Alexander Kent - Cross of St George

“I wish you well, ma’am.” He recovered his hat from a chair, and said to the shopkeeper, “When I check my ship’s affairs against my watch, I shall remember you and this shop.”

She was waiting on the steps. “Remember what I have said to you.” She studied his face, as if seeking something in it. “You have lost that which you can never rediscover. You must accept that.” She touched the gold lace on his lapel. “Life must still be lived.”

She turned away, and as Adam stepped aside to avoid a mounted trooper, she vanished.

He walked back toward the boat jetty. Be very careful. He quickened his pace as he caught sight of the water and the great array of masts and spars, like a forest. Whatever action they took, it would be Keen’s decision: he had made that more than clear. But why did it hurt so much?

He thought suddenly of his uncle, and wished he could be with him. They could always talk; he would always listen. He had even confessed his affair with Zenoria to him.

He saw the stairs and Valkyrie’s gig moored alongside. Midshipman Rickman, a lively fifteen-year-old, was speaking with two young women who were doing little to hide their profession from the grinning boat’s crew.

Rickman straightened his hat and the gig’s crew came to attention when they saw their captain approaching. The two girls moved away, but not very far.

Adam said, “Back to the ship, if you please, Mr Rickman. I see that you were not wasting your time?”

Two blotches of scarlet appeared on the youth’s unshaven cheeks, and Adam climbed quickly into the boat. If only you knew.

He glanced toward the captured American frigate and the other, Success, which Indomitable’s broadsides had overwhelmed in minutes, recalling the young lieutenant who had died of his wounds, son of the Captain Joseph Brice who had interviewed him during his captivity. A sick but dignified officer, who had treated him with a courtesy reminiscent of Nathan Beer. He wondered if Brice knew, and would blame himself for guiding his son into the navy.

Face to face, blade to blade with men who spoke the same language but who had freely chosen another country… Perhaps it was better to have an enemy you could hate. In war, it was necessary to hate without questioning why.

“Oars up!”

He stood and reached for the hand-rope. He had barely noticed the return journey to Valkyrie.

He saw the flag lieutenant hovering by the entry port, waiting to catch his eye. He raised his hat to the quarterdeck, and smiled.

It was, of course, easier to hate some more than others.

Rear-Admiral Valentine Keen turned away from Valkyrie’s stern windows as Adam, followed by the flag lieutenant, entered the great cabin.

“I came as soon as I could, sir. I was ashore.”

Keen said gently, “It is no great matter. You should have more leisure.” He glanced at the flag lieutenant. “Thank you, Lawford. You may carry on with the signals we discussed.”

The door closed, reluctantly, Adam thought. “More news, sir?”

Keen seemed unsettled. “Not exactly. But the plans have changed. Success is to leave for Antigua. I have spoken with the Dock Master, and I can see we have no choice in the matter. Halifax is crammed with vessels needing overhaul and repair, and Success was in a very poor condition after her clash with Indomitable- as much due to severe rot as to Captain Tyacke’s gunnery, I suspect.”

Adam waited. Keen was trying to make light of it. Success was badly damaged, yes, but would sail well enough after work was completed on her rigging. But Antigua, two thousand miles away, and in the hurricane season… It was taking a chance.

“There is another big convoy due within a week or so, supplies and equipment for the army, nothing unusual in that. Sir Richard intends to take Indomitable and two others of the squadron to escort them on the final approach. There is a possibility that the Americans might attack and attempt to scatter or sink some of them.” He regarded him calmly. “Success must have a strong consort.” He glanced around the cabin. “This ship is large enough to fight off any foolhardy privateer who might want to take her.” He smiled thinly. “And fast enough to get back to Halifax, in case of more trouble.”

Adam walked to the table, and hesitated as he saw the miniature lying beside Keen’s open log book. It took him completely by surprise, and he scarcely heard Keen say, “I am required to remain here. I command in Halifax. The rest of our ships may be needed elsewhere.”

He could not take his eyes from the miniature, recognizing the subject at once. The smile, which had been painted for someone else to cherish, to keep.

Keen said abruptly, “It will be nothing to you, Adam. Certain other commanders, I would have to consider more carefully. Success will be safer in English Harbour. At best, she can be used as a guard-ship, and at worst, her spars and weapons will be put to good use there. What do you say?”

Adam faced him, angry that he could not accept it, that he himself had no right to refuse.

“I think it’s too risky, sir.”

Keen seemed surprised. “You, Adam? You talk of risk? To the world at large it will merely be the departure of two big frigates, and even if enemy intelligence discovers their destination, what then? It will be too late to act upon it, surely.”

Adam touched the heavy watch in his pocket, remembering the small shop, the peaceful chorus of clocks, the owner’s matter-of-fact mention of Valkyrie, almost to the time of her departure.

He said bluntly, “There is no security here, sir. I shall be away for a month. Anything could happen in that time.”

Keen smiled, perhaps relieved. “The war will keep, Adam. I trust you with this mission because I want you to carry orders to the captain in charge at Antigua. A difficult man in many ways. He needs to be reminded of the fleet’s requirements there.”

He saw Adam’s eyes move to the miniature once more. “An endearing young lady. Courageous, too.” He paused. “I know what you are thinking. My loss is hard to believe, harder still to accept.”

Adam clenched his fists so tightly that the bones ached. You don’t understand. How can you forget her? Betray her?

He said, “I will make all the arrangements, sir. I’ll pick a prize crew from spare hands at the base.”

“Who will you put in charge of Success? ”

Adam contained his anger with an almost physical effort. “John Urquhart, sir. A good first lieutenant-I’m surprised he hasn’t been chosen for promotion, or even a command.”

The door opened an inch, and de Courcey coughed politely.

Keen said sharply, “What is it?”

“Your barge is ready, sir.”

“Thank you.” Keen picked up the miniature, and after a moment’s hesitation placed it in a drawer and turned the key. “I shall be aboard later. I’ll send word.” He looked at him steadily. “The day after tomorrow, then.”

Adam thrust his hat beneath his arm. “I’ll see you over the side, sir.”

Keen nodded to two midshipmen who sprang out of his way by the companion ladder. “I’d be obliged if you would take my flag lieutenant with you when you sail. Good experience. See how the professionals do things.” He seemed about to say something else, but changed his mind.

As the barge pulled away from Valkyrie’s shadow, Adam saw the first lieutenant walking across the quarterdeck in deep conversation with Ritchie, the sailing-master.

They eyed him as he approached, and Adam was again reminded that he did not truly know these men, just as he accepted that it was his own fault.

“Come forward with me, Mr Urquhart.” To the master he added, “You’ve been told, I take it.”

“Aye, sir. The Leeward Islands again. Bad time o’ year.” But Adam was already out of earshot, striding along the starboard gangway with Urquhart in step beside him. Below, men working at the gun tackles or flaking down unwanted cordage paused only briefly to glance up at them.