Alexander Kent - THE INSHORE SQUADRON

He wondered what Allday was doing. He should have arrived in Portsmouth with the borrowed carriage by now. He recalled his stricken, pleading face and knew he needed him here, if only to reassure him, to prove he was still alive.

Herrick entered the cabin and regarded Bolitho's nakedness without expression.

'I'd like to move' out to Spithead tomorrow, sir, as soon as we've completed provisioning. The wind's fair, and I'd not wish to wait in harbour.'

'Inform the port admiral, Thomas. I'll not be sorry to return to the squadron. There's nothing for me here.' He relented instantly and said, 'Forgive me, I was thinking only of myself.' He shrugged. 'Again.'

Herrick smiled. 'I understand. I have never known such happiness as that shared with Dulcie… But I'll not save it by staying here. This is a new year, perhaps with peace as part of its promise. To all accounts, the enemy is massing along the Channel ports again, but at least your action against Ropars and the Ajax delayed, if not prevented, a full scale attack from the Baltic. Even those ungrateful dolts at the Admiralty must see that.'

Bolitho sipped his coffee and marvelled how their friendship had endured everything.

'It will be blockade and patrol for us, Thomas. At least until the ice melts in the Baltic and Tsar Paul decides which way he will jump.'

Bolitho crossed to the quarter gallery, his clothes forgotten as he heard someone hailing a boat from the poop.

It was one of Benbow's cutters. It contained a few anonymous sacks, same small casks, two frightened looking men who had probably been handed over by the local magistrate rather than deport or hang them, and in the sternsheets, Allday.

Bolitho sighed. With the memory of the overturned coach still fixed in his thoughts he had been worried about Allday's safety.

There was no sign of Browne in the boat, however. He had been in the dockyard all morning to pester the admiral's staff about possible orders from London.

Herrick joined him by the windows and said, 'Allday knows already. He's grinning all over his face.' He added more seriously, 'I hope there are no more threats against you, sir.'

'There will be, Thomas. But against me, not Adam.' His hand shook. 'When I think what would have happened but for your prompt actions, Thomas, I feel mad with anger. Never mind that killer, Roche, I'd have called out Damerum himself, God help me!'

Feet pounded along the passageway, and after a hasty knock Allday strode into the cabin, his face reddened by wind and spray.

'You are safe, sir! I knew you had a trick to play!'

`You are a liar, Allday, but thank you.' Impetuously he thrust out his hand. `Very much.'

Herrick smiled, the anxiety slipping from his face. 'Did you hand over the carriage in one piece? Mr Browne's friend will have words to utter if you've wrecked it.'

There was a shout from the marine sentry. 'Midshipman of the watch, sir!'

Midshipman Lyb entered the cabin and said, 'First lieutenant's respects, sir, and may he hoist all but the duty boats inboard?' He was careful to keep his eyes averted from Bolitho's nakedness.

Bolitho recalled his own time as captain. Two years ago, and yet he could remember well the internal dramas of his various ships. Like poor Lyb, for instance. Equal in seniority and just slightly older than Midshipman Aggett, but the latter had been promoted to replace the dead Lieutenant Courtenay. It was just a fragment, a mere speck when set against the great strategy of a fleet at war. And yet Lyb's downcast expression revealed so much.

Herrick said doubtfully, 'It's a mite early, Mr Lyb. I'd better come up and see what Mr Wolfe intends.' He picked up his hat and said, 'I'll leave you in this ruffian's hands, sir.'

The door closed and Allday said, 'I'm afraid Mr Lyb may have got that message wrong.'

Bolitho took a clean shirt from Ozzard and slipped it over his head.

'Why is that?'

'I, that is,' Allday looked momentarily off balance,- I wanted to speak with you alone.' He glared at Ozzard, who seemed to shrink in size before he left the cabin.

Bolitho exclaimed, 'You did wreck the carriage?'

'No, sir.' Allday fiddled with his gilt buttons. 'Fact is, after you'd ridden from the house with Mr Browne the lady came.' He nodded to Bolitho's disbelief. 'Aye, sir, the lady.'

Bolitho looked away. 'Tell me. What did she say?'

Allday replied, 'I was so bothered by you riding off without me I can't remember exactly, sir. She was most upset. About you, that you'd think her heartless when you had so much on your mind about your nephew. She fired so many questions at me when she found I'd been with you for. so long I could barely get the chests packed.'

'When she found out? You mean, you told her everything?'

'I expect so.' Allday looked at him with sudden determination. 'I'd better tell you without further delay, sir. I brought her with me. We met Mr Browne by accident an' he put her in The George.' He took a deep breath. 'She's waiting there.

Now.'

Bolitho sat down in a chair and looked at his hands. 'Does she know about the duel?'

Allday beamed. 'Oh yes, sir. We heard about that before we came through Wymer Parish. I think Mr Roche must have had a lot of enemies!'

Bolitho did not know what to say. She was waiting to see him, here in Portsmouth. When she had heard he was safe she could have gone about and returned to London without seeing him. If it had been only pity, or common- courtesy, she would have sent a brief message perhaps, nothing more.

He said, 'I will go ashore.'

`Bless you, sir, not like that!' Allday was grinning hugely. 'Better put some breeches on!'

