Short Respite

 

Bolitho’s estimate for a landfall at the largest island of the Levu Group was closer than he had imagined, the total passage from Sydney having taken only twenty-six days. The first few hours at anchor in the mushroom-shaped bay were busy for everyone aboard the Tempest, for quite apart from the importance of selecting a safe anchorage with room to swing and little chance of dragging in a sudden gale, the company were further hindered by a growing collection of native craft from this and surrounding islands.

They were different from other islanders which Tempest had encountered. Their skins were paler, their noses less flat, and their bodies for the most part devoid of violent tattoos and tribal scars. The girls who crowded the canoes, or swam happily around the frigate’s stem as she glided to her anchorage, caused plenty of comment amongst the seamen, and were obviously well aware of the interest they were arousing.

As Scollay, the master-at-arms, remarked sourly, ‘There’ll be trouble with that lot, you see!’ But he was quick to wave and grin with the best of them.

Herrick came aft as soon as the anchor was down and reported to Bolitho on the quarterdeck.

Bolitho moved his glass past the anchored Eurotas and trained it slowly along the shoreline and creamy-white beach. Low surf, lush green trees which held the shade to the water’s edge, and bright blue water. Beyond, partly hidden by haze or low cloud, the island’s tallest point shone like polished slate, towering above the other hills and forest like a perfect pyramid. It was like some part of paradise.

This, and probably nothing more, could have caused the

Bounty’s company to mutiny. How different from the slums and seaports from which so many sailors were drawn. Warmth, friendly and hospitable natives, abundant food. It was a margin between hell and heaven.

He steadied the glass on the settlement. Here, the paradise was less evident.

Herrick was also looking at the stout wooden palisades and blockhouses, the larger building beyond the outer perimeter with the flag above it. There were places like this all over the Pacific, the East and West Indies, and as far north as China, some said.

‘Well sited.’ It was all Herrick could find to describe his feelings. He was probably thinking, like Bolitho, of Viola left with her maid and no friends-in this remote outpost of trade and empire.

There was a small schooner moored to a frail-looking pier and several longboats tied up nearby. She would be used for visiting the other islands, no doubt. Against her, Eurotas and Tempest would appear like giants.

Keen strode aft, looking worried. He touched his hat. ‘What do I do about the natives, sir? They want to come aboard. They’ll overrun us!’

Herrick glanced at Bolitho for confirmation and said unfeelingly, ‘Let ‘em come in manageable groups, Mr Keen. Keep them from sneaking below, and watch out for local drink being smuggled inboard.’ He grinned then at Keen’s confusion. ‘And a weather-eye for some of our own Jacks, too. Remember, they’ve not seen girls like these for a long time!’

The first natives came eagerly, and within minutes the deck was strewn with gaily coloured garments, piles of fruit and coconuts, and to Keen’s astonishment, a young, squealing pig.

It was like watching children, Bolitho thought, as some of his seamen struggled to break the language barrier, and the giggling girls with their long black hair and barely concealed bodies pointed at their knives or their tattoos, touching each other and shrieking with uninhibited laughter.

Lakey said glumly, ‘How long before they ruin this place too, I wonder?’ But nobody took any notice.

It was not so easy to get the visitors to leave and make way

for the next group, and some of the seamen aided Keen in his efforts by picking up the girls and dropping them overboard, where they dived and surfaced like Neptune’s handmaidens.

Bolitho.said at length, ‘I will have to go ashore, Thomas. Set a good anchor watch and put out a guard boat. It all looks peaceful. But…’

Herrick nodded. ‘Aye, sir, but always seems to mar things.’

He followed him down the companion and aft to the cabin where Noddall and Allday were peering through the stern windows and waving to some hidden swimmers below the transom.

Bolitho added, ‘Mr Bynoe will be going ashore to obtain fruit and other fresh supplies, I have no doubt.’

Herrick understood. I’ll have the purser guarded too, don’t you fret, sir.’ Inwardly he was wondering how it was Bolitho never seemed to forget anything. Even when his heart was elsewhere.

