For My Country's Freedom Page 10

  Tomorrow the ship would come. He would be inextricably involved in its affairs, and haunted by the inevitability of their parting.

  She said, ‘Dear Bryan has left some wine for us!’

  He took her in his arms and felt the tension in her body. ‘He knows.’

  ‘Knows what?’

  ‘That I want you, dearest Kate. Need you.’

  She let him kiss her, on the mouth, the throat, and then on her bare shoulder, watching his hands in the strange light moving over her gown until she could wait no longer.

  Then she stood quite naked like a silver statue, her fine breasts uplifted, her arms stretched out to hold him away.

  ‘Undress, Richard.’ Then she lay in the moon’s path before drawing him down beside her. When he reached for her she exclaimed, ‘They call me a whore, dearest of men…’

  ‘I will kill anyone who…’

  She knelt beside him, tracing each scar on his body, even the deep wound in his forehead.

  She kissed him, not with tenderness, but with a fierce abandon he had rarely experienced. Again he tried to embrace her, but she denied him. ‘I am here to torment you, Richard. You are mine, completely, for this night!’

  Bolitho felt her fingers touch and then grip him, and all the while she was kissing him, her tongue exploring his body as he had so often explored hers.

  She broke away and he felt her breasts move over his skin, prolonging every sensation.

  Then all at once she was above him, her legs straddling him while she gazed into his face. ‘I have teased you enough. I shall give you your reward.’ He moved to possess her, but she pretended to resist, her nakedness framed against the moonlight, until with a cry she felt him enter her.

  As dawn laid its first brush-strokes across the sky they still slept entwined on the bed. The wine stood nearby, untouched, and the owl was long silent. She opened her eyes and turned to study his profile, youthful now in sleep.

  She ran her fingers over his body, not wishing to wake him, not wanting to stop. She touched herself and smiled secretly. Whore, lover, mistress. I am all of these things if you desire me.

  She caressed him again and waited, her heart beating, for him to respond.

  It was as if she had spoken her thoughts aloud. The next instant he was holding her down like a captive.

  ‘You are shameless, Kate!’ Then he kissed her passionately, stifling her gasp as he took her without restraint.

  Down in the yard Ferguson looked up at the opened windows. The curtains were fluttering out over the sills, blown by some inshore breeze.

  So many years since the press gang had taken him; he thought of it even now. Especially when the press still trod the streets looking for men. He thought, too, of the Battle of the Saintes where he had lost his arm, and Bolitho’s coxswain had been killed trying to protect his captain’s back. Somehow, since then, the little crew had grown around them. Allday, also a pressed man, had become Bolitho’s coxswain, and he too would soon be off to sea again.

  He heard Lady Catherine’s quick laugh. Or were they tears? It troubled him greatly. More than he could remember.

  John Allday glanced around the parlour of the Old Hyperion and said, ‘So Indomitable anchors tomorrow.’

  Lieutenant George Avery watched him thoughtfully. This was a different Allday from the one he had seen in the smoke of battle, or holding Sir Richard Bolitho in his arms when he had been struck down by splinters. Not even the same big gentle man he had watched going to his wedding, here in Fallowfield on the Helford River.

  He was obviously still uneasy about his new existence, and Avery could sympathise with him. It was strangely peaceful. He could hear Allday’s wife Unis speaking with some ploughman in the adjoining room, and the thump of her brother John’s wooden leg as he put up another cask of beer.

  A friendly place, and he was glad he had stayed here after hearing about Ethel’s death. He had slept and eaten better than he could remember, and Unis had been very kind to him.

  He said, ‘So the Coastguard say.’ Again he watched the conflicting emotions in Allday’s weathered face. Needing to go. Wanting to stay. He was not even concerned about sitting at the same table as an officer any more. Any more than I am. It was Bolitho’s doing, his example. My little crew. Allday put out a lighted taper and laid his pipe aside, trying to explain it.

  ‘It’s all so different, y’see, sir? People talk about their farms and the sales of stock an’ grain.’ He shook his shaggy head. ‘I thought I’d get used to it. Resign meself to the land.’ He stared hard at the perfect model he had given Unis of the old Hyperion, in which her first husband had been killed. ‘But not yet, see?’

