myself.' He reached up. and gingerly touched the scar. Perhaps it would be completely healed; or partially covered by his hair before he saw his mother again. What with her husband returning home with one arm, and now a disfigured son, she would have more than enough to face up to.

He said, 'You did so much for me, too.'

'Too?' The surgeon's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. 'I think I understand.'

'Mr Bolitho!' Palliser appeared through the companion- way. 'Are you fit enough to go ashore?'

. 'I must protest!' Bulkley pushed forward. 'He is barely able to stand up!'

Palliser stood facing them, his hands on his hips. Ever since the anchor had been dropped and the boats put down alongside, he had been called from one crisis to another, but mostly down to the great cabin. Dumaresq was extremely angry, if the loudness of his voice was anything to go by, and Palliser was in no mood for argument.

'Let him decide, dammit!' He looked at Bolitho. 'I am short-handed, but for some reason the captain requires you to go ashore with him. Remember our first meeting? I need every officer and man working in my ship. No matter how you feel, you keep going. Until you drop, or are incapable of movement, you are still-one of my lieutenants, is that plain?'

Bolitho nodded, somehow glad of Palliser's temper. 'I'm ready.'

'Good. Then get changed.' As an afterthought he said, 'You may carry -your hat.'

Bulkley watched him stride away and exploded angrily, 'He is beyond understanding! By God, Richard, if you feel unsteady I will demand that you stay aboard! Young Stephen can take your place.'

Bolitho made to shake his head but winced as the pain stabbed back at him.

'I shall be all right. But thank you.' He walked to the companionway adding, 'I suspect there is some special reason for taking me with him.'

Bulkley nodded. 'You are getting to know our captain very well, Richard. He never acts without a purpose, never offers a guinea which will not profit him two!'

He sighed. 'But the thought of leaving his service is worse than tolerating his insults. Life would seem very dull after Dumaresq's command!'

It was almost evening by the time Dumaresq decided to go ashore. He had sent Colpoys with a letter of introduction to the governor's house, but when the marine returned he had told him that there was only the acting-governor in residence.

Dumaresq had commented sharply, 'Not another Rio, I trust?'

Now, in the captain's gig, with a hint of cooler air to make the journey bearable, Dumaresq sat as before, with both hands gripped around his' sword , his eyes fixed on the land.

Bolitho sat beside him, his determination to withstand the pain and the recurring dizziness making him break out in a sweat. He concentrated on the anchored vessels and the comings and goings of Destiny's boats as they ferried the sick and wounded ashore and returned already loaded with stores for the purser.

Dumaresq said suddenly, 'A mite to starboard, Johns.' The coxswain did not even blink but moved the tiller accordingly. From one corner of his mouth he muttered, 'You'll get a good look at 'er presently, sir.'

Dumaresq nudged Bolitho sharply with an elbow. 'He's a rascal, eh? Knows my mind better than I!'

Bolitho watched the anchored Spaniard as she towered above them. She was more like a cut-down fourth-rate than a frigate, he thought. Old, with elaborately carved and gilded gingerbread around her stern and cabin windows, but well-maintained, with an appearance of efficiency which was rare in a Spanish ship.

Dumaresq was thinking the same and murmured, 'The San Augustin. She's no local relic from La Guaira or PortoBello. Cadiz or Algeciras is my guess.'

'Will that make a difference, sir?'

Dumaresq turned on him angrily, and just as swiftly let his temper subside.

'I am bad company. After what you have suffered under my command, I can spare you civility at least.' He watched the other vessel with professional interest, as Stockdale had studied the other gun crews. 'Forty-four guns at least.' He seemed to recall Bolitho's question. 'It might. Weeks and months ago there was a secret. The Dons suspected there was evidence available as to the Asturia's lost treasure. Now it seems they have more than mere suspicions. San Augustin is here to mime Destiny's role and to prevent His Most Catholic Majesty's displeasure if we do not share our confidences.' He gave a grim smile. 'We shall see about that. I have no doubt that a dozen telescopes are watching us, so look no more. Let them worry about us.'