‘And Mr Toby. I’m fairly certain the carpenter will be off as soon as he can to seek useful timber for his store.’

Herrick said quietly, I’ll remember, sir.’ He waited for Bolitho to look at him. ‘You go ashore and do what you must. I’ll have a safe ship for your return.’ He hesitated, hoping he had not used his friendship to go too far. ‘And I mean that both ways, sir.’

Bolitho picked up his hat and replied simply, ‘I never doubted it, Thomas.’ Then more sharply, ‘Allday, if you can drag yourself away from the contemplation and selection of your lust, I’d be obliged to be taken ashore!’

Allday sprang towards the screen door, his face under control.

‘Never faster, Captain!’

Left alone with Herrick, Bolitho added quietly, “The Narval.’ ‘Aye, sir.’

Herrick waited, knowing the Frenchman had been on Bolitho’s mind. They had sighted her several times, just a tiny sliver below the horizon. Following. Waiting like the hunter.

Bolitho said, ‘He’ll not anchor here. But as soon as I am sure what we are required to do I would like to discover his whereabouts.’

Herrick shrugged. ‘Some would say it was a sort of justice if this de Barras got his grappling Irons into Tuke before we did, sir. I think we’re too soft with bloody pirates of his kind.’

Bolitho looked at him gravely. Hanging would certainly be too soft in de Barras’s book.

‘Have you considered the reverse side of the coin, Thomas?’ The grey eyes watched Herrick’s uncertain frown. ‘That Tuke may have the same plan in mind for the Narval?’ He walked towards the square of bright sunlight below the companion, adding, ‘He nearly took Eurotas into his brotherhood, and he certainly captured enough heavy guns to make him a power to reckon with.’

Herrick hurried after him, his mind hanging on to Bolitho’s words. Mutiny in a King’s ship was bad enough, but to contemplate that a mere pirate could attack and seize a man-of-war was impossible to accept.

He said grudgingly, ‘Of course, Narval; a Frenchie.’

Bolitho smiled at him. ‘And that makes a difference to your conscience?’

‘Aye.’ Herrick grinned awkwardly. ‘Some.’

There was even more fruit on the gundeck now, and the shrouds and gangways were festooned with plaited mats, strange-looking garments and long, delicate streamers daubed in bright colours.

Herrick said, ‘What would the admiral say to all this?’

Bolitho walked to the entry port, noticing the instant attention and interest his appearance was causing. Several girls crowded around him, trying to hang garlands over his neck, while others touched his gold-laced coat and beamed with pleasure.

One old man kept bobbing his head and repeating ‘Cap-i-tain Cook’ like a sailor’s parrot.

It was probable that Cook had once visited the islands, or maybe the old man had carried the story of his ships and his sailors with their pigtails and oaths, rough humour and rum, from another part of this great ocean entirely.

Bolitho heard Allday call to his gig’s crew, “There’ll be a few little maids here who’d suit me, lads, an’ that’s no error!’

Bolitho lowered himself into the boat, while the calls shrilled and brought more cheers and laughter from the onlookers..

It was like it all the way to the little pier, with girls and young men swimming on either beam, touching the oars, and turning Allday’s stroke into confusion. Even his threats made no difference, and Bolitho was glad for his sake when they were safely ashore.

He paused with the sun beating down on him, tasting the different aromas, of thick undergrowth and palms, of wood-smoke and drying fish.

Allday said, It looks a bit rough, Captain.’ He was looking at the wooden wall around the main settlement.

‘Yes.’

Bolitho straightened his sword and started to walk along the pier towards a group of uniformed militia who were obviously waiting to escort him. Close to, their red uniforms with yellow facings were shabby and badly patched. The men were well browned by the sun and, he thought, as hard as nails. Like the Corps in New South Wales, they were adventurers. Of a sort.’ Unwilling to risk the discipline and regulated life in the army or aboard ship, but without the training or intelligence to stand completely on their own.

One, with shaggy hair protruding beneath his battered shako, brought up his sabre in a salute which would have made Sergeant Quare faint.

