The Following Wind

by Peter Smalley

  James agreed to see him, and added an invitation to join him for breakfast.

  Rennie gratefully accepted, not because he was hungry although indeed he was, having left most of his dinner uneaten the night before but because he saw the invitation as an olive branch.

  As they ate their breakfast in the painted parlour, James asked Rennie:

  ‘Erm does your future career rest on this, d’y’think?’ Pouring coffee.

  ‘D’y’mean whether or no I bring you back with me?’ An intake of breath, a little shake of the head. ‘I I do not know.’

  ‘Surely they will find another officer to go with you to Naples?’ A frown.

  ‘I think Symonds believed still does believe that you are the best man, because you have intimate knowledge of the city.’

  ‘Well, yes I travelled there in my youth. Long since. Many years ago.’

  ‘I do not know Naples at all. Not at all. Neither does Symonds.’

  ‘But surely it will not be impossible to discover another man in London that has experience of the Kingdom of Naples, good God? I cannot be alone in that dis-tinction.’ He drank coffee, and corrected himself: ‘I am not in London, in course. I am here.’

  ‘Exact.’ Rennie, quietly, with a little nod. He poured tea, and took another piece of toast.

  James looked at him across the table.

  ‘No doubt you will discover, when you go to Portsmouth, that another man has been sent down from London to await you.’

  ‘Oh, no, I doubt that, you know.’ Another intake of breath, another shake of the head. ‘No, no.’

  ‘What? Why not?’ Before Rennie could answer he went on: ‘Listen now, they must have understood that in all probability I would not come with you. Hey?

  Would not and could not come in view of everything that has gone before?’

  Rennie said nothing, and James:

  ‘Good God, after all their damned threats, all their wretchedly ignoble behaviour!

  What did they think? What did they expect of me, the bloody villains? Hey?’

  He slammed down his coffee cup with a clatter, spilling dark liquid on the cloth.

  Rennie said nothing. After a moment James sighed, and:

  ‘I will not like to renew a quarrel with you, William. A quarrel that should have been settled last night. I felt guilty that I sent you away. I was ashamed of myself.’

  ‘As indeed was I ashamed.’ Rennie, an apologetic smile. ‘I couched the thing wrong. I spoke poorly. You was quite right to be angry. I should have been angry myself, in the reverse circumstance.’

  ‘Nay, nay, you were given a commission and you were obliged to carry it through as best you could. I see that, altogether.’

  ‘Then I am glad we have settled our differences, James. Very glad. I can go away content.’

  ‘Hm. Hm.’ James mopped the cloth with his napkin, poured more coffee, and sipped it. ‘Erm so you are sure that your career will not be impeded? If I should not go with you?’

  ‘Well, no, I am not at all sure of it, James. I do not know.’ A swallow of tea.

  ‘What I do know, what I do apprehend, is that this invention of Milson’s has so exercised Mr. Symonds that he feels his own career may depend on its recovery.’

  ‘Eh? Symonds’ career? Nay .’

  ‘Oh, I assure you.’ A nod, a little grimace. ‘He is quite certain that without success in this he will be replaced.’ He buttered a slice of toast, and reached for the pot of marmalade. ‘Not that you and I should be agitated in the least be such a possibility. Symonds, good heaven?’ Mildly. ‘He is nothing but a quill driving White-hall fellow, that don’t know the first thing about the sea, and ships, and the ardent perils we sea officers must face, day upon day. Nay, nay, he--’

  ‘Ardent perils we must face?’ James, looking at him across the table, eyebrows raised. ‘What puffed up damned language is this?’ He laughed. ‘Ardent perils?’

  ‘All I meant to say was that Symonds is not the ideal paradigm of a warrior.’

  ‘Not the what? Hhh-hhh-hhh, I think you have tipped laudenum in your tea, William, hhh-hhh-hhh.’

  ‘Hh-hh, it was a clumsy phrase, I admit.’

  ‘ Not the ideal paradigm! Hhh-hhh-hhh, I have not laughed so hearty in a twelve-month-hhh-hhh-hhh.’