Dumaresq noticed that the landing-place was only fifty yards away and said" 'I brought you with me so that the governor would see your scar. It is better proof than anything else that we are working for our masters in Admiralty. Nobody here need know you gained so distinguished a wound whilst seeking water for our thirsty people!'

A small group was waiting for the boat to manoeuvre to the landing-place, some red uniforms amongst them. It was always the same. News from England. Word from the country which had sent them this far, anything which might maintain their precious contact.

Bolitho asked, 'Will the Egmont's be allowed to go, sir?' He lifted his chin, surprised at his own impudence as Dumaresq's gaze fastened on him. 'I should like to know, sir.'

Dumaresq studied him gravely for several seconds. 'It is important to you, I can see that.' He untangled the sword from between his legs in readiness for climbing ashore. Then he said bluntly, 'She is a very desirable woman. I'll not argue.' He stood up and straightened his hat with elaborate care. 'You need not gape like that. I'm neither completely blind nor insensitive, you know. If I'm anything, it's most likely envious.' He clapped him on the Shoulder. 'Now, let's deal with the acting-governor of this seat of empire, Sir Jason Fitzpatrick, and afterwards I may consider your problem!'

Grasping his hat in one hand, and supporting his sword in the other, Bolitho followed the captain out of the boat. Dumaresq's casual acceptance of his feelings for another man's wife had completely taken the wind from his sails. No wonder the surgeon could not face the prospect of a quieter and more predictable master.

A youthful captain from the garrison touched his hat and then exclaimed, 'My God, gentlemen, that is a bad wound!' Dumaresq glanced at Bolitho's discomfort and might even have winked.

'The price of duty.' He gave a solemn sigh. 'It makes itself felt in many ways.'

13 Place of Safety

Sir Jason Fitzpatrick, the acting-governor of St Christopher's, looked like a man who lived life to excess. Aged about forty, he was extremely fat, and his face, which had seemingly defied the sun over the years, was brick-red.

As Bolitho followed Dumaresq across a beautifully tiled entrance hall and into a low-ceilinged room, he saw plenty of evidence of Fitzpatrick's occupation. There were trays of bottles set around, with neat ranks of finely cut glasses close to hand, presumably ready for the acting-governor to slake his thirst with the shortest possible delay.

Fitzpatrick said, 'Be seated, gentlemen. We will taste some of my claret. It should be suitable, although in this damnable climate, who can say?'

He had a throaty voice, and incredibly small eyes which were almost hidden in the folds of his face.

Bolitho noticed the tiny eyes more than anything. They moved all the time, as if quite independent of the heavy frame which supported them. Dumaresq had told him on the way from the water-front that Fitzpatrick was a rich plantation owner, with other properties on the neighbouring island of Nevis.

'Here, master.'

Bolitho turned and felt his stomach contract. A big Negro in red jacket and loose white trousers was holding a tray towards him. Bolitho did not see the tray or the glasses upon it. In his mind's eye he could picture that other black face, hear the terrible scream of triumph as he had hacked him down with a seaman's cutlass.

He took a glass and nodded his thanks while his breathing returned to normal.

Dumaresq was saying, 'By the authority entrusted in me, I am ordered to complete this investigation without further delay, Sir Jason. I have the written statements required, and would like you to furnish me with Garrick's whereabouts.'

Fitzpatrick played with the stem of his glass, his eyes flitting rapidly round the room.

'Ah, Captain, you are in a great hurry. You see, the governor is absent. He was stricken with fever some months back and returned to England aboard an Indiaman. He may be on his way back by now. Communications are very poor, we are hard put to get our mails on time with all these wretched pirates on the rampage. Honest craft sail in fear of their lives. It is a pity their lordships of Admiralty do not put their minds to that.'

Dumaresq was unmoved. 'I had hoped that a flag-officer would be here.'

'As I explained, Captain, the governor is away, otherwise

'Otherwise there'd be no damned Spaniard anchored here, I'm certain of that!' .

