The Perils of Command (20 page)

‘I am now going to tell you a tale.’

‘Spare us, Pearce, and don’t think that cutlass will stand against four, for we have cause to take our due for what you stole out of Gravelines.’

‘And so say we all,’ another voice concurred.

‘Well said, Cephas,’ Peabody retorted.

The response was delivered with a jauntiness Pearce did not feel. ‘I always had me down to be skewered when this was done but I reckon I could see to a pair of you afore you got close, so who is it going to be?’

That was greeted with silence. ‘What is certain is that in this boat you would be pressed to come more than one at a time, so I am going to talk and you are going to have to listen.’

He was as good as his word, going back to that theft and how it had come about as well as the outcome for him and his friends. He did not expect to be believed but it was the truth and one day it might come to be seen as that. It was a precaution: if these four wanted revenge they were not alone and he feared another coincidence that would put him in harm’s way in the future, not least with the men who used to employ them.

‘Let’s get onto dry land, for the sake of Christ,’ said the one called Cephas. ‘That’s a tale for a feeble mind.’

‘Even if I am minded to do you a favour?’

‘What favour could we want or take from you?’

‘We are headed to the port used by the Leghorn privateers. You may have heard tell of them, as well as the fact that many of them are English.’

Silence again; perhaps they were ignorant of the fact just imparted.

‘I have no notion if licensed piracy is more or less profitable than smuggling but it will serve you better than being pressed men.’

‘Happen the navy will come fer us.’

‘There are people there who will forge for you certificates of exemption.’

‘Why you doin’ this, Pearce?’ That was Peabody’s voice.

‘Maybe because I was once a pressed seaman myself.’

‘Don’t believe it.’

‘I am going to hand you over to those who will employ you and it is my fond wish that the first time you are engaged in a capture you get your gullet slit. Before I came ashore I told the officer of the watch, Lieutenant Dinsdale – a particular friend of mine by the way – to look into a certain place if I did not return and he got my drift.’

The curses were soft but obvious, which was to the good; they had taken the point.

‘Harm me and there will be King’s sailors by the hundred raiding this part of the port. I have also made sure the possibility is known to those with whom you will serve and the consequences of any action you take. I can assure you that if Admiral Hotham takes the opportunity to close down what he considers a nest of vipers, you will wish for your gullets to be cut so your end is quick.’

‘The devil resides in you,’ Peabody spat.

‘The devil does not exist but I do, and know this. I will
be fully armed if I am ever in Leghorn again and should I see one of your faces it will be the death of you.’

‘You ain’t got the guts.’

‘To see you swing for desertion, I think I have. All I have to do is call out your name for you to be taken up and once you are back aboard
Britannia
, whoever has command of you will swear to your true status.’

The boat was close to the privateer’s quay now and Pearce was on his feet to tell them so.

‘Make your minds up now.’ Their lack of any response was all he needed. ‘I will get off the boat first and depart. There is a tavern yonder called the Golden Hind. Go to it and ask for Mr Senyard and may it be my fate never to clap eyes on any of you ever again.’

Michael O’Hagan did not go looking for Charlie Taverner and Rufus Dommet; they would return to the bathing house once their carousals were over and besides, what could they do that he could not? Instead he called at the Palazzo Sessa only to discover that the ambassador and his wife were attending another house and were not expected to return till late. Already familiar with the kitchens he went there to sit and wait and that was where Mrs Cadogan found him.

‘Best sleep,’ was her opinion, once the tale had been related to her, ‘there’s not much that can be done afore first light and I suspect little then.’

It was a truth Michael was reluctant to accept and quick compliance was not required. The lady might be titled the housekeeper but she was Emma’s mother and was thus able to offer Michael a drink to ease his mind, not that he was to be allowed to consume that alone; Mrs Cadogan filled two goblets, not one.

Naturally they talked for there was nothing standoffish about the lady, so she heard of a rural upbringing in Ireland
with too many mouths to feed off poor soil – which drove Michael to seek his future elsewhere – and of roads travelled and much earth shovelled to turn them from potholed winter mud tracks full of ruts into profitable turnpikes laid with Mr McAdam’s black bitumen. In time such roads brought him to London.

‘The Great Wen,’ Mrs Cadogan sighed. ‘All roads lead to there and not just for the Irish.’

‘Would I be seen as probing if I enquired from where you hail, lady?’

‘Lady, is it,’ she said with a soft laugh. ‘Not many have termed me that for long years past. I hailed from a village near Chester, which if you do not know it—’

‘Forgive me, I do not.’

‘Sufficient to say it is a long way from London, Michael.’

‘Sure, it pleases me you know my name.’

‘Have you not smoked that I am one to know what goes on around me? If I did not, the Chevalier would be a poorer man by many a dubloon.’

‘I dug ditches for the foundations of houses for the rich, Mrs Cadogan. I doubt you came to London for the same purpose.’

‘You would be right there. You have seen my daughter and I am sure noted her beauty. Would it surprise you to know that I was once considered as one such too?’

