Alexander Kent - Relentless Pursuit

He had even touched her, held her hand, prevented her from pulling it away.

"I don't want you to go, Catherine. You could remain here, in London. I can make certain of your privacy."

He had seen her eyes.

"As your mistress, Graham? Another scandal? I have too much respect for you to ruin your whole life."

Herrick asked abruptly, "Is there news of Catherine?"

Bethune faced him. "I spoke with her. A few times." He saw the disbelief, then the caution. "She intends to go with Lord Sillitoe to the West Indies." He thought suddenly of the Nile medal, her relief when he had told her that it had been delivered safely to the Bolitho house in Falmouth.

He heard the clock chime, more of a tremble than a sound, and refilled the glasses while he considered what he had done.

He would be blamed for warning her. His future would he in ruins. Perhaps a sea appointment might have saved him… He put down the bottle.

He saw her walk towards her carriage. She had paused once, and had asked quite calmly, "Are you in love with me, Graham?" He could not recall his answer, only her final dismissal. "Then you are a fool."

Herrick said, "Can nothing he done?"

"Their lordships are too concerned with Algiers at the moment. Afterwards…" Ile shrugged. "Perhaps Lord Sillitoe will absolve himself."

Herrick stood up carefully. "I must take my leave, Sir Graham. I am told that I will be required to return to Freetown shortly. That damnable place! And afterwards, 1 shall he put on the beach." As if he could see it, face it, like a man with one foot on the scaffold.

Bethune said, "Will you go hack to Kent?"

Herrick studied him. "I am a stranger there now."

He watched the door, knowing that a servant was waiting, ready to spirit him out.

"I ask you, Sir Graham. Igo what you can for Catherine. Sir Richard gave me my life. She gave me back my trust."

Something seemed to hold him by the door. "Adam Bolitho. Is he at sea yet?"

"I am informed that Unrivalled left Plymouth yesterday."

Herrick said, "How I envy him."

The door closed, and Bethune picked up the bottle again, which was unlike him.

He raised the glass, and said aloud, "Yes, Catherine, I am a fool!"

He thought of her hand in his, her resistance. And something more.

The servant was hack. "I thought to remind you, Sir Graham. We have an appointment with the First Lord at noon."

"I see." He glanced at the empty glasses. "Then we had better not keep him waiting."

He was reminded sharply of the room he had seen in Malta, the last place she had joined Richard Bolitho.

He had used the same words then. How I envy him.

It was not over.

Lieutenant Leigh Galbraith followed his captain into the stern cabin and waited by the door, half-expecting him to remember something and hurry to another part of the ship. It had been like that since his return, a boundless energy which was infectious, something you shared without knowing why.

Even O'Beirne had been at a loss for words, which was most unusual. He had redressed the wound and had snorted, "Riding a horse-I ask you, man. Does he have a death wish, this captain we follow?"

Yovell was here, coat draped on a chair, his table and some of the surrounding deck covered with folders and lists, and still more letters, Galbraith noticed.

He realised that the captain had halted by the stern windows, hands spread out on the lower sill as if embracing the anchorage.

"It's good to be without an admiral's flag to rule our days, eh? The fleet will be well on its way now." Galbraith saw one hand pat the freshly painted wood. "Never fear, we'll soon catch them up." He turned. "And you recommended Lawson for promotion to bosun's mate to replace…"

"Selby, sir. Lawson was cox'n of the jollyboat, and a good allround seaman. But if you think…"

Adam smiled. "I had thought that Sanders might be the right choice, but no, I agree with you. Lawson it is. I shall speak with him directly."

"And the new midshipman, sir. Shall I deal with him?"

"No. I shall see him. It's important, I think."

Galbraith watched him touch the wound again.

Napier came from the sleeping cabin, some clean shirts folded over one arm. He wore no shoes, and Adam knew the reason for it. O'Beirne had told him. There was a splinter in the boy's thigh, teak like the other, but deeper, and dangerous. All sailors hated teak. Triton had been a Dutch ship, and most of them were built of timber brought from far-off Dutch possessions.

Napier had said, "It will be all right, sir. I won't have a limp if…" If was always the threat.

Adam said, "I'm pleased with the ship, Leigh. And with what you've achieved while Unrivalled has been here." He shook his head. "And I know what you're going to say about all the help steered our way by the admiral. I was a first lieutenant myself, and I have not forgotten who truly gets things done." He smiled at him. "It will look well when I write your report."

"Report, sir?"

Adam had turned to look at a passing yawl and did not see the sudden apprehension.

"When the time comes for promotion!" He swung round, half-blinded by the glare from the anchorage. "Be ready, man! It will come, or I'll know the reason why. And now let us go over that list again. Gun crews and their captains. Topmen and boat crews." He remembered the shattered wheel, the mangled corpses clinging to the splintered spokes, and touched the fresh paintwork once more. As if the rest were only a memory.

Never again.

"Tell me about the new midshipman. Is there anything that might put him at his ease when we meet?"

He thought of the surprise, even the pleasure, he had seen in faces he thought he already knew.

He was back in command. And it mattered. A close thing, O'Beirne had said. Would they be watching him when next they were called to quarters? Never question it. Do it. Was it ever that simple?

Galbraith said, "His name is John Bremner, late of the frigate Juno. He is fifteen."

"I remember Juno. A French prize, fifth-rate. When I last heard, she was about to be broken up. He should be experienced, anyway. What we need now."

He watched the wind ruffle the water of the anchorage; Cristie said it would hold. Even he had been pleased, he thought. "We owe that bugger one, sir!" He had almost smiled.

He felt the strain running out of him. Even the wound was not painful, at the moment.

And they were leaving again. Tomorrow.

He saw a small boat pulling away from the side, the oarsman pausing to shade his eyes and peer up at the gilded gingerbread around the quarter.

They would make full use of the time on passage to join the fleet; gun drill would be paramount. He could almost hear the admiral's words. Unrivalled had been there. The others had not.

I want you in the van.

There was a tap at the door: the new midshipman. His most important time. So it must be mine, too.

But it was Lieutenant Bellairs, his face scored by the sun even now.

"I'm sorry to trouble you, sir. But I thought it might be important."

Adam looked at him and knew he had Galbraith's full attention as well. Bellairs, only recently a midshipman himself, had changed since young Cousens had been killed. They had been close, and Bellairs had helped to train the other midshipman in flags and signals before his own promotion to lieutenant. As if he had hardened, matured almost overnight, not the Bellairs who had blushed when telling him about the girl named Jane who lived in Dartmouth.

He opened the small, hastily-folded cover.

For a moment the cabin was gone. The faces, the individual concerns and responsibilities were at another's door.

A clear, unfamiliar hand, but he knew it instantly.

I was here. I saw you. God he with you.

He stared at the wind-ruffled water,.just in time to see the boat vanishing around two hulks.