Fitzpatrick forced a smile. 'We are not at war with Spain.

The San Augustin comes in peace. She is commanded by Capitan de Navio Don Carlos Quintana. A most senior and personable captain, who is also entrusted with his country's authority.' He leaned back, obviously pleased with his advantage. 'After all, what evidence do you really have? The statement of a man who died before he could be brought to justice, the sworn testimony of a renegade who is so eager to save his own skin he will say anything.'

Dumaresq tried to hide the bitterness as he answered, 'My clerk was carrying further documents of proof when he was murdered in Madeira.'

'Indeed I am genuinely sorry about that, Captain. But to cast a slur against the name of so influential a gentleman as Sir Piers Garrick without evidence would be a criminal act in itself.' He smiled complacently. 'May I suggest we await instructions from London? You may send your despatches on the next home-bound vessel, which will probably be from Barbados. You could anchor there and be ready to act when so instructed. By then, the governor may have returned, and the squadron too, so that you will have senior naval authority to uphold your actions.'

Dumaresq snapped angrily, That could take months. By then, the bird will have flown.'

'Forgive my lack of enthusiasm. As I told Don Carlos, it all happened thirty years ago, so why this sudden interest?'

'Garrick was a felon first, a traitor second. You complain about the flocks of pirates who roam the Main and the Caribbean, who sack towns and plunder the ships of rich traders, but do you ever wonder where they find their own vessels? Like the Heloise, which was new from a British yard, sent out here with a passage crew, and for what?'

Bolitho listened entranced. He had expected Fitzpatrick to leap to his feet and summon the garrison commander. To plan with Dumaresq how they would seek and detain the elusive Garrick, and then wait for further orders.

Fitzpatrick spread his red hands apologetically. 'It is not within my province to take such action, Captain. I am in a temporary capacity, and would receive no thanks for put- ting a match to the powder-keg. You must of course do as you think fit. You say you had hoped for a flag-officer to be here? No doubt to take the responsibility and decision from your shoulders?' When Dumaresq remained silent he continued calmly, 'So do not pour scorn on me for not wishing to act unsupported.'

Bolitho was astounded. The Admiralty in London, some senior officers of the fleet, even the government of King George had been involved "in getting the Destiny here. Dumaresq had worked without respite from the moment he had been told of his assignment, and must have spent many long hours in the privacy of his cabin pondering on his own interpretation of his scanty collection of clues.

And now, because there was no naval authority to back his most important decision, he would either have to kick his heels and wait for orders to arrive from elsewhere, or. take it upon himself. At the age of twenty-eight, Dumaresq was the senior naval officer in St Christopher's, and Bolitho found it impossible to see how he could proceed with a course of action which might easily destroy him.

Dumaresq said wearily, 'Tell me what you know of Garrick.'

'Virtually nothing. It is true he has shipping interests, and has taken delivery of several small vessels over the months. He is a very rich man, and I understand he intends to continue trading with the French in Martinique, with a view to extending commerce elsewhere.'

Dumaresq stood up. 'I must return to my ship.' He did not look at Bolitho. 'I would take it kindly if you, would accommodate my third lieutenant who has been wounded, and all to no good purpose, it now appears.'

Fitzpatrick lifted his bulk unsteadily. 'I'd be happy to do that.' He tried to hide his relief. Dumaresq was obviously going to take the easier course.

Dumaresq silenced Bolitho's unspoken protest. 'I'll send some servants to care for your wants.' He nodded to the acting-governor. 'I shall return when I have spoken with the San Augustin's captain.'

Outside the building, his features hidden in the gloom, Dumaresq gave vent to his true feelings. 'That bloody 'hound! He's in it up to the neck! Thinks I'll stay anchored and be a good little boy, does he? God damn his poxy face, I'll see him in hell first!'

'Must I stay here, sir?'

'For the present. I'll detail some stout hands to join you. I don't trust that Fitzpatrick. He's a local landowner, and probably as thick as thieves with every smuggler and slaver in the Caribbean. Play the innocent with me, would he? By God, I'll 'wager he knows how many new vessels have fetched up here to await Garrick's orders.'

