Under Enemy Colors

by S. thomas Russell

  “I am very used to Navy men, Elizabeth, and know their ways as well as any. It should be noted that I have very little small talk myself, thank God, nor have either of you.” She apparently referred to the younger women.

  “Why, Aunt, I am shocked to hear you say it. I can talk a great deal about fashion, carriages, events of no importance, engagements, foibles—”

  “‘She said this’s; he said that’s,’” added Henrietta.

  “And I know all the latest court gossip.”

  “There is a false claim if ever I have heard one.”

  Henrietta threw herself down in a chair. “I feel quite exhausted by all this small talk.”

  “Oh, so do I,” agreed Mrs Hertle. “Shall we ever have supper, Aunt, or do you mean to starve us?”

  “Is my niece’s behaviour not quite scandalous, Lieutenant Hayden? And Henrietta, to whom I am related in some vague and distant way, is just the same. In my day such behaviour would have begun the whispering. Do you know what they call me behind my back?”

  “I do not, Lady Hertle,” Hayden lied.

  “Aunt Bill! Can you believe the impertinence? I, the widow of an admiral who had the honour of being a Grand Commander of the Order of the Bath!”

  “Shocking.”

  “Oh, Aunt,” Mrs Hertle managed, laughing. “Henrietta tells me that the ton, the ladies within the circle of the Prince of Wales, are completely brazen. Why, they wear gowns so revealing that every man in London knows what only a husband once knew. You cannot name our behaviour scandalous when weighed against what has now become…common.”

  Lady Hertle fanned herself affectedly. “I am so glad to have retired to my small house far from such spectacles.” A servant entered, bowing to the mistress. “Apparently I do have a supper for you, after all, Elizabeth. Starvation has been staved off once again.”

  The dining room was capacious, though fell well short of being grand. Even so, it was a comfortable, elegantly appointed room, with a large dining table of teak wood, clearly brought back from somewhere in the Far East. A sizeable glass case displayed silver plate, much of it bestowed upon the late admiral for his many services.

  Dinner was rather typically British, or more specifically English, something Hayden had learned to endure. Certainly, it was better than Navy food; soup, a course of fish, a roast duckling served with asparagus and peas, venison, plovers’ eggs in aspic jelly—all served à la russe. Sherry. Madeira. A chocolate confection. Coffee. Walnuts.

  The footmen varied in their skill, and Hayden suspected one was actually the gardener dressed in livery for the occasion. The party was so small that there was little chance for a tête-à-tête, though he had happily been seated beside Henrietta, whose presence he could actually feel, as though she glowed like coals.

  Lady Hertle was a skilled and gracious conversationalist, and clearly had been a Navy wife, for she soon revealed a great store of knowledge regarding the character of Lords Commissioners and admirals; more than Hayden could ever hope to know. When Hart’s name came up she tactfully steered the conversation away.

  Like Mrs Hertle and Henrietta, she read widely, and spoke with equal knowledge of poetry, the plays of Shakespeare, the histories of Rome. In her youth, she had accompanied her husband to many a post where his function had been as much diplomatic as military, and clearly had a great love of travel. She encouraged Hayden and Robert to speak of the many places they had visited, and this was no small number, given their chosen careers.

  Hayden thought her eyes rather like the sea: shining one moment, then shadowed by a cloud of sadness, quickly dispatched by a little breeze of laughter—only to return again.

  Hayden believed that his own conversation was dull and without wit, but if this were true, and not merely his perception, no one seemed to mark it. Indeed, it appeared that Henrietta attended to his words with particular care.

  The Hertle family seemed to be distinguished by a studied disregard for convention, which made them natural allies to the Carthews, Hayden thought. He also noted that Henrietta treated Lady Hertle with great respect, and was at pains to hide her greater understanding of several topics of conversation, choosing her words with care so that no great contradiction was offered.

  Roman historians were discussed with varying degrees of knowledge, and finally republicanism, traced from its earliest roots in ancient Greece to present-day America and the folly that took place across the Channel.

