Alexander Kent - Stand into Danger

As she turned her head to speak with her guests the ruby tails danced between her breasts, and Bolitho swallowed another glass of claret without realizing what he had done.

Colpoys was already half drunk and was describing in some length to his lady companion how he had once been caught in a woman’s chamber by her husband.

Palliser on the other hand seemed unchanged, eating steadily but sparingly, and careful to keep his glass always half filled. Rhodes was less sure of himself now, his voice thicker, his gestures more vague than when the meal had begun. The surgeon held his food and drink very well, but was sweating badly as he tried to listen to the halting English of a Portuguese official and answer a question from the man’s wife at the same time.

Dumaresq was incredible. He turned nothing away and yet seemed completely at ease, his resonant voice reaching along the table to keep a lagging conversation alive or to arouse one of his worse for wear officers.

Bolitho’s elbow slipped from the table and he almost fell forward amongst the decimated dishes. The shock helped to steady him, to realize just how badly the drink had taken effect. Never again. Never, never again.

He heard Egmont announce, “I think, gentlemen, if the ladies are about to withdraw, we should transfer to a cooler room.”

Somehow Bolitho managed to get to his feet in time to assist the wrinkled lady from her chair. She was still chewing as she followed the others through a door to leave the men at their ease.

A servant opened another door and waited for Egmont to lead his guests into a room which looked out over the sea. Thankfully, Bolitho walked on to the terrace and leaned on a stone balustrade. After the heat of the candles and the power of the wine the air was like water from a mountain stream.

He looked at the moon and then across the anchorage where the lights from Destiny’s open gun-ports glittered on the water as if the ship was burning.

The surgeon joined him by the balustrade and said heavily, “That was a meal of substance, my boy!” He belched. “Enough to feed a village for a month. Just imagine it. All that way from France or Spain, no expense spared. When you consider some people are lucky to get a loaf of bread, it makes you wonder.”

Bolitho looked at him. He had thought about it, although not from the point of injustice. How could a man like Egmont, a stranger in this foreign land, make so much wealth? Enough to obtain anything he wanted, even a beautiful wife who must be half his age. The double-headed bird about her throat was gold, a fortune in its own right. Was that part of the Asturias ’s treasure? Egmont had known Dumaresq’s father, but had obviously never met his son before. They had barely spoken, when you thought about it, and when they had it seemed to be through one of the others, light and trivial.

Bulkley leaned forward and adjusted his spectacles. “There’s a work-hungry master, eh? Can’t wait for the morning tide.”

Bolitho turned and looked at the anchorage. His practised eye soon discovered the moving vessel, in spite of the queasiness in his stomach.

A vessel under way, her sails making a flitting shadow against the riding lights of other anchored craft as she headed out into the roadstead.

Bulkley said vaguely, “Local man, must be. Any stranger’d go aground here.”

Palliser called from the open doorway. “Come in and join us.

Bulkley chuckled. “Always a generous fellow when it’s someone else’s cellar!”

But Bolitho remained where he was. There was enough noise coming from the room anyway, laughter and the clink of glasses, and Colpoys’ voice rising higher and higher above the rest. Bolitho knew his absence would not be noticed.

He walked along the moonlit terrace, letting the sea air cool his face.

As he passed another room he heard Dumaresq’s voice, very close and very insistent.

“I did not come all this way to be fobbed off with excuses, Egmont. You were in it up to the neck right from the beginning. My father said as much before he died.” The contempt in his voice was like a whip. “My father’s ‘gallant’ first lieutenant who held off when he was sorely needed!”

Bolitho knew he should draw back, but he could not move. The tone of Dumaresq’s voice seemed to chill his spine. It was something which had been pent-up for years and now could not be restrained.

Egmont protested lightly, “I did not know. You must believe me. I was fond of your father. I served him well, and always admired him.”

Dumaresq’s voice was muffled. He must have turned away with impatience, as Bolitho had seen him do often enough aboard ship.

“Well, my father, whom you so much admired, died a pauper. But then, what could you expect for a discarded sea-captain with one arm and one leg, eh? But he kept your secret, Egmont, he at least understood the meaning of loyalty! This could be the end of everything for you.”

“Are you threatening me, sir? In my own home? The Viceroy respects me, and will soon have something to say if I choose to complain!”

“Really?” Dumaresq sounded dangerously calm. “Piers Garrick was a pirate, of gentle birth maybe, but a bloody pirate for all his manners. If the truth had leaked out about the Asturias, even his letter of marque would not have saved his neck. The treasure ship put up a good fight, and Garrick’s privateer was severely damaged. Then the Don struck his colours, probably did not realize that Garrick’s hull was so badly shot through. That was the worst thing he ever did in his life.”

Bolitho waited, holding his breath, fearful that the sudden silence meant they had somehow discovered his presence.

Then Dumaresq added quietly, “Garrick scuttled his own command and took control of the Asturias. He probably butchered most of the Spaniards, or left them to rot somewhere where they could not be found. It was all made so simple for him. He sailed the treasure ship into this port on some excuse or other. England and Spain were at war, Asturias would be allowed to remain here for a short while, outwardly to effect repairs, but really to prove she was afloat after Garrick’s alleged encounter with her.”

Egmont said shakily, “That is surmise.”

“Is it? Let me continue, and then you shall decide if you intend to call for the Viceroy’s aid.”

His voice was so scathing that Bolitho could almost feel pity for Egmont.

Dumaresq continued, “A certain English ship was sent to investigate the loss of Garrick’s vessel and the escape of the treasure which should rightfully have been a King’s prize. That ship was commanded by my father. You, as his senior, were sent to take a statement from Garrick, who must have realized that without your connivance he was for the gallows. But his name was cleared, and while he gathered up his gold from where he had hidden it after destroying the Asturias, you resigned from the Navy, and quite mysteriously rose to the surface right here in Rio where it all began. But this time you were a rich man, a very rich man. My father, on the other hand, continued to serve. Then in ’62, when he was with Rear-Admiral Rodney at Martinique, driving the French from their Caribbean islands, he was cruelly wounded, broken for life. There is a moral in that, surely?”

“What do you want me to do?”

He sounded dazed, stunned by the completeness of Dumaresq’s victory.

“I shall require a sworn testimony to confirm what I have just said. I intend to enlist the Viceroy’s aid if need be, and a warrant will then be sent from England. The rest you can well imagine for yourself. With your statement and the power invested in me by His Majesty and their lordships, I intend to arrest Sir Piers Garrick and take him to England for trial. I want that bullion, or what is left of it, but most of all I want him! ”