The Following Wind

Home > Other > The Following Wind > Page 5
The Following Wind Page 5

by Peter Smalley


  ‘I see. Well, perhaps you could not have done so, in any case.’

  ‘Why d’y’say that, Captain Hayter?’

  ‘You do not know where I am stopping, in London.’

  ‘At Mrs. Peebles’ private hotel, I think. Off the Strand?’

  ‘Why. yes. How did you--’

  ‘I am well informed.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘That is where Captain Rennie lodges, when he is in London.’

  ‘Captain Rennie? Yes, I believe so.’ Giving nothing away.

  ‘In fact, he is there now.’

  ‘Is he? Ah. I came in very early this morning, and have scarce got my bearings.’

  ‘It is because of what happened to Captain Rennie that the matter I wished to discuss has been set aside. Unless, as I said, you will like to come to my aid.’

  James had had enough of this jousting. Firmly:

  ‘Mr. Symonds, I received a letter yesterday at Portsmouth, requiring me to

  present myself this morning at the Admiralty. The letter contained no further

  intelligence. I have come. I am here. Now then, perhaps you will tell me why.’

  ‘Indeed, Captain Hayter, I shall.’ Another measured breath. ‘Captain Rennie has been offered a commission, a circumstance in which I think you may have had some influence.’

  ‘I wrote some letters.’ Carefully. ‘I was not aware of their effect. However, I am indeed pleased to learn--’

  ‘He has refused it.’

  ‘I see.’ James pretended to consider this. ‘Well then, all I can say, Mr. Symonds, is that he must have had very strong grounds for doing so. What ship was he offered?’

  ‘HM frigate Expedient. A ship I think you know?’

  ‘I was Expedient’s first for many years. I expect Captain Rennie has refused because Expedient suffered very grave damage our last commission. She is little better than a hulk, lying in Ordinary, waiting to be towed to the breaker’s yard.’

  ‘You have seen her recent?’

  ‘Nay, I have not. I have been wholly occupied with the repair to my own ship, HMS Ventura. There has been hellish delay, and the repair is weeks behind.

  Only yesterday I learned of the unhappy death of the Master Shipwright, which will set us back further still.’ An impatient sigh.

  ‘Expedient has undergone a full dry dock great repair at Chatham. She is nearly ready for the sea.’

  ‘Indeed? Well that is welcome news.’

  ‘Indeed. However, Captain Rennie has now refused her.’

  ‘Does he know of this repair? Perhaps he was not made aware of it.’

  ‘I told him myself. Then overnight came that most unfortunate attempt to inter- fere. And because of it Captain Rennie has gone back on his word alas.’

  ‘I know nothing of this.’ James shook his head, and: ‘And I do not see what any of it has to do with me, Mr. Symonds. Captain Rennie must make his own judge-ments. My chief and only concern at present is my ship, sir.’

  ‘I wonder if you are telling me the whole truth, Captain Hayter. I wonder if you and Captain Rennie have not discussed this entire affair together, this morning,

  over breakfast at Mrs. Peebles’ hotel. Will you deny it? Hm?’

  James sat back in his chair, and regarded Mr. Symonds. He decided that he did not like him. Rennie was right. The fellow was altogether too sly and knowing, and the scheme he and others had devised for political motive must certainly be a venture so perilous and improbable of success that only a damned fool a pair of damned fools would undertake it. He and Rennie were not such fools. This devious fellow and everything and everyone he stood for could fly far down into the fires of hell on a broomstick, so far as he was concerned. James rose from his chair, took up his cockaded hat, and said:

  ‘Mr. Symonds, let me speak plain. I am commanded by their Lordships, in my naval warrant of commission, to make my ship ready for the sea, and as soon as that is done to make sail and join my squadron, under Admiral Sir Howard Duff, at Brest. Nothing you have said to me today alters those instructions, nor my intention on pain of dire consequence else fully to comply. Accordingly I will bid you good morning, sir.’

  ‘Sit down, Captain Hayter.’ A hint of steel. ‘I am not interested in idle pretence, nor in foolish bluster, this morning. Neither will answer.’

  ‘Bluster, sir? Bluster? Who are you, good heaven, to throw a word like that in an officer’s face?’

