But the uniform with its plain brass buttons was like nothing Bolitho had ever seen.
He said, 'Will you be seated?' He gestured to Allday. 'A glass for – what may I call you?'
The man balanced awkwardly on a chair and nodded again very slowly. 'You won't recall, zur. But me name's Vanzell -'
Allday exclaimed, 'Bless you, so it is!' He stared at the one-legged man and added, 'Gun-captain in th' Phalarope.'
Bolitho gripped the back of a chair to contain his racing thoughts. All those years, and yet he could not understand why he had not recognised the man called Vanzell. A Devonian like Yovell. It was over twenty years back, when he had been a boy-captain like Adam would soon be.
The Saintes Godschale had dismissed as a sentimental memory. It was not like that to Bolitho. The shattered line of battle, the roar of cannon fire while men fell and died, including his first coxswain, Stockdale, who had fallen protecting him. He glanced at Allday, seeing the same memory on his rugged features. He had been there too, as a pressed man, but one who was still with him as a faithful friend.
Vanzell watched their recognition with satisfaction. Then he said, 'I never forget, y'see. 'Ow you helped me an' th' wife when I was cast ashore after losin' me pin to a Froggie ball. You saved us, an' that's a fact, zur.' He put down the glass and stared at him with sudden determination.
'I 'card you was in London, zur. So I come meself. To try an' repay what you did for me an' th' wife, God rest her soul. There's only me now, but I'll not forget what 'appened after them bastards raked our decks that day.'
Bolitho sat down and faced him. 'What are you doing now?' He tried to conceal the anxiety and urgency in his bearing. This man, this tattered memory from the past, was frightened. For some reason it had cost a lot for him to come.
Vanzell said, 'It will lose me me job, zur.' He was thinking aloud. 'They all knows I once served under you. They'll not forgive me, not never.'
He made up his mind and studied Bolitho searchingly. 'I'm a watchman, zur, it was all I could get. They've no time for half-timbered Jacks no more.' His hand shook as he took another glass from Allday. Then he added huskily. 'I'm at th' Waites, zur.'
'What is that?'
Allday said sharply, 'It's a prison.'
Vanzell downed the glass in one gulp. 'They got 'er there. I know, 'cause I saw 'er, an' I 'card what the others was sayin' about you both.'
Bolitho could feel the blood rushing through his brain.
In a prison. It was impossible. But he knew it was true.
The man was saying to Allday, 'It's a filthy place full o' scum. Debtors an' lunatics, a bedlam you'd not believe.'
Allday glanced tightly at Bolitho. 'Oh, yes I would, matey.'
Bolitho said, 'Tell the housekeeper I shall need a carriage at once. Do you know where this place is?' Allday shook his head.
Vanzell said, 'I – I'll show 'ee, zur, one movement. He raised a key in his shaking hands.
'Please, be careful? He was almost in tears.
Bolitho caught his breath as they walked into a dimly lit corridor. There was straw scattered on the flagstones, and one of the walls was dripping wet. The stench was foul. Dirt, poverty and despair. They stopped outside the last door and the little governor said in a whisper, 'In God's name I had naught to do with it! She was given in my charge until a debt was paid. But if you are certain that -'
Bolitho did not hear him. He stared in through a small window which was heavily barred, each one worn smooth by a thousand desperate fingers.
A lantern shone through a thick glass port, like those used in a ship's hanging magazine. It was a scene from hell.
An old woman was leaning against one wall, rocking from side to side, a tendril of spittle hanging from her mouth as she crooned some forgotten tune to herself. She was filthy, and her ragged clothes were deeply soiled.
On the opposite side Catherine sat on a small wooden bench, her legs apart, her hands clasped between her knees. Her gown was torn, like the day she had come aboard Hyperion, and he saw that her feet were shoeless. Her long hair, uncombed, hung across her partly bared shoulders, hiding her face completely.
She did not move or look up as the key grated in the lock and Bolitho thrust open the door.
Then she whispered very quietly, 'If you come near me, I shall kill you.'
He held out his arms and said, 'Kate. Don't be frightened. Come to me.'
She raised her head and brushed the hair from her eyes with the back of her hand.
Still she did not move or appear to recognise him, and for a moment Bolitho imagined that she had been driven mad by these terrible circumstances.
Then she stood up and stepped a few paces unsteadily towards him.
'Is it you? Really you?' Then she shook her head and exclaimed, 'Don't touch me! I am unclean -'
Bolitho gripped her shoulders and pulled her against him, feeling her protest give way to sobs which were torn from each awful memory. He felt her skin through the back of the gown; she wore nothing else beneath it. Her body was like ice despite the foul, unmoving air. He covered her with his cloak, so that only her face and her bare feet showed in the flickering lanterns.
She saw the governor in the doorway and Bolitho felt her whole body stiffen away from him.
Bolitho said, 'Remove your hat in the presence of my lady, sirl' He found no pleasure in the man's fear. 'Or by God I'll call you out here and now!'
The man shrank away, his hat almost brushing the filthy floor.
Bolitho guided her along the corridor, while some of the inmates watched through their cell doors, their hands gripping the bars like claws. But nobody cried out this rime.
'Your shoes, Kate?'
She pressed herself against his side as if the cloak would protect her from everything.
'I sold all I had for food.' She raised her head and studied him. 'I have walked barefoot before.' Her sudden courage made her look fragile. 'Are we really leaving now?'
They reached the heavy gate and she saw the carriage, with the two stamping horses.
She said, 'I will be strong. For you, dear Richard, I -' She saw the shadowy figure inside the coach and asked quickly, 'Who is that?'
Bolitho held her until she was calm again.
He said, 'Just a friend who knew when he was needed.'
13. Conspiracy
Belinda dragged the doors of the drawing room shut behind her and pressed her shoulders against them.
'Lower your voice, Richard!' She watched his shadow striding back and forth across the elegant room, her breasts moving quickly to betray something like fear. 'The servants will hear you!'
Bolitho swung round. 'God damn them, and you too for what you did!'
'What is the matter, Richard? Are you sick or drunk?'
'It is fortunate for both of us that it is not the latter! Otherwise I fear what I might do!'
He stared at her and saw her pale. Then he said in a more controlled voice, 'You knew all the time. You connived with Somervell to have her thrown into a place which is not even fit for pigs!' Once again the pictures flashed across his mind. Catherine sitting in the filthy cell, and later when he had taken her to Browne's house in Arlington Street, when she had tried to prevent him from leaving her.
'Don't go, Richard! It's not worth it! We're together, that's all that matters!'
He had turned by the waiting carriage and had replied, 'But those liars intended otherwise!'
He continued, 'She is no more a debtor than you, and you knew it when you spoke with Somervell. I pray to God that he is as ready with a blade as he is with a pistol, for when I meet with him -'
She exclaimed, 'I have never seen you like this!'
'Nor will you again!'
She said, 'I did it for us, for what we were and could be again.'