  He coughed, got his breath, swallowed the rest of his coffee, wiped his lips and threw down his napkin, then:

  ‘Very well, very well.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I will go with you to Portsmouth. Not!’ Holding up a finger. ‘Not that I have agreed to anything. That must be understood. I have agreed to nothing. But I will go there with you, in a private capacity, and see things for myself. That is all I will undertake to do, you mind me? I will look about me, when we arrive.’

  ‘Thankee, James.’ A smile. ‘Thankee, indeed.’

  He reached across the table, and they shook hands.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  When they set off at eleven o’clock to drive to Portsmouth James was dressed in a plain dark frock coat and a plain hat.

  ‘Will you wear uniform at Portsmouth?’ Rennie inquired as they settled in their seats.

  ‘Nay, I will not. I am no longer a naval man. I am plain James Hayter, travelling to Portsmouth with a friend, to keep him company.’

  ‘Well, not exact, hey?’

  ‘What?’ Turning to look at him.

  ‘Surely you are more than plain James Hayter? You are Sir James Hayter, and all this part of the country is yours.’ Gesturing out of the window as they went down the drive between the rows of elms. ‘I know what I’ve asked of you, believe me.’

  ‘You say that as if I was leaving it all behind, somehow.’ James, with a frown.

  ‘Nay, nay nothing of the kind. I merely meant--’

  ‘I shall return within the week.’ James, over him. ‘I shall be here when Catherine and my mother come back from Bath.’

  ‘Yes, in course.’ Rennie, nodding. ‘In course you will.’ And he turned his head to look out of the window again as the carriage passed through the gates.

  ‘I had meant to have that tree felled.’ James, peering out of his window, and craning his neck to see. ‘The next storm of wind will see it fall across the gates.

  Damnation.’

  ‘Surely no great storm of wind is expected?’ Rennie, lightly.

  ‘Wind may strike at any time in Dorset.’

  ‘More than in Hampshire, say, or Kent?’ Again lightly.

  ‘Anywhere in England.’ James, darkly, settling back in his seat.

  ‘Hm. Hm. I expect so.’ Rennie fell silent, and continued to look out of the window.

  ‘I think that I may have made a mistake.’ James, abruptly, after a few moments.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I think that I should not have come with you, after all.’

  ‘Are you ill? D’y’want to turn back ?’

  ‘Nay, nay. I said I would go, and I will go. I will not like to go back on my word.’

  ‘But if you are indisposed, we should return to--’

  ‘I am not indisposed.’ Over him. He turned round in his seat to peer back through the small rear window at the house, then settled in his seat again. Rennie looked at him anxiously.

  ‘Listen, now, James if you feel in any degree that I have obliged you to come, then--’

  ‘I did not say that!’ Forcefully, over him. ‘And I do not say it.’

  Rennie again fell silent, but was troubled. Presently James:

  ‘Forgive me, my dear friend, I am not quite myself of late. There are so many things I must consider .the estate ’

  Rennie nodded and gave a little half smile to show he understood, but said nothing.

  ‘It is all a very great responsibility ’

  Rennie nodded again.

  ‘I may neglect nothing, not the smallest particular of the whole .’

  ‘Hm.’ A further nod.

  ‘That is all I meant.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘
I cannot and must not leave it all behind, d’y’see? Not just at present.’

  ‘Then as soon as we come to Salisbury I will set you down and go on alone.’

  ‘Nay, I did not mean today. I did not mean this moment. I meant in the future.’

  ‘I see.’ He didn’t.

  ‘When my father died, and my brothers, that should have inherited one of them and I returned to find myself .well, as a man I never expected to be

  owner and possessor of it all, and so forth, and the title added to my name ’

  Now he did see. ‘You found it all too great a burden, hey?’

  ‘I did, at first.’ Glancing at Rennie, and making a face. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And now ?’

  ‘I am not running away, you know. I will like you to understand that, above all things. I do not wish to divest myself of this burden, to shrug it off, so to say. Nay, I do not.’ Shaking his head, and sniffing in a breath. ‘And never would wish it.’

  ‘However ?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Pray finish what you was saying.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘James, we have known each other many years. And if I am not mistook ye find y’self in troubled water. Will not you admit it?’

  ‘Very well, then. I should not have come with you today, but I did.’

