Alexander Kent - Heart of Oak

He said, "We'll walk to the end of the jetty now that we've come this far. "Suppose they all stood firm. To prove something, take some cheap revenge.

"Everything in order, Captain Bolitho?"

Adam had not even seen them approach. Two uniforms, gilt buttons; one was wearing a sword. Authority, from the revenue cutter he had seen earlier when they had reached the waterfront.

"Thank you, yes. "He touched his hat and saw the other man respond. He felt her fingers tighten on his arm as he added, "We are amongst friends here."

They walked on, the way suddenly cleared. Nothing was said; there was only a smile or a brief nod of recognition here and there, and once a hand reached out as they passed.

"I shall not forget that, Adam. "She turned and looked at the moored vessels, and the brig, which was under more sail and leaning slightly on a new tack. "And neither will they."

Together they paused to look up the slope toward the town.

The square tower of the church was just visible above the surrounding roofs.

Adam thought of the imposing curate and said, half to himself, "God and the Navy we adore."

She pressed his arm.

"I cannot wait. Is that so wrong?"

They walked back along the jetty. The onlookers had vanished.

Absent friends.

David Napier walked steadily toward the house, his feet avoiding the loose cobbles by instinct; they were already familiar, after so short a time. He paused, noting the wind's direction as sunlight lanced off the Father Tyme weathervane.

He had walked as far as the little coastguard cottage where a dog always rushed out to bark at him, and there had been no more pain in his leg. He had not even been out of breath. He had seen a few people on his way, most of whom he had come to recognize, or thought he did. It was wrong to pretend, deceive himself, but he could not help it. While he lived here, it was his home. His life.

It could have been so much worse. But every day it was getting better. He raised his foot and took his weight on it.

Surely by now…

"I "card tell you was up an' about when the cock crowed, young David. You'm missing walking that deck, my son!"

Old Jeb Trinnick was standing at an open stable door, a mug of something gripped in his hand. Tall and fierce looking, with only one eye, he would take no arguments from any one. But this morning his habitual grimace seemed to be a smile.

A boy called something and he turned away, scowling now.

"Never gets a bloody minute!"

Napier smiled. Jeb Trinnick would have it no other way, from what he had seen and heard.

Perhaps it was the best way. When you were trying to forget, afraid of what might lie in wait. Crying out in the night, even here, where there was nothing to fear.

Our secret.

He had never known any one like her. Lowenna meant "joy" in the old Cornish tongue.

What must it be like? Really like? When they were together…

He looked up toward the windows of the estate office.

Yovell never probed or asked questions, and might even be called secretive, but he cared enough about those he worked for. He could almost hear him saying it. Otherwise, my boy, I wouldn "t be here.

It was warm in the office, but not the oven it had been when Jago had been acting the barber. The cat was back in its usual place, and Yovell was at his desk.

"Ah, here he is. Mister Midshipman Napier in person! "He said it lightly, but Napier was staring at the man with him, a courier, booted and spurred and dressed in a heavy riding coat.

He must have ridden up to the house from the main road. "He has a letter for you."

He peered over the spectacles at the courier. "And Mrs.

Ferguson will no doubt give you something to keep out the cold."

The courier grinned at Napier.

"I'd take kindly to that, "and walked to the door, spurs jingling, his duty done.

"A letterЦ for me? "He tried again. "Is itЦ my mother?"

Yovell said kindly, "Sit you down. It might be a mistake. "He slid the letter across the desk, his hand resting on it, as if to give him time. "But it's addressed to you right enough."

Napier took the letter and the knife he had always seen Yovell use, here and aboard Unrivalled. So long ago.

There were several addresses and directions, all scored out, the final one reading In the care of Captain Adam Bolitho, Falmouth.

Yovell said, 'open it, David. "His spectacles had slipped, but he did nothing to adjust them. "I shall be here. "He did not elaborate.

Napier slit open the envelope and pulled out the letter. His mind barely kept pace with the meaningless details, the lines of copperplate script and the remains of a broken seal. Like drops of blood. His hands were steady, but his mouth was completely dry.

My dear Mister Napier, At the earliest opportunity it is my wish to speak with you in person, to offer my gratitude and heartfelt thanks for your courageous attempt to save the life of my only son Paul, after the loss of Audacity.

No written words can convey my true feelings when the news reached me of his death, and your determined efforts on his behalf.

Napier moved the letter; it was shaking, blurred. Tiny, unreal sounds intruded. A horse on the cobbles, a man whistling, breaking off in a fit of coughing. His eyes fell to the foot of the page. look forward to the day of our meeting.

I am, believe me, yours sincerely, Charles Boyce, Rear-Admiral.

"Drink this. "Yovell had come around the desk and was leaning over him.

Napier sipped at the glass and coughed, and felt Yoveil's hand on his shoulder. A latch clicked and he heard him snap, "Not now! Find somebody else!"

Perhaps that did more than anything to steady him. But his vision was still blurred. Like drowning.

He said, "I didn't even know his name. He was Boyce, that was all I knew."

Yo veil's hand moved slightly. "You are doing well. "He raised the glass again. "And his father is a rear-admiral, no less."

Napier hardly heard him. "We never shared anything aboard Audacity. There were six of us in the gunroom. There was always trouble…" He halted, shocked that all he could recall was hate. He touched his leg, without realizing that his hand had moved. The ship heeling over, explosions muffled and terrible as the sea burst into the hull. The screams, wild and unreal, others trying to cheer as Athena surged past, all her guns firing. Then the emptiness, drifting fragments, boats too far away to help. And through and above the smoke, sunlight touching the crest of a hill. Too far, too late. It was all he had.

He saw that Yovell was gazing at him, behind the desk once more.

"You've had quite a load to carry on your back, young David. "He gestured to the letter. "Some I heard, some I guessed. And you, I know. "He gave his owlish smile. "The rest can wait. But for the courier's untimely visit, you might never have received this. Not for a while, in any case."

Napier said, "I wondered why…" and saw Yo veil's irritation as more shouts came from the stables, and then Jeb Trinnick's harsher tone brought an instant silence.

Yovell folded the letter and pushed it discreetly across the desk. Then he said, "It seems impossible to keep a secret in this place. The courier brought word to Captain Bolitho. It was his main purpose in coming, otherwise…" He unlocked a drawer and dragged it out until it was pressed against his stomach.

"We will talk again soon. Together we shall think of a suitable response to Rear-Admiral Boyce."

Napier saw the long, buff-coloured envelope, another, unbroken red seal.

He heard himself ask, "Is he recalled?"

Yovell seemed preoccupied, patting his pockets.

"I do not expect you to betray a confidence. "He peered around for his hat. That was unfair, and uncalled for… Stay a while, if you wish. This, I fear, must not wait. Damn their eyes!"