'The Pewter! Good God.'
The Pewter Inn at the point was one of the most notorious dens in Portsmouth.
'It is under new management, sir.' Mr Tangible, hastily. 'The prev'ous landlord was took by the Revenue. The Pewter is altogether more respectable now, sir.'
'What you are saying to me is that none of you lived aboard Expedient, when ye've been paid to do so by the Board all these months, as her warranted standing officers. Hey?'
'Not – at night, sir. Only at certain other times.' Mr Tangible.
'During the day.' Mr Adgett. 'As I say, sir, we thought it prudent to be present when the assigned artificers was aboard, but we—'
'Christ's blood, gentlemen.' Rennie, very severe. 'The artificers are paid by the commissioner to move from ship to ship as required by tendered reports of inspection. Their place is not in a particular ship, but in any ship in need of running repair. Your place, as required by the Navy Board, is in your ship, at all times. Pray do not interrupt me, Mr Adgett.' Holding up a hand. 'Y'will both of ye kindly attend to your responsibilities now by remaining in the hulk, until Expedient is refloated. You will then live in the ship. I will find Mr Storey at the point, and say so to him. Should any of you wish to go out of Expedient for any reason, you will seek my express permission. Do I make myself plain?'
The two standing officers straightened their backs.
'Yes, sir.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Very well. Good day.' Turning abruptly on his heel and marching out through the gates.
There was a note waiting for Rennie when he returned to the Marine Hotel from a fruitless trip to the point to find his gunner. Would Captain Rennie attend upon the port admiral at his earliest convenience?
Rennie went to the port admiral's office. Admiral Hapgood greeted him with the bleak grimace that in that officer was the warmest attempt at welcome he was capable of making. His beetling brow and forbidding features did not disguise a gentler, pleasanter man. They reflected exactly his character and attitudes. He was known widely and sardonically in the service as 'Happy' Hapgood.
'Captain Rennie.'
'Good morning, sir.'
'Do you know the whereabouts, sir, of Captain Hayter?'
'James Hayter? I have been expecting him to get into touch with me, you know, but he—'
'Why has not he done so?'
'I – I could not say, sir, for certain. I know that he accepted his commission in the Eglantine, 22, and that he was due to come here to Portsmouth to make her ready for the sea. However, I have been so caught up with my own commission that—'
'In little, y'don't know where he may be found?'
'Well, sir – I imagine that if he ain't here, he—'
'Imagine? It ain't my purpose to imagine, since I am not a fanciful man. Is he at home?'
Rennie had endured a difficult morning, and had to curb his tongue now. He replied, having taken a steadying breath:
'I do not know, sir. I expect so.'
'He don't reply to letters sent to him at home. Why not?'
'I do not know that neither, sir.' Politely, a slight lifting of the eyebrows.
'Ye've heard nothing from him then, yourself?'
'I have not, sir, no. My wife and I have come direct from Norfolk. I am hard at work refitting my own ship, and have had no time for anything else since we came to Portsmouth.'
'Captain Hayter was your first, was not he, in previous commissions?'
'He was, sir.'
'You know him well?'
'Aye, very well.'
'Then y'may go and find him, Captain Rennie.'
'Eh?'
'Go to Dorsetshire, without the loss of a moment, and bring him here, the fellow.'
A booming thud rattled the windows. The noon gun. Rennie glanced at the windows, took a moment to consider his best response, and:
'Sir – Admiral Hapgood. I cannot in all conscience, I think, ignore the wishes of Their Lordships and abandon my duty at Portsmouth.'
'You refuse, sir?' A beetling glare.
'It ain't my wish nor intention, sir, to refuse a direct order, but you must understand that—'
'Must? Must?'
'I mean that I hope you will understand me, sir, when I remind you—'
'Y'may remind me of nothing, Rennie. Your first may undertake your duties while you are gone. That is quite usual in refitting ships, I believe.'
'With respect, sir, my first ain't here.'
'Not here? Why not? Who is he?' Rapped out.
'Lieutenant Makepeace, sir. He is on his way to us, and should be—'
'Who is your second, then? He will do.'
'Lieutenant Merriman Leigh, sir. He is not here, neither. Nor is my third, Mr Souter.'
'None of your officers is at Portsmouth?'
'No, sir. They—'
'Your standing officers are present, I hope? Are they?'
'Yes, sir.' Confidently.
In addition to Mr Tangible, Mr Adgett and Mr Trent, and the elusive gunner Mr Storey, the ship's newly appointed cook, Allway Swallow, had appeared with his dunnage and gone aboard the hulk only yesterday.
