by David O'Neil
In the back room, Tom Ledbury, the inn keeper, brought him up to date with the local situation. Jethro Woods was still living at the Hall with Martin’s stepmother, though it was said that he was also seeing a woman in Cassington. “There is talk that the place is to be sold, though as far as I know it is doing well with the farm and the rental property. I suggest you have a word with a lawyer. It is reckoned that Jethro has no right to anything at the Hall. Tis rumoured that they never wed.”
Martin nodded thoughtfully. “Tom, I thank you. I believe it is time for me to claim my heritage.” He stood up, brushed his uniform coat down, donned his cocked hat, and hooked on his sword. Shaking hands with Tom Ledbury, he left the inn and mounted his horse once more.
Riding up to the Hall brought the memories flooding back. The sight of the house itself brought a lump to his throat, with memories of his father taking him shooting game in the woodlands across the fields.
At the house he dismounted, tethered the horse to the tie rail outside, and strode up to the front door. The bell was the same, thought the brass knocker had been changed. He jerked the bell-pull. He could hear the bell ring within the house.
The door was answered by a young girl who looked frightened when she saw his uniform. “Yes, sir?” The girl asked in a local accent.
“I wish to speak with the mistress of the house!” Martin said firmly.
The girl bobbed a curtsey. “Who shall I say is calling, sir?”
“Of course. I am Martin Forrest.” He answered with a smile.
Leaving the door ajar the maid disappeared within. She returned followed closely by Meredith Forrest, Martin’s stepmother.
She looked at the tall man standing in his uniform at the door and stopped suddenly. “Martin?” She said, “Is that really you?”
Puzzled, Martin said, “Indeed it is. Are you ill, madam?” He said, alarmed as she swayed against the wall.
Martin stepped forward and helped the maid support her mistress to a chair.
“But Jethro said you had been killed? I thought for all these years that you were dead. Why would he say such a thing? He claimed to have attended your funeral in Hungerford just two weeks after you left home.”
“I’m afraid Jethro was mistaken.” Martin said. “And I have come to claim my heritage.”
“What heritage? You have no claims here, sir.” Meredith did not sound as sure as her words implied.”
“I have a very real claim on the entire estate. As the eldest son to my father’s first marriage, I stand before you in line of inheritance. By the way, did you marry Jethro?”
Meredith blushed, “No, I did not. Jethro is the factor of the estate, nothing else!”
The maid had been standing watching and listening all the time. She gasped at Meredith’s words.
Meredith realized that she was still there and turned on her. “Go and make tea. Forget whatever you may have heard here or you will wish you never born.”
The maid fled and Meredith rose to her feet regaining her composure. She indicated that they should go into the drawing room.
There she turned on Martin, very much now the old Meredith. “Do not threaten me young man. You are not yet 21 years. You cannot claim anything. Since I am your Guardian I will see that you are represented at the correct time, though there will be little enough I fear.”
“You may have noticed, Madam, that I am a commissioned officer in the Navy. As such I have the rights of a grown man in law. You therefore have no rights over me. In addition, since I was abandoned and driven out as a child, I was legally adopted by Captain Sir Charles Bowers Bt RN and I am, accordingly, now Lieutenant the Honorable Martin Forest-Bowers RN. Where is Jethro? I wish to speak with him.”
“You cheeky young pup. I am right here. How dare you walk in here and upset my wife like this?”
Martin turned. Jethro now stood eye to eye with him, heavier, but still quite fit looking, the same arrogant face and aggressive manner.
Marin looked pointedly at the dishevelled clothing of the man. “Ah, Jethro. Did I get you out of bed?”
Jethro growled, “You cocky bastard.” He lunged forward, aiming a punch at Martin’s face. Martin eased his head aside, causing Jethro to stumble off balance and fall to the carpeted floor.
“You will need to do better than that, man. Get up. Sit down and shut up!”
To everyone’s surprise Jethro Woods did exactly that.
The maid was standing at the door with a tea tray in her hands, looking agape with astonishment at Jethro’s discomfiture.
Meredith broke the silence. “Put the tray down. Go to the kitchen and wait until you are called!”
The maid put the tray on a table and left hurriedly.
“In the terms of my father’s will, I inherit the estate on condition that I make a home available to Mrs. Forest. As far as you are concerned, Mr. Woods, you have no place here. I want you out today.
Woods leapt to his feet. “You have no right to throw me out!”
“I have and I am.” Martin replied. “Get off the estate or I will have you thrown off.!”
Jethro turned and ran at Martin, ramming him back against the wall. Martin gasped as the breath was driven out of him. He lifted his clasped hands and slammed them down on the other man’s neck. Jethro stumbled back, shaking his head to clear it, while Martin regained his breath and moved forward fists up. Jethro smiled and put his fists up in reply, confident in his ability to teach the young puppy a lesson.
Five minutes later his confidence had been sadly eroded. The blood from his broken nose testified to his misjudgement of the young man before him. As he reeled on his feet, the relentless fists of his opponent found targets in his abdomen and his sorely broken nose once more. The uppercut that floored him for the final time seemed to come out of nowhere.
