
All the members of the court stood up. Some were smiling broadly, obviously relieved that it was all over.
The rear-admiral said, “Retrieve your sword, Captain Bolitho.” He attempted to lighten it. “I would have thought you might be wearing that fine sword of honour I have been hearing about, eh?”
Adam slid the borrowed sword into its scabbard. Leave now. Say nothing. But he looked at the rear-admiral and the eight captains who were his court and said, “George Starr was my coxswain, sir. With his own hand he lit charges which speeded the end of my ship. But for him, Anemone would be serving in the United States navy.”
The rear-admiral nodded, his smile fading. “I know that. I read it in your report.”
“He was a good and honest man who served me, and his country, well.” He was aware of the sudden silence, broken only by the creak of chairs as those at the back of the great room leaned forward to hear his quiet, unemotional voice. “But they hanged him for his loyalty, as if he were a common felon.”
He looked at the faces across the table, without seeing them. His outward composure was a lie, and he knew he would break down if he persisted. “I sold the sword of honour to a collector who values such things.” He heard the murmurs of surprise behind his back. “As for the money, I gave it to George Starr’s widow. It is all she will receive, I imagine.”