'Then they may reasonably undertake the work, governed by your master.' A nod, a grimace.
Expedient's sailing master, Mr Loftus, had yet to join the ship. Rennie said so to Admiral Hapgood, who:
'Expedient is damned odd for a commissioned ship, Captain Rennie. I have yet to receive your final instructions from Whitehall. Your officers are not here. Everything about her is wanting in purpose and compliance. Are your people assembled, and placed on her books?'
'Not quite yet, sir.'
'Then she ain't ready for sea, won't be for some little while, and will not be greatly disadvantaged by your absence. Y'will go to Dorset, remind Captain Hayter of his duty, and bring him forthwith to Portsmouth.'
'Very good, sir. May I have that wrote out?'
'Wrote out? Ain't it plain?'
'Oh, indeed it is, sir. But I will like to have something in writing to show to James Hayter. If you please.'
'Very well, very well.' Lifting his voice: 'Pell! Pell, there!'
And when his clerk had come he dictated the letter. Presently Rennie returned to the hotel, and his wife helped him to pack a valise. As a naval wife she was used to absence; however:
'Why don't the admiral send a letter, William?' Folding a shirt.
'He has sent letters. James has not replied.'
'Then why don't he send a paid messenger?' Handing him his small shaving glass.
'My darling Sylvia, I do not wish to go away from you, but go I must.'
'How long will you be gone?'
'A few days at most.'
'I shall miss you.' Kissing his cheek.
'And I you.' Fondly turning.
*
A twilight hush had fallen across the paved forecourt at Birch Cottage as Captain Rennie drove down from the road in his hired gig. The trees surrounding the house had become shadows, and those shadows were now fading into darkness. The first stars stood in the clear pale sky above the chimneys, and the air was chill. The hush became melancholy silence, broken only by the horse's hooves. Rennie drew up, and sat quiet a moment before descending. The sweet pink-pink of a last blackbird echoed across the front of the house, and the grey outline of the roof absorbed the sound. A breath of blossom floated. Rennie shivered.
He could not see a light in the house, and for a minute or two he wondered if he had not come to the wrong address. He had hired the gig at Blandford in the afternoon, driven south to Winterbourne, and enquired in the village for Birch Cottage. He had been given directions by a boy, and – thought Rennie – strange looks. He had told himself that very probably all visitors were treated with suspicion in these remote rural districts, and had put the strange looks from his mind.
'Should I knock?' Murmured to himself. 'If it is the wrong house perhaps they will take it ill ...'
Then his sea officer's sense of purpose asserted itself, he step
ped down and strode to the door, and lifted the knocker. As he was about to let it fall the door was opened, Rennie stepped back in surprise, and a fan of light spilled out.
'Who is it? Is that you, Dr Harkness?' A woman's voice, young and untutored.
'No, it ain't.' Rennie stepped into the light and removed his hat so that his face might be plainly seen.
'Oh. Sir.' The maidservant, startled, lifting a candle-holder.
'I am Captain Rennie, come from Portsmouth to see Captain Hayter. May I come in?'
'The house is quarantined, sir. I fear that—'
'Who is it, Mary?' A man's voice, James Hayter's voice.
'James?'
And now James came forward into the glow of the light.
'Good heaven, sir. It is you, I thought I heard your voice.' He stepped past the girl. 'I will just take the light, Mary. Return to the kitchen.' Standing now in the doorway: 'I fear I must turn you away, sir. We are quarantined here.'
'I see.' Rennie thought that his friend looked gaunt and thin in the candlelight, and older than his years. 'Is it fever? You have had fever in the house?'
'Yes. Yes. Fever.' A single nod.
'I am very sorry, my dear James. Had I known in course I should not have come.' Looking into his face. 'Is Catherine—'
'Catherine is – she is recovered, a little. A bad bout, you know, but she will come back from it.'
'I am very sorry. Had I known—'
'You could not know, sir.'
'And your boy Rondo?'
'We have lost him.'
'Christ Jesu ...'
'He died very quick, very sudden, when we had thought ...'
'My dear James. You poor fellow. I deeply regret intruding on your grief—'
'No, sir, do not apologise. I can guess why you have come. I have not replied to the letters, and you have come as an emissary of Their Lordships.'
'Well, not quite. The port admiral.'
'Admiral Hapgood?'
'Aye.'
'And you have another letter from him?'
'I have, yes.' Bringing the sealed letter from the pocket of his coat.