  Avery heard the pony and trap being brought into the yard, ready to take him to Falmouth where he might be needed at any time now. He thought of Tyacke’s outburst, and wondered how he would behave when next they met.

  Allday was saying, ‘Then we get all the old Jacks in here, too. Not a whole man amongst ’em. But the way they talks you’d think every captain was a bloody saint, and each day afloat was a pleasure trip!’ Then he grinned. ‘Not what they really thought, I’ll wager!’

  Unis entered the parlour, and exclaimed, ‘No, don’t get up, Mr Avery!’

  Avery remained standing. She was a pretty little woman, natural and uncomplicated like the countryside, the wild flowers and the bees. She had probably never had an officer stand up for her before in her life. Or anyone else, for that matter.

  He said, ‘I must be leaving, Mrs Allday.’ Even that sounded strange, he thought. He saw their quick exchange of glances. The big, shambling sailor and the wife he had never expected to find. The look told it all. Sudden anxiety, courage too, and full knowledge of what it would mean.

  She said, ‘You go with Mr Avery, John. Give my best wishes to Lady Catherine.’ She looked level-eyed at Avery. ‘A beautiful lady, that one. She’s been good to me.’

  Allday said hesitantly, ‘Well, if you don’t need me, Unis—’

  She folded her arms and pretended to glare at him. ‘You know you’re anxious to see Sir Richard, so be off with you. You just come back to me tonight.’ Then she kissed him, standing on tip-toe to reach his face. ‘Like a bear with a sore head, you are, John Allday!’

  Avery said impulsively, ‘I’ve been so happy here.’ He spoke with such sincerity that she wiped her eyes surreptitiously with her fingers.

  She said, ‘You’ll always be welcome. Until you get settled down, like.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you, Mrs Allday.’

  He saw her hand on his sleeve and heard her say, ‘You don’t say much, and I’ve no right to pry, but you’ve carried a deal of worry these past years, I can tell.’ She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘And sad though it is, it isn’t the loss of your sister I’m speaking of!’

  He took the work-worn hand and kissed it. It smelt of fruit and flour.

  She stood beside her brother and watched Allday hoist the lieutenant’s chests into the trap.

  As the pony clattered across the yard, out of the inn’s shadow and into the bright April sunlight, she said wretchedly, ‘Oh, John, why must it be?’

  Her brother, also called John, wondered if she were speaking to him.

  He said quietly, ‘You told him yet?’

  She shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right.’ She laid her hand across her apron. ‘He’ll have enough to worry about, fighting them Yankees. I won’t have him fretting over me at the same time.’ She smiled. ‘’Sides, I don’t know for sure, do I? Bit late in life to have a babe of my own.’

  Her brother put his arm around her. ‘You’ll be brave, lass.’

  Unis shaded her eyes, but the trap had vanished beyond the hedgerow where some swifts were performing like darts.

  She said suddenly, ‘My God, John, I’ll miss him so.’

  He saw her sudden determination and was proud of her.

  ‘But I’ll not let on, or make a big show of it.’ She thought of the grave-faced
lieutenant with the tawny eyes. Allday had told her that Avery had read her letters for him. She had been deeply touched, especially now that she knew the lieutenant better. There was a woman behind his sadness; she was certain of it. Perhaps when he read her letters to Allday he was pretending they had been written to him.

  Someone called from the inn and she tidied her hair before going to serve him.

  ‘I’ll go, lass. You stay an’ dream a while.’

  She smiled. It was like the sun breaking through cloud. ‘No, I’ll deal with him! You chop some wood.’ She glanced again at the empty road. ‘It’ll blow cold off the river tonight.’

  Then she squared her shoulders and marched through the door.

