The other man watched him, his eyes shrewd with understanding. "It does. It would be madness otherwise. When I used it for the first time I had an old mulatto fisherman as bosun. He knew it well enough and taught me what he had learned the hard way."
Bolitho straightened his back. "Will you do it?" He saw the guard drop in his brother's eyes and added, "I know it is a great risk. The captain of our only frigate is Charles Farquhar. He might remember you as his captor."
"I remember him. Insolent young puppy!"
"But if all goes well, it could go a long way towards a free pardon, a last chance for you."
His brother smiled sadly. "It is just as many of your people say. You never think of yourself first." He slapped his hand on the table. "I was not thinking of my own skin for once. Don't you realise that if Farquhar or anyone else knows about me, it would be your loss? Hiding a fugitive, compounding an act of treason, why, they would crucify youl"
When Bolitho did not reply he added hotly, "Think of yourself! Stop worrying about your damn commodore, me, and all the rest of them! Just this time, take care of your own self!"
Bolitho looked away. "It's settled then. When we reach St. Kruis I will inform the commodore. We may find nothing at this anchorage of yours. But we shall see."
His brother stepped back to the door. "There was only one man who ever got the better of me in the Caribbean. So perhaps your luck will stand you in good stead a second time."
"Thank you." But when Bolitho turned his head the chartroom was empty.
14. AFT, THE MOST HONOUR…
As his barge came to rest alongside the crude wooden piles of the jetty Bolitho climbed from the sternsheets and then paused to stare back at the bay. Pelham-Martin's squadron had anchored just two hours earlier, but even in that short time a change in the weather was apparent. The sky was hidden by a film of pale cloud which distorted the afternoon sunlight into an angry glare and painted the irregular wavecrests with a harsh bronze hue. When he shaded his eyes to study the ships he noted the way they strained at their cables, as if fearful of the land's nearness.
Boats plied busily back and forth to the ships, while along the coast road and jetty parties of seamen waited to lower freshly filled water casks and hastily gathered fruit, before tramping inland again to collect another load.
Inch and Gossett clambered up beside him and stood in the swirling dust clouds which covered their faces and clothing in a matter of seconds.
The master said hoarsely, "Wind's still steady from the nor'-east, sir." He shook his head. "I'll be 'appier when we puts to sea again."
Bolitho followed his gaze and saw the waves leaping and breaking across the protective necklace of reefs to the eastern side of the bay.
"I agree."
He turned and strode along the dusty road towards the blurred outline of the governor's residence. He walked fast, aware of the others hurrying behind him, of the needling urgency in his mind. For twenty-four hours the ships had driven back to St. Kruis under all available sail, and while he had waited fretting and uncertain of the commodore's final decision, Pelham-Martin had gone ashore to see de Block accompanied only by Mulder of the Telamon.
When the Hyperion had dropped anchor Bolitho had seen that the missing sloop was already moored below the headland. Her commander having failed to locate the Spartan, to return to St. Kruis was the obvious course to take. But it was time gone. Time which might have been used to send her speeding with all haste to alert other, stronger forces of Legniller's possible intentions.
Stall groups of islanders stood in the doorways of their houses and shacks as they hurried past. There were few smiles or greetings, this time, and most of them seemed to be watching the sea beyond the reef.
In another month the first hurricane would come, and these same people would have more to contend with than the affairs of war. And a war of others' making, for a cause they did not understand or share, could only add to their worries and anxieties.
They reached the welcome shelter of the wide stone entrance and Inch asked breathlessly, "Will Mr. Selby stay _ down here, sir?"
Bolitho stopped to face them. When the message had at last arrived on board to say that the commodore required all captains, first lieutenants and sailing masters to report to him at once he had known a decision had been reached. He should have anticipated that Pelham-Martin would want to meet the one man whom Bolitho had suggested as a pilot to guide the frigate between the reefs, but the summons came as a shock nevertheless.
He was there now, three steps below Inch and Gossett, his face calm and immobile as he waited for Bolitho to reply.
"Yes. He can wait here." Bolitho added, "He might not be required just yet."
He saw Fitzmaurice and his two officers hurrying up the road towards him.
"Well, let us not delay any longer."
As he entered the long room above the waterfront he could feel his palms sweating badly, yet the place was cool after the hot, dusty road. Every moment his brother was confronted by others, the odds of being discovered mounted accordingly.
He nodded vaguely to those already present, only half aware of their greetings or remarks. The commanders of the two sloops were conversing in low tones by the window, and he saw Farquhar with his first lieutenant studying a chart on the table.
A native girl with a loaded tray moved to Bolitho's side. He took a glass and sipped slowly. It was some sort of wine, and as cold as ice.
Inch also took one and smiled shyly at the servant girl who was watching him with unblinking admiration.
Fitzmaurice came into the room banging dust from his coat, his voice suddenly loud in the stillness. He coughed awkwardly and beckoned to the servant who, still smiling at Inch, crossed reluctantly with her tray.
The other door opened and Peiham-Martin walked slowly and heavily to the table. He was accompanied by de Block and Mulder, and the latter looked strained and on edge as he waited for Pelham-Martin to speak.
Bolitho watched him carefully. The commodore's movements were slow and ponderous, but his eyes which fastened now on the commander er of the second sloop seemed nervous and agitated.
"Very well, Appleby." He lifted a fat envelope from his coat pocket. "Here are my despatches. You will take the Nisus to sea immediately and hand them to the first senior officer you can." As he held out the envelope to the sloop's captain, Bolitho saw that it was shaking badly. "A squadron of the Channel Fleet if possible, but if not, then on to Plymouth with all the speed you can muster!"
The officer thrust the envelope inside his coat and turned on his heel. Just for a few brief moments he allowed his. eyes to stray across the others around him, as if he was seeing them all for the last time.
Pelham-Martin watched him until he had vanished through the doorway, and Bolitho wondered if even now he was thinking of recalling him, of withdrawing those despatches which might so easily spell his ruin.
"I have called you together, gentlemen." Pelham-Martin cleared his throat and took a quick swallow of wine. "For a last conference before we sail."
There was a quick murmur of speculation and he added, "With the little information that we have, I can see no alternative but to accept the plan put forward by Captain Bolitho." He lowered his eyes and two small droplets of sweat ran down beneath his hair. "It now appears that this plan has more value than first showed itself." He looked slowly at de Block. "The governor of St. Kruis has informed me of the disappearance of his schooner, Fauna. She sailed with supplies to some neighbouring islands and has not returned." He looked at Bolitho before adding, "One of her calls was at the Isles of Pascua."
Bolitho said quietly, "I thought they were uninhabited?"