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“Since when do you give me my orders, Captain Gillmor?”

  The frustration and helplessness, the realisation he had thought more of his own suffering than of his duty to the squadron, filled him with an unreasoning anger.

  She interrupted before Gillmor could reply. “Now, that is being childish! Do not excite yourself or I will call Mr Angus to you!”

  Gillmor said, “I am sorry, sir. But I think we will need you very soon, and in good health.”

  Bolitho closed his eyes. “No. I am the one to apologise. To you both.” Then he asked, “Is Restless with the squadron?”

  Gillmor hesitated. “No, sir. But maybe she is too far to seaward to be observed by Giffard’s men.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Bolitho could feel himself getting drowsy again, the throbbing in his shoulder growing more insistent. It was difficult to concentrate on what Gillmor was saying, harder still to sort his thoughts into any semblance of order.

  Gillmor said, “I will leave you, sir. As soon as we have any news . . .” He backed out of the room before Bolitho could protest.

  “A good officer.” He felt her sit down again on the bed, the cool touch of a cloth across his forehead. “When I was his age I had a ship like Coquette. In the Great South Sea. That was another world.” It was growing more difficult to remember. “Lizards three feet long, and turtles big enough to carry a man. Unspoiled by civilisation . . .”

  “Rest, Captain.” Her voice faded away as Bolitho sank into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  Some hours later he awoke shivering violently and ice cold. Although the shutters were closed across the windows he knew it was night, and as he moved his head from side to side he heard Allday say, “He’s awake, ma’am!”

  A small lantern appeared around a screen and he saw their two figures peering down at him.

  Allday whispered, “My God, I must call Mr Angus!”

  “Wait.” She stooped over the bed so that he could feel her hair touching his face. Then, “Don’t fetch him yet. You know what these surgeons are like. They understand little more than the saw of the knife.” She spat out the word. “Butchers.”

  “But look at him!” Allday was desperate. “We can’t leave him like this!”

  Bolitho could not speak. He was very weak, and yet for the first time he could feel his right hand. His arm was too painful and stiff to move, but he could feel it. The sudden excitement of the discovery only added to his sweating fever, and he could not stop his teeth from chattering.

  He heard her say quietly, “Go to the next room, Allday.” Then more firmly, “It is all right. I know what to do.”

  The door opened and closed, and Bolitho vaguely imagined Allday crouching like a dog on the other side of it. Then he heard a swift rustle of silk, and before the lantern vanished behind the screen he saw her body very white against the shadowed wall, her hair loose across her naked shoulders. The sheet was pulled down, and with hardly a sound she slid in beside him, her breast and thigh closely pressed against his body while she cradled his head into her arm. As the night passed, and between moments of deep sleep and distorted dreams, he heard her speaking softly to him, like a mother to a sick child, the sounds more reassuring than actual words. The heat of her body enfolded him like a warm cloak, driving out the chill and bringing a sense of peace to his throbbing mind.

  When next he opened his eyes there were chinks of bright sunlight slanting through the shutters, and for a moment longer he thought all else had been another dream. Allday was lolling in his chair, and he saw the gleam of a yellow dress beside one of the windows where she sat in a high-backed seat.

  She stood up and murmured, “You look so much better.” Then she gave a small, secret smile, and Bolitho knew it had not been any dream. “How do you feel?”

  He felt his lips giving way to her smile. “Hungry.”

  Allday was on his feet. “A miracle.”

  Feet clattered in the stone corridor beyond the door and Keverne, followed by Calvert, entered the room. Keverne’s dark features relaxed slightly as he saw Bolitho smiling.

  He said, “I came as soon as I was able, sir.”

  Bolitho propped himself on his elbow. “What happened?”

  The lieutenant shrugged wearily. “We sighted two French seventy-fours and gave chase. Darkness came down, but Sir Lucius insisted we keep after ’em,” he sounded bitter, “and in close formation.”

  “Continue.” Bolitho could see it all in his mind. The ships trying to maintain Broughton’s fixed formation under full sail. The wind and noise, the frantic efforts to watch the other ships’ stern lights.