Bolitho asked, 'Is he still a pirate, sir?'

Dumaresq grinned in the darkness. 'Worse. I believe he is directly involved with supplying arms and well-found vessels for use against us in the north.'

'America, sir?'

'Eventually, and further still if those damned renegades have their way. Do you think the French will rest until they have rekindled the fires? We kicked them out of Canada and their Caribbean possessions. Did you imagine they'd put forgiveness at the top of their list?'

Bolitho had often heard talk of the unrest in the American colony which had followed the Seven Years War. There had been several serious incidents, but the prospect of open rebellion had been regarded by even the most influential newspaper as bluster.

'All these years Garrick has been working and scheming, using his stolen booty to best advantage. He sees himself as a leader if a rebellion comes, and those in power who believe otherwise are deluding themselves. I have had plenty of time to mull over Garrick's affairs, and the cruel unfairness which made him rich and powerful and left my father an impoverished cripple.'

Bolitho watched the gig approaching through the darkness, the oars very white against the water. So Dumaresq had already decided. He should have guessed, after what he had seen and learned of the man.

Dumaresq said suddenly, 'Egmont and his wife will also be landed shortly. They are outwardly under Fitzpatrick's care, but post a guard for your own satisfaction. I want Fitzpatrick to know he is directly implicated should there be any attempt at treachery.'

'You think Egmont is still in danger, sir?'

Dumaresq waved his hand towards the small residency. 'Here is a place of safety. I'll not have Egmont on the run again with some mad scheme of his own. There are too many who might want him dead. After I have dealt with Garrick, he can do as he damn well pleases. The quicker the better.'

'I see, sir.'

Dumaresq signalled to his coxswain and then chuckled. 'I doubt that. But keep your ears open, as I believe things will begin to move very shortly.'

Bolitho watched him climb into the gig and then retraced his steps to the residency.

Did Dumaresq care what happened to Egmont and his wife? Or, like the hunter he was, did he merely see them as bait for his trap?

There were two or three small dwellings set well apart from the residency, and which were normally used for visiting officials or militia officers and their families.

Bolitho assumed that these visitors were rare, and when they came were prepared to supply their own comforts. The building allotted to him was little mere than the size of a room. The frames around the shutters were pitted with holes, made by a tireless army of insects, he thought. Palms tapped against the roof and walls, and he guessed that in any heavy rainstorm the whole place would leak like a sieve.

He sat gingerly on a large, hand-carved bed and trimmed a lantern. More insects buzzed and threw themselves at the hot glass, and he pitied the less fortunate people on the island if the governor himself could be struck down by fever.

Planks creaked outside the loosely fitting door and Stockdale peered in at him. With six other men, he had come ashore, to keep a weather-eye on things, as he put it.

He wheezed, 'All posted, sir. We'll work watch an' watch. Josh Little will take the first one.' He leaned against the door and Bolitho heard it groan in protest. 'I've put two 'ands near the other place. It's quiet enough.'

Bolitho thought of the way she had looked at him "as she and her husband had been hurried into the next dwelling by some of the governor's servants. She had appeared worried, distressed by the sudden change of events. Egmont was said to have friends in Basseterre, but instead of being released to go to them, he was still a guest. A prisoner, more likely.

Bolitho said, 'Get some sleep.' He touched the scar and grimaced. 'I feel as if it happened today.'

Stockdale grinned. 'Neat bit o' work, sir. Lucky we've a 'good sawbones!'

He strolled out of the door, and Bolitho heard him whistling softly as he found his own place to stretch out. Sailors could sleep anywhere.

Bolitho lay back, his hands behind his head, as he stared up at the shadows above the lantern's small glow.

It was all a waste. Garrick had gone from the island, or that was what he had heard. He must be better informed than Dumaresq had believed. He would be laughing now, thinking of the frigate and her unwanted Spanish consort lying baffled at anchor while he ...

