The Gathering Storm (14 page)

'Good God, even while the guns are being hoisted in?'
Dismayed at the tangling confusion this could provoke.

'Even then, Mr Loftus. There is not one single moment
to be lost, and I will flay the skin off the back of any man
that does not know it. We will work all day, and all night,
until we are ready for sea.'

'Very good, sir.' Obediently, stifling his doubts.

'Mr Adgett!' Raising his voice to a quarterdeck bawl, calling
forrard.

His carpenter came aft along the gangway, shaking his hat
free of sawdust, and thrusting a pencil behind his ear.

'Sir?' Stepping on to the quarterdeck.

'What do the dockyard men say, as to the patched repair?'

Grimacing, shaking his head: 'They do not like it, sir.
Their work was not near complete when the shores was
knocked down and we swam her out. And I confess I do not
like it myself, as I say. She has no copper at the patched
place, at the wales over the cant frames. That will impair
her working going about, and our making headway, I should
think.'

'Yes yes, it cannot be helped. What I require to know is –
will the patched repair suffice for a week at sea? The
caulking will hold?'

'It may do, sir – it might do. If we do not strike no more
bad weather. I cannot answer for the safety of the ship in a
storm of wind.'

'Very well, thank you, Mr Adgett. D'y'need more men for
your own crew?'

'No, sir, thankee. I am reasonable content as I am, as to
number of men. But I am not content as to the rest, sir, as
I say. Any more than was the master shipwright, earlier today,
when—'

'You may leave the handling and working of the ship to
me, Mr Adgett.' Over him. 'You will not drown while I am
in command.'

Rennie went below to the great cabin, the cracking of
mallets and the shouts of artificers echoing behind him. He
called for his clerk:

'Mr Tait! Mr Tait, I want you!'

Nehemiah Tait appeared, carrying notebooks, books, paper
and ink. He was flustered.

'Are ye ready, Mr Tait?' Rennie threw off his hat and coat,
and pulled a chair to him.

'I – I am doing my best, sir. I fear there was an upset in
the boat, coming from the hulk, and I have lost my bundle
of quill pens, that fell into—'

'Lost? You have no pens about you?'

'I – I fear not, sir. They fell into—'

'Christ Jesu, is there no end to ruthless impediment and
vexation in the ship?' Going to his desk, pulling open drawers
and finding a bundle of quills tied with twine. He threw the
bundle to Mr Tait, who caught it awkwardly, and dropped
several items.

'Penknife?'

'I have my own penknife, thank you, sir.' Stooping,
gathering.

'Then put it to use, Mr Tait, right quick, if y'please. I
must write a letter to Their Lordships.'

'Very good, sir.' Spilling notebooks, papers and pens in a
rush on the table. Rennie sighed, blew out his cheeks, and:

'Boy!' Finding no response: 'Colley Cutton!'

'I am just boiling in the spirit kettle, sir.' Emerging from
the quarter gallery, the cat Dulcie twining at his ankles.

'Never mind that. Find Mr Makepeace, and ask him with
my compliments to come to me at once in the great cabin.
Y'will likely find him below, in the hold. Then find Mr Leigh,
and Mr Souter. I wish to see them all. I have something of
great importance to tell them. Jump, man, jump.'

Colley Cutton touched his forehead, and sidled rapidly
out.

'I am ready, sir.' Nehemiah Tait.

'Thank God there is someone in the ship that is, Mr Tait.'
A small, grim nod.

A little more than twenty-four hours after, HMS
Expedient
,
frigate, loosed her foretopsail, slipped her mooring on the
tide, found the breeze off the point, and made sail for France.