  ‘Who am I? I am the man on whom your career now certainly depends.’ Sharply.

  ‘Hah! Who is guilty of bluster now, Mr. Symonds? You had better be careful, by God, or likely meet the fate of your predecessor!’

  ‘Are you calling me out? Surely you are not so hotheaded intemperate as that?’

  ‘I am blustering, hotheaded, and intemperate, hey? Very well, Mr. Symonds, you have made yourself plain in all distinctions. Allow me to do the same in my turn.’

  James took a pace forward. ‘You, sir, are a damned clerkish poltroon fussing, false and contemptible. Do not tempt me to call you out in earnest, lest I give you what you deserve, and run you through!’

  A sharp knocking at the door, then the door was thrust open with a crash, and in stepped a short, stooped, grey haired officer in a dress coat rich with gold lace. His eyes were a fierce blue. James at once recognized the intruder as Admiral Sir David Hollister, vice-admiral of the white.

  ‘What in the name of Christ is going on in here?’ demanded the admiral in a voice that had lost none of its penetrating quarterdeck authority. He glared at James, then:

  ‘Ain’t you young Hayter, that wrote to me very recent?’

  ‘I am, sir. I wrote to you in behalf of my friend Captain Rennie.’

  ‘So y’did, so y’did.’ He turned his glare on Mr. Symonds. ‘And who are you, sir? Don’t know your face.’

  ‘I am Havelock Symonds, of the Secret Service Fund.’

  ‘Are ye, by God?’ Glancing from one to the other. ‘I heard raised voices, gentle-men. I heard commotion, and contumely, and ferocious language, which don’t belong within these walls. I did not like what I heard, and so I came in. Was I right to do so?’

  James looked at his toes, and said nothing. Mr. Symonds said nothing.

  ‘Nothing to say, neither of ye?’ Admiral Hollister looked again from one to other, and shook his head. In a lower but no less authoritative tone: ‘I don’t your purpose here today, but whatever was your quarrel, the Admiralty ain’t the place for it. These are dignified premises, where the vital business and direction of His Majesty’s fleets is determined. It is the very heart of the nation. You will, both of ye, acknowledge and respect that in future. Have I your word on it?’ Glancing at James.

  ‘You have it, sir.’

  The admiral looked at Mr. Symonds, who bowed, and:

  ‘Servant, sir.’

  ‘Good, good. Is that sherry?’

  ‘It is, sir, yes.’

  ‘Then may I join you in a glass, gentleman?’ And he put down his hat.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Later that morning, as he returned to Mrs. Peebles’ hotel by chair, James reflected that he had today very nearly destroyed his career even before he had trod his first quarterdeck as post captain. Had it not been for the admiral’s fortuitous and timely intervention anything might have happened. A duel. Symonds’ death. A court martial. Disgrace. Instead, thank God, he and Symonds had come to an understanding, and parted if not as bosom friends then at least as gentlemen joined together in common cause and enterprise. The chair boasted a small clock, fitted into the lining of the interior, and James noted the time: a quarter to twelve noon.

  A heavily laden cart had overturned at Charing Cross, a crowd had gathered and there was a delay. James closed the side windows of the chair against the air, and was glad of the bouquet of violets pinned by the clock. As always, James found the crowds, the bustle, the din and foul smells of London a trial. He was country born and bred, and although he would never have admitted it in civilized comp
any, he hated being here. It was said that if a man was tired of London then he was tired of life. To himself, glancing out of the side window as the chairmen turned into the Strand, he murmured:

  ‘I hope never to grow tired of this city. I hope never to remain here long enough to do so.’

  It was different for Catherine, in course. She was a naturally gregarious creature, who loved the distractions of city life, particularly those of London. The shops and theatres, the fashionable clothes and smart carriages, the sense of life being lived at great intensity and pace, day and night.

  ‘I must endeavour to enjoy it with her, while we are here,’ James told himself. ‘I must make the effort, for her sake.’

  As the chairmen deposited him at Mrs. Peebles’ door, James noted that the journey had taken twenty minutes. He fished in his coat for coins, paid for the chair, and went in.