  ‘And ?’

  ‘That is why I did not shift into my uniform, before we came away.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘If I had done so, d’y’see, that would have meant that I had agreed to go with you.’

  ‘As so you have. We go to Portsmouth together.’

  ‘Nay, I meant .Christ’s blood, you know what I meant. That I had agreed to go with you to Naples.’

  ‘Well, I could not offer comment, as to that. To do so would be unforgiveable impertinence. You have made yourself plain in all distinctions, as to that. You are no longer a sea officer, and there is nothing more to be said.’

  ‘Then I am glad we agree. I cannot go to Naples, and I will not go there.’

  ‘Just so, James. Just so.’ And Rennie looked out of the window.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  When they came to the Marine Hotel at Portsmouth, having stopped overnight at Romsey, it was raining. Mr. Symonds was waiting for them at the entrance, and when he saw him James was immediately suspicious. His suspicions were immediately confirmed.

  ‘Captain Hayter.’ Holding out his hand. ‘I am very pleased that ye’ve agreed to come.’

  James ignored the hand and shook the rain from his hat. ‘I have agreed to come to Portsmouth, sir and nowhere else.’

  Symonds glanced sharply at Rennie, then:

  ‘Yes, in course, naturally you wished to hear the whole of the new scheme from me, before you--’

  ‘Captain Rennie has been kind enough to tell me the scheme.’ Standing aside as the coachman brought in their valises. ‘As he is well aware, I am no longer a serving sea officer. That is why I am not in uniform. Thankee.’ Aside to the coachman, and he gave him a coin. To Symonds: ‘And that is why I have declined.’

  ‘Declined ?’ Symonds again glanced at Rennie.

  ‘Aye, sir, declined. I will not go with Captain Rennie to Naples.’

  ‘Well then, Captain Hayter .if you will not go with us, why have you come to Portsmouth?’

  ‘ Us , Mr. Symonds?’ James in turn now glanced sharply at Rennie, then again addressed Symonds: ‘D’y’mean by us that you yourself intend to sail there?’

  ‘Indeed, yes. I should have gone with you the first voyage. Then all that irksome trouble would certainly have been avoided. We should have got our man, and returned. As we shall this time.’

  ‘I see.’ James smiled coldly and politely. He turned to Rennie. ‘You were aware of this that he was to go?’

  ‘Well well, I did know it, but I--’

  ‘You knew? And yet said nothing to me? I call that damned bad faith, Captain Rennie. I shall return to Melton tomorrow.’ And angrily he left them, slammed on his hat, walked out of the hotel into the rain and strode away.

  Rennie felt that harsh ‘Captain Rennie’ as a particular rebuke, and was again

  ashamed of himself. Symonds peered at him, and:

  ‘I think you might have told him that I was coming, Rennie. Did it not occur to you to do so, good heaven?’

  ‘I I thought that I had. I thought that I had. It must have slipped my mind.’

  ‘Then pray pursue him now, and bring him back here.’ Briskly.

  ‘Mr. Symonds, I cannot run after him in the street, sir. I am not some damned cabin boy, to be sent on an errand.’ Angry now himself.

  ‘Very well, very well.’ An exasperated sigh. ‘We had better hope that the rain discourages him, and he returns right quick. There is much to discuss.’

  ‘Indeed, indeed, but it has all come at once,’ protested Rennie. ‘I was able to persuade him to accompany me to Portsmouth, and was intending, d’y’see, to complete the task after we had come here to the hotel. Your presence here immediately on our arrival has discommoded him.’

  ‘Discommoded him? You make him sound like a timid little child, Captain Rennie, about to venture out in the world for the first time. I am an amiable fellow. I converse civilized. I am neither ruffian, nor barbarian. Why should my presence discommode him, nor anyone else? D’you find me discommoding, sir?’

  ‘Nay, I do not.’ Stiffly. ‘But the whole business could have been managed far better.’

  ‘So it would seem.’ A sniffed in breath. ‘We had better go inside, Captain Rennie, and drink a can of chocolate while we wait.’

  They waited all day at the hotel, at first in the larger of the public rooms, then as evening came on they retreated to sit by the fire in the small parlour, and there ordered dinner.

