The Gathering Storm (5 page)

'These are not part of our allowance, sir.' Over him. 'They
are by way of being a – a gift to the ship.'

'Gift! Whose gift, Mr Loftus?'

'Mine, sir,' said James Hayter, and he walked into the
cabin, removing his hat.

Hours passed before Rennie was able to speak to James alone
– as he knew that he must. Quite apart from his lists, and
his interrupted and now postponed conversation with Dr
Wing, Rennie had to deal with a great many minor exigencies
in the ship. One of the six lately arrived midshipmen
had fallen ill, and had to be taken off in a boat to the Haslar
at Gosport. Three seamen, absent without leave from the
ship, had returned drunk in a stolen boat with three young
women, and been discovered
in flagrante
in the forepeak. Mr
Trent complained that half a tier of salted pork was spoiled,
and wished to have it replaced as a matter of urgency. The
boatswain Mr Tangible was unhappy that he had not received
his full allowance of Stockholm tar, &c., &c. Without saying
so to James, and with a heavy heart, Rennie had ordered the
hoy to stand away, taking the beer and wine with her. And
at last he returned to the great cabin, having allowed all of
these matters to occupy him until the sun was low in the
west, when he could avoid the interview no longer.

'My dear James, I do beg your pardon for leaving you
alone so long. So many damned distractions, you know, for
a commanding officer awaiting his sailing instructions.'
Bustling into the great cabin, removing his hat, striding to
the table and glancing briefly and purposefully at his lists.

'There is no need for apology, sir.' James, rising from his
chair. 'I came uninvited aboard, after all, and took you by
surprise. It is I that—'

'Has Cutton looked after you?' Tapping a list. 'No, that
has not been done. Damnation.' Distractedly, then: 'Has he
given you wine, and a biscuit?'

'Thank you, sir, I wanted nothing.'

Looking up from the lists: 'He did not bring you wine,
the wretch? I'll soon—'

'Nay, sir, nay, he is not at fault. I did not want anything,
and said so to him.'

'Ah. Oh. Very good. Sit, sit, dear fellow. Will you drink
a glass of wine now? Say that you will, a glass of wine with
me – hey?'

'Thank you, sir, then I will.'

As they waited for Cutton to bring the wine, Rennie cleared
his throat, and:

'I may as well say at once, James ... I had to send the hoy
away, you know.'

'Send it away?'

'It was generous kind in you, James, to think of giving us
such a quantity of beer – and wine, indeed – but the plain
fact is that we are fully stored, and the ship trimmed for sea.
Mr Loftus was very unhappy with me, and I could not—'

'Bernard Loftus objected?' James, surprised. 'He seemed
pleased enough when I came aboard.'

'Yes, did he? Well well, that was before the other trouble,
about the tiers of pork. It is all a question of trimming the
ship, as I'm sure you will grasp – as a sea officer.'

'In course, sir. I do see that, now.'

'Hm. Hm. – Ah!' With relief, as Cutton brought their
wine on a tray.

'Yes, I ...' Pouring wine. 'I had been promised – or rather,
Mr Trent and the cook had been promised – fresh meat,
d'y'see. But there was an interruption about that ashore, and
then the trouble about the spoiled casks of pork ... Well
well, y'don't want to hear all these irksome things, James,
when ye've come aboard as a guest. Let us be convivial over
our wine.' Handing him a glass. 'Your health.'

'Your health, sir. In truth, I had hoped to discuss with
you—'

'How is Catherine? That is a question I should have asked
at once, good God. How is she?'

'She is much better, thank you, sir. Nearly restored
to full health, and staying at Melton House with my
mother.'

'That is excellent good news, excellent. I am so very glad,
James.'

'Thank you, sir. May I – may I come to the matter which
brought me to the ship, sir?'

'In course, in course – by all means.' Dreading the next
few minutes.

'I am come to ask a very great kindness of you, a very
great favour ...'

'Go on.'

Putting down his glass: 'As you know, I did not take up
my commission in the
Eglantine
sloop. She has gone to
another officer now, Captain Edward Semple.'

'Yes – I had heard.'

'Subsequent to that decision, which I now deeply regret,
and consequent on it – I am left on the beach.'

'Yes – on the beach.' A sympathetic nod, disguising great
discomfort.