  He found Rennie waiting patiently in the parlour, drinking tea and reading his newspaper.

  ‘I have heard the whole story, William,’ James said, removing his hat and sitting down. A breath, then: ‘I think we must do this, you know.’

  ‘Hm. Well well.’ Rennie folded and put aside his newspaper. ‘I thought you would say so, exact. I was certain of it.’ A sniff. ‘And I must disappoint you, James. As I said to you before y’went down to Whitehall, I intend to go home to Norfolk. The Norwich mail coach departs at six o’clock sharp this evening, and I shall be aboard. An inside place has already been reserved for me. It cost me twenty

  shillings. Money well spent, so far as I am concerned.’

  ‘Money wasted, unless the coaching company will refund it. You will certainly not be away to Norwich tonight.’

  ‘Eh?’ Rennie frowned across the table.

  ‘I have learned the full extent of what we are commissioned to undertake. It is an extraordinary thing, altogether. We are to meet a Russian prince, and--’

  ‘You may be commissioned to undertake it, James. I am not.’

  ‘Will not you in least hear me out?’

  ‘Nay, I will not.’

  ‘We are to be awarded an eighth each.’

  ‘Eh?’ Cocking his head. ‘Don’t talk in riddles, James. Speak plain.’

  ‘I do speak plain. An eighth each of everything we bring home to England.’

  ‘From that remote place? From Okhotsk? Ffff, you are dreaming. A bearskin or two, or the hide of some other exotic beast? Perhaps even a Chinaman’s hat! I tell you frankly, James, whatever is the true motive behind this scheme and even if it ain’t to be rid of us for political convenience, after all, but comes from some other imperative entire, hey? Whatever it is, I no longer care, because I--’

  ‘If you will please allow me to explain.’ James, over him. ‘Then you will no longer be in any doubt.’

  ‘James, James ..’ A sigh, and a regretful little half smile. ‘Understand this about me, my dear friend. In spite of everything we have been through together perhaps, you know, because of it I cannot do this thing that you and Symonds and whoever is behind him wish. Symonds hinted very broad it was the Prime Minister. I do not think so. It happens I have met the Prime Minister in the past. He is a very astute political man, and therefore not above what we may call political expediency, but I think that if he wished to ask something very exacting and particular of a sea officer he would not hesitate to do so direct, man to man. He did not hesitate in that previous instance, d’y’see. That is how I am sure.’

  ‘William, forgive me, but if you--’

  ‘In course, I cannot claim intimacy with him, as a friend, and so forth. Nay, I would not make so presumptuous a boast. But I know the world sufficient, I think, to form opinions of men. To know what is in their hearts. That is the essence of a post captain’s command, you know and a thing you will discover

  when you tread your own quarterdeck.’ A nod. ‘He must know men. He must be able to see into their hearts, and read what is there.’

  ‘Will you look at me, and know what is in my heart, when I tell you I believe

  everything that Symonds has told me to be true? That he acts--’

  ‘Do not say in the nation’s interest, I beg of you!’

  ‘I was going to say: from the highest motive.’

  ‘That is almost as bad. Nay hh-hh-hh it is worse.’ Rennie looked at James, and fondly shook his head. ‘We must not quarrel, you and I. I know that you want to do this thing from the highest motive. They have persuaded you. This is your first commission as post captain, in a fine frigate, with orders to traverse the globe, and meet great men, and bring back who can know what glory and renown? Further, it is a great relief to you not to be standing off and on, month after month, drearily at Brest. You wish to go. You are persuaded. You will go. But I cannot.’

  A smile, which James returned.

  ‘We must say our farewells, James, and tack away divergent.’

  ‘Will you take my hand, William?’

  ‘Gladly.’

  He held out his hand. James gripped it, and held it firm. And bending forward to Rennie’s ear he said, very quietly and distinctly:

  ‘I have been told. It has been explained to me. Very plain. That if you do not go, then I cannot. And that if you insist you will not then I must escort you to the Admiralty myself. Forthwith.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘Let us cross into Northumberland Street,’ said James, his hand at Rennie’s elbow as they stood at the bottom of Bedford Street in the Strand. Wheeled traffic was dense, and the cries of draymen loud and raucous. ‘There is a lane off North-umberland that leads straight down into Whitehall, and the Admiralty. Water Passage. We will save ourselves several minutes.’

