Bolitho 19 - Beyond the Reef Read Free

away, muttering something about a warming drink, and Jenour was childishly pleased at his ability to command instant respect.
    “Welcome, Stephen.” Bolitho was sitting in a high-backed chair, the fire reflecting from his gold lace and epaulettes. “We have a while yet.”
    Jenour sat down and smiled at him. So many things had changed his young life since joining Bolitho. His parents had laughed at him for vowing that one day he would serve this incredible man who had been, until Nelson’s death at Trafalgar less than three years ago, the second youngest vice-admiral on the Navy List. Now he was the youngest.
    He never tired of recalling each separate incident, even that stark moment when Black Prince had been about to leave Copenhagen in search of Herrick, and Bolitho had turned on him in pleading desperation and confirmed his worst fears. “I am losing my sight, Stephen. Can you keep a secret so precious to me?” And later when Bolitho had said, “They must not know. You are a dear friend, Stephen. Now there are other friends out there who need us.”
    Jenour sipped the hot drink. There was brandy in it, and spices too, and his eyes smarted but he knew it was from that memory and nothing else.
    A dear friend, and one of the few who knew the extent of the injury to Bolitho’s left eye. To be entrusted with such a secret was a reward greater than anything he had believed possible.
    He asked carefully, “What will Captain Keen’s answer be, Sir Richard?”
    Bolitho put down his empty goblet and thought of Catherine, imagined he could still feel the warmth of her body in his arms as they had parted this morning. She would be well on her way to London now, to the house she had bought by the river in Chelsea. Their private place as she had called it, where they could be alone together when they were required to be in the capital.
    It was strange to be without Allday, but his coxswain—his “oak”—had gone with Yovell, his secretary, and Ozzard his little servant, in the same coach. Catherine was fearless, but Bolitho felt safer on her behalf knowing that she travelled with such a staunch escort.
    He thought too of his last interview with Lord Godschale at the Admiralty, and Godschale’s attempts to soothe him whenever he touched on a point which might provoke controversy.
    “Their lordships insist that you are the best choice of flag officer to go to Cape Town. You had, after all, a vital part in taking it from the Dutch—our people know you and trust you accordingly. It should not take long, but it needs your handling to establish regular patrols of smaller craft in the area, and perhaps to send more of the major men-of-war back to England. When you have installed a post-captain in overall charge there—acting-commodore if you like—you can return too. I will offer you a fast frigate, and do everything possible for you.” He had given the great sigh of one overburdened with responsibility. “Even while Admiral Gambier and your own squadron were in Copenhagen preparing the prizes for their passage here, Napoleon was already busy elsewhere. God damn the fellow—twice he has attempted to seize the Danish fleet, and he has even provoked Turkey to turn against his old ally the Tsar of Russia. As fast as we seal one door, he explores another.”
    It was difficult not to admire Napoleon’s ever-changing strategy, Bolitho had often conceded. Shortly after Herrick’s hopeless fight to save his convoy, the French army had invaded Portugal, and by November was in Lisbon, with the royal family in flight to their possessions in Brazil. It was rumoured in Whitehall that Spain, another ally if an unwilling one, would be Napoleon’s next target. He would then become a ruler of overwhelming strength, a threat once again with all the riches of Spain to support him.
    Bolitho had said, “I think that this time he may have overreached himself. He has turned Portugal into an enemy, and will surely incite Spain to rise