Since being apprised of the nature of their business at Château
de Châtaigne, James had been if anything kept under even
closer scrutiny than before. However, he was allowed
to descend to the small oval room to take his meals, and to
converse there with Madame Maigre. He was also permitted
to walk and talk with her in the leafy garden, where the air
smelled headily of flowers, and the sharp fragrances of herbs,
and the sounds were all peaceful – birdsong, and the chirring
of insects. On the second afternoon of this greater freedom
for James, Madame Maigre turned to him, pausing so sudden
that she was almost in his arms as she turned, and:

'Listen to that beautiful birdsong ...' Closing her eyes as
she leaned back her head to listen, revealing the curve of
her neck, and the tops of her breasts, and her slightly open
mouth. James had to hold himself away with so great an
effort of will that he felt his head begin to swim.

She opened her eyes after a moment, and: 'You hear it,
don't you, Lieutenant?'

'I hear only the beating of my heart, madame.' Before he
could stop himself.

'Oh!' A smile. 'Are you so inward-looking that you have
no time for the beautiful creatures of nature?' She turned
her head again, drew in a breath and closed her eyes as the
melodious notes of the bird – a wren – floated over the lichened
wall and through the shading branches, giving a
poignancy and sweetness to the whole stretching length of
the quiet garden, and in that moment he was lost. When
she opened her eyes, deep and dark, he took her in his arms
and kissed her.

She tried to draw back, to clutch at his arms and break
from his embrace, but her resistance was not sustained, grew
feeble and was gone, and her own arms were lifted to circle
his neck as she gave up her mouth to his, and pressed her
body into him.

At last, drawing back her head a little, she murmured:

'Not now. Soon.'

'You will come to my chamber?'

'I will come. And now we must continue to walk, else they
will grow suspicious.'

They had been standing deep beneath a spreading tree
that hid them from the wall and the house, and now
emerged to stroll down the hushed length of the garden.
James tried to think of what to say to her, but no rational
words would come to him. To himself, as he walked beside
her, and glanced casually back toward the wall: 'I cannot
say I love her, I scarce know her at all. I must not say it.
For the love of Christ I am a married man, married to the
most beautiful and wonderful girl. Why did I let myself
go just now? Why did I ask her to come to my room?
What possessed me? What possesses me yet? You bloody
fool, you wretched bloody fool. What are you
doing
!'

At length he said:

'I wish I could say that I care more about why we are here,
and my duty, and the great thing we attempt, than I do about
being with you – but I do not.' His heart thudding.

'You must not say that to me. Nor let anyone in the house
hear you say it.'

'At this moment, here, now, it is simply the truth.'

'Do not walk too close to me, do not take my hand in
yours. Monsieur Félix will challenge you if he sees you
touch me.'

'He is your lover?' Surprised.

'No. No, he never was. But he wished to be, and still
wishes it. He torments himself with jealous fantasy. That is
why he has thrown us together like this, in the garden. To
feed the fire of his jealousy, to torment himself.'

'Will not that distract him from
his
duty?'

'For him it is everything, and nothing. He sees me, he
talks to me, he is with me – without possessing me. It keeps
him on a knife edge, and that is why he is so acute a
commander. Every nerve in his body is alert, and tingling.
He is alive to every threat, and every possibility. It makes
him the best man in France for this undertaking. You see?'
A flash of the dark eyes.

'Are you quite certain you never had a regard for him ... ?'

'He chills me to the bone.' She shivered. 'But he is one
of us, he is at the very centre of our endeavour, and we can
do nothing without him.'

At thirty minutes to midnight, several days after, as James
waited in his locked bedchamber high under the roof, four
large covered carts rolled into the great courtyard below,
followed by a single plain carriage and a guard of twenty
soldiers.

The convoy from Paris had come.

*

In the morning James was brought downstairs to the oval
room, but Madame Maigre was absent. Nor had she come
to his room during the night. M. Félix was alone in the
room, and it was he who briefed the prisoner – as James was
obliged still to think of himself. The angular figure turned,
and James was again confronted by that gaunt, unforgiving
face.

'The party has arrived, as you may know, Lieutenant.'

'I watched their arrival, monsieur, late last night.'

