Heart of Oak (27 page)

They walked from the great cabin, this time together.

There was no sign of the brig
Merlin;
the north-easterly breeze was steady, and holding. Troubridge was on his way.

He had been warned: the rest was up to him.

The iron-hard eyes were watching him, perhaps reading his thoughts. “The next time we meet, Bolitho…” He did not finish it, saying instead, “I envy him. So be it!” Then he turned and walked away.

Adam made his own way to the entry port, where Jago and his crew would be waiting. Once back aboard
Onward
he would go around the messes, informally, like those other times, asking Vincent to accompany him.

He thought of his uncle, how it must have been.

The people come first.

T
HE CARRIER’S CART WHEELED SHARPLY
into the inn yard and jerked to a halt.

John Allday climbed down on to the cobbles and took a few moments to recover. It was no distance from the village of Fallowfield and back here to the Old Hyperion Inn. He usually walked it. But maybe not for a while.

Dick the carter waved to him. “Got some fruit, John—tes all today. I’ll trot un round to the kitchen.” He was off without waiting for a response. He was no stranger here.

Allday leaned back carefully, allowing his muscles to unclench. The lane was in poor shape: too many heavy wagons using it, carrying ballast for the new road. It brought more business to the inn; Unis deserved that; but it would be better when things became quieter again.

He looked up at the sign, depicting the old
Hyperion
as he had known her. He was proud of it, and he smiled.
Keep sailing, my girl!

He felt the heat of the sun across his shoulders, but there was thunder about, a storm blowing in from Falmouth Bay. Rain would stop the farmers complaining. He straightened his back. The stiffness was almost gone. He looked across the yard toward the open stables. Two or three horses: so there were still some customers, wearing out their welcome. He checked himself.
Where would we be without them? Where would I be?
A light carriage too, shafts empty, a tarpaulin draped over the box. Some one else thought there was rain on the way.

Jack, their latest recruit since Tom Ozzard had shoved off one night, was rolling an empty cask carefully toward the cellar door. A good lad…He saw Allday and gave him a furtive “thumbs down.” He had learned a lot since coming to work for them.

So Harry Flinders was here. Allday sighed. He would have to make an effort, for Unis’s sake.

She came to meet him, wiping her hands on her apron as he stooped to hug her. So small, but so strong in his arms, as any customer would be quick to discover if he tried to take liberties with her.

She was about to tell him, but he said, “I knows, my love,” and crossed his heart with a grin. “I’ll stand upwind of him!” He moved to the door, careful to disguise any fatigue or discomfort from her.

She said, “That fellow Grimes is here again,” and waited for some comment. “The builder working on the Roxby house.”

Allday glanced around the kitchen, taking quiet pleasure in the gleam of copper and the ranks of shining pewter. His unfinished model of
Frobisher
stood on one of the shelves, and he was strangely reluctant to complete it. Maybe a slight alteration to the foremast rigging was needed, or the rake of the bowsprit? Something. It had to be right.

Unis knew what he was thinking, although she said nothing. John had intended it as a gift for Captain Adam, but the model of
Frobisher
might never be finished. To him it was not just any ship. It was
their
ship. John’s last, and Sir Richard’s, where he had fallen to an enemy marksman. But she knew the truth. Like the sea, in his heart he had never left it.

She considered Harry Flinders. John couldn’t stand him, nor could most folk, unless they wanted a favour, but if you turned every one away you disliked for some reason, the Old Hyperion would soon be bankrupt.

She said gently, “Show your face, John. I’ve got a pie to finish.”

He pushed open the door of the Long Room and summed up the few remaining customers. The tradesmen were at the market, or on their way to Falmouth, but there were still a couple of smartly dressed lawyers he recognized from previous visits. Kept to themselves; probably glad to get away from Truro. Some poor devil would be hanged for their efforts.

“Here he is—ask
him
about it!”

Unis’s brother, also named John, gave him a wink as he clumped toward the parlour, clearly making his escape. Only when he walked was it apparent that he had lost a leg, long since, fighting in the line with the 31st Foot. But it had taken years, and all the care and encouragement of his sister, before he had talked about it.