  Keverne said, “Just after dawn we sighted the enemy again. The admiral ordered Zeus to tack independently, but because of the close formation the signal was misread. Tanais got into difficul-ties and we collided with her larboard quarter. We lost the bowsprit and brought down the topgallant for good measure. By the time we got ourselves disentangled the Frogs were out of sight, heading north with every square of canvas to the wind, damn their eyes!”

  “The damage?”

  “It will only take a day to repair. I’ve already had the top-gallant replaced, and they are working on the bowsprit and jib boom now.”

  Bolitho looked away. If the enemy frigate which had destroyed the bomb vessel had not discovered all about the squadron, the two 74 s would have no such doubts.

  Keverne added, “Sir Lucius sent his compliments and says he will see you when convenient!” He looked curiously at the woman. “You did a fine piece of work here, if I may say so, sir. I heard about Witrand. I’m sorry.”

  Calvert said, “I had best return to the ship, sir.” He did not sound happy at the prospect.

  Keverne ignored him. “What shall we do, sir?” He walked to the window and peered through the slats. “To me it all seems hopeless!”

  Bolitho thought of Draffen, of his lies and deceit, and felt the blood begin to pump painfully in his shoulder.

  And out there aboard his flagship Broughton was imprisoned with his own doubts and apprehensions. But his pride would not allow him to ask Bolitho or anyone else for advice, so his burden must be all the greater. Bolitho could admire him for his pride, but could not accept Broughton’s unfailing rigidity.

  Captain Giffard appeared panting in the doorway, his face the same colour as his tunic.

  “Restless is rounding the headland sir!”

  Bolitho struggled up on his elbow again, shutting his mind against the pain.

  “Signal her captain to report to me immediately!” He held Giffard’s eyes with his own. “To me, you understand?”

  As Giffard bustled away he added, “Return to the ship, Mr Keverne, and give my respects to the admiral. Tell him I will be returning aboard very soon.” He saw Allday dart a quick glance at the others. “Very soon. Just tell him that.”

  To Calvert he said quietly, “Sir Lucius suggested that you should be employed ashore. You will remain here for the present.” He saw the relief and gratitude and added, “Now go and watch for the sloop.”

  When they were alone again he said, “I know what you are about to say, Mrs. Pareja.” He smiled gently. “Kate.”

  “Then why are you being so obstinate?” Her cheeks were suddenly flushed, and he could see the quick movement of her breasts.

  “Because it is now that I am needed!” He gestured to Allday. “I must be shaved and I’ll need a clean shirt.” He made himself grin at Allday’s stubborn expression. “Now.”

  With Allday out of the room he said, “It is strange, but I am able to think more clearly than for some time.”

  “It is because you have so little blood left!” She sighed. “But if you must, then I suppose you must. Men are made for war, and you are no exception.”

  She moved to the bed and supported his shoulders until he was propped in a sitting position.

  He asked slowly, “What will become of you after this affair is done?”

  “I will not return to Spain. Without Luis I am a stranger there
again. Perhaps I will go to London!” She smiled gravely. “I have my jewels. Far more than I had when I left there.” The smile became a chuckle. “You might visit me in London, eh, Captain? When you come to receive some high and mighty appointment?”

  But when he looked at her he saw the smile was hiding something deeper. Pleading? It was hard to tell.

  He leaned gently against her. “I will. Believe me.”

  Allday was putting finishing touches to Bolitho’s shirt and stock when Commander Samuel Poate of the Restless strode into the room.

  He was small and pink, with the aggressive eagerness of a young pig, Bolitho thought. Now, as he stood with his hat beneath his arm, his upturned nose seemed to quiver with urgency and suppressed anger so that the similarity was even greater.

  Bolitho snapped, “Your report, Commander, and be quick with it. There is a feeling within me that we may soon be called to act.”

  Poate had a clipped way of speaking, like a witness at a court-martial, wasting neither words nor time.