'Therefore, sir, I am come here to ask if you will intercede
with Their Lordships on my behalf, and take me again
as your first.'

'Indeed. Indeed. I had thought as much. I knew it as soon
as you came aboard.' A wry grimace, an apologetic nod. 'I
cannot pretend I did not.'

'Then – you are willing to consider—'

Holding up a hand: 'James, before you say any more, my
dear friend, I must tell you that it cannot be so.'

'Cannot ... ?'

Both hands laid flat on the table. A deep sniff. 'Nay, nay,
it cannot. You are master and commander, now. Your rank
prevents it, leave alone any other consideration. I am very
sorry, James, but there it is.'

James looked away a moment, himself took a deep breath,
and then leaned forward: 'Sir, I think you know me very
well, and understand me. I was foolish to have declined the
Eglantine
, and greatly regret having done so. The world
looked very dark, and I could not see beyond my own grief
and despair. But that is not the man I am. I am a sea officer,
to the marrow of my bones, and I think a good and brave
one. As are you.' A breath, then: 'As one sea officer to
another, I ask this of you. As a trusted friend I ask it. Intercede
in my behalf, and ask that an exception be made. Give me
this chance to save my career. Will you?'

*

Rennie returned to the Hard in his launch, as he had done
every evening since the ship had been refloated and given
her mooring number. Until his instructions came he was
determined to live ashore with his wife, even if his people
were obliged to live aboard. James had already departed in
his hired boat. Rennie had come on deck to see him go down
the ladder. It had been very painful for Rennie to turn him
out of the ship, and James had been very subdued as he
stepped over the thwarts into the stern-sheets of the boat.
He did not again look up at the rail, nor did he even lift a
hand in farewell as the boatman pulled away from the side.
Rennie told his wife the story, concluding:

'I fear it may be the end of our friendship.'

'I have never met your friend, William, but you have so
often spoke of him that I feel I do know him. I don't think
he will wish to turn his back on you. I don't think he is that
kind of man.'

'I have turned my back on him, have not I, my dear?'

'You have not, you have not. You told him the truth. It
was the honourable thing to do, the only thing to do.'

'Aye, it was.' A sigh. 'I know it – and yet I feel so damned
guilty, all the same. I refused his gift of beer and wine. I
turned him out of the ship. The poor fellow, after all he has
endured ...'

'But that was none of your doing, William. You did your
best for him in going to Dorsetshire, and begging him to
return.'

'Yes, yes, I know – but to see him sitting so quiet in that
damned boat, knowing that in all likelihood his career in the
navy was finished ...'

'William, it was not your fault.' Earnestly, looking into his
face, her hand on his.

'I wish with all my heart I could have said to him: "In
course, James, we'll simply ignore your new rank. I will send
away my third – a fellow I don't much like, anyway – and ask
Tom Makepeace to go down to second, and my second to
third, and give you back your old berth. We will stow your
dunnage and drink a glass of wine on your reappointment."
I wish that I could have, but I could not. Their Lordships
would never permit it, under any circumstances, and it would
be entirely foolish to entertain the notion that they would.
It was made clear to me when I returned from Dorset that
James was to be froze out. I could do nothing at all for him.
Nothing.'

'It was not your fault.' Gently.

'You are right.' Kissing her cheek. 'You are right.' A
moment, and: 'He asked if he might come into the ship as
a supernumerary, and reminded me that he had took me into
the
Hawk
cutter when he commanded her. And again I was
obliged to refuse. I could not ask my junior officers to be
complicit in that kind of deceit. If discovered it could lead
to court martial and disgrace. It is one thing to slip aboard
a cutter in a civilian coat to chase smugglers up and down
the Channel. It is quite another to go into a frigate, in plain
defiance of Their Lordships, following on the deliberate
refusal of your own command. No no—'

'William, my dear, I am going to forbid you to speak of
it any more. Let us go down to the dining room, if you
please, and eat our supper. I have ordered it.' Linking her
arm with his.

'You have? What did you order?'

'We are to have broth, then fish, and then duckling.'

'Ah. Ah. Very good.'

'You are hungry?' A smile.

'To say the truth, I am. It has been a long and difficult
day, and I am hungry, indeed.'

And he put away his guilt, and the pain of the afternoon,
and went downstairs arm in arm with his wife.

