Read Online Darkening Sea by Alexander Kent - Free Book Online

alone.”
    He had been watching. To see if Catherine had been with him, or if she was waiting now in the carriage.
    He said, “From Chelsea, Sir James.”
    â€œAh.” He said nothing else, and Bolitho saw the finely cut profile, the slightly hooked nose, the young man still clinging behind the mask. His hair was grey, quite white in some places, so that it looked in the hazy sunshine like a wig; he even wore an old-style queue. He would not have seemed out of place in some fading portrait from a century earlier, although Bolitho knew Hamett-Parker was only about ten years his senior.
    â€œThere is much speculation as to what the enemy intends if, or rather when Sir Arthur Wellesley brings the war in Spain to a victorious conclusion. The despatches from the Peninsula remain encouraging—news is daily expected of some dramatic climax. But the French will not surrender because of Spain. Our forces are fully extended, our yards unable to keep pace with the need for more ships, even if we could find the men to crew them. The enemy is aware of this. With all aggression ended in the Caribbean, we can withdraw certain vessels.” He looked away and added crisply, “But not enough!”
    Bolitho said, “I believe that the French will intensify their attacks on our supply lines.”
    â€œDo you?” He raised an eyebrow. “That is most interesting. The Duke of Portland said as much to me quite recently.”
    The prime minister. Bolitho felt his lips relax into a smile. He had all but forgotten who it was. Moving from one campaign to another, watching men die and ships torn apart, the final authority beneath His Britannic Majesty too often seemed unimportant.
    â€œIt amuses you?”
    â€œI beg your pardon, Sir James. I am out of touch, it seems.”
    â€œNo matter. I understand he is of a sickly disposition. There will be a new hand on the tiller before too long, I fear.”
    Bolitho winced as a sharp line of sunlight passed over the admiral’s shoulder and made him turn his head to one side.
    â€œThe light disturbs you?”
    Bolitho tensed. Did he know? How could he?
    He shook his head. “It is nothing.”
    Hamett-Parker returned slowly to the table, his steps, like his words, measured, unwasted.
    â€œYou are wondering why you were withdrawn from your command?”
    â€œOf course, Sir James.” He saw the admiral’s eyes for the first time. So pale they were almost colourless.
    â€œOf course? That is strange. However, we need to discuss possible French interference with our shipping routes. One frigate, a privateer even, could tie down men-of-war we could not spare even if we had them. It is widely believed that more attacks are already being planned—they will be hastened if, as we anticipate, Wellesley drubs the French army on the Peninsula. The prime minister will wish to know your thoughts, as will Sir Paul Sillitoe.” He saw Bolitho’s surprise and said calmly, “Something else you did not know, it would appear. Sillitoe is senior advisor to the prime minister and certain others in high places. Even His Majesty is not unaware of him.”
    Bolitho looked for some sign of sardonic humour or even sarcasm. There was none. In his mind he could see the man quite clearly: tall and slender with the quick, sure movements of a duel-list. A dark, interesting face with deceptively hooded eyes. He was as quick and as sharp as steel, and he had been both charming and gracious to Catherine at one of Godschale’s ridiculous receptions when she had been deliberately snubbed by the Duke of Portland. A strange, remote man, but not to be underestimated; perhaps not to be trusted. Bolitho had heard that Sillitoe had travelled all the way to Falmouth for the local memorial service after the loss of the Golden Plover and the reported deaths of all those aboard. He did not need to warn Catherine of any other intentions Sillitoe might have.
    He