Bolitho sat up with a jerk, reaching out for his pistol, as the planks outside the door squeaked again.

He watched the handle drop,' and could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as he measured the distance across the room and wondered if he could get to his feet in time to defend himself.

The door opened a few inches and he saw her small hand around its edge.

He was off the bed in seconds, and as he opened the door he heard her gasp, 'Please! Watch the light!'

For a long, confused moment they clung together, the door tightly shut behind them. There was no sound but their breathing, and Bolitho was almost afraid to speak for fear of smashing this unbelievable dream.

She said quietly, 'I had to come. It was bad enough on the ship. But to know you were in here, while ... ' She looked up at him her eyes shining. 'Do not despise me for my weakness.'

Bolitho held her tightly, feeling her soft body through the long pale gown, knowing they were already lost. If the world fell apart around them, nothing could spoil this moment.

How she had got past his sentries he could not understand, nor did he care. Then he thought of Stockdale. He should have guessed.

His hands were shaking badly as he held her shoulders and kissed her hair, her face and her throat.

She whispered, 'I will help you.' She stood back from him and allowed the gown to fall to the floor. 'Now hold me again.'

In the darkness, somewhere between the two small buildings, Stockdale propped his cutlass against a tree and sat down on the ground. He watched the 'moonlight as it touched the door he had seen open and close just an hour ago and thought about the two of them together. It was probably the lieutenant's first time, he thought comfort- ably. He could have no better teacher, that was certain.

Long before dawn the girl named Aurora slipped quietly from the bed and pulled on her gown. I'm a while more she looked at the pale figure, now sleeping deeply, while she touched her breast as he had done. Then she stooped and kissed him lightly' on the mouth. His lips tasted of salt, perhaps from her own tears. Without another glance she left the room and ran past Stockdale, seeing nothing.

Bolitho walked slowly from the doorway and stepped down on to the sun-hardened ground as if he was walking on thin glass. Although he had donned his uniform he still felt naked, could imagine their embrace, the breathtaking demands of their passion which had left him spent.

He stared at the early sunlight, at one of his guards who was watching him curiously as he leaned on a musket.

If only he had been awake when she had left him. Then they would never have parted.

Stockdale strolled to meet him. 'Nothin' to report, sir.' He eyed Bolitho's uncertainty with quiet satisfaction.

The lieutenant was different. Lost, but alive. Confused too, but in time he would feel the strength she had given him.

Bolitho nodded. 'Muster the hands.'

He went to raise his hat to his head and remembered the scar which throbbed and burned at the slightest touch. She had even made him forget about that. .

Stockdale stooped down and picked up a small piece of paper which had dropped from inside the hat. He handed it over, his face expressionless.

'Can't read meself, sir.'

Bolitho opened the paper, his eyes misty as he read her few brief words,

Dearest, I could not wait. Think of me sometimes and how it was. Beneath it she had written, the place your captain wants is FougeauxIsland. She had not signed her name, but he could almost hear her speaking aloud.

'You feelin' weak, sir?'

'No.'

He re-read the small message once again. She must have carried it with her, knowing she was going to give herself to him. Knowing too that it was ending there.

Feet grated on sand and he saw Palliser striding along the path, Midshipman Merrett trotting in his wake and hard put to keep up with the lanky lieutenant.

He saw Bolitho and snapped, 'All done:' He waited, his eyes wary.

Bolitho asked, 'Egmont and his wife, sir. What's happened?'

'Oh , didn't you know? They've just boarded a vessel in the bay. We sent their luggage across during the night. I'd have thought you would be better informed.'

Bolitho hesitated. Then very carefully he folded the paper and removed the lower half, with the island's name written on it.

Palliser examined it and said, 'It'll be the one.'

He refolded the paper and handed it to Merrett. 'Back to the ship, my lad, and present this with my respects to the captain. Lose it, and -I 'promise you a hideous death!' The youth fled down' the path and Palliser said, 'The captain was right after all.' He smiled at Bolitho's grave features. 'Come, I'll walk back with you.'