  “After I landed Sir Hugo Draffen and the prisoner I stood out to sea to await his signal, sir. I waited but nothing happened, and when the wind fell away I had to anchor lest I be driven ashore. We heard the explosions and guessed that a further attack was being made on Djafou, although I did not know by what means. There was still no sight of Sir Hugo, and when the wind got up I beat out to sea again and patrolled along the coast.”

  “Why did you allow the prisoner to be taken ashore?”

  “Sir Hugo’s orders, sir. I had no option. He said something about his being a hostage, but I was kept too busy to fathom his reasoning.” His eyes gleamed coldly as he added, “But we did sight a man waving from a beach, and when I put a boat down I soon discovered him to be one of your seamen, sir. The survivor of a party sent to escort Lieutenant Calvert. He was near demented with terror, and I thought him half mad. But later he admitted to leaving the flag-lieutenant and a midshipman after an attack by tribesmen, and told of how he ran and hid for hours until he found a cave in the hillside.”

  Bolitho stood up very carefully, supporting himself against Allday.

  Poate said, “From the cave he said he saw Witrand tortured and then beheaded, although I do not know how much of that is true.”

  “It is fact, Commander.”

  “But then he went on to say that as he hid there, watching this horror below him, he also saw Sir Hugo.” He took a deep breath. “Any seaman trying to ingratiate himself with his officers after deserting in the face of the enemy would hardly be likely to invent such a story. He said he actually saw Draffen speaking with those who were torturing the prisoner!”

  “I see.” He looked up, realising there was more to come. “Well?”

  “I have since heard of how you were wounded and others killed aboard Hekla because you lacked my support, sir. But I was so enraged and sickened by what I had heard that I took my ship further along the coast where eventually, and with God’s good fortune, I discovered a small dhow.”

  “Draffen?” Bolitho felt his blood churning in his veins like fire.

  Poate nodded. “I have him below, sir. Under guard.”

  “Bring him here.” He looked towards the sunlight and heard the wind hissing gently through the shutters. “You have done very well. Probably better than either of us can yet realise.”

  He heard Poate barking orders in the corridor and said, “Leave me, Kate. You too, Allday.” He smiled at their concern. “I will not start to wave my arms just yet.”

  Alone, he leaned against a chairback and moved his arm cautiously within a makeshift sling.

  When Draffen entered with Poate, and Calvert bringing up the rear, there was little about him to betray either alarm or uncertainty.

  He said calmly, “Perhaps you would be good enough to take me to the admiral? I am not content at being so badly handled by these people. ”

  Calvert stammered, “You are under arrest . . .”

  Draffen turned towards him, his eyes cold with contempt. “Be silent, puppy!”

  Bolitho said flatly, “It is useless to deny that you contrived to have Djafou reoccupied for your own future gain, Sir Hugo.” How strange that he could speak so calmly when his mind was sick with disgust. “Whatever the outcome here, you will be made to stand trial in England.”

  Draffen stared at him and then laughed. “My God, Captain, what world do you live in?”

  “Our world, Sir Hugo. I think that what we have discovered at Djafou will be more than enough to break your mask of innocence.”

  Draffen spread his hands. “Slavery is a fact, Captain, no matter what the law might proclaim publicly. Where demand exists, so too must supply. There are those in the City of London who would place more value on the head of one fit slave than a whole boatload of your sailors who have died in battle, let me assure you of that! Learn your lesson well, as I have. Law and justice are for those who can afford it!”

  Poate opened his mouth to interrupt as a bright spot of blood appeared suddenly on Bolitho’s clean sling. But he shook his head towards him and said, “Then I hope that those people will support you well, Sir Hugo, for I am sure the rest of England will condemn you for what you are. A liar, a cheat and . . .” he clenched his teeth against both pain and anger, “a creature who could stand by and watch a man tortured and then murdered. A prisoner under the King’s protection!”

  For the first time he saw a spark of alarm in Draffen’s eyes. But he answered harshly, “Even if it were true, Witrand had no such protection. As an army officer hiding under civilian guise he must be accepted as a spy.”