‘Welcome, Captain.’ He showed his teeth, which only made him appear more wild. ‘I’m to take you to see the resident, Mr Hardacre. We’ve been watching your ships coming in all day. A fair sight they made too, I can tell you, sir.’ He fell in step beside Bolitho, while the rest of his party slouched along behind.

On the short walk to the settlement Bolitho discovered that Hardacre had built the place with very little help from anyone, and had somehow managed to win the respect of most of the islanders for several miles around. It was unlikely he would take very kindly to Raymond, Bolitho thought.

The militia had been collected mostly in Sydney, and their numbers had dwindled over the past two years to a mere thirty men and two officers. The rest had either deserted, leaving the islands by native craft or the occasional trading schooner, or had gone to make their lives with one of the local tribes, enjoying an existence of women, plentiful food and no work at all. And a few had disappeared without any trace.

The talkative lieutenant, whose name was Finney, confided, ‘I came to make my fortune.’ He grinned. ‘But no sign of it yet, I’m thinking.’

Below the gates of the settlement, protected by little blockhouses above and on either side of them, Bolitho paused and looked back at his ship. Herrick had been right about it. It was well sited, and a handful of men with muskets, even these ruffians, could hold off twenty times their number. He frowned. Provided they were armed with nothing heavier.

Inside the gates Bolitho stopped and stared up at a crude gibbet. The halter was still attached but had been cleanly cut with a knife.

Finney sucked his teeth and said, ‘T’was a mite awkward, Captain. We’d no idea that a real lady’d be coming to a place like this. We had no warning, y’see.’ He sounded genuinely apologetic. ‘We cut him down sharply, but she saw the poor devil all the same.’

Bolitho quickened his pace, filled with hatred against Raymond.

‘What had he done?’

‘Mr Hardacre said he’d been after the daughter of a chief on t’other side of the island. He forbids any of the men from going there, an’ says the chief is the most important friend we have among the tribes.’

They reached the deep shade of the main door.

‘And he had the man hanged for it?’

Finney sounded subdued. ‘You don’t understand, Captain. Mr Hardacre is like a king out here.’

Bolitho nodded. ‘I see.’ It was getting worse instead of better. “Then I am looking forward to meeting him!’

 

John Hardacre made an impressive sight. Well above average height, he was built like a human fortress, broad and deep-chested, with a resonant voice to match. But if that was not enough to awe his visitors, his general appearance was of a self-made long, as his lieutenant had described. He had bushy hair and a great, spade-shaped beard, both once dark, but now the colour of wood ash. Somewhere in between, his eyes stared put beneath jet-black brows like two bright lamps.

He wore a white, loosely folded robe which left his powerful legs bare, and his large feet were covered only in sandals, and held well apart as if to sustain the weight and strength of the man above.

He nodded to Bolitho and studied him thoughtfully. ‘Frigate captain, eh ? Well, well. So His Majesty’s Government appears to think we may need protection at last.’ He chuckled, the sound rising like an underground stream. ‘You will take refreshment with us here.’ It was not a suggestion but an order.

Raymond, who was standing beside an open window and mopping his face with a sodden handkerchief, complained, It’s hotter than I thought possible.’

Hardacre grinned, displaying, disappointingly, Bolitho thought, a set of broken and stained teeth.

‘You get too soft in England! Out here it is a man’s country. Ripe for the taking, like a good woman, eh?’ He laughed at Raymond’s prim stare. ‘You’ll see!’

Two native girls padded softly across the rush mats and arranged glasses and jugs on a stout table.

Bolitho watched Hardacre ladling colourless liquid into the glasses. It was probably like fire-water, he thought, although Hardacre seemed willing enough to drink it, too.

‘Well, gentlemen, welcome to the Levu Islands.’

Bolitho gripped the arm of his chair and tried to stop his eyes from watering.

Hardacre’s ladle swept over him and refilled his glass. ‘Damn good, eh?’

Bolitho waited for his throat to respond. ‘Strong.’