'Their Majesties have expressed the desire to remain
completely secluded during their short stay here. Until it is
time for them to go into the ship, they will not emerge, nor
will they like to see anyone outside their immediate entourage.
You understand?'

'Very good. But I must ask certain questions now,
monsieur.'

'Questions? There is nothing more you need to know.'

'Well, but there is. How many?'

'Lieutenant?' Irritably.

'How many are in the entourage, and how many of them
will be going to the place, to the inlet at the Pointe de Malaise?
In addition to Their Majesties? It is vital that I know the
number exact, so that I may arrange places in the boat.'

A conceding nod. 'Yes, I see that is important. There will
be twenty persons altogether.'

'Twenty! Nay, I had thought perhaps half a dozen, the
immediate family only.'

'Their Majesties have particular needs that must be accommodated,
monsieur. They cannot be expected to leave France
without their principal aides and bodyservants, and various
others.'

A quick, impatient nod, and: 'Monsieur, now it is I that
must make something clear. We cannot take twenty people
in the boat. The boat's crew will be double-banked on the
thwarts, to provide sufficient pulling power to get the boat
through the hazardous passage. In addition there will
be the officer commanding, the coxswain, and myself.
There will room, safely, for at most another six persons,
and therefore—'

Over him: 'We can reduce the numbers by a few, perhaps
– but you will not be going into the boat, Lieutenant.'

'What?'

'No, you will remain with us, until word comes that Their
Majesties are safe. That they have reached their destination,
and are safe.'

'That is quite impossible, monsieur. If I do not go into
the boat, then the boat will not take anyone aboard at all.'

'You cannot mean it.' With open contempt. 'You seriously
suggest that you are of greater importance than Their
Majesties?'

'I suggest nothing of the kind, in my own right. I am
merely following orders. I am to go into the boat, and return
to the ship. You yourself, however, have given me sufficient
importance to try to hold me hostage against Their Majesties'
safety. I don't rate myself so high. I repeat, I merely seek to
follow my orders.'

Most of this was pure bluff, and James was unsurprised
when M. Félix countered with:

'Your orders have been changed, Lieutenant.'

'By whom?'

'By myself.'

'You have no authority to issue orders to me, monsieur.
My orders are issued only in England.'

'Not whilst you are in France, monsieur.' Dismissively,
looking out of the window.

'Where is Madame Maigre? I wish to speak to her.'

Turning with a cold stare: 'Madame Maigre cannot aid
you, monsieur. She is not in command. Her duties here are
now complete, and she will return to Paris.'

'To Paris? Why? When Their Majesties are here, what is
there for her to do in Paris, now?'

'There are many others who will wish to leave France,
once it becomes clear the king has gone. Madame Maigre
will be invaluable in aiding and guiding and assisting them.'
A breath. 'You will be returned to your room, Lieutenant,
until we are ready for you to go to the inlet and make your
signals to the ship.'

'I will make no such signals, monsieur, unless I am
permitted to go into that boat.' Defiantly.

'Do not be foolish. I personally would take great pleasure
in putting you to torture, if you failed to comply. Serge!'

His dour assistant entered and stood waiting. James glanced
out of the window, nodded there, and:

'With your permission, monsieur, I should like five minutes
of fresh air. Surely that is not too much to ask, when you
ask so much of me?'

A long, bleak glance, then M. Félix nodded. James was
taken out into the garden and allowed to walk – with Serge
not far behind. James wandered under the trees and snuffed
the fragrant shade, but his head was wholly at odds with his
tranquil surroundings.

'I must contrive to escape with the royal party. I must contrive
to bring Madame Maigre out with me. I will not leave her
behind. I will not.' A glance toward Serge, and he wondered
briefly if he could not make a dash for the far wall now, and
freedom. As if sensing such a possibility, Serge had moved closer.

