Heart of Oak by Alexander Kent Read Free Book Online Page A

maybe?”
    He ventured, “Some ginger beer? The last time I was here…”
    Her smile widened immediately. “You be easy, sir. I recollect when you last came.” She gestured toward another room, facing the sea. “You’ll be snug in there.”
    “Thank you, Jenna, that would suit very well. I’m sorry to intrude without warning.” But she had already gone, pleased to be doing something, and that he had recalled her name.
    Something else he had learned over the years.
It is sometimes all they have.
    He looked toward the portraits, remembering who had taught him that.
    He walked to the other room and halted by the door. Like an intruder. He should have sent word, or been here last night, when other guests had been invited. Maybe he should leave now, go back to The Spaniards where he had left his baggage after the journey from St Austell. Less than half the distance from Plymouth, but it had felt longer. He thought suddenly of the conference he had been asked to attend. Asked? There had been no choice. But it had been an opportunity to keep abreast of naval affairs, perhaps the last he would get.
    He had found himself at a big house on an estate near St Blazey. They were all senior officers, or had been; most of them seemed to be retired. They had met to discuss the merits of reallocating work from naval dockyards to local, civilian contractors. With their lordships’ blessing, it might become a matter for Parliament.
Might.
    Suppose Nancy had already forgotten or withdrawn her offer concerning the management of the estates. She had made light of it.
Like running a ship. You will soon get the feel of things.
Like Ferguson, who had taken to it instinctively, and the portly Yovell. Ashore or afloat, he always seemed able to rise to every challenge.
    He retraced his steps across the hall and stood staring at the newest portrait. Adam, illegitimate son of Hugh Bolitho and Kerenza Pascoe. Roll back the years and it might have been Richard. Something in the expression, but not the dark eyes. How was Adam facing up to his own future? Two ships taken from him,
Unrivalled
and now
Athena.
How could any serving captain accept it?
    He glanced up the stairs. He knew this house well, had been a guest here in the past. Its silence was heavy with memory. Adam’s place was at sea. Until…He recalled the men who had sat at the conference table with him. Complacent, even condescending. Impossible to compare with others he had known, and had fought beside, regardless of the odds, or the rights or wrongs of the cause.
    “Here you are, sir.” She was back, with a tankard balanced on a tray.
    Ginger beer. What would they have had to say about that in the kitchen?
    He would have to sit and think it all over again. There was nobody else now to consider. Her memory was never far away. His Dulcie…In his mind he often saw them together. He sighed a little, and his hand moved as if to brush some dust from his uniform, except that he was no longer wearing the King’s coat. Dulcie had died of fever when he had been at sea; she had been nursing prisoners of war. He picked up the tankard and gazed at it. Always the link. Adam had been the one who had carried the word of Dulcie’s death to him, just as he himself had carried the news to Richard that his first wife had been killed with their unborn child.
    “He’s in here, sir.”
    Herrick swung round, caught off guard, angry that he had allowed the past to distract him.
    A man stood by the study door, looking toward him; the girl Jenna was hovering nearby. A heavy jacket with shoulder-capes, and riding boots, one mud-streaked. Not young, not old. Herrick thought he was mistaken, but there was something familiar about his face.
    He strode across the polished floor. “Rear-Admiral Herrick? So glad I was in time.” He held out his hand, then paused to wipe it on his breeches. “I’m James Roxby. My mother told me you might be paying her a visit. Hoped you would.” The palm was hard, and Herrick