Raymond put down his glass. ‘My instructions are to take overall control of these and other surrounding islands not yet under common claim by another nation.’ He was speaking quickly as if afraid Hardacre might fly into a rage. ‘I have full instructions for you also. From London.’

‘From London.’ Hardacre watched him, swilling the drink around his glass. ‘And what does London think you can do which I cannot, pray?’

Raymond hesitated. ‘Various aspects are unsatisfactory, and, besides, you do not have the forces at your disposal to support the King’s peace.’

‘Rubbish!’ Hardacre turned towards a window. ‘I could raise an army if I so wanted. Every man a warrior. Each one ready to obey me?’

Bolitho watched him, seeing his anxiety which he was trying to hide, and his obvious pride in what he had achieved on his own.

Hardacre swung towards him violently. ‘Bolitho! Of course, I recall it now. Your brother. During the war.’ He sighed. “That war made many a difference to a lot of folk, and that’s true enough.’

Bolitho said nothing, watching Hardacre’s eyes remembering, knowing that Raymond was listening, hoping for his discomfort.

The great bearded figure turned back to the window. ‘Yes, I was a farmer then. Lost everything because I was a King’s man when we had to take sides. So I pulled up my roots and set to work out here.’ He added bitterly, ‘Now it seems it is the King who wishes to rob me this time!’

‘Nonsense.’ Raymond swallowed his drink and gasped. It will not be like that. You may still be needed. I must first - ‘

Hardacre interrupted, ‘You’ll first listen to me.’ He flung aside the plaited screen and pointed at the dark green trees. ‘I need trained men to help me, or those I can instruct before I get too old. I don’t want officials like those in Sydney or London, nor, with all respect, Captain, do I need uniforms and naval discipline.’

Bolitho said calmly, ‘Your discipline appears somewhat harsher than ours.’

‘Oh that.’ Hardacre shrugged. ‘Justice has to be matched against the surroundings. It is the way of things here.’

‘Your way.’ Bolitho kept his voice level.

Hardacre looked at him steadily and then smiled. ‘Yes. If you’ll have it so.’

He continued gruffly, ‘You’ve seen what can happen in the islands, Captain. The people are simple, untouched, laid open for every pox and disease which a ship can drop amongst them. If they are to prosper and survive they must protect themselves and not rely on others.’

Impossible.’ Raymond was getting angry. ‘The Eurotas was captured, and retaken by the Tempest. Every day we’re hearing worse news about marauding pirates and murderers, and even the French are disturbed enough to have sent a frigate.’

‘The Narval’ Hardacre shrugged. ‘Oh yes, Mister Raymond, I have my ways of learning news, too.’

‘Indeed. Well, you’ll not seek out and destroy these pirates with a trading schooner and a handful of painted savages!’ Raymond glared at him hotly. ‘I intend to make it my first task. After that, we will talk about trade. My men will begin landing convicts tomorrow, and clear more land near the settlement where huts can be built for them.’ He sounded triumphant. ‘So perhaps you can begin with that, Mr Hardacre?’

Hardacre eyed him flatly. ‘Very well. But your wife, I trust you’ll not detain her here longer than necessary?’

‘Your concern moves me.’

Hardacre said quietly, ‘Please do not use sarcasm on me. And let me tell you that white women, especially those of gentle birth, are no match for our islands.’

‘Don’t your people have wives?’

Hardacre looked away. ‘Local girls.’

Raymond looked at the two who were standing near the table. Very young, very demure. Bolitho could almost see his mind working.

Hardacre said bluntly, ‘Two girls of good family. Their father is a chief. A fine man.’

‘Hmm.’ Raymond pulled out his watch, the sweat running off his face like rain. ‘Have someone show me my quarters. I must have time to think.’

Later, when Bolitho was alone with him, Hardacre said, ‘Your Mr Raymond is a fool. He knows nothing of this place. Nor will he want to learn.’

Bolitho said, ‘What of the French frigate? Where did you see her?’

