Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

Bolitho replied, 'Yes. It is much the same.'

Le Chaumareys smiled. 'Well then, my impetuous friend, we must not fight again! We are too much the same. Needed one minute, expendable the next!'

Bolitho said coldly, 'Many have died because of your actions. But for our arrival at Pendang Bay all the garrison would have

I been killed, and you must know it. A Spanish frigate was des= troyed to delay our arrival, to allow this Prince Muljadi to give his piracy some sort of repute, to make him an ally of France, and a constant threat to peace.'

Le Chaumareys' eyes widened. 'Well said. But I had no part in Nervion's destruction.' He held up one large fist. 'Of course, I heard about it. I hear many things I do not like. That is why I brought the Spanish commandant here to parley for his garrison's safety. He was still the representative of his own King. He could agree to terms which but for your intervention would have given Muljadi certain rights in Pendang Bay.' He became very grave. 'I did not know an attack would be launched the very moment I had left the bay! You have my word, as a French officer!'

'And I accept it.'

Bolitho tried to remain calm, but could feel the blood tingling in his veins like ice water. It was exactly as he had imagined. A set, calculated plan which had begun perhaps in Europe, in Paris and London, even Madrid, and which had almost worked. But for his decision to take Undine and the Nervion's few survivors to their destination, and Puigserver's arrival in Pendang Bay, the matter would be settled, and Le Chaumareys probably on his way home at last, his work done, and done well.

He heard himself say, 'I have come to take the commandant back to his own kind. Don Luis Puigserver, the King of Spain's representative, will be expecting his return.' He hardened his tone. 'Is Colonel Pastor still alive? Or is his death another thing you know of but did not approve?'

Le Chaumareys stood up and moved heavily to the quarter window.

'He is here. A prisoner of Muljadi's. In that ruin on the hill. He will never allow you to take him, dead or alive. His presence can still give legality to his demands. Can show that

England is unable to honour her word and protect the rights and citizens of Spain. A hard story to believe? But time and distance can make truth a mockery.'

'Then why would Muljadi fear to see me?' Bolitho watched him as he moved away from the window, his face lined and grim. 'I'd have thought he would have been eager to throw his power in my face.'

Le Chaumareys walked across the cabin, the deck creaking under his corpulent frame. He halted by Bolitho's chair and looked directly into his eyes.

'It is I who fear foryou, Bolitho. Out here, in my Argus, I am Muljadi's arm, his reach. To him I am not merely a sea captain, but a symbol, a man who can spring his plans into reality. But beyond these timbers I cannot answer for your security, and that is the truth.' He hesitated, his eyes still on Bolitho's face. 'But I see I am wasting time. You are determined, no?'

Bolitho smiled gravely. 'Yes.'

Le Chaumareys added, 'I have met many Englishmen in war and peace. Some I liked, many I hated. Few did I respect.' He held out his hand. 'You I admire.' He smiled sadly. 'A fool, but a brave one. That I can admire.'

He rang a bell and then gestured to the table. 'And you eat nothing.'

Bolitho reached for his hat. 'If what you say is true, then it would be wasted, eh?' He smiled, despite his tumbling thoughts. 'And if not, I will have to content myself with salt pork in the future.'

A tall, lank-haired officer entered the cabin, and Le Chaumareys spoke to him swiftly in French. Then he picked up his own hat and said, 'My senior lieutenant, Bolitho. I have changed my mind. I am coming with you.' He shrugged. 'Curiosity, or to prove my original beliefs, I know not which. But without me you are a dead man.'

When they reached the quarterdeck Bolitho saw there was a boat already alongside, and that the gangways were filled with silent spectators. Having a good look, he thought grimly. A one-way journey, if he had miscalculated.

Le Chaumareys held his arm. 'Listen to me. I am older, and, I expect, wiser than you. I can have you taken back to your ship. You will suffer no disgrace. In a year all this will be forgotten. Leave politics to those who daily dirty their hands without remorse.'

Bolitho shook his head. 'In my position, would you?' He forced a smile. 'Your face tells me what I need to know.'

Le Chaumareys nodded to his watching officers and then led the way to the entry port.

Bolitho glanced quickly along the gun deck, noting the fresh repairs to timbers and cordage. Where Undine had made her own challenge, and when he had felt the battle was nearly lost. It was an uncanny feeling to be walking with Argus's captain. More like compatriots than men who had so recently tried to destroy each other. If they met again after this, there could be no more truces.

The boat pulled steadily across swirling water towards the pier below the fortress, the French seamen watching Bolitho the whole time. Curious? Or merely seeing the face of an enemy?

Le Chaumareys spoke only once on the short crossing.

'Do not lose your temper with Muljadi. One sign and he will have you seized. He is without pity.'

'And what about your position here?'

The Frenchman gave a bitter smile. 'He needs me, m'sieu.'

Once alongside the pier Bolitho gained a new understanding of the hatred he had seen earlier. With the French seamen surrounding him as an escort he was made to hurry up the steep slope towards the fortress, while on all sides voices rose in shouts and curses, and it was obvious that without Le Chaumareys' massive presence even the sailors would have been set upon.

The lower part of the fortress was little more than an empty shell, its courtyard littered with rushes and rags which the defenders and Muljadi's growing army of followers used for bedding. He looked up at the blue sky above the ramparts and saw the guns. Old but powerful, each with balls nearby, and long ropes which trailed carelessly to the courtyard, and some crude baskets which presumably were used to haul fresh powder and shot when required.

More rough steps, the sun probing across his shoulders, then sudden shadows making his body feel chilled and damp.

Le Chaumareys grunted, 'You will wait here.'

He led Bolitho into a roughly hewn room no bigger than a cable tier and strode towards an iron-studded door at one end. It was guarded by some heavily armed natives, who faced the French seamen as if hoping for a fight.

Le Chaumareys seemed to sail_ right through them, like a three-decker breaking the line of battle. Supreme confidence, or a well-practised bluff. Bolitho did not know.

He did not have to wait long. The door was dragged open and he saw a large room, a chamber, which seemed to span the whole breadth of the upper fortress. Against the dull stone and smoky walls the dais at the far end made a fine splash of colour.

Muijadi was arranged on a pile of silk cushions, eyes fixed on the door, his body completely at ease.

He was naked to the waist, and wore only white baggy trousers and red leather boots underneath. He had no hair, so that in the sunlight from the slitted windows his head seemed pointed, and his single ear very prominent and grotesque.

Le Chaumareys was standing to one side of the dais, his face stern and alert. Around the walls were some of the dirtiest and cruellest-looking men Bolitho had ever seen in his life, although the quality of their weapons marked them as leaders or lieutenants in Muljadi's command.

He walked towards the dais, half expecting one of the onlookers to rush forward and cut him down, but nobody moved or spoke.

When he was within a few feet of the cushions Muijadi said flatly, 'That is close enough!'