Ozzard answered Bolitho's call a bit too quickly for one who had been out of earshot. But Bolitho was too confused, too aware of possible disappointment, and barely noticed.

Allday marched round the cabin issuing instructions. 'Best coat, now. Fetch the hat with the black binding, not the goldlaced one.'

Bolitho paused in his efforts to finish dressing. 'Why is that?'

Allday regarded him calmly. 'Ladies need to see the man, sir, not just the uniform.'

Bolitho shook his head. 'You never fail to amaze me, Allday.'

Allday examined him carefully. 'About right, sir. Now, if you will excuse me, I'll muster my bargemen.' He stepped aside as Herrick returned.

Herrick said, 'Lyb got it all wrong, as usual.' He stiffened as he saw Bolitho's changed appearance. 'Hell, sir, you look just fine. If only…' He broke off, his blue eyes clearing with understanding. 'Allday! He got me away from here! And I think I know why!'

Bolitho took the hat from Ozzard. As ordered by Allday, it was the plain one with black cockade and simple lace edging.

'I am to meet her now, Thomas.' He looked up, his eyes searching. 'I will probably make a fool of myself.'

Herrick said, 'I think not.' He followed him through the screen door. 'I had a feeling about this. And bear in mind I've not yet laid eyes on the lady. But I know you, and I almost understand Allday by now, so the rest was easy.' He gripped his hand firmly. 'Good luck, sir.'

They strode out on to the damp deck, Bolitho treading very carefully to avoid disturbing the dressing on his wound. He thought he saw Loveys watching him from a companion, probably cursing him for not heeding his warning.

At the entry port, where the side party was lined up to honour his departure, and below which the Benbow's barge rolled impatiently on an incoming tide, Herrick said quietly, 'I'm not much of a hand at praying. But I'll be doing the next best thing.'

They stood apart and Bolitho raised his hat formally to the quarterdeck. It was only when he reached down to ensure that his scabbard would nott tangle in his legs that he realized Allday had clipped the old sword to his belt.

Where luck was concerned, nobody was taking any chances.

The room was very small and situated right at the top of the old George Inn. As Bolitho paused outside the door to regain his breath after a hasty climb up three flights of stairs he guessed that Browne had had to use bribes as well as influence to obtain it with Portsmouth so crowded with sea officers and the military.

He tapped on the door, his mind suddenly empty of words or conversation.

It opened and he saw- her standing very still, one hand around the edge of the door, as if unsure whether to welcome him or shut it in his face.

'Come in.' She watched him pass, her gaze dropping to his leg as he limped towards a small window and looked across the neighbouring roof-tops. 'I have sent for some tea. You were very quick. In fact, I was not sure you'd come at all. That you'd wish to come.'

Bolitho studied her as she took his hat and cloak. 'It's so good to see you. I've thought a lot about you. I am sorry about my visit to your house. I wanted you to like me so much.' He tried to smile. 'Like using too much canvas in a gale, you can lose everything.'

She ushered him to a chair near a fire. 'Your Mr Allday told me a great deal. If one man can love another, then he must be such a person. All the way on that journey he kept talking. I suspect it was as much to calm his own fears as to help with mine.'

'Why did you come?' Bolitho reached out as if to touch her.

'I am sorry. That was badly put. Forgive my crudeness. I'd give so much to please you, even in a small way.'

She watched him gravely. 'You must not apologize. You have done nothing. I did not really understand. Perhaps I was too proud, too sure I could make my way without favours from others. Every smile, each hint I received was like a smirk, a bargain. And I was alone.' She tossed the hair from her face. The brief gesture was both defiant and helpless.

She said, 'Your nephew. Tell me about him.'

Bolitho looked at the flickering flames. 'His father was named a traitor when he ran from the Navy to America. There, he joined up with the privateers, and by some cruel fate I was captured by his ship during the campaign. His desertion, his acts against his own country, destroyed my father. When I heard that my brother Hugh had died in an accident in Boston I could feel no pity, no sense of loss. Then one day, Adam, my nephew, walked out of nowhere with nothing but a letter from his dead mother. He wanted to be part of his real family. Mine. He had never met his father, nor had Hugh known about his existence.'

Without realizing he had moved, Bolitho was at the small window again, staring at the windswept waterfront, the anchored ships beyond.

'But my brother had not died. He had been hiding and running for too long when quite by chance he was rescued from the sea and brought to me, of all people. He was hiding in a dead man's uniform and using his name. Where better to find refuge than in the one life he really knew?'

He felt her staring at him, her fingers clenched in her lap, as if she was afraid to speak and break the spell.

'But it was my ship he found. And his son was serving in her as a midshipman.'

'And your nephew knows nothing of this?'

'Nothing. His father died during a battle. Killed by throwing himself between Adam and a French pistol. I'll never forget it. Never.'

'I guessed part of it.' She stood up lightly and took his arm with her hand. 'Please sit down. You must be tired, worn out.'

Bolitho felt her nearness, her warmth against him.

He said, 'If I had not come to Portsmouth Adam would be dead. It is all part of one hate. My brother killed a man for

cheating at cards. Now that man's brother wishes to harm me, to destroy me by reviving the old memories and, as in this case, by hurting those I hold very dear.'

`Thank you for telling me. It could not have been easy.'