Honour This Day by Alexander Kent Read Free Book Online Page B

experiences at Copenhagen and the bloody aftermath of the battle. Parris, the first lieutenant, was propped on one elbow, apparently listening, but leaning across the young wife of a dockyard official, his arm resting against her shoulder which she made no attempt to remove. Like the other officers, they were momentarily free of responsibility and the need to keep up any pretence and the posture of duty.
    Bolitho was more aware than ever of a sudden isolation, the need to tell her his thoughts, his fears; and was revolted at the same time by his weakness.
    He said, “It was a hard fight. We lost many fine men.”
    â€œAnd you, Richard? What more did you have to lose that you had not already abandoned?”
    He exclaimed fiercely, “Let it be, Catherine. It is over.” He raised his eyes and stared at her intently. “It must be so!”
    A side door opened and more footmen bustled around, but this time without new dishes. It would soon be time for the ladies to withdraw and the men to relieve themselves before settling down to port and brandy. He thought of Allday. He would be out there in the barge with his crew waiting for him. Any petty officer would have been sufficient, but he knew Allday. He would allow no other to wait for him. He would have been in his element tonight, he thought. Bolitho had never known any man able to drink his coxswain under the table, unlike some of the guests.
    Somervell’s voice cut along the littered cloth although he seemed to have no problem in making it carry.
    â€œI hear that you saw Captain Price today, Sir Richard?”
    Bolitho could almost feel the woman at his side holding her breath, as if she sensed the casual remark as a trap. Was guilt that obvious?
    Glassport rumbled, “Not captain for long, I’ll wager!” Several of the guests chuckled.
    A black footman entered the room and after the smallest glance at Somervell padded to Bolitho’s chair, an envelope balanced carefully on a silver salver.
    Bolitho took it and prayed that his eye would not torture him now.
    Glassport was going on again. “My only frigate, by God! I’m dashed hard put to know—”
    He broke off as Somervell interrupted rudely, “What is it, Sir Richard? Are we to share it?”
    Bolitho folded the paper and glanced at the black footman. He was in time to see a strange sympathy on the man’s face, as if he knew.
    â€œYou may be spared the spectacle of a brave officer’s dishonour, Commodore Glassport.” His voice was hard and although it was directed at one man it gripped the whole table.
    â€œCaptain Price is dead.” There was a chorus of gasps. “He hanged himself.” He could not resist adding, “Are you satisfied?”
    Somervell pushed himself back from the table. “I think this may be a suitable moment for the ladies to retire.” He rose effortlessly to his feet, as if it was a duty rather than a courtesy.
    Bolitho faced her and saw the concern stark in her eyes as if she wanted to tell him out loud.
    Instead she said, “We will meet.” She waited for him to raise his head from a brief bow. “Soon.” Then with a hiss of silk she merged with the shadows.
    Bolitho sat down and watched unseeingly as another hand placed a fresh glass by his place.
    It was not their fault, not even the mindless Glassport’s.
    What could I have done? Nothing could interfere with the mission he intended to undertake.
    It might have happened to any one of them. He thought of young Adam instead of the wretched Price sitting alone and picturing the grim faces of the court, the sword turned against him on the table.
    It was curious that the message about Price’s death had been sent directly from St John’s to Hyperion, his flagship. Haven must have read and considered it before sending it ashore, probably in the charge of some midshipman who in turn would hand it to a footman. It would not have hurt him to