  “Do you know,” Hayden said, “that I have aboard the Themis an able seaman who has read, I believe, every book, pamphlet, or scrap of writing aboard ship to which he has been allowed access? He read all the doctor’s medical books with a high degree of understanding, as well as recent writings by Burke and this man Paine. Among the midshipmen, who have made their berth into a kind of reading-and-debating club, he is much esteemed and they never seem to mention his name without attaching Mister, and spoken with a high degree of respect, too.”

  Lady Hertle appeared very charmed by this. “Why, I should like to meet this man,” she pronounced, to Hayden’s surprise. “Will he soon become a warrant officer, Mr Hayden? Admiral Hertle believed that the very best officers began their careers before the mast.”

  “More than one officer has proposed to put his name forward for master’s mate or bosun’s mate, but at all times he has refused, saying, as he did to me, that he does not desire authority over others. You see, he believes in man’s equality and his fondest desire is to dwell one day in America.”

  “He was not one of your mutineers, I hope?” Lady Hertle asked.

  “Not at all. He used the high regard accorded him by the other Jacks to intercede during the mutiny and stop the flogging of officers, though not until Hart had suffered this fate. It was also Mr Aldrich, for that is his name, who again used his influence to stop the boy who had been charged with igniting the magazine aboard the Themis, a singular act of bravery, which I witnessed myself.”

  “Was this not the same Aldrich whom Hart had flogged for possessing Mr Paine’s pamphlets?” Robert asked.

  “It was, though no one else aboard the ship believed the punishment was justified, and it engendered much resentment among the crew, for Aldrich had the respect and love of almost all aboard but for a few jealous of his learning and the great regard bestowed upon him.”

  “For every genius, no matter how small,” Lady Hertle offered, “there is another whose pettiness and jealousy cannot bear it. How many great men have been hounded by others, inferior in every way?”

  A moment’s silence followed, or perhaps was observed, the cloud of sadness passing over Lady Hertle’s eyes again.

  “Did you know, Mr Hayden, that Lady Hertle met Rousseau?” Elizabeth Hertle remarked.

  “I did not know.”

  Lady Hertle smiled and shook her head. “He was a genius but a scoundrel, Mr Hayden. A complete scoundrel. How anyone could take seriously a single word said or written by such a man is a source of mystery to me, for he had no principle but avidity, no cause but Rousseau. How he escaped the gallows I do not know, for certainly many a thief more ‘noble’ than he has been hanged. But perhaps I am suffering from pettiness and jealousy of his undeniable genius; even so, it seems to me that no matter how great a man’s gifts he cannot be exempted from all laws and customs. Do you not agree?”

  “I do agree. I have been among the Indian people of Canada, and I can tell you that they are not the ‘noble savages’ Rousseau imagined, but a people living by complex, man-made laws and customs, a society as arbitrarily structured and hierarchal as any in Europe. So, at least, was my impression.”

  After supper Hayden and Robert Hertle retired to the terrace, where Robert smoked, as Lady Hertle would not allow it in her home. The lights of scores of vessels scattered across the dark sound. It was a notably calm night.

  “Your ship is in the charge of Mr Barthe, I take it?”

  “No, Mr Barthe is ashore with his family. Mr Archer, the third lieutenant, returned to the ship t
his afternoon and has her in hand in my absence.”

  “You have hardly mentioned him, Charles. Is he a good officer?”

  “He is more than competent, but suffers from what I can only imagine is ambivalence regarding his career. Or perhaps it is merely a lack of passion or energy, I cannot say. I like him perfectly well. His society is pleasant, though he keeps much to himself, and appears to prefer the company of midshipmen to his fellows in the gunroom.” Hayden shrugged. “Want of ambition will likely limit his career, or so I would imagine, for he does not lack ability.”

  “Perhaps serving under Captain Hart has afflicted his passion for the service?”

  “It is entirely possible.”

  “How like you Aunt Bill?”

  “She is remarkable. I only hope to be so vital in my eightieth year.”

  “Yes. I don’t know this for a truth, but I suspect that Mrs Hertle and our dear Henrietta will be the heirs of her estate. Not that she possesses great wealth, but even so, this house and a smaller one in London, not inconsiderable monies invested in diverse stocks and land…none of it entailed.”

  “Why would you tell this to me, Robert?” Hayden asked, knowing the answer full well.

