The Flood-Tide (26 page)

She chattered on, and Thomas listened, part with amazement at the change in her, and part with a deepening gloom that he could not quite account for, for she was holding his hand affectionately and smiling at him as she spoke, and surely a loving husband ought to be glad that his wife had found friends to solace her in his absence?

CHAPTER TEN

The defeat at Saratoga had a great many repercussions. Generals Howe and Carleton resigned, General Burgoyne was of course precluded from fighting in America again by the terms of the convention, and Lord North, who before had been anxious to resign the leadership, now became desperate to do so. In December 1777 France recognized the United States of America as an independent country, and in February 1778 signed treaties of commerce and alliance with America, and was thus unofficially at war with Britain.

From the time he came back from Wolvercote to return to his ship, Thomas had been shuttling back and forth from the Channel fleet, under Admiral Keppel, to London and the Admiralty, and so had had considerable time on shore. He was often at Chelmsford House, partly so that he could see something of Flora, and partly because he had struck up a friendship with Lord Chelmsford, who could supply him with the latest information from Court and Cabinet. On the occasions when he would return from the ship to Pall Mall and discover that Flora had gone out to a ball or party or entertainment, he would sit beside the fire with Lord Chelmsford and discuss the international situation, so as not to have to think about the domestic one.

‘One good thing about France entering the war - it has finally spurred the First Lord to do something about our naval strength,' Chelmsford said one evening. 'Forty-two new ships of the line for the Channel and Mediterranean fleets, and eight for West India. Well, it is better late than never, I suppose.'

‘But why so many for the Channel? Surely more could be sent to America, in view of the situation?' Thomas protested. Chelmsford gave a grim sort of smile.

‘And leave the Channel unprotected? My dear young man, do you know how many ships Estaing has, to say nothing of the Spanish fleet? And divided between Brest and Toulon, they cannot even be properly blockaded -they could slip out into the Atlantic at any moment.'

‘True,' Thomas said gloomily. 'And where in the world will we get the men to man these new ships? With no more American sailors to be had, and half the West India fleet suffering from either fever or scurvy—'

‘Or both,' Chelmsford put in. 'And the army competing for the same men - even a hot press may not round up enough for skeleton crews. But we shall soon have other troubles as severe. Supplies, now - Sandwich was telling me today that the timber for masts comes from America, and where are we to turn to now?'

‘The Baltic, perhaps?' Thomas suggested. Chelmsford shook his head.

‘Relations are very delicate there. We do not know which way the Russians will turn, and the Swedes have always been difficult, though they call themselves neutral. Well, at least with France in the war the Government's unpopularity has eased somewhat, and the Opposition's guns are spiked. But poor North would give a limb or two to be out of it. He tried again to persuade the King to let Chatham take over, but His Majesty remains adamant. He won't have Chatham at any price. One has to admire him, you know.'

‘Chatham?'

‘No, the King. He sticks to his guns. And he still believes we shall succeed in America, and won't even think of granting independence. It's a sore subject. You know North sent to treat with this fellow Franklin in Paris? Offered him everything except independence, and Franklin said independence was the only thing he wanted. Most peculiar looking fellow, Franklin. Did you see him when he was in London? Goes about dressed as a farmer. Wears a fur hat with a tail hanging down the back, as if he was

going to a masque. Though the way he's fêted in Paris, I daresay his life is one long series of masques.’

There was a silence, in which Thomas, through an inevitable association with the word masque, thought of Flora. It was evident that Chelmsford's mind ran that way too, for he said, almost apologetically, 'It's a pity Mrs Thomas Morland didn't know you were to be in London again today, or I'm sure she wouldn't have gone. It is only a private party at Mrs Montague's, to hear the new soprano. The young people, you know, want always to be doing. They have not yet learnt the joys of sitting by one's own fireside. But my son is with her, and she will be quite safe.'

‘Of course,' Thomas said, making an effort to be polite. ‘I am glad she has the opportunity to be amused. A sailor's wife is often forced to be solitary.'

‘She is very much loved, wherever she goes,' Chelmsford said, smiling. 'My wife and I dote on her, and wish we had the opportunity of seeing more of her. But, dear me, she is always at something or other. She is always in demand.'

‘Yes,' said Thomas shortly. He did not need to be told that. Whenever he walked up from Whitehall Steps to Pall Mall, he knew the chances were that Flora would be 'just this minute gone out - but expected back some time or other'.

‘By the way,' Chelmsford said after a moment, 'you seem to have made a good impression on Parker - Sir Peter Parker, I mean.'

‘Indeed? I am glad to hear it.'

‘Yes, Sandwich was telling me after the levee today that Parker said he has a vacancy for a midshipman, and was wondering whether our young cousin William might like to transfer to his ship. I said I thought he would be delighted. Life on a three-decker is not as exciting for a young man, I know, as life on a dashing little frigate or sloop, but—'

‘It would be a wonderful thing for his career,' Thomas said, cheering considerably. He was very fond of young William. 'I have the highest opinion of him,' he added. Chelmsford nodded sagely.

‘And it is such a compliment to you, too.'

‘I hadn't thought of that,' Thomas said.

‘Mind you, I wouldn't be surprised if Aylesbury didn't have something to do with it. You know he thinks the world of Mrs Thomas Morland, and Parker's wife is sister to Aylesbury's wife's cousin, who is a permanent secretary at the Admiralty.'

‘I see,' said Thomas. Chelmsford cocked an eye at him. ‘It is the way these things are done, my dear,' he said.

‘It's the way of the world. You mustn't mind it.'

‘No, of course not,' said Thomas.