  At last, well after darkness had fallen, James returned, very wet and pale under his hat. He took off his hat and slumped without a word in a chair by the fire. His face and hair glistened wet in the firelight.

  ‘Good God, James, you are soaked to the skin. Where have you been?’ Rennie, anxiously.

  ‘All over Portsmouth and out to the foot of Portsdown Hill and back.’

  ‘You was walking in the rain all that time?’

  ‘Aye, walking and thinking.’

  Mr. Symonds rang the bell, and asked for brandy.

  ‘Thinking what I must do. And I have decided.’

  The brandy came, and James took the glass and sucked it down in one draught. He coughed, and put the glass down on the hearth.

  ‘I will go with you to Naples .on these conditions.’ He looked from one to the other in the subdued light. ‘I will go in a private capacity, in a plain frock coat.

  I will have no rank nor office aboard. I will be a supernumerary, a passenger. When we reach Naples I will make my best endeavours to find Milson and bring him to the ship. Then my work will be done.’

  Symonds leaned forward. ‘Captain Hayter, I must congrat--’

  ‘I am not Captain Hayter.’ Over him. ‘I do not do this for you, Mr. Symonds. Nor for the Royal Navy, nor the King, nor the nation. I do it in vindication of those one hundred and twenty men lost under my last command. I lived and they did not. I cannot turn my back on their memory, and say their lives had no meaning.’

  He stood up.

  ‘Will not you eat something, James?’ Rennie asked him.

  ‘Nay, I am not hungry, only tired. I must write to Catherine, and then I will sleep. Goodnight, gentlemen.’

  He took his hat and left them alone.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  ‘Have you made long voyages before this, Mr. Symonds?’

  Mr. Symonds steadied himself on the tafferel, and looked briefly astern before he answered.

  ‘In youth, Captain Rennie. I have cousins at Boston, in America.’

  ‘Ah, Boston. Yes, I know it tolerable well. Steep streets and very hospitable people, at Boston. Was you there long?’

  ‘Well, in truth I was there in another capacity
than relation. My cousins were royalists, and helped me in gathering discreet intelligence during the revolutionary war then raging.’

  Expedient rode a big wave and again Mr. Symonds had to steady himself. His face was pallid, with a hint of green round his nose and mouth.

  ‘I I have not been at sea for some little time. My work has kept me in London.’

  Another big wave, and Expedient’s cutwater smashed into it with a thud, sending spray sweeping aft over the deck. The ship righted herself, and foam seethed along her wales and trailed in her wake. All round the ship the sea lifted and rode, rolling and running in endless restlessness, dark blue and laced blue as the white caps washed on the wind, running and running as far as the eye could see, to a wandering fusion of water and sky in the farthest distance.

  Mr. Symonds looked all round him, was unsteady as the ship heeled, closed his eyes a moment, and:

  ‘Captain Rennie, I think that I if you will excuse me, I feel that I would like to rest a little .I am rather tired.’

  ‘By all means, Mr. Symonds, there is no need to ask my permission. Erm, will ye join me for dinner, today?’

  Mr. Symonds swallowed, and: ‘It is kind of you .but I think perhaps not ’

  ‘Just as you like. If you should change your mind, I have asked the cook to kill a chicken. It will make a most succulent meal, I think.’

  ‘Mm mm ohh .’ And Mr. Symonds hurried to the companionway, and went below.

  Rennie suppressed a smile and went forrard to the binnacle. The helmsman, feeling the rudder and the whole living ship through the wheel, glanced aloft and

  brought the ship a fraction closer to the wind, his eye on the maintopsail and foretopsail bowlines. He corrected by a spoke, then half a spoke back, and again glanced aloft.

  Rennie was minded to say to him: ‘Hold her so just so!’ and then did not. Able seaman Jacob Jackman knew what he was about, exact. Leave him be.

  ‘‘De-e-e-e-ck, there!’ The lookout in the maintopmast crosstrees. ‘Sail of ship, three leagues distant!’

  Lieutenant Latimer raised from second to first after the death of Lieutenant Considine lifted his silver speaking trumpet. ‘Where awa-a-a-ay?’

  ‘Two point off the larboard bow!’