  “Only by way of saying that Henrietta, in addition to her many obvious charms, will always have a comfortable living.”

  “A man with my prospects cannot aspire to a match with a woman such as Miss Henrietta, had she not a farthing. Her family would never approve of it.”

  “Have you met her family?”

  “You know I have not.”

  “Do not be too quick to assume what the Carthews might or might not approve. Mrs Hertle believes that they are guided by the wishes of their daughters in such matters. At least so it was with Henrietta’s older sisters, one of whom married a medical student who has not amounted to much, though no one among the Carthews seems to disapprove, for he is such a capital fellow in every other way.”

  “Well, I am certainly capable of not amounting to much. Does this make me a candidate?”

  Robert laughed. “I can’t say, but it does seem to me that Miss Henrietta treats you with a certain degree of favour—more so than I have observed with many a young buck who has taken notice of her. And I might say that there have been more than a few.”

  “That I do not doubt.”

  Mrs Hertle appeared in the door at that moment and called her husband in to attend Aunt Hertle on some matter. Hayden decided to spend a moment more in the fresh air, judging the strength and direction of the wind, observing the condition of the sky. The open sound was ever a problematic anchorage, and a sharp eye must be kept on the weather-glass and the various changes in atmosphere. He judged the evening relatively calm and likely to stay so.

  The scrape of the door drew his attention, but rather than the return of his friend Robert, as he had been expecting, he found Henrietta emerge, arranging a shawl about her shoulders.

  “You have been left unattended, Mr Hayden. How thoughtless of us.”

  “Not at all, Miss Henrietta. Robert was only just now called away, and I have been observing the weather—an obsession of seamen.”

  “And does it meet with your approval?”

  “In every way, even if the night might be a little warmer, though it is not unseasonably cool, by any means.”

  She came and stood by him, very near to the balustrade, and looked out over the fine view, and up at the river of bright stars. “Will you soon return to sea?” she asked.

  “All is uncertain. There is a court-martial to be got through, and then…My prospects in His Majesty’s Navy are not half so favourable as Robert’s.”

  She straightened her shawl with a sawing motion, then glanced at Hayden, her lovely eyes taking his breath away for an instant. “It is a subject that oppresses you a great deal, I have observed.”

  “I fear I let it oppress me more than it should. I hope I have not been inflicting my moods upon you?”

  She shook her head. “It is your chosen career; how could you not?”

  “You are being very kind, but I confess, I should be a great deal happier if my future were more clear.”

  “Would not we all?” she said with some feeling. “Then duty will keep you in Plymouth for a fortnight?”

  “Longer, I should think. The court-martial will not be convened until Captain Hart is entirely recovered, and it is my understanding that the good captain is not healing as he should.”

  “From what Robert has told us, Captain Hart was ever ready to flog men, innocent or not, and to one poor man did much worse. That he should feel in full measure what he has so readily inflicted upon others is uncommon justice, I think.”

  Hayden was surprised to hear such emotion in her voice. “Yes, but he shall have his knighthood to console him, apparently.”

  Henrietta displayed a bitter smile, her full, soft mouth turning down a little. “Though you believe your prospects poor in the service, it is my prediction—and when I choose to make predictions I am seldom wrong—that you shall be given a ship. The Navy will be forced to recognize your talents, Lieutenant. Now see if I am not right.”

  “I hope with all my heart that you are right, Miss Henrietta, but I did not know it was your talent to predict the future.”

  She moved a little, side to side, favouring him with a charming half-smile. “It is not, commonly, but from time to time I feel very sure that events will order themselves in a certain manner, and I flatter myself that often I am proved to be in the right.”

  Hayden repeated that he hoped Henrietta was right, and immediately felt foolish for it. There was a moment of faintly strained silence.

  “Perhaps we should join the others,” Henrietta said softly, giving Hayden the impression that he had said something she found unpleasant, though he could not think what it could have been.

  As he opened the door that she might precede him into the house, she paused in stride and said, “Then we might look for you to call upon us, Lieutenant Hayden?” And then, quickly, “I’m sure Lady Hertle would be very pleased.”

  “I would like nothing better,” he admitted, with a small sense of relief that whatever unpleasantness or misunderstanding had passed between them could be so easily overcome.