It would have been easy to say yes; the skin was heavily wrinkled and if there had been beauty there it had long faded; easy, but not polite.

‘You have not lost the trace.’

‘You manage untruths easily, do you not?’

There was no rancour in her tone, more amusement but
then her face clouded and she began to speak of a life where a woman had little more than her charms by which to make her way. Michael knew that she was talking about her daughter as much as herself. That changed when she returned to the subject of Emily Barclay and how John Pearce would act when he heard what had happened.

‘Holy Mary, he will kill for her.’

‘Then he will hang for her too. Some rise to a better life, Michael, and some sink further by far than I have. I would say to Mr Pearce’s lady to forget him and make what life she can, for I sense Captain Barclay is not a poor man and love does not fill a belly.’

‘She is carrying John-boy’s child.’

‘I know,’ came the reply, delivered with an air that implied superior knowledge of the ways of the world than her Irish acquaintance, only to soften immediately. ‘A bairn fills a belly, that is sure, but is it right to let that child rule your life, eh?’

Michael knew she was talking of herself, not Emily Barclay.

‘Sleep, Michael. My Emma rises early and if anything can be done she will contrive it.’

It was the Chevalier who spoke on it, not his wife and he was adamant, though sympathetic, that there was nothing he or she could do. Emily was the captain’s wedded wife and the law was certain on the point of her duty to her husband, while he had the right to disown her if he wished and could stand the scandal.

‘I am obliged to enquire what you will do now.’

‘I thought on that, Your Honour, and it seems to me we
would be best, my companions and I, to return to our ship, only …’

Michael had to hesitate and the Chevalier picked up on why immediately. ‘You lack the means.’

‘Mr Pearce left us provided for and Mrs Barclay likewise. But that has gone with her and I reckon my two companions will have given to Naples what they had in their pokes last night.’

‘I will supply the money you require to travel to Brindisi.’

‘Sure you’re a kind soul, Your Honour.’

‘I am put upon by people less deserving than you.’

Michael had the funds when he returned to the bathing house, to find Charlie and Rufus sound asleep and in total ignorance of what had happened, which was remarkable given Barclay’s men had not been gentle in their search. The two had rolled into their cots and ignored the furniture thrown about and it was with sore heads they were appraised, accompanied by much castigation.

‘How was we to know?’ came the constant refrain from a pair suffering much.

‘Well you knows now, so first we worry about putting the Chevalier’s house to rights, and then it’s back on the road.’

‘What about Mrs Barclay?’

‘Jesus, we can do nothing there, boyos, except pray. God knows I hope she is being treated as she should be.’

Emily Barclay had been accommodated in one-third of what was a very spacious cabin, for the navy looked after its commanders well. So far her husband had said little; the journey overland precluded talking and even in the boat as they rowed out to sea he had been silent, perhaps fearing to
talk too much when he could be overheard. HMS
Semele
had made her dawn rendezvous and he was piped aboard with due ceremony, albeit it was again in a chair secured by a rope used subsequently by Emily.

If her coming on board occasioned any comment it was not vouchsafed to her or her husband. The faces of the officers who greeted him were rigid in their expressions and none would look at her for fear that their curiosity would be manifest. Only that oily creature Gherson even looked her in the eye, to favour her with a sycophantic smile. She had been escorted to her present location by the brute Devenow and left to her own devices, food and the ability to wash and change her clothing notwithstanding.

Having unpacked her books there was nothing to do but sit on the casement cushions and read by the strong sunlight pouring in. That became increasingly hard as her thoughts turned to John Pearce and their combined troubles, a position altered as the locked door opened and her husband entered, his face set in what she assumed he thought to be indifference; with his dark countenance he could not carry it off.

‘You and I are required to talk, madam.’

Emily knew she had to get onto the front foot quickly; he could not be allowed to dominate her for his very nature ensured that would be his common mode of behaviour if it were ever established. So she sat rigidly upright in her seat and she replied, keeping her tone devoid of emotion.

‘We are required to come to an accommodation, sir, and one that meets my needs as much as it meets your own.’

Much as he tried to disguise it he was thrown; Barclay had come for an argument and he was not getting that which he
expected. The fact made him hesitate long enough for Emily to continue.

‘I made you an offer in the company of Lady Hamilton—’

‘And that big Paddy, I recall,’ he interrupted, his anger evident even as he sought to supress it.

‘His being there is by the by. I want to know if you are wedded to the outrageous threats that you issued to harm my child.’

‘Not my child, so why should I care?’

‘You know that and so do I. I will undertake to ensure that it remains a secret to those on whose good opinion you rely, namely my own family, as well as your sisters, neighbours and naval acquaintances. I know I can trust you to maintain a fiction.’

‘What are you after, Emily?’

‘Security, Husband, which only you can offer me.’

‘Not Pearce?’

‘He would do so were you not my husband.’

‘Do you intend to disregard his existence?’

‘I will not deny a fond memory, but I undertake not to mention his name again.’

‘I cannot believe you can hold to that. He must be in your thoughts.’