'You say they've already boarded a vessel, sir?' He could not accept it. 'Where bound?'

'I forget. Is it important?'

Bolitho fell in step beside him. She had provided the information as repayment, perhaps for saving her life, or for sharing his love with her. Dumaresq had used both of them. He felt his face sting with anger. A place of safety, he had called it. More likely one of deceit.

When: he reached the ship he found the hands turned to, the sails loosely brailed and ready to set at short notice.

As instructed, Bolitho presented himself in the cabin where Dumaresq and Gulliver were studying some charts with elaborate care.

Dumaresq told the master to wait outside and then said bluntly, 'In order to avoid my having to punish you for insubordination, let me speak first. Our mission in these waters is an important one for so small a vessel. I have always believed it, and now with that final piece of intelligence I know where Garrick has made his headquarters, his store house for arms, unlawful supplies and vessels to disperse them. It is important.'

Bolitho met his gaze. 'I should have been told, sir.' 'You enjoyed it, did you not?' His voice softened. 'I know what it's like to be in love with a dream, and that is all it could have been. You are a King's officer, and may amount to being a fair one, given time and a bit of common sense.

Bolitho looked past him towards the windows, at the moored vessels there, and wondered which, if any of them, was Aurora's.

He asked, 'Is that all, sir?'

'Yes. Take charge of your division. I intend to weigh as Soon as my quill-pusher has made copies of my despatches for the authorities and for London.' He was lost in his thoughts, the hundred and one things he must do.

Bolitho blundered from the cabin and into the wardroom. It was impossible to picture the cabin as it had been. Her clothes hung neatly to dry, the young maidservant always near in case she was needed. Perhaps Dumaresq's way was the best, but need it be so brutal and without feeling?

Rhodes and Colpoys rose to greet him, and they solemnly shook hands.

Bolitho touched the piece of paper in his pocket and felt stronger. Whatever Dumaresq and the others thought, they could never be certain, or really know how it was.

Bulkley entered the wardroom, saw Bolitho and was about to ask him how "his wound was progressing, but Rhodes gave a slight shake of his head and the surgeon called Poad for some coffee instead.

Bolitho would get over it. But it would take time.

'Anchor's aweigh, sir!'

Dumaresq walked to the rail and stared across at the Spaniard, as. with her sails booming in a lively breeze Destiny tacked round towards the .open sea.

He said, 'That will rile the Don. He's half of his people ashore gathering supplies and will not be able to follow us for hours!' He threw back his head and laughed. 'Damn you, Garrick! Make the most of your freedom!'

Bolitho watched his men setting the main-topgallant sail, calling to each other as' if they too were infected by Dumaresq's excitement. Death, prize-money, a different landfall, it was all meat to them.

Palliser shouted from the quarterdeck; 'Chase up those hands, Mr Bolitho, they have lead in their limbs today!' Bolitho turned aft, his mouth framing an angry retort.

Then he shrugged. Palliser was trying to help him in the only way he knew.

Skirting the treacherous shallows off Bluff Point, Destiny spread more sails and headed away towards the west. Later, when Bolitho took over the afternoon-watch, he examined the chart and Gulliver's carefully written calculations.

FougeauxIsland was very small, one of a scattered group some 150 miles west-north-west of St Christopher's. It had been claimed by France, Spain and England in turn, even the Dutch had been interested for a time.

Now it owed allegiance to no country, for to all intents it had no real use. It lacked timber for firewood or repairs, and according to the navigational notes it had less than its share of water. A bare, hostile place with a lagoon shaped like a reaping-hook as its one asset. It could provide shelter from storms, if little else.: But as Dumaresq had observed, what else did Garrick require?

Bolitho watched the captain as he prowled restlessly about the deck, as if he could not bear the restraint of his quarters now that his goal was so close. Adverse winds were making progress hard and frustrating, with the ship tacking back and forth for several miles to gain a few cables advance.

But the mention of lost bullion, and the prospect of some snare in it, seemed to make up for the back-breaking work of trimming the yards and resetting the sails again and again.