Flinders was sitting in the corner, in what he grandly called “my usual chair,” smiling like a snake as always. Gilt buttons on his waistcoat, almost military. How he loved to be admired, or so he thought.

Allday steeled himself. He had nothing against Henry Grimes, the builder. A fairly regular visitor to the inn since the road had begun, tearing down dwellings which had stood in its path and replacing them when the offers of compensation were made. Always busy, and giving employment to men thrown on the beach when the fighting had ended. He was also working at the Roxby house. No wonder Flinders was being so cosy.

He said, “How can I help?”

Flinders leaned back, one arm hanging down casually. “I was telling my friend here that you were with the fleet for a good many years.
You
’d be the one to ask.” He gestured to Grimes, but his eyes remained on Allday. “The Great Mutiny, twenty or so years ago, wasn’t it. Had the whole country squitterin’ with fear that Boney would invade, with no ships to stop him! You must have been in the thick of it?”

Allday was surprised, but said cautiously, “I seen some of it, but I was at sea most of the time in the old
Euryalus.
In ’97, it was. A bad time.” He was silent for a moment, reflecting. “But a lot of us seen it comin’.”

Grimes said, “I was building ships in them days. Not tearing ’em apart like today, ’cause the country’s running out of seasoned timber!” He chuckled. “But I do remember the mutiny. Some of us were doing repairs aboard one of the ships. An emergency, we were told.” He touched his half-empty wine glass, his needle-sharp eyes suddenly distant, focusing on the past. “A seventy-four, she was. Nothing unusual.” He slapped the table, so that the two lawyers looked across at them. “And then it suddenly flared up all around us. We couldn’t believe it was happening. Officers being driven from their posts, or treated like they was invisible. The captain—I can see him now—yelling orders, cursing like he was goin’ to explode.” He dropped his voice, as if still shocked by the memory. “Only the marines stood fast, a line of ’em across the deck, when the captain ordered ’em to fire on the mutineers. The officer in charge was about to give the command to shoot.” He hesitated. “I can remember…it was so quiet…the men just standing and staring into the muskets. Then, one shot, an’ the officer laid with his face blown away.”

Allday said, “There were a few things like that. Some of us—”

Flinders interrupted, “It was murder. A long time ago, but you witnessed it.”

Grimes said uneasily, “Bad times. A lot of men were pressed, an’ they hated the navy an’ the discipline.”

Allday said: “
I
was pressed. With my old friend Bryan Ferguson, rest his soul.”

Flinders said abruptly, “Another round.” Grimes was shaking his head, peering around for the clock. Flinders ignored him. “There’s a Rear-Admiral Herrick staying at the house. You know him pretty well, I believe?”

Allday nodded.
The house.
As if he still belonged there. Part of it.

“I wonder what
he’d
have to say if he knew the man who shot down an officer in cold blood was still alive.”

Grimes said, “We don’t know that!”

Flinders waited as the other John strode heavily to their table, refilled the glasses and poured a measure for Allday. A door banged shut. The two lawyers were gone.

Grimes said, “I can’t be sure. What would people say if I was mistaken?”

Flinders shrugged. “I think Rear-Admiral Herrick should be told. It is his duty.” He turned hard eyes on Allday. “There are others we should consider, don’t you agree?” He stood up suddenly. There was wine on his immaculate waistcoat, like blood. He grinned, showing his strong teeth. “I’ve got work to do. They’d all fall asleep if I didn’t watch ’em!”

He picked up his hat and walked to the door, and Allday heard him calling out to some one, maybe the dark-haired Nessa. She would be coming back from her walk with little Katie. He would get no encouragement there.

Grimes repeated, “I can’t be
sure.
All those years.” He was feeling in his purse. Unlike Flinders, who seldom paid.

“Some one you met?”

Grimes looked past him, avoiding his eyes. “He came to the Bolitho house, brought a letter from Captain Bolitho. Needed work. Dan Yovell seemed to think it was fair and square, and you know nothing slips past that one. But I can’t swear to it.” He stood up, shaking his head. “These times, you can’t be certain of anything.” He dropped some coins in a plate and Allday watched him leave. Probably just gossip, and they should be used to that here. And Sir Richard’s sister would know or sense if there was some one flying false colours under that roof.