‘And there he will remain.’

‘Even when—’ Barclay stopped; he could not say what he wanted in a manner that would fit the requirements. His high-and-mighty tone was thus much diminished when he continued. ‘I intend to demand my rights, madam.’

‘While I intend to succumb to them.’

‘Succumb?’

‘I wish you to understand, sir, that while your attentions
will not be in any way welcome, I know it my duty to satisfy what I see as your primeval needs.’

‘And in return?’

‘The child I bear is to be raised as your own flesh and blood and in the manner in which it would be if it were so. In short, Husband, I will save your face in order to protect my child.’

‘And if I demur?’

‘Then prepare for your cuckoldry to be shouted from the rooftops.’

‘You see yourself on land, do you?’ he hissed.

Emily was wondering why he did not shout – he was much given to the raised voice – only to realise he could not, even in his own cabin. This was not HMS
Brilliant
, on which she had come to know the officers, midshipmen and crew both in the normal course of sailing the frigate, as well as below decks as a nurse aiding the surgeon, Heinrich Lutyens, and finally as a visitor when they were in captivity.

She would know no one on this ship, Gherson and Devenow apart, and they would probably have been sworn to silence. How had he explained her presence to his officers and who she was? Had he even condescended to, for none of such creatures would dare ask? She knew enough about naval vessels to be sure that the whole ship would be abuzz with conjecture if he had offered no explanation.

‘Do I detect a threat, sir?’

‘You would do well to consider it possible.’

‘But it is not,’ she insisted, her voice taking on a hard edge. ‘You have passed the point at which you dare do me harm. If you had intended that it would have happened already when you came to abduct me. If I am not known to the crew of
this vessel they know me to be alive and someone of enough standing to occupy part of your cabin. Harm me now and you will pay a felon’s price.’

Emily stood and began to pace, not far in each direction for her part of the accommodation was constrained.

‘If I repeat myself, indulge me, for there are conditions attached to whatever agreement we make and I will hold you to them. Not only will you raise and provide for
our
child, you will treat me in my public life as a wife should be. I will demand and receive your open respect and I will also require a set of my own rooms in whichever house we occupy.’

‘Now you are purchasing property.’

‘I find your tone of sarcasm unbecoming and that is what I fear in public. Contain it, sir. As I say, my own set of rooms and when you require to visit them for’ – a waved hand was used to cover conjugal rights – ‘I will require ample notice and I wish to have the right to agree or decline, though I undertake not to do so with unbecoming frequency.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes. I require that you grant my parents full title to the house they occupy.’

Emily could not know that Ralph Barclay wanted to smite her fatally there and then for, as a man of much passion, he was holding himself very much in check. He was also thinking that she could demand the moon now and he would agree but in time they would be back in England and that was when any rules would be laid down and not by her.

‘Naturally, as I am with child now, I expect my person to be respected for the very obvious reason that any conjugal activity might do it harm.’

‘The Lord forfend,’ he whispered.

‘When do you anticipate that we shall join with the fleet?’

‘Two days. The wind at present is not favourable.’

‘I suppose I will be obliged to meet with your fellow captains and, of course, Admiral Hotham?’

‘Only if you behave.’

‘There you have it, Husband. It is in that crucible I will be tested and in such surroundings in which I will satisfy you that the commitments I have made will be held to.’

‘Go back to your book, madam. I have a ship to command.’

He was gone; only the voice of Devenow, standing by to help him on the swell, could be heard. The key was turned in the lock and Emily sat down again, the facade she had presented collapsing immediately for she suspected a life of misery and constant battle lay in her future. Ralph Barclay was not one to easily accept her demands; they would have to be fought for to be maintained.

The tears welled up as she said to herself, ‘Forgive me, John, for the love of God forgive me.’

Hotham was not about to favour John Pearce with anything approaching comfort and besides, he required every vessel he had for the coming battle. A pinnace was provided and four men with which to sail her, as well as rations and water for a week, which meant there was not much room aboard. Inured to the whims of their superiors the seamen took to the task with no more ill grace than they would any other duty, and in one, Tucker, they had a man who knew how to hand, reef and steer. He knew the boat and how to get the best out of her.

Dressed in foul-weather gear – the sea spray was a constant on such a compact vessel – John Pearce looked less the officer than usual and this on a vessel rarely commanded
by anything higher than a midshipman. A cause of curiosity for sure, the question was never even hinted at. They were carrying despatches for HMS
Semele
and that was an end to it, and when Pearce introduced himself there was no evident animosity, a possibility since the pinnace came from the flagship and at a time when it would have been fully employed in its normal duties of ferrying stores.

Quite naturally, Hotham had declined to personally pass to Pearce the oilskin pouch he now carried in his uniform coat pocket. That had been handed over by one of Toomey’s under clerks, not even the Irishman willing to face the humiliation of compliance with the request of one so troublesome. The problem was they were sealed and since the under clerk had not written them Pearce had no idea what they said. He could only hope that his threats were so potent Hotham dare not play ducks and drakes.