For My Country's Freedom Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Copyright

  Also by Alexander Kent

  Dedication

  Contents

  For My Country’s Freedom

  Part I: 1811

  1. Regrets

  2. More Than Loyalty

  3. The Ocean is Always There

  4. Royal Command

  5. Indomitable

  6. Cross of St George

  7. Like a Troubled Sea

  8. Dreams

  9. The Mark of Satan

  Part II: 1812

  10. Deception

  11. Like Father, Like Son

  12. Witness

  13. Loneliness

  14. Change of Allegiance

  15. Trick for Trick

  16. The Strength of a Ship

  17. And For What?

  Epilogue

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Epub ISBN: 9781409066194

  Version 1.0

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  Reissued in the United Kingdom by Arrow Books in 2007

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Copyright © Bolitho Maritime Productions Ltd 1995

  Alexander Kent has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  First published in the United Kingdom in 1995 by William Heinemann

  First published in paperback in 1996 by Pan Books

  Arrow Books

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  The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009

  A CIP catalogue record for this book

  is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9780099502296

  The Random House Group Limited makes every effort to ensure that the papers used in its books are made from trees that have been legally sourced from well-managed and credibly certified forests. Our paper procurement policy can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/paper.htm

  Printed and bound in Great Britain by

  Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berkshire

  The stirring story of the life and times of Richard Bolitho is told in Alexander Kent’s bestselling novels.

  1756 Born Falmouth, son of James Bolitho

  1768 Entered the King’s service as a Midshipman on Manxman

  1772 Midshipman, Gorgon (Midshipman Bolitho)

  1774 Promoted Lieutenant, Destiny: Rio and the Caribbean (Stand into Danger)

  1775–7 Lieutenant, Trojan, during the American Revolution. Later appointed prizemaster (In Gallant Company)

  1778 Promoted Commander, Sparrow. Battle of the Chesapeake (Sloop of War)

  1780 Birth of Adam, illegitimate son of Hugh Bolitho and Karenza Pascoe

  1782 Promoted Captain, Phalarope; West Indies: Battle of Saints (To Glory We Steer)

  1784 Captain, Undine; India and East Indies (Command a King’s Ship)

  1787 Captain, Tempest; Great South Sea; Tahiti; suffered serious fever (Passage to Mutiny)

  1792 Captain, the Nore; Recruiting (With All Despatch)

  1793 Captain, Hyperion; Mediterranean; Bay of Biscay; West Indies. Adam Pascoe, later Bolitho, enters the King’s service as a midshipman aboard Hyperion (Form Line of Battle! And Enemy in Sight)

  1795 Promoted Flag Captain, Euryalus; involved in the Great Mutiny; Mediterranean; Promoted Commodore (The Flag Captain)

  1798 Battle of the Nile (Signal – Close Action!)

  1800 Promoted Rear-Admiral; Baltic; (The Inshore Squadron)

  1801 Biscay. Prisoner of war (A Tradition of Victory)

  1802 Promoted Vice-Admiral; West Indies (Success to the Brave)

  1803 Mediterranean (Colours Aloft!)

  1805 Battle of Trafalgar (Honour This Day)

  1806–7 Good Hope and the second battle of Copenhagen (The Only Victor)

  1808 Shipwrecked off Africa (Beyond the Reef)

  1809–10 Mauritius campaign (The Darkening Sea)

  1812 Promoted Admiral; Second American War (For My Country’s Freedom)

  1814 Defence of Canada (Cross of St. George)

  1815 Richard Bolitho killed in action (Sword of Honour) Adam Bolitho, Captain, Unrivalled. Mediterranean (Second to None)

  1816 Anti-slavery patrols, Sierra Leone. Battle of Algiers (Relentless Pursuit)

  1817 Flag Captain, Athena; Antigua and Caribbean (Man of War)

  1818 Captain, Onward; Mediterranean (Heart of Oak)

  Also by Alexander Kent

  Midshipman Bolitho

  Stand Into Danger

  In Gallant Company

  Sloop of War

  To Glory We Steer

  Command a King’s Ship

  Passage to Mutiny

  With All Despatch

  Form Line of Battle!

  Enemy in Sight

  The Flag Captain

  Signal – Close Action!

  The Inshore Squadron

  A Tradition of Victory

  Success to the Brave

  Colours Aloft!

  Honour This Day

  The Only Victor

  Beyond the Reef

  The Darkening Sea

  Cross of St George

  Sword of Honour

  Second to None

  Relentless Pursuit

  Man of War

  Band of Brothers

  For Kim

  With my love.

  The World is ours.

  Yet,. Freedom! yet thy banner, torn but flying,

  Still streams like the thunderstorm against the wind.