He awoke with the touch of the wet cloth bathing his face. Meredith, on her knees beside him, was cleaning his face. It was then he realized, that the man he could see through his one unblocked eye, was the advocate from Oxford who had attended Mr. Forest’s funeral.
The lawyer was speaking to Meredith. “You may stay in the gatehouse if you wish, but I am afraid you must vacate the Hall by the day’s end.” Turning to Jethro, he said, “You must leave the estate and you may not return without the personal permission of Lieutenant Forest-Bowers. That does mean you may not stay in the gatehouse with Mrs. Forest. Have I made myself clear?” He beckoned to two big men who had accompanied him to the house. To the bigger of the men, he said, “Robin, did you hear that? Nothing may be removed from the house that is not the personal possessions of the lady, or the man here.” He indicated the recumbent figure of Jethro, still lying on the floor where Martin’s fists had placed him.
The two big men were in no mood for any arguments from the man or woman. They helped load the possessions of the two people on the cart provided. Then they accompanied them to the gate where they watched them disappear down the road to the village.
Martin then returned to London, having arranged for the house to be cleaned and for servants to be hired to look after the property.
In London Martin rejoined his family and explained the measures he had taken secure his inheritance. Jennifer decided that, after they were married and Martin was once more at sea, she would make a point of travelling to Eynsham and becoming acquainted with her husband’s childhood home.
As it happened there was time to spare for the wedding. For the local people of Eastney it was an occasion where they were entertained to a row of trestle tables groaning with the weight of food. Also the two barrels, one of beer the other of cider, ensured the party went with a swing. Several of the senior crew members from ships under repair in the dockyards attended.
Giles was away in the Caribbean at the time, but Doctor Abbot and Jared Holmes attended along with bosun Carter. Peters was at the house looking after Martin anyway as were a sprinkling of Sir Charles’s friends from the Admiralty. For Martin the day passed in a succession of imag
es. The gift of flatware that arrived from Commodore Nelson, the canteen of silver cutlery from the officers and crew of Arun, standing on a table laden with gifts from people he had never heard of.
Jennifer looked stunning in virginal white standing beside him, excited and glowing, whilst he, in dress uniform with his presentation 100 guinea sword at his side, took the vows in his turn.
Afterwards the dining and dancing and at last alone together, helping Jennifer out of the elaborate dress, and she undoing buttons impatiently and finally the pair of them naked and in each other’s arms in the big bed.
“At last, my love, I am yours.” Jennifer breathed the words into his ear.
“And I am yours.” Martin replied a little breathless from the exertion of their marital lovemaking. She snuggled up close to him, enjoying the warmth of his hands on her body.
There was time, Jennifer discovered, to travel a little before Martin was called away once more, and her first visit to Eynsham came in company with her husband.
Martin was pleased with the efforts made under the supervision of the housekeeper found for him by his Oxford lawyer. Mrs. Applegate was of middle years with a trim figure and at first sight a rather severe face. Jennifer was a little overawed at that first meeting until Dorothea Applegate smiled. The forbidding look disappeared as her face lit up in welcome to the young couple.
“Well, Sir and Madam,” she indicated the other members of staff lined up at the door. “We have been looking forward to congratulating you upon your marriage, and welcoming you to this house. I pray you find our efforts to your satisfaction.”
She then proceeded to introduce the other members of staff, the cook, Mrs. Smith, the housemaid, whom Martin recognized though looking a little better fed and less tired than before. She was followed by the scullery maid, the gardener and the gamekeeper. The lands of the estate had been extended by the addition of the meadow lands along the river.
Jennifer thought the house was charming, and Martin was pleasantly surprised at the improvements the agent appointed by the lawyer had suggested. The redecoration already done had been the major change. The horses in the stable had been added-to by the carriage horses, making the stable accommodation insufficient. So Jennifer set about the redesign of the barn to make it suitable for the accommodation of extra horses to allow for guests as and when needed.
It was while they were still at Walton Manor, that Martin received orders to report to the Admiralty.
London was hot and sticky Martin concluded, especially after the clear country air he had been enjoying. The Mail coach had deposited him at Lombard Street in the city, and the hackney carriage had dropped him a short walk from the Admiralty building.
Inside there was a different welcome from that of his first visit. The clerk at the reception table rose to his feet and called him by name. “Lieutenant Forrest-Bowers, please come this way.” He led Martin to a private waiting room at the end of a corridor. Having seated him he enquired if he would like a glass of wine or perhaps coffee while he waited.
Martin asked, “Well, who am I waiting for? Can you tell me?”
The clerk looked baffled for a moment then he said, “It is your father, sir, the Commodore.”
Settled with coffee Martin waited for his adoptive father to appear, mystified and intrigued, since they had last spoken only two days ago.
The Commodore came into the waiting room, drying his hands on a cloth. “Martin, my apologies. I have kept you waiting far too long. Do come through to my room and I’ll tell you all about the project I have in mind. I would have spoken to you earlier, before you departed for Eynsham but the plan was just an idea at the time. I did not know how long it would take to get things going.
