Alexander Kent - Heart of Oak

"He's in here, sir."

Herrick swung round, caught off guard, angry that he had allowed the past to distract him.

A man stood by the study door, looking toward him; the girl Jenna was hovering nearby.

A heavy jacket with shoulder-capes, and riding boots, one mud-streaked. Not young, not old. Herrick thought he was mistaken, but there was something familiar about his face.

He strode across the polished floor.

"Rear-Admiral Herrick? So glad I was in time. "He held out his hand, then paused to wipe it on his breeches. "I'm James Roxby. My mother told me you might be paying her a visit.

Hoped you would. "The palm was hard, and Herrick could see the likeness now, the same gestures, the confidence. He was looking at the tankard and the girl explained, "Ginger beer, sir."

"After that ride, I think I'll venture something stronger!"

They laughed.

Herrick wondered why he had not remembered. It was not like him. James Roxby was a highly respected surgeon in London. Nancy had joked about it, saying her son occasionally came down to the West Country on a pilgrimage, or to escape his patients.

"I hear that you have only just arrived. "He did not wait for an answer. "Some one taken your things? This is no way to greet an honoured guest!"

Herrick said, "I left them at the inn. I didn't know…" He broke off, feeling like a fool. What had he expected? "Somebody will go and get them. "Head on one side, and Herrick could see him in his professional role without effort.

Then he nodded. "She's coming now. She'll get you settled."

He almost grinned. "My mother gives all the orders around here!"

He turned. "Comfortable, are you? "He did not look at the empty sleeve. There was no need.

But Nancy was here, her eyes moving between them.

"Thomas, this is a lovely surprise! "She tossed a bag on to a chair, and a parcel to the beaming Jenna. "We were very concerned!"

Herrick made to take her hand but she gripped his shoulder and turned her face toward him. "Makes it simply perfect. "He kissed her cheek, and she laughed. "For me, in any case!"

Herrick watched her, her smile, the warmth he had never forgotten.

"I'm sorry I missed the reception for Adam…" He faltered.

"And Lowenna."

She shrugged. "You would have hated it. They were wonderful, but I expect it was an ordeal for them. "She sat, facing him. "And what of you, Thomas? "She was leaning forward, her eyes never leaving his. "You are looking so wellЦ we'll not let you escape so easily this time!"

Herrick said, rather stiffly, "I am finished with active service. I might be offered some temporary appointments, but…" It was nobody's concern. Except my own.

But she was laughing, one hand to her mouth, shaking her head.

"So sorry, Thomas, dear Thomas! I remembered what you said to me when we last met! "She shook her head again. I can pay my way, do you remember saying that? "She calmed herself with an effort. "I loved you for it!"

Her son stood up. "I'll arrange to have the gear collected fromЦ "His eyebrows went up. "The Spaniards, wasn't it?"

Herrick saw the mask slip, heard the keen, incisive voice.

The surgeon again. No wonder sailors feared them. Hated them. There was no one else to blame, not when you were pinned on your back, helpless, waiting for the blade.

But he felt his mouth lift into an unaccustomed smile. It had been so long. Nothing else mattered.

"I've never forgotten it, Nancy. "Like hearing somebody else.

She dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

"Adam and Lowenna are down at the waterfront. They'll be back soon. "She laughed. "IVsperfect!"

More voices, this time Grace Ferguson, one hand holding a bunch of keys. Straight-backed, smiling at him. Altered in some way, but otherwise as he remembered her whenever they had met.

She said, "Good to have you with us, sir. Like old times."

They must all believe that.

Then they were alone together and Nancy said softly, "We shall make them better, Thomas. No more heartbreaksЦ it's never too late. "She examined his face, feature by feature.

"Don't mind James. Sometimes even he can forget he is a surgeon and be human again. Until his fingers start itching for his saw."

Grace Ferguson paused to rearrange something below the stairs, and listened to their sudden laughter.

She remembered when Herrick had first come here, to this house. The young lieutenant with blue, blue eyes and an uncertain frown. And she had been even younger than the girl Jenna.

She thought of the empty sleeve, and began to search abruptly through her keys. There was no value in looking back.

Adam held Lowenna's arm while some fishermen trundled a barrow loaded with tangled nets along the jetty. It was always busy here, boats being unloaded by hand under the sharp eye of local buyers, and a few larger craft using tackle to shift their cargoes directly ashore. Not very different from when he had first seen it as a youth, and he had always remembered it.

She smiled, face fresh in the cold salt breeze, eyes bright with interest and excitement. Sharing it with him, unconcerned or unaware of the attention from idlers and labourers alike.

But he tightened his grip as two men with arms linked, obviously full to the scuppers, as Luke Jago would have said, lurched aside with elaborate respect as they passed.

"Greetin's, Captain, an' yer lovely lady!"

Lowenna said, "The deck looks very lively today."

The two seamen stared at her and then fell laughing in each other's arms. There were grins and nods throughout the crowd.

Adam murmured, "You are wonderful. For a second, I thought.

But she was shading her eyes against the hard light, the moment already past as she watched a vessel moving slowly clear of others moored close by.

"Your world, Adam. And I want to be part of it. "She laughed as some gulls swooped down on a few fishheads thrown on the water. "Look, they're happy, too."

When she looked at him again her face was serious.

"I saw you watching that ship. A brig, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is. Clever of you. Most people would not know."

But she did not smile.

"I saw it in your eyes. An understanding. Almost… a hunger. "She thrust some of her hair under her cloak. "Am I right?"

He stared across the choppy water. The brig was already under way, topsails and jib filling slightly to the brisk offshore wind. Too far out to hear the sounds of a vessel coming alive, the squeal and clatter of blocks, the measured stamp of bare feet. But he could have been there on her deck.

He said, "Small and handy, fourteen guns. Very like Firefly, my first command. She taught me all I know." He took her arm again, unconsciously. "And you are a part of it. Since that day…" A great chorus of laughter mixed with jeers scattered his thoughts, and he saw a group of onlookers pointing or gesturing toward the brig, shaking their heads in disgust.

"What is it, Adam?" should have known. Been prepared. The time of year did not matter, nor the weather. There were always the old hands, men who had once served in ships of war, and now were unable to stay away from the life which had brutally rejected them. Missing an arm or a leg, permanently scarred, there was not a whole man amongst them.

There was a distant squawk from the brig's speaking trumpet, doubtless her first lieutenant yelling threats at a small boat carelessly pulling across the bows. It was common enough in confined waters. But somehow a necessary reminder to survivors like these.

"That showed ‘em, eh, Cap'n? "More laughs, and hostility too. It was different at sea. So different. The risk and the danger were ever present. The toast to "absent friends "was supposed to soften the harsh reality.

He could feel her hand on his arm, very still, like a small creature, listening, waiting.