  – Byron, 1812

  Contents

  PART I: 1811

  1 Regrets

  2 More Than Loyalty

  3 The Ocean is Always There

  4 Royal Command

  5 Indomitable

  6 Cross of St George

  7 Like a Troubled Sea

  8 Dreams

  9 The Mark of Satan

  PART II: 1812

  10 Deception

  11 Like Father, Like Son

  12 Witness

  13 Loneliness

  14 Change of Allegiance

  15 Trick for Trick

  16 The Strength of a Ship

  17 And For What?

  Epilogue

  PART I: 1811

  * * *

  1

  Regrets

  * * *

  Lady Catherine Somervell reined in the big mare and patted her neck with a gloved hand.

  ‘Not long now, Tamara. We’ll soon be home.’

  Then she sat very still and upright in the saddle, her dark
eyes looking out across the sea. It was close to noon on this first day of March 1811, and a strange misty vapour had already covered the track she had taken to visit John Allday and his new wife Unis. She could not believe that they had all been left alone for so long, untroubled by the Admiralty in London. Two and a half months, the longest time she and Richard Bolitho had ever spent together in their own home in Cornwall.

  She tossed the fur-lined hood from her head and the damp air brought more colour to her face. When she looked directly south Rosemullion Head, which guarded the mouth of the Helford River, was also lost in mist, and it was only three miles distant. She was on the upper coastal track, much of the lower one having crumbled into the sea in the January storms.

  And yet there were signs of spring. Wagtails darting along the bank of the Helford River in their quaint diving, haphazard flight; jackdaws too, like companionable clerics on the stone walls. The ragged trees that crested the nearest hill were still leafless, their stooping branches shining from a sudden fall of rain. Nevertheless there were tiny brush strokes of yellow to mark the early daffodils that flourished there, despite the salt spray from the Channel and the Western Approaches.

  Catherine urged the mare forward again, her mind lingering on the past, clinging to the weeks of freedom they had enjoyed without restraint. After the first embrace, when Bolitho had returned from the Mauritius campaign and the destruction of Baratte’s privateers, she had worried that he might become restless because he was not involved with his ships and men, secretly troubled that the navy for which he had done and given so much was neglecting him.

  But the love they had reawakened upon their reunion was stronger than ever, if such things were possible. Walking and riding together in spite of the inclement weather, visiting the families on the estate and, when it could not be avoided, attending more splendid occasions at the grand house of Lewis Roxby, Richard’s brother-in-law and aptly nicknamed the King of Cornwall. The celebrations had marked Roxby’s unexpected acquisition of a knighthood. She smiled. There would be no holding him now…

  And what of worldly events? She had watched Richard for the usual signs of uneasiness, but there had been none. She thought of the passion and the delicate touches of love they had shared. There was nothing she did not know about her man any more.

  And much had changed. Sir Paul Sillitoe’s prediction had come true just a month ago. King George III had been declared insane and separated from all power and authority, and the Prince of Wales had become Regent until the day he would be crowned King. Some people had hinted uncharitably it was because of the Prince Regent’s influence that Roxby had been knighted. Although his new title had supposedly been bestowed in recognition of his patriotic work as a magistrate and as the founder of a local militia at the time of a feared French invasion, some claimed it was because the Regent was also the Duke of Cornwall, and he would be quick to perceive Roxby’s usefulness as an ally.

  She looked at the sea, no longer a rival as she had once feared. Her shoulder was still burned from the sun in the longboat after the loss of the Golden Plover on the hundred-mile reef. Could it be two years ago? She had suffered alongside the other survivors. But she and Richard had been together, and had shared it even to the threshold of death.

  There was no sun visible in the pale clouds, but the sea managed to hold its reflection, so that the undulating swell appeared to be lit from below as if by a giant lantern.

  She had left Richard in the house to complete some letters for the afternoon mail coach that left from the square in Falmouth. She knew that one was for the Admiralty: there were no secrets between them now. She had even explained her own visit to Whitechapel, and the aid she had accepted from Sillitoe.

  Bolitho had said quietly, ‘I never thought I would trust that man.’

  She had held him in her arms in their bed and whispered, ‘He helped me when there was no one else. But a rabbit should never turn its back on a fox.’

  Of the Admiralty letter he had said only, ‘Someone must have read my report on the Mauritius campaign, and the need for more frigates. But I can scarce believe that a wind of change has blown through those dusty corridors!’

  Another day he had been standing with her on the headland below Pendennis Castle, his eyes the same colour as the grey waters that moved endlessly, even to the horizon.

  She had asked, ‘Would you never accept high office at the Admiralty?’

  He had turned to look at her, his voice determined and compelling. ‘When it is time for me to quit the sea, Kate, it will be time to leave the navy, for good.’ He had given his boyish smile, and the lines of strain had vanished. ‘Not that they would ask me, of all people.’

  She had heard herself say quietly, ‘Because of me, because of us – that is the real truth.’

  ‘It is not a price, Kate my darling, but a reward.’

  She thought, too, of young Adam Bolitho. His frigate Anemone was lying at Plymouth, in the dockyard after her long voyage from Mauritius by way of the Cape and Gibraltar. She had been so savaged in her final embrace with Baratte’s privateers that her pumps had been worked for every mile she was homeward bound.