  ‘Am I your prisoner, James?’ Rennie, crossly.

  ‘Good heaven, no, in course you are not.’ James, lightly.

  ‘Then kindly release my arm.’

  ‘Oh, yes, very well.’ James had not realized he was gripping his friend’s elbow, and now released his hold. ‘Forgive me, I did not mean .’

  ‘Never mind, never mind. Where did y’say it was, this damned lane?’

  ‘Off Northumberland Street.’ Pointing. ‘The entrance is just down to the right.’

  Without further word Rennie hurried across the Strand through a gap between drays, nearly fell as his shoe skidded in dung, and succeeded in gaining the far pavement. James, waiting his moment, ducked across and joined him. They made their way into Northumberland Street, and toward the entrance of the lane.

  Water Passage was narrow, tall and dark, with mossy growth on the bricks, and the smell of stale urine was strong.

  ‘Good God, James, this is a hellish place, ain’t it? It may be a short cut, but I would sooner have gone by the more open route.’

  ‘We will save ourselves time.’

  James strode on ahead into the lane, and Rennie reluctantly followed, holding a hand to his nose. The lane ran forward straight for sixty or seventy feet, then turned away to the left and down in a shallow slope toward Whitehall. As James came to the narrow turning and went through, with Rennie a few paces behind, there was the sound of scuffling feet, a muffled shout, then the ringing hiss of a sword being drawn. As Rennie reached the turning he saw that James was surrounded by three figures, his sword arm awkwardly raised.

  Rennie felt for his own sword. Christ’s blood, he had forgotten to wear it. He had left it upstairs in his room at Mrs. Peebles’. He did not even have a pair of pocket pistols in his coat. He was unarmed, and defenseless. Blows, and a clatter as the sword fell. Rennie ran forward just as James slumped under a flurry of fists. By a stroke of good fortune the sword had fallen in Rennie’s direction, and now

  lay in filthy water on the passage floor. Rennie retrieved the sword, and went forward toward the nearest of the assailants. He steadied himself, pointed the blade and ran the figure straight through, a sharp punching thrust to the back. A gasp, then a scream as Rennie withdrew the blade, and the figure lurched and fell. Rennie stepped over him just as a second figure turned from kic
king James on the ground and ran at Rennie, arm raised. The dull glint of a knife. Rennie stamped forward a single pace, parried the knife, and ran the second figure deep through the liver, thrusting the blade with a grim ‘Haaah!’

  sssswwwwwssss

  The sucking hiss as he withdrew the blade. The second figure fell on his knees, clutching at his belly. A desperate grunting cough. Blood pulsed through his fingers into the filthy water, then he fell forward on his face and lay still. The third figure backed away down the slope, turned and ran for his life.

  James had fallen down against the wall, and now tried to sit up. He fell back, then sat up again, and allowed Rennie to help him to his feet. He leaned against the wall. Blood ran down into his eye from a cut on his head, and splashed on his coat.

  ‘Footpads ’ he said. ‘Nearly did for me ’ He staggered, and Rennie steadied him.

  ‘Are you hurt, William ?’

  ‘Nay, I am unharmed.’ Rennie gave James his pocket kerchief to staunch the flow of blood, and James pressed it to his head.

  ‘Where did they go? Did they make good their escape ?’

  ‘One of them did. The others I have dealt with them.’

  ‘Seen them off ?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking.’

  ‘Eh ?’

  ‘They are killed.’

  ‘Killed?’ Staring at him with his one clear eye.

  Rennie held up James’s sword. ‘Your sword was knocked from your hand, and I was fortunate enough to snatch it up and make use of it.’

  James now stepped past Rennie and stared down at the two corpses.

  ‘Well, I’m damned.’ Quietly. ‘You have saved my life, William. I am ever in your

  debt, indeed.’

  ‘We are sea officers, James.’ Quietly in turn. ‘We stand together, brothers in arms, or we are lost.’ Rennie handed the sword to James, then looked for and found his hat, and gave him that.

 

‹ Prev