  The man uppermost in her thoughts sat in the back of the trap, one leg swinging above the narrow road while he watched the passing countryside. He had known leaving would be hard. Some dogs were rounding up sheep in one field and he thought of his time as a sheep-minder, when Phalarope had put a press gang ashore on Pendower and caught several men who were trying to keep their distance. Including me. Nobody had realised that the frigate’s young captain was a local man, born and raised in Falmouth before being packed off to sea like all the other Bolithos. A lot of water since then. Young Adam a successful frigate captain himself now… He sighed, remembering how his own son had quit the navy and gone to settle in the promised land of America. It still hurt him. It always would, the way his son had turned away from him, instead of continuing as Adam’s coxswain.

  And now Richard Bolitho was a full admiral. An’ I’m an admiral’s coxswain, as I promised him. Flag at the main. Time, he thought, troubled by its swift passage; where did it all go?

  Avery was also watching the scenery. But he was thinking of Unis Allday’s words. A deal of worry. How did she know?

  Two farm workers plodding in the opposite direction waved and yelled, ‘Yew give them buggers a quiltin’!’

  Avery raised his hat to them, remembering Bolitho’s bitter words when they had joined the unhappy Valkyrie at Plymouth.

  What did men like these care who they were going to fight? Dutch, French or Dons, it was all the same to them. So long as their bellies were full and they did not have to go to sea or follow the drum, what did it signify to them? He gave a wry smile. I am becoming cynical, like Sir Richard. To take his mind off it, he twisted round and looked at his companion. ‘You’ve a fine wife, Allday. I envy you.’

  Allday’s eyes crinkled. ‘Then we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we, sir?’

  Avery smiled easily. He would never have believed it possible for this kind of relationship to exist within the rigid strictures of the navy.

  Allday asked, ‘You sorry to leave, sir?’

  Avery thought about it and remembered his sister’s last, desperate embrace. If only I had known.

  He shook his head. ‘No. There’s nobody to leave.’

  Allday studied him. Most people would think Lieutenant Avery had all that a man could need. Aide to England’s most famous sailor, with all the chances of rank and prize money denied to others. But, in fact, he had nothing.

  He was both surprised and saddened by his discovery, and said awkwardly, ‘Perhaps you would have the goodness to write a letter for me once we weighs anchor, sir?’

  Avery’s clear eyes settled on him. It was like seeing a man reaching for a lifeline.

  ‘It would be an honour.’ He almost added, old friend.

  Catherine Somervell was crossing the yard with a sheaf of flowers over one arm when they arrived. She shaded her eyes and watched as they climbed from the trap. ‘Why, Mr Avery – and John Allday! I was not expecting two such important visitors!’ She held out her hand and Avery took it; not like Sillitoe, she thought, nor like the Prince Regent either. He kissed it and she sensed his hesitancy; he was still uncertain about something, perhaps herself and her relationship with Bolitho. It was possible that she would never know.

  She greeted Allday with affection. ‘Why, John Allday, I swear you have filled out a little! Good food and affection do wonders for a man, body and soul.’

  Allday said uneasily, ‘I have to get back, m’lady. But tomorrow…’

  She said, ‘Ah, yes, tomorrow. We shall have to make the best of it.’

  From an upstairs window Bolitho watched them. His Kate walking between the two uniforms. She looked so at ease with them, so right. He thought of her in the night: the eager desperation of one for the other. Love, passion, and the unspoken dread of parting.

  A shaft of sunlight pierced through the leaves in the light offshore breeze, and he put his hand to his eye as if it had been stung. Holding one hand over it he looked again, and after a few seconds his vision seemed to clear and sharpen. It must be the effect of the drops the doctor had given him. Beneath the windows, she turned between two of the most important men in his life. She was as tall as Avery, and perhaps a little taller than Allday.

  She must have felt his eyes upon her. She looked up, searching his face, perhaps sensing what had just happened.

  She held up the flowers and blew him a kiss.

  But all he heard was her voice on the wind. Don’t leave me.

  Captain James Tyacke stood by the quarterdeck rail and watched the throng of bustling figures, which to any ignorant landsman would seem like chaos. He laid one sunburned hand on the rail and was surprised to see it so still even though his whole body seemed to be trembling with an excitement he had rarely known.

  It was not recklessness. Not exactly, but he had had to discover what his ship and his unknown company could do.