‘So you had it in your mind to ask, eh? Like a teazel in the brain.’ Hardacre smiled. Traders bring me information. Barter and mutual trust is our best protection. Oh yes, I have heard about Narval and her mad captain, just as I know about the pirate, Mathias Tuke. He is often lying off these islands with his cursed schooners. So far he has thought twice about trying to plunder the settlement, damn his eyes!’ He looked at Bolitho. ‘But your frigate will be outwitted, my friend. You need small craft and strong legs, and guides who can take you to this man’s hiding places, and he has several.’

‘Could you discover them for me?’

1 think not, Captain. We have survived this far without open war.’

Bolitho thought of the. Eurotas, the superb planning which had gone into her capture. That and the ruthless cruelty to back it would be more than a match for Lieutenant Finney’s militia.

Hardacre seemed to read his mind. ‘I brought stability to the islands. Before I came the chiefs had fought each other for generations. Stolen women, taken heads, adopted barbarous customs which even now make me breathe a little faster to think of them. You are a sailor. You know these things. But I made them look to me, forced them to trust me, and from that small beginning I founded the first peace they had enjoyed. Ever. So if someone breaks it, he or they must be punished. Instantly. Finally. It is the only way. And if I began to use their trust to cause havoc amongst them, by allowing you or the Frenchman’s cannon to smash down their primitive world, these islands would revert to blood and hate.’

Bolitho thought of the laughing, supple girls, the sense of freedom and simplicity. Like the shadow of a reef, it was hiding what lay just below the surface.

Hardacre remarked absently, ‘You know of course that Narval’s captain is more concerned with recapturing a prisoner of France than he is in killing Tuke.’ He nodded. ‘I see from your face you had already thought as much. You should grow a beard, Captain, to hide your feelings!’

‘What you were saying earlier about white women.’

Hardacre chuckled. ‘That too you could not hide. The lady means something to you, eh?’ He held up his hand. ‘Say nothing. I have severed myself from such problems. But if you want her to continue in health, I suggest you send her back to England’ He smiled. ‘Where she belongs.’

“There was a commotion of voices and hurrying feet in the yard below the window, and moments later Herrick, with Lieutenant Finney panting in his wake, strode into the room.

Herrick said, “The guard boat found a small outrigger canoe, sir.’ He ignored Hardacre and his officer. ‘There was a young native aboard. Bleeding badly. The surgeon says he is lucky to be alive.’ He glanced at Hardacre for the first time. It would appear, sir, that North Island in this group was attacked by Tuke and two schooners, and is now in their hands. This young lad managed to escape because he knew of the canoe. Tuke burned all the other boats when he attacked.’

Hardacre clasped his big hands together as if in prayer. ‘God, their boats are their living!’ He turned to Herrick. ‘And you are?’

Herrick regarded him coldly. ‘First lieutenant, His Britannic

Majesty’s Ship Tempest.’ Bolitho said quietly, ‘So it seems you do need us after all’ ‘North Island is the hardest to defend, its chief the least willing to learn from past mistakes.’ Hardacre was thinking aloud. ‘But I know how to seek him out.’ He looked at Finney.

‘Muster the men, and take them to the schooner. I will leave

immediately’

Bolitho said gently, ‘No, you will stay here. ‘I will take the schooner in company with my command, and with your permission some of your men and a few reliable guides’ He added, ‘You will serve your islanders the better if you stay here’ He saw his words sink in.

Hardacre nodded his massive head. ‘Raymond, you mean. He frowned. ‘No matter. I understand, even if you cannot say it.’

Bolitho said to Herrick, ‘Recall the shore parties, Thomas. News travels fast in ‘the islands apparently. We must travel faster. The wind is still with us, so we shall clear the anchorage and reefs before dusk.’

Herrick nodded, absorbed in the only world he understood and respected. ‘Aye, sir, Lady Luck permitting’

He hurried away, and Bolitho heard him shouting for his boat’s crew.

‘A resourceful lieutenant, Captain.’ Hardacre watched him grimly. ‘I could use him here.’

‘Use Thomas Herrick?’ Bolitho picked up his sword. I’ve not seen any man, including his captain, do that as yet!’

He strode from the room, leaving the bearded giant and the two silent girls to their thoughts.