Suppose the island proved to be empty or the wrong one? Bolitho guessed it to be unlikely. Aurora must have known that Garrick's 'capture was the only way of preventing him from taking his revenge on her husband and herself. Also that Dumaresq had no intention of freeing them without solid information.

The next day found Destiny drifting becalmed, her sails hanging flat and devoid of movement.

Far away to starboard was the vague shape of another islet, but otherwise they had the sea to themselves. It was so hot that feet stuck to the deck seams, and the gun barrels felt as if they had been firing in battle.

Gulliver said, 'If we had taken a more northerly passage we'd have been in better luck for a wind, sir.'

'I know that, damn you.' Dumaresq turned on him hotly. 'And risk losing my keel as well, is that what you want? This is a frigate, not some damned fishing boat!'

All that day, and for half of the next, the ship rolled uneasily in the swell. A shark moved cautiously beneath her counter, and several of the hands tried their luck with hooks and lines.

Dumaresq never seemed to leave the deck, and as he passed Bolitho during his watch he saw that his shirt was black with sweat, and there was a livid blister on his forehead which he did not seem to notice.

Halfway through the afternoon-watch the wind felt its way slowly across the glittering water, but with it came a surprise.

'Ship, sir! Fine on the larboard quarter!'

Dumaresq and Palliser watched the ran-coloured pyramid grow above the horizon, the great scarlet cross clearly etched on her forecourse to dispel any doubt.

Palliser exclaimed bitterly, 'The Don, blast his soul!' Dumaresq lowered the glass, his eyes like stones. 'Fitzpatrick. He must have told them. Now they're hot for blood.' He looked past his officers. 'If Don Carlos Quintana interferes now, it will be his own blood!'

'Man the braces there!'

Destiny shivered and tilted steadily to a freshening breeze, her renewed strength tossing spray up and around her white figurehead.

Dumaresq said, 'Put the people to gun-drill, Mr Palliser.' He stared astern at the other vessel. She already seemed to be drawing much closer.

'And run up the colours, if you please. I'll have no damned Spaniard crossing my bows!'

Rhodes dropped his voice. 'He means it too, Richard. This is his moment. He'd die rather than share it!'

Some of the men near the quarterdeck glanced at each other and murmured apprehensively. Their natural contempt for any navy but their own had been somewhat blunted by the brief stay at Basseterre. The San Augustin carried at least forty-four guns against their own twenty-eight.

Dumaresq shouted, 'And get those dolts to work, Mr Palliser! This ship is getting like a sty!'

One of Bolitho's gun-captains muttered, 'I thought we was only after a pirate.'

Stockdale showed his teeth. 'An enemy's an "enemy, Tom.

When did a flag make any difference?'

Bolitho bit his lip. This was the true responsibility of command at close quarters. If Dumaresq did nothing he could be court-martialed for incompetence or cowardice. If he crossed swords with a Spanish ship he might be blamed for provoking a war.

He said, 'Stand to, lads. Cast off the breechings!'

Maybe Stockdale was right. All you had to worry about was winning.

The following. day the hands were sent to breakfast and then the decks swabbed down before the sun had crept fully over the horizon,

The breeze, though light, was steady enough, and had shifted during the night watches to south-westerly.

Dumaresq was on deck as early as anyone, and Bolitho saw the impatience in his thick-set figure as he strode about the deck glancing at the compass or consulting the master's slate by the wheel. He probably saw none of these things, and Bolitho could tell from the way that Palliser and Gulliver gave him a wide berth that they knew the measure of his moods of old.

With Rhodes, Bolitho watched the boatswain detailing his working parties as usual. The fact that a larger man-of-war than their own was trailing astern, and that the little known FougeauxIsland lay somewhere beyond the lee bow made no difference to Mr Timbrell's routine.

Palliser's brusque tones made Bolitho start. 'Rig top-chains before all else, Mr Timbrell.'