  Inside, they found Robert overseeing the servants as they exchanged the seascape over the fireplace with a painting of the admiral. It was upon this matter that the newly minted captain had been called to consult.

  Lady Hertle gazed up at the portrait of her husband, painted sometime in his fiftieth year, a pleasant-looking gentleman, round-faced and full-mouthed. Hayden thought he looked about to laugh or make a jest.

  “You see, Elizabeth, it is much better when love creeps up on you unnoticed,” Lady Hertle was in the midst of saying. “I knew the admiral for many years, for he would often visit us at our home, and never had the least suspicion that between us lay anything but the fondness you would expect when two young people were so much in one another’s society. It was something of a surprise to me when I found myself thinking of him often, in a daydreaming sort of way. I was aware of this ‘sea change’ in our feelings before the admiral, and was forced to bide my time until he saw it for himself, which happily he did. I must say that men who will engage an enemy in battle without a moment’s hesitation are often the most irresolute when it comes to engaging a lady’s affections. But finally he spoke, and it still fills my heart with joy to think on it.

  “It is a very different thing when you imagine you are in love with someone soon after you have met; then your heart is all aflutter, you can never think what to say and make the most foolish answers to the most innocent enquiries. One lives and dies by every word, and parses every sentence, every look, seeking signs that one’s feelings are returned.” She waved a hand as though pushing away something unpleasant. “Don’t you agree, Lieutenant? Is it not infinitely preferable to discover oneself in love with a young woman whom you have known for some time, rather than a complete stranger whose entire dispo
sition must be created out of hopes and hearsay?”

  “I’m sure that is the very best way, Lady Hertle, but one must take love however it finds one, I suspect, not that I am any authority on such matters, of course.”

  Lady Hertle looked at him in some surprise. “There is a great deal of wisdom in what you say, Lieutenant. Upon my word, you are full of surprises.” She turned to the others. “Now, who shall play this evening? My fingers are all swollen and stiff. My dear Elizabeth, will you not play a little for your old Aunt Bill? I have just had the pianoforte tuned.”

  Elizabeth did play, then she accompanied Henrietta as the latter sang; they then played, at Lady Hertle’s insistence, a mistake-filled duet, provoking much hilarity. Finally, Henrietta favoured them with two lovely airs, her rich soprano filling the room. While she played, Hayden thought there was always about her face a look as though she would lose herself in the music—that it would overwhelm her—but that she resisted this fullness of feeling, staying always just within the bounds of what might be deemed acceptable expressions of the music’s sentiment.

  “You play with your heart, my dear,” Lady Hertle said when the songs were done. “Your entire delicate heart.”

  The evening passed too quickly, to Hayden’s mind, and he found himself taking his leave of the company. Mrs Hertle leaned close in a moment when everyone’s attention had been taken by a small dog escaping into their company, pursued by a horrified maid, who apologized profusely despite everyone’s apparent delight and laughter.

  “You did not miss the moral of my aunt’s story of her courtship, I hope?” Mrs Hertle asked quietly.

  “That one should marry a woman as much like one’s sister as possible, but who is no relation at all?” replied Hayden.

  “Oh, why must men at all times be so obtuse?” Elizabeth shot at him, and then joined the gathering around the little terrier, who had been swept up into Lady Hertle’s arms and was wagging its entire being in excitement.

  Having his leave-taking rather overshadowed by a small canine, Hayden went out into the dark street and made his way down to the harbour. Mrs Hertle’s last words were not easily disposed of, and he found himself contemplating Lady Hertle’s story about her courtship. Was she saying that he should have no aspirations toward her niece Henrietta, because they had known each other only a very short time? She had also opined that men most ready to engage the enemy were often the most reticent to engage a woman’s heart—or words to that effect. Certainly she might have been sending a small message that he should not be timid in his pursuit of Henrietta, but if that were so, her other statement seemed designed to work against it. Hayden simply did not have a lady in his life whom he had known for many years, with whom he could suddenly find himself in love and then pursue boldly. He was of the opinion that Mrs Hertle had mistaken the intent of her aunt entirely. There was no message there for anyone, least of all him. Merely an observation of life, one of several she had made during the course of the evening. He determined then to put this matter from his mind.