But later as he lay abed Captain Rennie could not sleep.
James Hayter's drawn, crestfallen face haunted him, and
accused him, and he was ashamed of himself in the quiet
dark.

The wave, blue and undulating, rose to its riffling height
and struck the cutwater as the ship pitched heeling into the
wind. There was a solid thump of water against wood, and
a shock of spray flew up white and fell in a cloud of glittering
shards over the forecastle. The whole ship shuddered.
The seaman clinging in the forechains as he attempted to
swing the lead for a sounding streamed from head to foot.
He shook himself, blew water from his nose and mouth, and
tried again. Shoals lay close.

On the quarterdeck, close by the helmsman at the wheel,
Lieutenant Makepeace lifted his voice against the wind, and:
'Keep your luff! Hold her so!'

Relayed from the forechains, the cry: 'Five fathom, pebble
and shell!'

Tom Makepeace lifted his silver speaking trumpet. 'Stand
by to tack ship!'

Thump, and again a shock of spray, and the sea frothed
and hissed along the wales. Creaking timbers, and the
groaning, gnarling, stretching complaint of shrouds, and
stays, and braces. The slide of water along the deck,
and the sluicing gush of scuppers as the ship lifted herself,
and ran on.

'Weather braces!'

Feet slipping on the sloping deck. A midshipman vomiting
over the lee rail.

'Lee braces haul through!'

Boom-thump, and a further storm of spray.

'Helm's a-lee! Fore sheet, foretop bowline, jib and staysail
sheets – let go!' Bellowed.

The jib flapping and snapping emptily as the ship rolled
and pitched closer to the wind.

'Off tacks and sheets!'

And as the ship came through the eye:

'Mainsail haul!'

Presently, shuddering and thrusting, streaming water and
creaking in every part of her, the ship passed through the
critical moments, and:

'Let go and haul!'

Foresails braced round, tacks and sheets trimmed. Broad
canvas took the wind, bellied and filled, and the ship heeled
true on her new heading.

At Lieutenant Makepeace's shoulder, another voice now:

'Very good, Mr Makepeace. Neatly done. Let us run right
quick across to France, and show them how we handle ships
in the Royal Navy.'

HMS
Expedient
, frigate, 36, with her full complement of
260 souls, ran close-hauled on the larboard tack, buffeted
by a stiff easterly, across the white-flecked blue of the Channel
toward the faint grey wandering line of the French coast.

Getting her to sea had not been a pleasure for Captain
Rennie. It never was, he had reflected in the preceding days.
His sailing instructions had failed to arrive, and in a quandary
he had again called on Admiral Hapgood.

'You had better make use of the available time,' the port
admiral had allowed.

'In what way, sir?'

'Weigh, and take her out. Ye've been idle at your mooring
far too long.'

'Thank you, sir.' A relieved nod.

'I do not mean that you should follow your preliminary
instructions in full, or anything like. Y'will put your people
through their paces, so to say, and find out the ship's
strengths.'

Rennie knew his ship's strengths perfectly well, and her
weaknesses, but he did not say so to the admiral. He did say:

'How long may I keep the sea, sir?'

'No no, y'will not keep the sea at all, Captain Rennie.
Take her out, run before the wind a board or two, then bring
her about and return to your mooring. You apprehend me?'

'I would wish to exercise my great guns, sir, I think.'

'Yes yes, that is for you to say, and I will not interfere –
except that you should not
fire
your guns. We must not waste
powder.'

'Very good, sir.'

On the day following Rennie had been preparing to weigh
when a boat came to the ship with a message. Would
Captain Rennie kindly repair ashore, to the port admiral's
office?

With great but concealed irritation Rennie did as he was
asked. At the office he was introduced to a gentleman of
thirty-five or -six, in a dark coat, very slim and neat in his
appearance, and with what Rennie took at first for a diffident
manner. He was introduced as Mr Brough Mappin.

'May I apologise, Captain Rennie, for inconveniencing
you? Most kind of you to come here at such short notice.'

'Mr Mappin. How may I be of service, sir?'

'Service, yes. That is the word. I do seek a service.' Turning
his head. 'I wonder, Admiral, if you will permit me a moment
or two alone with Captain Rennie?'

'Eh?'

'A few minutes, if you would oblige me?'