James paced slowly down the length of the garden, turned
casually and glanced up at the high windows of the château.
Where was the royal party concealed? In which room was
Madame Maigre? A nod to Serge, and he lingered a moment,
breathing the soft air.

Il faut que je méchappe
.' And he found that he was talking
to himself in French saying that he must find a way out.
He allowed himself a brief ironic smile. He must think
like an Englishman, and try to answer the many questions
that jostled in his head in English. What destination had
been decided upon for the king and queen? And by whom?
Had they decided it themselves? Or had they been advised
where to go by the British government? No mention of
this had been made to James by Mr Mappin. Mappin had
said nothing about the French royal family at all, indeed.

Presently Serge grew impatient, and gestured to James
that they should return to the house.

'A beautiful day, is it not?' James said to him, as they set
off. '
C'est magnifique
.'

And received no hint of a response.

*

Expedient
was not near her own destination as night fell. She
lay virtually becalmed some way to the west of the Channel
Isles. There was a slow, somnolent, glassy swell in the twilight,
and the frigate's sails hung limp. Rennie had paced his deck
in an agony of frustration, sent out the boats, then brought
the hands back aboard to supper, the boats towed astern.
Now, as the watch changed at hammocks down:

'I will go below, Mr Leigh.' To the new officer of the
deck.

'Very good, sir. You wish to see the glass-by-glass notations?'
Stepping to the binnacle, and removing the noted
log under the light.

'No no. There will be nothing in them of the slightest
interest, hey?'

'I fear not, sir. Only the lack of progress of the ship.'
Returning the notes.

'Indeed. We may only hope for a relieving breeze. Pray
for one, will you?'

In the great cabin Rennie sat alone at a late supper, pushed
it aside, drank off a glass of wine, and began to write up his
journal. The cat Dulcie joined him, leapt into his lap, and
fell asleep. Each time he reached to dip his quill in the ink
the slight movement caused the furled creature to emit an
astonishingly loud purr, like nasal drumming, and to flex her
claws against Rennie's legs, to remind him of her affection,
lately restored after a prolonged period of hauteur and indifference
to his own repeated offers of friendship. Gently,
fondly:

'Aye, Dulcie, aye. I am aware of you there, my dear.'
He wrote:

At four bells of the second dog watch, & hammocks
down, in light airs & the ship making no headway.

& our progress since has been woeful slow.

The boats hoisted out following on the declaration
of noon, & an attempt was made to bring the ship to
a breeze, to no avail, & I ordered the boats' crews
inboard subsequent to eat their supper, and the boats
towed.

Today during the afternoon watch were sighted three
Indiamen bound NE at a league & one half distant, very
slow, & we did not speak. Chasse-marées & bisquines
also, eastward.

The patched repair to the bow remains adequate.

We suffer no sick men, & in consequence Dr Wing
is content. I am not. We must reach our design
tomorrow, or fail.

WR

'What system of lantern signals had been arranged,
Lieutenant?' M. Félix, to James. They were standing in darkness
on the rocky beach of the inlet, in the dank tidal whiff
of seaweed.

'Three long flashes of a lantern, at regular intervals of a
minute, until an answer was observed. Then the boat was to
come in.'

'Very well.' He gave an instruction to his assistant, there
was a brief clatter of disturbed shingles, and the lantern was
produced. 'We will begin.'

After half an hour, when no answering light could be seen
to seaward, M. Félix:

'We will wait a further hour, and signal again.'

'Have you a flask with you, monsieur?'

'Flask? No.'

'Perhaps your man has one ... ?'

'My man?'

'Your servant. Serge.'

'Serge is not my servant, Lieutenant. He is my nephew.
And he does not drink anything except water, or goat's milk.'

'Ah. Not even wine?'

'He is very careful of his health.'

'As am I, Monsieur Félix, and the damp air does not aid
it.' A breath, he kicked away a pebble from under his shoe,
and: 'Has Madame Maigre returned to Paris?'