Then he stopped dead as he heard her voice. ‘Richard’’

He turned, holding her against him as she ran down the narrow wooden stairs. She felt hot and shaking through her gown, and her eyes were desperate as she asked, ‘Are you leaving? When will you return?’

He held her tenderly, putting aside the mounting demands and questions which only he could answer.

‘There has been an attack. Tuke.’ He felt her shoulders go rigid. ‘I may be able to run him to ground.’ In the courtyard he heard Finney bawling orders, the clatter of boots and muskets. “The sooner I can do it, the quicker you will be free of this place.’

She studied him, stroking his face with her hand as if trying to mould it in her memory.

‘Just be careful, Richard. All the time. For me. For us.’

He guided her back into the shade and walked into the harsh glare again.

Raymond was already in the courtyard, he must have run from his room to find what was happening for himself.

He snapped, ‘You were going to tell me, Captain?’

Bolitho looked at him gravely. ‘Yes.’

He touched his hat, the movement needing all his self-control. ‘Now, sir, if I may go to my ship?’ He turned away, seeing the brief twist of her gown on a stairway above the yard as she watched him leave.

Allday already had the gig prepared, the crew ready.

Bolitho sat in the boat and tried to think clearly as the oars churned the water alive. Tuke, de Barras, Raymond, they all seemed to revolve and blend into one enemy. A last barrier between him and Viola.

Borlase met him at the entry port.

‘I have reported back to duty, sir.’

‘So I see.’

Bolitho looked past him at the mingled brown figures of the islanders, the familiar ones of his own seamen and marines.

‘Clear the ship, Mr Borlase. Then let me know when the schooner is ready to make sail.’ He saw the confusion in his eyes. ‘Come along I Let us not be all day!’

Herrick came hurrying towards him. ‘I am sorry I was not here to greet you, sir. You must have the wind under your

Bdlitho nodded vaguely. ‘I’ll want you to take command of the schooner, Thomas. Use the native crew and Hardacre’s militia. But take Prideaux and twenty marines.’ He clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Action, Thomas. What a way to begin the New Year, eh?’

Herrick stared at him as if he had gone mad. Then he nodded. ‘Of course, sir. Tomorrow is the first day of seventeen hundred and ninety. I have been checking the log on each and every day and had forgotten all about it.’ He strode towards the quarterdeck ladder calling for the boatswain.

Aft by the taffrail Bolitho paused to collect his thoughts into some semblance of order. Another year. He had hoped it might be different. The beautiful surroundings and quiet shore made it harder still to accept that she was here also, and denied him. He sighed deeply. And tomorrow, because circumstances insisted, they might be fighting for their lives yet again.

He watched the boats pulling from different angles towards the ship. The carpenter’s crew and the purser, the guard boat and the surgeon, who had probably been ashore to examine the local vegetation.

Some of his men had been thinking more of other distractions, and almost everyone had expected at least a few days and nights at anchor.

He shaded his eyes to look up at the masthead pendant. Still whipping out strongly enough.

He started to walk towards the companionway. As captain of a man-of-war you must earn respect. But to obtain and hold popularity was somewhat harder.

Bolitho paced deliberately up and down the weather side of the quarterdeck, his mind going over the sketchy plans while his eye wandered towards the nearest islands as they moved slowly abeam. Their hills and crags were painted like dull copper by a magnificent sunset.

Ahead, just off the lee bow, was Hardacre’s little schooner, and beyond her a deeper curtain of shadow to mark the closeness of night.

On the opposite side of the deck his officers chatted quietly and watched the view as they discussed their ideas of what would happen.

It was strange not to see Herrick moving about the deck, or hear his familiar voice. In some ways his absence was a blessing, and allowed Bolitho to stay remote, more able to contain his thoughts.

He heard Lakey murmuring with his two mates, and guessed he was repeating his earlier doubts and anxieties for their benefit. Hereabouts, the straggling islands and humps of the Levu Group were less well charted, some barely at all. Depths and distances were vague and probably pure guesswork.