'Hm. Very well. I shall – I shall go downstairs.' A beetling
frown, and he moved to the door. 'Pell! Pell, where are you!'
And as he trod down the stair: 'Pell, damn you, come here!'

Mr Mappin closed the door with a click of the lock, and
motioned Rennie to a chair by the admiral's desk. The
gesture, and the brief half-smile that accompanied it, revealed
to Rennie the man behind the diffidence and apology. Here
was a fellow accustomed to getting what he wanted.

'I will come direct to my point.' Mr Mappin sat down
behind the desk, in Admiral Hapgood's chair. Rennie waited,
his hat across his knee, in the chair opposite.

'Lieutenant Hayter is your friend, I think?'

'James Hayter? He is now master and commander, you
know, and so is known as Captain Hayter. And yes, he is my
friend. Why d'you ask?'

'I fear that he is again merely lieutenant. He accepted the
sloop
Eglantine
, and then declined to go into her.'

'Yes, I know, but surely they would not—'

Over him: 'He never read his commission aboard, and
thus refused quite deliberate to take up his duties. I am
informed he could have been dismissed the service. Instead
Their Lordships have decided to strip him of the rank of
master and commander, and reduce him to lieutenant.'

'Good God, that is nearly unprecedented.'

'He came to you, did not he, and asked that you take him
into your ship?'

'You are well informed, Mr Mappin. He did make that
request. I was unable to grant his wish.'

'You would not take him, even as – I think you call it –
supernumerary?'

Rennie took a breath. 'Mr Mappin, we in the navy are
plain-spoke men. I ask that you come to your point, sir. If
you please.'

'Yes, forgive me, you are right to chide.' The half-smile.
'I want you to take a supernumerary into your ship.'

Rennie looked at him again, and saw the same man sitting
in his well-cut coat, but there was something new in his
expression. A hardness had replaced the sudden little smile,
and there was a new acuity in his gaze.

'Mr Mappin.' Politely. 'Will you tell me who you are?'

'By all means. I am a man in usual private, with private
interests. On occasion I give advice, and assistance, in other
circles. Government business.'

'Ahh. Hmm.' Rennie raised his eyebrows. 'I had heard
that Sir Robert had retired, after that unfortunate episode
with the Excise. But I was doubtful, myself.'

'You have left me behind, Captain Rennie. Sir Robert?
The Excise?'

'Come now, Mr Mappin. Sir Robert ain't a man to allow
himself be bested by a pipsqueak like Major Braithwaite, that
arrested him on a spurious charge, and then attempted to
have him brought to his trial. No no. I don't think Sir Robert
has retired quite yet. What say you?'

Mr Mappin tilted his neat head, and shook it. 'I do not
know the gentleman ...'

'Don't know Sir Robert Greer? Ha-ha, that is a capital
joke. You work for him! Or in least by his side! Hey?'

'I do not.'

'Not? Hh-hh, I do not think you are being entirely fair
to me, you know. I am not such a fool that I don't recognise
the attitudes and tactics of the Fund.' An amused jerk
of the head.

Mr Mappin brought one finger to his lips, left it there a
brief moment, then withdrew it and leaned forward.

'Look here, now, Rennie. I don't know the fellow with
whom you so confidently associate me. Nor have I any
interest in, nor connection to, any bank or fund in the City.
I am here on government business.'

'Yes?' A polite glance, and a nod.

Mr Mappin sat back in his chair. Again the finger to the
lips. Again withdrawn.

'Perhaps I was misinformed, after all.' A little sigh.
'Disappointing.'

'What?'

Mr Mappin got up on his legs, and came round the desk.
Standing before Rennie's chair:

'Your name was given to me as a reliable officer, that could
be trusted to undertake whatever was required of him. I am
not—'

'Y'said you wished me to take a supernumerary into my
ship. Since I am to go to France, or in least to the French
coast, that can only mean a spy.'

'I have not said who, nor have I said—'

'Christ's blood, man!' Angrily rising. 'I am tired of men
like you! Like Sir Robert Greer, and all his works at the
Secret Service Fund! I have had more than my fill
over the years of your schemes and deviousness and denials!
Either tell me what you want, damn' quick, or I shall
proceed to the Hard, go into my launch, and return to
my ship. In least there I will be where I belong as a
sea officer – an
honourable
calling!' Jamming on his thwartwise
hat.