Some of the seamen looked up at the yards. Palliser did not explain further, nor did he need to for the older hands. The chains would be rigged to sling each yard, as the cordage which normally held them might be shot away in any sort of battle. Then the nets would be spread across the upper deck. The slings and the nets were the only protection to the men below from- falling spars and rigging.

Perhaps it was the same aboard the Spaniard, Bolitho thought. Although he had seen little evidence so far. In fact, now that she had caught up, the San Augustin seemed content to follow and watch events.

Rhodes turned abruptly and headed for his own part of the ship, hissing quickly, 'Lord and master!'

Bolitho swung round and came face to face with the captain. It was unusual to see him away from the quarterdeck or poop, and the seamen' working around him seemed to press back as if they too were awed by his presence.

Bolitho touched his hat and waited.

Dumaresq's eyes examined his face slowly, without expression.

Then he said, 'Come with me. Bring a glass.' Tossing his hat to his coxswain, he added, 'A climb will clear the head.' Bolitho stared as Dumaresq began to haul himself out and on to the shrouds, his broad figure hanging awkwardly as he peered up at the spiralling masthead.

Bolitho hated heights. Of all the things which had encouraged him to work for advancement to lieutenant, he thought it was probably that. No longer needed to swarm aloft with the hands, no ice-cold terror as the wind tried to cut away your grip on frozen ratlines, or throw you out and into the sea far below.

Perhaps Dumaresq was goading him, provoking him, i only to relieve his own tension.

'Come along, Mr Bolitho! You are in stays today!' Bolitho followed him up the vibrating shrouds, foot by foot, hand over hand. He told himself not to look down even though he could picture Destiny's pale deck tilting away beneath him as the ship drove her shoulder into a steep roller.

Disdaining the .lubber's hole, Dumaresq clawed his way out on the futtock shrouds so that his misshapen body was hanging almost Parallel to the sea below, Then up past the main-top, ignoring some startled marines who were exercising with a swivel gun, and towards the topgallant yard.

Dumaresq's confidence gave Bolitho the will to climb faster than he could recall.. What did Dumaresq know about love, or whether he and Aurora could have overcome all the obstacles together?

He barely noticed the height and was already peering up towards the main-royal yard when Dumaresq paused, one foot dangling' in space as he observed, 'You can get the feel: of her from here.'

Bolitho clung on with both hands and stared up at him, his eyes watering in the fierce sunlight. Dumaresq spoke with such, conviction, and yet with a warmth which was almost akin to love itself.

'Feel her?' Dumaresq seized a stay and tugged it with his fist. 'Taut and firm, equal strain on all parts. As she should be. As any good vessel ought to be, properly cared for!' He looked at Bolitho's upturned face. 'Head all right?'

Bolitho. nodded. In his mixture of resentment and anger he had forgotten about his wound.

'Good. Come on then.'

They reached the cross-trees where a lookout slithered down to make room for his betters.

'Ah.' Dumaresq unslung a telescope, and after wiping the lens with his neckcloth trained it across the starboard bow.

Bolitho followed his example, and then felt a touch of ice at his spine, despite the sun and the wind which hissed through the rigging like sand.

It was like nothing he had ever seen. The island seemed to be made enr1rely of coral or rock, 'obscenely stripped bare like something which was no longer alive. In the centre was a ridge, rather like a hill with the top sliced off. But misty in distance, it could have been a giant fortress, and the low island there merely to support it.

He tried to compare it with the sparse details on the chart, and guessed from the bearing that the sheltered lagoon was directly beneath the hill.

Dumaresq said hoarsely, 'They're there right enough!' Bolitho tried again. The place appeared deserted, stamped in time by some terrible natural disaster.

Then he saw something darker than the rest before it was lost in the heat-haze. A mast, or several masts, while the vessels lay hidden by the protective wall of coral.

He looked quickly at Dumaresq and wondered how differently he saw it.

'Little pieces of a puzzle.' Dumaresq did not raise his voice above the murmur of rigging and canvas. 'There are Garrick's ships, his little armada. No line of battle, Mr Bolitho, no flagship with the admiral's proud flag to inspire you, but just as deadly.'