Darkening Sea by Alexander Kent Page A

Sophie hovering behind her.
    She looked directly into his face. “Well, dearest of men? Will it suit?” She wore a gown of deep blue which almost matched his own coat, with facings of gold lace. “The admiral’s lady, or his woman in any case!” She flicked open the fan he had brought her from Madeira to hide the lower half of her face, so that her eyes seemed overpowering. Beneath the fan only the shadow between her breasts moved to show her true emotion.
    He took her shoulders. “I have never been more proud.”
    At the Admiralty he was conscious of the eyes watching them, and he felt suddenly reckless and defiant.
    He bent his head and kissed her on the neck, and spoke only one word. “Together.” Then he replaced his hat and walked up the steps.
    There was no delay and he was met by the same elegant lieutenant. It was pointless to ask why he had not told him about Baratte’s release when he had first greeted him here. An oversight, or was someone afraid he might make trouble about it?
    The acting Controller of the Navy, a big florid-faced admiral, and two other lords of admiralty with Hamett-Parker and his secretary sat at one end of the table. As he had anticipated, Bolitho saw Sillitoe seated slightly apart from all the others, his face set in an impassive mask.
    Hamett-Parker raised his eyebrows questioningly, a habit he had displayed at Herrick’s court martial. “You are very prompt, Sir Richard.”
    One of the other admirals who was unknown to Bolitho said, “On behalf of the board I must thank you for your patience and your invaluable help since you came to London. Your experience, not merely in the art of war but also in your past dealings with the military, make you an obvious choice for this appointment.” They all nodded soberly except Hamett-Parker. He continued, “We understand from Sir Paul Sillitoe that you were thinking of a force of perhaps eight frigates? That, of course, would be out of the question.”
    Bolitho thought of Godschale. One cannot do everything.
    He leaned his elbow on one arm of his chair and touched his eye. He had not been to see the surgeon again. Had he accepted that it was hopeless?
    â€œThe army is gathering its strength in Cape Town, Sir Richard. You are senior enough to assist but not necessarily conform to their strategy, for it is the intention of His Britannic Majesty’s government to invade and overthrow the French island of Mauritius. But before that we must seek out the enemy’s naval strength in that ocean and destroy it.”
    Bolitho said abruptly, “Nobody could do that without ships.”
    Hamett-Parker commented, “Frigates, and perhaps some smaller vessels?”
    Bolitho looked at him. “Yes. Otherwise . . .”
    Hamett-Parker snapped, “There is a new frigate, Valkyrie. She has been accepted into the fleet and now lies at Plymouth.” He gave a small smile. “She is captained by one of your fellow Cornishmen, no less!”
    Bolitho had heard something of the new frigate. She had been designed originally as an experiment, to compete with the enemy’s larger frigates, which in turn had been copied from the latest contenders in the new American navy. Bigger than any other frigate in the fleet, Valkyrie carried 42 guns, but was said to be faster and more manoeuvrable than even 38 -gun ships like Anemone.
    Hamett-Parker continued, “Captain Aaron Trevenen, d’you know him?”
    â€œI know of him.”
    Hamett-Parker pressed his fingertips together. He was enjoying it. “Another of your curt summings-up of a proud man’s achievements?”
    Sillitoe said, “Many, many months ago—it feels like years— we met at Godschale’s house by the Thames. You may recall that Lady Catherine Somervell scolded me for . . .”
    Hamett-Parker snapped, “We require no personal references here, Sir Paul!”
    Sillitoe ignored him but