  Shortly after Indomitable had hoisted anchor and successfully beat clear of the Sound, the wind had risen slightly, and by the time she had been laid on her new south-westerly course down-Channel spray was bursting over the beakhead, soaking even the upper yards where dazed and uncertain figures were being pushed and dragged from one task to the next.

  Lieutenant Scarlett had ventured, ‘We are thirty hands short, sir.’

  Tyacke had given him a brief glance. ‘In a sea fight we could lose that many in minutes.’

  ‘I – I know, sir.’

  Tyacke had retorted sharply, ‘I know you know, but most of these people do not. So get the hands aloft and make all plain sail!’

  As the wind and quarter-sea had mounted the Indomitable, big though she was, had seemed to bound from trough to trough like the lion she followed, spray and spindrift pouring from the bulging canvas like tropical rain. Tyacke had glanced at the sailing master, his slate-grey hair flapping in the wind, his arms folded as he watched his helmsmen and master’s mates. He had felt his captain’s scrutiny and looked up, his eyes gleaming as he had called, ‘She can do it, sir!’

  Tyacke had seen Scarlett and Daubeny the second lieutenant clinging to the stays and staring at him. He said, ‘Stun’s’ls, Mr Scarlett!’

  Like giant ears the studding sails were eventually run out from their yards, men slithering and clutching wildly for handholds.

  Now, as he looked up at the squared yards and furled sails, at the gulls circling noisily around the ship hoping for scraps, he was amazed by what he had done, what they had all managed to do, one way or the other. Every spar had held, although he had seen the great mainyard bending like an archer’s bow under the tremendous pressure of wind. Here and there cordage had parted, snapping above the din like musket shots, but that was not uncommon with new ropes and halliards. The stretched and seasoned rigging had taken all the strain with no complaint save the clatter and bang of flapping canvas.

  Tyacke walked to the taffrail and back again. That was it, why Indomitable was so different from any other ship. It was her power through the water even in half a gale. The noise, frightening to the untrained landmen, had been exhilarating; with each great plunge into sunburst clouds of spray it had been staggering, a sound he could liken to a great gale through a forest, menacing and then rising to a wild shriek of triumph. Isaac York the master had claimed they had logged some fifteen kn
ots, when under those conditions most vessels would have been tempted to shorten sail – or, if undermanned, to lie to under reefed topsails until it was all over.

  As they had closed with the land Tyacke had touched the first lieutenant’s arm, and was certain he had started with alarm.

  ‘Shorten sail, if you please, Mr Scarlett.’

  He saw the other man’s confusion, thinking perhaps he had misunderstood the order. Tyacke had pointed at the larboard battery of twenty-four pounders. ‘You decide. If we fight, and I should fall, you will command here. Can you do it?’

  Scarlett had stared at him. There had been a lot of coastal shipping moving in and out of the harbour, and the distance between the two headlands, Pendennis Point and St Anthony, had probably looked no wider than a farm gate.

  But with York close by, Scarlett had not hesitated.

  On the starboard tack with all sails clewed up except topsails and jib, Indomitable must have made an impressive entrance.

  But now, safely at anchor, he might well ask himself why he had done it. Even if Scarlett had collided with another vessel or put the ship aground, the responsibility would lie with her captain. As it should.

  Scarlett was here again. ‘All secure, sir.’

  ‘Very well, sway out the barge and put my cox’n in charge.’ He almost smiled. ‘I have no doubt that Allday will bring the barge back himself.’

  He saw no understanding on Scarlett’s face. Like these others, the legend had passed him by. He would be part of it soon enough. He heard a yelp of pain and saw a man hurrying forward, holding his shoulder where a boatswain’s mate had obviously struck him with his starter. Nearby, the junior lieutenant Philip Protheroe stood watching the land. He had ignored the incident.

  Tyacke said, ‘Remind that young man of what I said when I took command. An officer must be obeyed. He must also set an example.’ Unwittingly his hand had gone to his disfigured face. ‘Even if you have been badly used, it does not give you the right to abuse others who cannot answer back.’

  Scarlett said, ‘I understand, sir.’