Seated at his desk Sir Charles looked searchingly at Martin. “I understand that when you were in the Mediterranean you were involved with landing, and collecting, agents on French territory?”
Martin nodded, “I speak French as you know. Sir Anthony Watts called upon me to take a cutter and drop off agents, to collect them later. It did entail me landing in France on occasion.”
“Well, I’m afraid the wretched Watts fellow has asked for you again since you are not as yet posted to a ship. What he has requested is that you be given a command of a ship that is capable of defending itself against the average smuggling vessel, but not so big as to be immediately presumed to be a warship. I have found just such a ship, a schooner, American built. She is fast and handy I’m told, carries ten six pounder guns, and two long nines, bow and stern. She will take a crew of up to fifty men, though she will handle comfortably with thirty five, I am informed that the call for volunteers from HMS Racer to crew the schooner produced nearly the entire complement.
“Lieutenant Brown and the Master Jared Troop have both requested they be considered. That, of course, is up to you. You will be ranked as acting-Commander for the commission and depending on its outcome I am assured that you will probably be confirmed in that rank.”
The Commodore leaned back in his chair and looked at Martin with raised eyebrow. “I have suggested you accept Lieutenant Charles Morgan as first, I understand he served under you in the West Indies, and you reported well on his conduct.”
Martin remembered Morgan, who was not related to the former Pirate and Governor of Jamaica. He nodded his acceptance of the man.
“Do I take it you will accept this commission?”
Martin started out of his trance, “Of course, sir. I will be happy to accept. How soon would I need to take command of ...of...I’m afraid I do not know the name of the ship I am given?”
“That is because I have not mentioned it. I was asked to keep it secret until I had your acceptance of the post. She is named HMS Bangor and lying at Dover. You will be expected to repair on board in ten days’ time. I will inform Lt Morgan and the Master to select the crew, if that will be satisfactory.”
“That would be acceptable to me.” Martin replied. “Meanwhile I presume that I will be told what is required of me in detail by the Foreign Office.”
“In fact you will not! Your orders will come through this office. By issuing orders from here, we will ensure that you are not tasked to do anything which unfairly places you, and your command, in hazard.” As Martin went to interject, Sir Charles held up his hand to stop him. “Wait. I do not mean that you will not be asked to risk your ship and your life, as all naval officers are from time to time required. It is the ridiculous we are guarding against. Sailing inshore into shoal waters because some clerk decides that, according to his map, the location would save a half-hour walk. We undertake the responsibility of separating the impossible from the possible, without you needing to weather the wrath of some mandarin from the Foreign Office and blighting your career.”
Martin sat back at this explanation satisfied, and in fact, secretly pleased that he would in effect sail under the Admiralty rather than the Foreign office.
Sir Charles rose to his feet. Martin rose also. The commodore came around the desk and put his arm round Martin’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, lad. Happy that you bear my name and are wed to Jennifer. We, Jane and I, feel blessed that we have gained a family.”
Martin left the Admiralty pleased that he had a command, but unsure just what he would be expected to do. One thing he fully intended doing was to take the next mail coach to Dover and see the ship he would be commanding.
At eight that evening the mail coach left Lombard Street en route to Dover. Martin was seated with six others for the uncomfortable trip.
In the Fleet Inn next morning after a wash and a shave he ate breakfast before going down to the harbor to find HMS Bangor among the ships moored there.
He travelled back to Eynsham two days later to rejoin Jennifer, having acquainted himself with his new ship. She had meantime created turmoil in the house, with all the alterations required to make the country home she had decided she wanted.
Importantly, Dorothea Applegate had approved of the alterations she had introdu
ced, and both women had worked out a cooperative working arrangement between them.
It was then Martin understood that whatever his position at sea may be, in the house his voice only carried the authority that his wife allowed, however diplomatically the situation was disguised.
Chapter fourteen
Playing the cat
1800 The Channel
The wind blew spray into the face of the young Midshipman standing his watch on the deck of the heeling schooner. The thrill of being in command of this splendid ship, however temporarily, filled him with pride. The thought that one day he might well have such a command of his own was what made the day even more enjoyable.
The sound of steps on the companion ladder brought him back to earth with a start, as he searched his mind for anything he may have forgotten to include in his report to the Captain when he arrived on deck.
Commander James Martin Forest-Bowers RN stepped onto the quarter deck of his command with his own private thoughts. This was his first real command, an Admiralty appointment, in fact gazetted as Acting Master and Commander. Provided he performed his task and obeyed orders, he might continue to command for the rest of his naval career. Another wind-borne sheet of spray brought him back to reality and he ruefully wiped his face with the thought that the sea made no distinctions between Midshipmen and Captains.
Midshipman William Smart lifted his hat to his Captain and reported the course and the weather to him as he had been instructed.
Martin smiled at the high-pitched voice of the young man and acknowledged the report. “Carry on, Mr. Smart. Watch the trim.”