  Adam was coming to Falmouth today. She heard the clock chime from the church of King Charles the Martyr, where Bolithos had been christened, married and laid to rest for generations. It would be good for Richard to have some time with his nephew. She doubted if he would raise the matter of Valentine Keen’s wife. Confrontation was not the way to deal with it.

  She considered Allday, when she had called at the little inn at Fallowfield, the Old Hyperion. A local painter had done the inn sign – the old lady down to the last gun-port, as Allday had proclaimed proudly after his marriage, the week before Christmas. But his fresh-faced little wife Unis, herself no stranger to the Hyperion, in which her previous husband had died, had confided that Allday was deeply troubled, and fretting that Sir Richard might leave him ashore when he accepted his next appointment.

  She had spoken out of great affection for this big shambling sailor, not from jealousy that the navy would come between them. And she had shown pride too, acceptance of the rare bond that held vice-admiral and coxswain firmly together.

  Catherine had said, ‘I know. I must face it as you do. It is for our sakes that our men are out there, in constant risk from sea and cannon alike. For us.’ She was not sure she had convinced her.

  She smiled and tasted salt on her lips. Or myself either.

  The mare quickened her pace as she reached the new road which had been laid by some of Roxby’s French prisoners-of-war. Catherine suspected that it was due to their efforts that Roxby’s own house and gardens were always so immaculate. Like most other estates in the county, the Bolitho land was tended mostly by old men and cripples thrown on the beach by the navy they had served. Without an authorised protection any younger man would be snatched up by the ever-greedy press-gangs. Even the protection might not help on a dark night with a man-of-war tugging at her cable, and her captain not too eager to question his returning press.

  She saw the roof of the old grey house showing above the last fold in the hillside. Would Adam have any news? He would certainly notice how well his uncle looked. Exercise, good food and rest… Her mouth twitched. And love, which had left them breathless.

  She had often wondered if Adam resembled his father in any way. There was no portrait of Hugh in the house; and she guessed that Bolitho’s father had made certain of that after Hugh had disgraced himself and the family name. Not because of his gambling, the resulting debts from which had almost crippled the estate until Richard’s success as a frigate captain had brought prize money to clear them. Hugh had even killed a fellow officer in a duel related to gambling.

  All that, their father could possibly have forgiven. But to desert the navy and fight on the side of the Americans in their war of independence: that had been beyond everything. She thought of all the grave-eyed portraits that lined the walls and the landing. They seemed to watch and assess
her whenever she climbed the stairs. Surely they had not all been saints?

  A stable-lad took the bridle and Catherine said, ‘A good rub down, eh?’ She saw another horse munching busily in the stables, and a blue and gold saddle-cloth. Adam was already here.

  She tossed her head and allowed her long dark hair to fall free on her shoulders.

  As she opened the double doors she saw them standing by the great log fire. They could have been brothers, black hair and the Bolitho features she saw repeated in the portraits, the faces she had studied while this house had become a home around her. Her eyes settled only briefly on the table, and the canvas envelope which bore the Admiralty’s fouled-anchor cipher. She had somehow known it would be there. It was a shock, nonetheless.

  She smiled and held out her arms as Adam came to greet her. Richard would have seen her glance and her momentary dismay.

  There was the true enemy.

  Lieutenant George Avery stood at the window of his room and watched the bustling throngs of people and vehicles. It was market day in Dorchester: haggling over prices, country people coming in from the farms and villages to sell and buy. The taverns would be full by now.

  He walked to a plain looking-glass and studied his reflection as he might examine a fledgling midshipman.

  He was still surprised that he had decided to accept Sir Richard Bolitho’s invitation to remain as his flag-lieutenant. He had sworn often enough that if the offer of a command were made, no matter how small or lowly, he would snatch it. He was old for his rank; he would not see thirty again. He stared critically at the well-fitting uniform, with the twist of gold lace on the left shoulder to denote his appointment as Sir Richard Bolitho’s aide. Avery would never forget the day he had first met the famous admiral at his house in Falmouth. He had not expected Bolitho to accept him in the appointment, even though he was Sir Paul Sillitoe’s nephew, for he hardly knew his uncle and could not imagine why he had put forth his name for consideration.

  He still had nightmares about the experience which had almost cost him his life. As second-in-command of a small schooner, Jolie, formerly a French prize, he had been content, and excited by the dashing encounters with enemy traders. But his youthful captain, also a lieutenant, had become too confident, and taken too many risks. He could almost hear himself describing him to Bolitho during that first interview. I thought him reckless, Sir Richard. They had been surprised by a French corvette, which had swept around a headland and had raked them before they could stand away. The young captain had been cut in half in the first broadside, and moments later Avery had been struck down, badly wounded. Helplessly he had seen his men hauling down the ensign, the fight gone out of them in the overwhelming ferocity of the attack.