HMS Diamond (4 page)

      
"And, we most assuredly did not use books. Instead, we taught them the important lessons of life by using verse:

Patience is a virtue

Virtue is a grace

Both put together

Make a pretty face.

      
As I say... we taught them things they could actually use—practical things."

***

      
The entire way home the voice of Mary Fletcher kept ringing in her ears.

Patience is a virtue

Virtue is a grace...

      
Susan... was... furious!

      
When she got home she stormed through the door and up the winding staircase to her room. Her mother, Connie, looked on in alarm and went up to see what was the matter. Tearing off her headband she told her mother about the dinner while angrily brushing her hair.

      
When she had finished her mother took the hairbrush from her hand, looked her square in the eyes and said, "You don’t like being ‘Lady Whitney,’ do you?"

      
"Mother, it’s not that. I mean this house, the money, seeing you enjoy life again; it’s all wonderful. Like a dream. But..."

      
"But?"

      
"But that’s the problem. It
is
like a dream—a dream in which I just don’t fit. The world seemed so much more real back when I was on board ship. It was a world I understood."

      
"Do you want to go back to sea again?"

      
Susan laughed. "And how could I do that without Sidney and... It would be impossible."

      
"You were about to say ‘without Sidney and Lucas Walker’ weren’t you?"

      
Susan nodded, looking miserable. To cover her reaction, she reached over to pick up a letter that had been placed on her dressing table. She tore past the seal without noticing who it was from and started reading:

      
His Royal Highness

His Royal Highness

George the Third

By the Grace of God, King of the United Kingdom

of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith.

Requests your presence at the investiture of

William Sidney Smith

as

Knight Commander and Grand Cross

of the Royal Swedish

Order of the Sword

at

St. James Palace

on

Wednesday, May 16th, 1792

      
"Oh my God," she said slowly to herself.

***

      
Henry VIII had constructed the building in 1530 on the site of a leper hospital. Because the hospital was named after St. James the Less, the building was named after him as well. It was called St. James Palace, but few buildings looked less like a palace than this one, especially on the outside.

      
It stood on the north side of a huge rectangular park known as The Mall and was actually a series of interlocking buildings and courts. The primary entrance, however, was off of St. James Street, through a large gatehouse with two imposing seven-story high spires on the gatehouse corners.

      
Walker’s coach had pulled up as close as he could to the entrance, but even that put him a hundred yards or more away. Something big was up; and the people knew it. There was rumor that perhaps the king and queen might even make a public appearance and that was all that was needed to bring out the crowds and, with the crowds, a festive atmosphere.

      
Vendors had set up stalls to hawk their wares and the smell of delicious baked and cooked tidbits filled the air. Children and dogs were scampering about while adults jockeyed to get the best position to see who was coming and going. Closest to the massive oak doors of the entrance, however, were the poor and this was a sobering sight.

      
In 18th century England, there was no such thing as a social safety net. To be poor meant you begged, stole or prostituted yourself, or you died. The crowd near the door reflected that reality. There were women in rags clutching dirty children and men missing arms or legs still wearing tattered military uniforms. There were the blind, the crippled, the halt, the lame, the diseased and the despised. All were united in desperation and in the hope that the kindness of strangers might allow them to live another few days.

      
Walker passed them by. He didn’t feel good about that, but what else could he do? Handing out the few pounds in his pocket was a drop in the ocean of need that lay before him. He arrived at the open gateway and presented his invitation to one of the court pages that were lined up there. With a courteous bow, the young man led him onto the palace grounds.

      
The gatehouse, it turns out, opened on to a small square courtyard with a piazza on the west end. The page, a lad not more than 12 years old, hurried Walker over to the piazza and up a grand marble staircase. At the top of the staircase were two rooms. The page pointed out the one on the left as being the queen’s guardroom and, on the right, the king’s guardroom.

      
They turned right and entered a large rectangular room. On the right was a row of tall windows with purple velvet curtains on them. Adorning the other three walls, however, were a series of intricate designs made from scores of swords, pikes, axes and muskets placed in various ingenious patterns. Walker’s head was on a swivel trying to take it all in as the page burrowed onward through the palace.

      
They sped through the guardroom, into the Presence Chamber and emerged into the Privy Chamber. At this point, the page became unsure and went over to confer with an older page as to where his charge was to be deposited. Walker welcomed the break as a chance to catch his breath and look around.

      
What he saw was a room festooned with priceless paintings, gold candelabra and magnificent crystal chandeliers. One whole wall consisted of a series of fifteen-foot high windows, framed with brilliant red curtains. At the far end a red canopy hung down over a space that must have once contained a throne, but there was no throne there now. Instead, numerous chairs and couches were scattered about on which all manner of ladies, gentlemen, generals and admirals were lounging, talking, smoking, napping and in general doing little or nothing. This, Walker realized, was the King’s Court—The Court of St James.

      
The page was soon back and led him off to his final destination one room over called the King’s Closet. This was not what Walker thought a throne room should look like. It was smaller and more intimate than the Privy Chamber, and instead of paintings on the walls, they contained exquisite tapestries. But at the far end, for today anyway, were the thrones of King George III and his queen, and this was why Walker was there. Today was the day Sidney Smith was to be knighted—at least in English eyes.