But the schooner’s crew knew them well enough, and Herrick would be sure to impress upon them the need for absolute caution when comparing their own draught with that of the frigate. North Island was very small, high-crested, and with a deep inlet to the north-west like something carved by a great axe. The population lived in one village, and as Hardacre had said, drew a regular harvest from the sea. Maybe Tuke had gone there to set up a new base, or to gather stores and water for his ships. So he did have at least two schooners. Viola had been right about that also.

He found himself thinking about Raymond again, wondering what his hopes really were. He would probably stay in the islands until more help arrived. The usual caravan of secretariat and overseers which always followed. Most of his original staff had either been murdered by Tuke’s men or had stayed in Sydney to recover from wounds, and to put affairs in order for friends and relatives who had also been killed or captured.

Raymond had been lucky, or was it that Tuke was cleverer than everyone gave him credit for? To single out Raymond as a. hostage, to know he was aboard even before the attack, showed a far superior mind to the usual kind of pirate.

Borlase crossed the deck. ‘Permission to shorten sail, sir? It is close on time to change the watch.’ He waited, uncertain of Bolitho’s mood. ‘You did order it, sir.’

‘Yes.’ Bolitho nodded. ‘Call the hands.’

There was no sense in driving the ship through the islands in pitch darkness. He thought he heard Lakey breathe out with relief as the boatswain’s mates piped the watch on deck to reduce sail.

The attack would have to be quick and efficiently executed. He moved aft to avoid the hurrying marines and seamen. Tempest would cross and if need be enter the inlet while the schooner’s party landed and attacked the village from the rear. Tuke must feel safe enough. He would not expect one youth to have escaped, to have had the courage to take a canoe all on his own and carry the news to the main island.

High above the deck he heard the seamen calling to one another as they hung over the yards and fisted the canvas into submission.

Two of their number had not returned to the ship with the other shore parties. Bolitho had ordered Borlase not to mark them in the log as ‘Run’, for desertion carried only one penalty. He had heard that Hardacre’s village were planning to hold a beiva to welcome the ships and their companies amongst them, with feasting and dancing, and doubtless some of that drink which had cut his breath, like fire.

Out of a whole company, two desertions were not so bad under the tempting circumstances. If the men returned freely, he would think again. If not, they would most likely end up as unwilling ‘volunteers’ in Hardacre’s militia when the frigate had departed for good.

He thought about Hardacre, and could find nothing but a grudging admiration. His motives were obscured behind his power, but his feelings for the natives and the islands were sincere enough. But he would lose against Raymond. Idealists always did with men like him.

He moved to the wheel and examined the compass. North by west. He nodded to the helmsman.

‘Steady as you go.’

‘Aye, zur.’ The man’s eyes glowed dully in the last of the $unset.

Bolitho heard Borlase rapping out orders in his shrill voice. As acting first lieutenant he would let nothing slip past him. After his last experience and the subsequent court martial, he dare not.

He would take a few hours’ sleep if he could. Another glance at his command, feeling the gentle thrust of wind and rudder, listening to the familiar sounds of rigging and canvas. They were so much a part of his everyday life that he had to listen to hear them.

Allday was in the cabin, watching Noddall filling a jug with fresh drinking water and placing it beside two biscuits.

Bolitho thanked him and allowed his coxswain to take away his coat and hat, the trappings of command. He looked at the offering on the table. Water and biscuits. Much what the prisoners eat in the Fleet Prison, he thought.

Allday asked, ‘Shall I get the cot ready, Captain?’

‘No. I’ll rest here.’

Bolitho laid down on the stem bench and thrust his hands behind his head. Through the thick glass he could see the first stars, distorted in the stout windows, so that they looked like tiny spears.

He thought of Viola, pictured her lying in her strange bed, listening to the growls and squeaks from the forest. Her maid would be with her, protecting her new mistress in her quiet, stricken manner.

His head lolled and he was instantly asleep.

Allday pulled off his shoes and removed the deckhead lantern.

‘Sleep well, Captain.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘You worry enough for the lot of us!’

 

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