He touched his cheek, remembering Captain Adam’s lady, when she had kissed him in front of all those folk after Bryan’s funeral.

“What did you make of all that?” His brother-in-law must have had his ear to the door. “Henry Grimes doesn’t seem too certain, specially after a glass or two.” He laughed and tipped the plate of coins into his apron. “I can think of several bloody officers I could’ve shot, given half the chance!”

“But you didn’t, did you?”

He listened to the horse clattering past the windows.

“You’ve made up your mind, then?”

“I was going up to the house anyway.” He was surprised that the lie came so easily.

The other John looked at him keenly, but said only, “Thought you might.”

Allday went out, and John heard him talking to young Jack in the yard; otherwise the inn was silent. Until work on the road stopped for the day.

He looked along the room, at the cheerful prints and polished brasses, and turned to join the others in the kitchen. Nessa would be there. He tried to put the latest piece of gossip out of his mind. It was best left alone, forgotten. But some people could never let things die.

He glanced again around the room, so quiet now, and stooped and touched his wooden leg.

“We won, didn’t we?”

For some, it was not enough.

Herrick stood by one of the tall windows watching the steam rise from puddles on the terrace. The rain had been sudden and heavy, but the sky was almost clear again, the sun as brilliant as before. He had heard a carriage: Nancy was back, and he was relieved. Even the best horses could be difficult when there was thunder in the air.

She hurried through the door, throwing off her cape and shaking out her hair.

“Oh, Thomas, you’re here already! I so hoped…” She broke off, gazing at the loose wrappings on the floor. “What’s this?” And then, recognizing it, “She said it was on its way. Thank you for dealing with it, bless you!”

“Special carrier,” he said rather stiffly. “All the way from London. I hope it was worth it.”

She tugged the remaining wrappings away. The harp had arrived before Lowenna. She brushed some straw from her sleeve. “Well, I’m no expert, but it
looks
undamaged…” and turned toward him as he said, “I would have done that. But—”

She came to him and touched his face gently. “I
know
that.”

Neither of them looked at his empty sleeve.

Then she said, “She should be here today. I hope the roads are clear.”

She ran her fingers over the harp, seeing the other, twisted and burned, in the Old Glebe House. “It belongs here now.”

Herrick said, “I was early. The storm…the builders had to stop work.”

“And I was
late.
” She glanced at the bell-cord, but changed her mind. “I was over at Magpie Cottage…Tresidders. She’s just had a baby.” She shook her head and her hair fell across her shoulder like a young girl’s. “What would you know about that? You sailors are all alike!”

“I don’t know what they would do without you, Nancy.”

She said in a low voice, “Or I without them. The house will be finished soon…and I’ll be a visitor here once more. So you see…”

“Your son—” he tried to soften it, hearing the austerity in his own voice “—James has great plans for the—
your
estate. Some of it will be used to train and berth young doctors. He says the scheme would be welcome, and successful.”

“He never gives up. Like his father.”

Herrick said, “I shall have to be moving along, too.”

She took his hard hand in both of hers. “You belong here with us, Thomas. Can’t you feel that?”

He returned her grip, and could not meet her gaze, afraid that he would hurt her, lose her.

She is not mine to lose.

He said awkwardly, “He’s offered me a position there. If…”

She tightened her grip. “I
thought
there was something. So you see?”

“I shall be getting my pay.
Half
-pay, from now on.”

There were voices in the hall, a dog barking, some one laughing. He had left it too late.

“What
do
you want, Thomas?”

“I want you, Nancy. I have no right, but…”

The door swung open and somebody coughed, perhaps apologized, and withdrew. Herrick heard none of it. She was holding him.

Only her words: “You have
every
right, dear Thomas!”

George Tolan quickened his pace as the first heavy drops hissed into the long grass at the roadside. He had seen a disused barn close by on one of his previous walks; it would offer some cover until the storm had blown over. Tolan enjoyed walking, despite, or perhaps because of, his time as a foot-soldier. Even aboard ship he had tried to maintain the exercise, pacing the deck or gangways to the amusement or irritation of the sailors.