*

In April Lord Carlisle at last achieved his desire to be employed as an ambassador by the Government, and was sent to America to treat for peace with the Patriots, though when Thomas heard he was not to be allowed to discuss independence with the rebels, he had little hope the mission would succeed.
Ariadne
was to take his lordship's party to New York, and Thomas welcomed him on board with more than official warmth, as a friend of Allen and Jemima, who, in genuine kindness of heart, had taken the trouble to offer his services to Morland Place in carrying letters to Thomas. From these Thomas, who had not been able to go back to Morland Place since December, learnt that Edward had surprised and somewhat dismayed them all by declaring a desire to read for the Church; that James had frightened them out of their wits by falling from the roof of the kennels, where he had been climbing unlawfully, and breaking his arm; that little Louisa had just completed her first sampler, though the stitches were very large and loose, and was beginning to learn French from Father Ramsay who thought everyone ought to know it; and that Jemima hoped she was pregnant again, but was not yet entirely certain.

For a moment, as he read the letter in the seclusion of the lee side of the quarterdeck, the grey and choppy Channel and the familiar sights and sounds of a naval vessel faded away, and he saw in his mind's eye with painful clarity the warmth and peace and busy-ness of Morland Place, the children growing up, the work of the estate going on around them, and Allen and Jemima celebrating their love for each other in another child. He smiled at the picture, rejoicing that Flora would be there to share it, safe under the eye of the woman who had been almost a mother to her, far from the glittering temptations of London and society. For Flora, trying hard not to sulk about it, had been sent off home for the rest of the year at least, to be fixed in Yorkshire by maternity. Thomas, during that Christmas at Wolvercote, had managed to make her pregnant again, and was setting sail for New York with far greater peace of mind than he had anticipated.

They made a quick passage to New York, arriving in May, with orders for the British army to evacuate Philadelphia, and for the soldiers to be dispersed to the West Indies and Florida. The theatre of war was shifting, and with the entry of the French into the conflict it had been decided to concentrate the attack on the French possessions in the West Indies in the hope of diverting their forces and keeping them occupied. Sir Henry Clinton was now commander-in-chief, and he decided to march the men across New Jersey to New York for the embarkation, since large ships would not be able to get up the river as far as Philadelphia. Thomas was ordered to take
Ariadne
up the river to Philadelphia to take off supplies and the three thousand refugees from the Patriot army who had come in during that bitter winter. They had terrible tales to tell of the hardship the Patriot army had suffered at Valley Forge, where lack of supplies had led to disease and famine, and the savage cold and the lack of proper clothes, sometimes even shoes, had led to terrible cases of frostbite, many of them losing feet or limbs.

Thomas took his quota of refugees up to New York where they were to await the main body of the army coming by land, delivered Clinton's reports to Admiral Arbuthnot commanding the squadron at New York, and was immediately sent home to England again by the Admiral with despatches. It was the usual round, the predictable circuit for a small fast ship in time of war, and Thomas was resigned to it. When he made his number at the Admiralty, however, he was summoned before the First Lord and once more found Sir Maurice Suckling with him. Suckling greeted Thomas kindly, despite being evidently unwell -he looked pale and drawn and tired.

‘I want your opinion, Captain Morland, of the coppering,' Suckling said, when the preliminary reports had been made. 'How do you find
Ariadne
handles? Would you speak in favour of coppering?’

Thomas said that he would, and a technical discussion ensued, at the end of which the First Lord consulted some papers on the table in front of him and Thomas waited in patient silence on his pleasure.

‘You have been a long time on the West India station,' he said at last. It was not a question, and Thomas remained silent. Suckling looked up with a faint smile. 'We are well aware that young captains regard it as a good station. My own nephew has just been sent there, made lieutenant into the
Lowestoft,
and not all the tales of yellow fever could dissuade him from thinking it the best. Prize money is the lure, easier to attain in the West Indies than in Europe.'

‘So I understand, sir,' Thomas said neutrally.

‘You have been fortunate in your health, Captain? The fever has not claimed you amongst its victims.' It was a statement from the First Lord, rather than a question. ‘No, sir.'

‘But then, you have not been fortunate in the matter of prize money,' Suckling added. All the information was there in those papers before them.

‘No, sir,' Thomas said. It was not necessary to tell Suckling why - a ship used to take despatches back and forth had no chance of single-ship action which might lead to the capture of a prize.

‘Well, Captain, a change might be beneficial for you,' the First Lord said, looking up again, and folding his hands before him. 'The
Isabella
has been refitting at Spithead, and while we had her in dry dock we took the opportunity to copper her. You are to proceed with all speed to Portsmouth and take command of her. Here are your orders - you'll be joining the Channel fleet under Admiral Keppel. You had better travel post. We need our ships at sea, not in dock.'

‘Aye aye, sir,' Thomas said. He was a little bewildered with the speed of events. 'Thank you, sir.'

‘I am sure you will justify our trust in you, Captain. A number of people have your welfare at heart, it seems.
Isabella
is a thirty-six-gun frigate, so you may well have a chance to prove yourself in action. I hope you do. I have a presentiment that the navy is going to need fighting captains before long.’

Thomas, his orders in his hand, hurried back to the waterside, where he took a pair of oars back to the
Ariadne.
He had barely time to pack his dunnage if he was to take a post-coach that night; little time remained for explaining to his officers and saying goodbye to them, after their four years together. He took a last look round the tiny cabin, which had been his home for so long, and felt a foolish constriction in his throat. There was a knock at the door at that moment, and he had to cough before he could say ‘Come in'.

It was the midshipman of the watch. 'Mr Blake's compliments, sir, and there's a shore boat coming off, with an officer aboard. Mr Blake thinks it will be our new captain, sir.'

‘Very well,' he dismissed the boy, and decided there was just time for one more task, if he was to wait and greet the new captain. He sat down at his desk - his no longer - and scribbled a note.