  His mouth tightened as Bolitho said calmly, “No one but the admiral and I knew that, Sir Hugo. So unless you knew him already, which I believe is so, since you made no effort to see him aboard Euryalus, then you must have heard him give out his identity under torture. Either way you are branded!” He could feel the blood seeping down inside his bandages but could not stop himself. “By God, I detest the naked ritual of a hanging, but I’d give a month’s bounty to see you dance at Tyburn!”

  Draffen watched him warily. “Send these others from the room.”

  “No bargains, Sir Hugo. You have caused enough death and suffering.”

  “Very well. Then I will speak in front of them.” He placed his hands on his hips and said in a calmer tone, “I have, as you observed, powerful friends in London. They can make your future very hard, and put a blight on what hopes you might still have for advancement.”

  Bolitho looked away. “Is that all?”

  Behind him he heard Draffen catch his breath and then reply harshly, “You have a nephew in the Navy, I believe? Your late brother’s bastard?”

  Bolitho stood quite motionless, hearing Poate’s feet moving on the stones and Calvert’s gasp of alarm.

  Draffen continued, “How will he feel when he learns that his late father turned a blind eye to my slavers when he commanded a privateer? That he grew rich from his connivance?”

  Bolitho turned towards him, his voice very calm. “That is a lie.”

  “But some will believe it, and most of all, your nephew’s future will be finished, am I right?”

  Bolitho blinked his eyes to clear away the mist of pain. He must not faint now. Must not.

  “Had I some pity or regard for you at all, Sir Hugo, it would now be gone. Any man who could threaten the life of a young boy, who has had nothing in his upbringing but misery, deserves none.” He looked at Poate. “Take him out.”

  Draffen said quietly, “You have accused me of many things. Whatever others may say, you shall give me satisfaction when you have the strength!”

  “As you wish. You will find me ready enough.”

  He sat down heavily as Draffen was escorted from the room.

  Then she was beside him again, scolding him as she guided him back to the bed.

  He said, “I cannot write, so will you do so if I dictate? I must send my report to the admiral at once.”

  She studied him
curiously. “Was that true about your brother?”

  “Some, but not all.”

  The door swung open again and Poate burst into the room. “Sir! Lieutenant Calvert must have gone mad!”

  Bolitho gripped the chair. “What’s happened?”

  “He has taken Draffen to the top of the tower and locked the hatch on us. When I demanded that it be opened he said nothing.” Poate sounded incredulous.

  “Listen!” They all looked at Allday who was leaning from a window. Above the sigh of sea and wind Bolitho heard the sudden clash of steel, and felt moved.

  It did not last long. Calvert appeared in the doorway, two swords beneath his arm, his face extremely composed, even sad.

  He said, “I am placing myself under arrest, sir. Sir Hugo is dead.”

  Bolitho replied quietly, “I was the one he challenged, Calvert.”

  He shook his head. “You forget, sir. He called me puppy before that.” He turned away, not even seeing Poate and the others who crowded outside the door.

  “Anyway, sir, you’d never match him in a duel. Not with a sword in your left hand.” He shrugged wearily. “You are a fighter, sir, but, I suspect, not used to the more precise art of duelling.” He swung round, his eyes flashing. “You saved me, and more than that, you gave me back my honour. I’ll not stand back and see you destroyed when I can help, perhaps better than anyone else.”

  Angus, the surgeon, pushed through the crowd and shouted, “What madness is this? Can’t you see the state the captain is in?”

  Bolitho eyed him coldly. “Go to the top of the tower. You will find a body there.”

  Then he said to Calvert, “You mean well, but . . .”

  Calvert shrugged. “ But. What a great span that word can cover. I know what may become of me, but I do not care. Perhaps I did it to avenge Lelean, I am not certain of that either.” He met Bolitho’s eyes with sudden determination. “Lelean needed me, just as the squadron needs you at this moment. Maybe that is the best reason for killing Draffen.”

  He unbuckled his swordbelt and handed it to Captain Giffard.

  The faces at the door melted away as Broughton’s voice rasped, “Give him back his sword, Giffard!”