***

      
Walker was surprised that there were no pews or seats anywhere in the chamber. If you were in the king’s presence you were expected to stand facing him; and you certainly were not to sit unless and until the king gave you permission. Walker now understood the reason for all the chairs and couches in the Privy Chamber. It was so members of the court could take a break and get off their feet for a while before going back to "attending" the king.

      
Walker managed to find a place to the left of the thrones where he had a good view of the proceedings. Because Smith was only being confirmed as a knight, he knew it would be a short ceremony.

      
Standing to the right of the thrones were the Right Honorable William Wyndham Grenville, his Majesty’s principle Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs; and next to him was Baron von Nolcken, the Envoy from the Court of Stockholm. Baron Nolcken was in full uniform of a Knight Commander of the Swedish Order of the Polar Star.

      
Impressive as Nolcken’s uniform was, Walker’s eyes quickly shifted to the other side of the thrones, for there were arrayed the "Maidens in Waiting to the Court of St. James." This was the group to which Susan had been elevated for her role in rescuing Prince William from Yorktown. The queen’s maidens wore whatever gowns they wished—and many were magnificent—but all had on a thick red silk sash running from left to right, with a large gold medallion affixed over each heart.

      
It took Walker a few seconds to locate her, but he eventually spotted her chatting with the person next to her. "She looks wonderful," Walker thought. She had put on a little weight, to be expected now that she had enough money to eat properly, but she still had that brilliant smile.

      
The small crowd grew immediately silent as a herald announced the arrival of the king and queen. A door opened from behind the thrones and the two emerged. As one, the crowd curtsied or bowed until the royal couple had seated themselves. Emerging with them also, and standing slightly behind the queen’s throne, was the third person Walker wanted to see, Prince William Henry.

      
The prince was wearing the uniform of a naval lieutenant. It was a simple plain uniform but no one had ever worn it more proudly. As a prince, he could have worn anything. He could have made himself an admiral if he wanted. But, he didn’t. In the intervening years, he had legitimately passed his examination for lieutenant and he wore that uniform because he had
earned
it. Walker was proud of him for that.

      
Almost immediately the Royal Doorman intoned from the back of the room, "Your Majesty, a delegation has arrived from the Court of Stockholm and begs audience with Your Grace."

      
"Let them enter," the king formally replied.

      
With that the doors in the back of the room opened and a small procession stepped through. Leading the group were the three Esquires of Sir William Sidney Smith carrying his coronet, helmet, shield and banner. Walker knew two of them. The first was George Cook, an old friend of Sidney’s who was also an ensign in his Majesty’s 1st Regiment of Foot Guards. The second was a naval lieutenant that both Sidney and Walker knew from their shipboard days, Hugh Pigot. The third person Walker had never seen before. He found out later that it was William Cosby, a captain in an independent company of Foot, who was substituting for William Lindsey, his Majesty’s Secretary of Legation at the Court of Petersburg.

      
Following them was the Right Honorable Sir George Yonge; and behind him, in two lines were six members of the Royal Order of the Bath. Walker was surprised at how senior they were: Sir Henry Clinton, Sir William Gordon, Sir George Howard, Lord Macartney, Sir Ralph Payne and Lord Amherst—all highly influential members of the government.

      
Each man was in full Order of the Bath regalia. Over their civilian clothes, they wore a mantle of crimson satin lined with pure white taffeta. Around each neck was a gold collar with depictions of nine imperial crowns and eight sets of flowers (roses for England, thistles for Scotland and shamrocks for Ireland), connected by seventeen silver knots. In each hand was a black velvet hat with an upright plume of feathers, and attached to each mantle was a white Maltese Cross, the symbol of their order.

      
Trailing behind the two lines of English knights was Sidney Smith. He had on a plain white surcoat with a deep blue mantle, and was wearing the sword and spurs of the Swedish order. In his hand he carried the order’s blue cap with long white feather. The group stopped before the king, and Lord Grenville got things started.

      
"Your Majesty, the Envoy Extraordinaire and Minister Plenipotentiary of the King of Sweden, the Baron von Nolckin, has business before you." The baron stepped before the throne and bowed deeply and professionally—as only a life-long courtier can.

      
"Your Majesty, I come on behalf of His Royal Highness King Gustavus III. We beg to inform you that there is among your subjects one who, by his deeds and demeanor, has earned a place in our nation’s pantheon of heroes. Through his courage and steadfast devotion to duty, demonstrated in front of the king’s own eyes, he has been granted place as a Knight Commander Grand Cross of the Royal Swedish Order of the Sword. His Serene Majesty would beg his brother to confirm this appointment so that all men, Swedish and English, can pay respect to this worthy."

      
"Let this man come forward," the king replied.

      
Sidney stepped forward and knelt on a large velvet cushion that was in front of the king, who was holding a blue hood with gold trim.

      
"Captain Smith," the king said, speaking softly so only Sidney could hear him, "it seems our paths cross again. When the request for this investiture came in I passed it to my son William and he seemed as pleased as you seem to be right now." Sidney glanced up at William and they exchanged smiles.