This little display of naval ire had not been impeccably
spontaneous. Rennie had wished to discomfit Mr Mappin,
and show him that sea officers could not be intimidated. He
also wished to make the fellow admit his connection to Sir
Robert Greer. Mr Mappin, however, had not been discomfited
in any way. He had waited for Rennie's tirade to
cease, then mildly:

'Yes. The reason I mentioned Lieutenant Hayter to you
was because, having refused to take him into your ship as
supernumerary, I knew you would likely refuse to take
anybody at all.'

'Then you was correct in that assumption.'

'Lieutenant Hayter was an embarrassment to you, was
not he? He had behaved foolishly in refusing his own
command, and then he came whining to you. What could
be his role in—'

'I do not care to discuss that with you, nor with anyone!
If you are attempting to make me take on my books some
other person, by belittling Mr Hayter, I will not listen to
you!'

'No? That is a pity.'

Rennie stood waiting, and Mr Mappin sat him out, until
Rennie became uncomfortable. He knew that Mr Mappin
very probably had the power to insist. At last:

'What good reason could you give to me, Mr Mappin?
What is behind this? Spying? Hm?'

'If you will like to take off your hat, Captain Rennie, and
sit down ...'

Rennie stood silent a moment longer, then sniffed, pulled
off his hat and sat down. Brusquely:

'Well?'

'Thank you.' The half-smile, and Mr Mappin turned his
head briefly to the door. 'We must not deprive the admiral
of his quarters longer than he would like.' Returning his
gaze to Rennie. 'When your sailing instructions come, they
will make no mention of any name. You are to say nothing
of this meeting today to anyone, nor make any mention of
an impending arrival. The day before your departure to
survey the French coast, the person I have chosen will come
to you. He will not appear until after dark. You will take
him into your ship, and he will then tell you the reason
behind this scheme.'

'D'y'mean that he will carry written orders?'

'I do not. Nothing is to be wrote out specific. Nothing.
He will tell it to you.'

'Hm. Hm.' Rennie pursed his mouth, shook his head,
sighed. 'Mr Mappin, ye've not told me who you are. Nor
admitted who your masters are, though I am in no doubt
you are acting upon their instruction. Ye've given to me no
written orders. Ye've refused to divulge a single compelling
reason why I should accommodate you in this.' A sniff. 'In
the absence of a confirming document of some kind, from
the Admiralty ... I must say no to you.'

'Ah. Must you? Again, that's a pity.'

'For you, perhaps. Not for me, sir.' Rennie had again got
up on his legs. Seeing that his bluff was not in fact going to
be called, he then had no option but to leave Mr Mappin in
the office and go downstairs. The admiral was not in the
lower rooms, when Rennie glanced into them, nor was his
clerk Pell.

With a shrug Rennie had stepped out into the air. He
thought of James Hayter, and Mr Mappin's contempt for
him, and now regretted that he had not taken James as
supernumerary, even if only to thwart the bloody glib-talking
little tailor's fop and his wretched requests. And
there the matter had rested until Admiral Hapgood gave
him permission to weigh and put to sea on
Expedient
's brief
shaking-out run.

When the French coast was clearly in view, Rennie took the
con, and ordered that his ship be brought about, to run
before the wind on the return to Portsmouth. Boats must
be swung out and towed as part of the exercise. As the ship
heeled true on the new heading:

'Mr Tangible!'

'Sir?' Attending.

'We will beat to quarters, and clear the ship for action!'

The boatswain lifted his call, and the piercing tones echoed
across the deck. Immediate feverish activity. The rattle of
the marine's drum. The thudding of many feet. Curses. From
below, the crash and clatter of mallets as bulkheads were
struck and stowed, and cabin furniture. Lieutenants and
middies to their sections. Guncrews assembled. Powder and
shot to hand. And now:

'Silence on deck!' Tom Makepeace.

The creaking of rigging, of bolt ropes and canvas, of
timbers, and the sighing of the wind; the rinsing, rushing
wash of the sea; the cries of seabirds high over the trucktops.

'Cast loose your guns!'

Tackles loosened, sponge rammers and handspikes laid
ready.

'Level your guns!'

Quoins thrust in, and bedded.

'Out tompions!'

Red stoppers pulled out of muzzles, and dropped hanging
on lanyards.