James hesitated a moment, standing in the doorway, then he came to a decision. Standing aside:
'Sir, if you will take a risk – and I must iterate, there is a small risk still – I will like you to come in, and sit with me a minute or two in the library. I have not suffered from the fever myself, nor have any of the servants, and the library is in least warm – warmer than standing out here in the night air.'
'Thank you, James. Then I will come in.'
He followed James into the library, where a fire glowed in the grate and the air was pleasantly temperate after the chill of the paved forecourt. James poured Madeira, stoppered the blue decanter, and the two men sat before the fire. Rennie gave his friend Admiral Hapgood's letter. James read it through quickly, then put it aside.
'I cannot go there, now.'
'No, no, you must stay here until Catherine is better, in course.'
'I mean – I cannot take up the commission.' Glancing at Rennie briefly, then staring into the fire.
'Not take it up, James ... ?'
'It means nothing to me now, d'y'see? I have lost my only son ... and Catherine will not wholly recover before the summer. Dr Harkness is of the opinion that she may never get back all of her former strength. So you see – I cannot possibly go away.'
'In course that is how you feel, just at present. It is entirely natural that you should. You have suffered a terrible loss, a dreadful loss, and Catherine must now be your first concern. But in a few weeks—'
'I shall not go back.' James turned his glance again on Rennie. 'I have made my decision.'
'Well well, I will not press you now, my dear James. Not at present.'
They sat mute for several minutes, and drank their wine, each buried in his own thoughts. The fire whispered and settled, and occasionally sighed as a flame flared up, and the glow flickered across their faces. At last, James:
'I cannot erase it from my mind ...'
'Nay, James, do not speak of it now, when it is so painful to you.' Rennie, thinking to aid his friend by enjoining his silence.
'No – I wish to speak of it. I have not spoke with anyone but Harkness in many days – and he is a busy fellow, with other duties, and has not time to listen.'
'Then – I am here.'
'It is the sound ... the sound in my head.' Quietly.
'Sound?'
'The sound of a handful of earth, falling on the lid of the coffin. Just a brief rattle, you know, a light sprinkling rattle – and yet it echoes in my head like a horrible thunderclap – over and over again. I cannot rid myself of it.'
'It will pass, in time.' Not knowing what else to say.
'Often, you know, I fear that I shall go mad. It is there every day, all the time.'
'Perhaps your physician could give you a potion—'
'I asked him for something to aid sleep. It provoked a worsening of the sound – crash, crash, crash, in my head. I cannot rest, I cannot find a moment's respite but the damned abominable noise returns.'
'You have been under a great strain. Your nerves are frayed.'
'Nerves? Hah!' Bitterly.
Rennie looked across at his friend, took a quick, deep breath, nodded, and:
'Listen now, James. I will speak, after all. The moment Catherine is well enough you must take her to your father's house at Shaftesbury, and then come on to Portsmouth and take up your duty of getting Eglantine ready for the sea. That is the cure, James. That must be your course—'
'No! Will no one listen to me, in God's name! I am not fit to command! I have turned my back on the sea for ever!' Vehemently, standing up and walking away from the fire.
Shocked into silence Rennie stared at his friend's back, at the tensed shoulders and rigid neck, and saw a man at breaking point. At length:
'You are not yourself, James. I shall go away now to the inn in the village, and return on the morrow.'
He put down his glass, and stood up. James now faced him again, and lifted a hand to his head to push back a lock of hair.
'I beg your pardon, sir, I shouted at you. You will return to Portsmouth, did y'say? Tomorrow?'
'Nay, I shall return here, to Birch Cottage.'
'Ah. Yes?' Distractedly.
'Yes, indeed.'
'Well, as you wish. I will – I must go to Catherine now, and see if she needs anything.'
'Of course, very good. I'll see myself out, James.'
'Thank you, sir.'
And James left the room, with a half-turning, sidelong glance as he reached the door and went out.
Rennie stood still a moment, in genuine dismay. 'The poor fellow.' He shook his head. 'Poor dear fellow.'
*
'No, sir, I could not persuade him.'
'Persuade him?' Admiral Hapgood was contemptuous. 'I did not ask you to persuade him, Captain Rennie. I gave you an order to bring him back.'
'He would not come.'
'He read the letter? You are certain he read it?' Admiral Hapgood stood at the window, and looked bleakly at the world.
'He read it in my presence.'
'It is beyond reason.' Returning to his desk. 'What is the matter with him? Has he gone mad?'
This was so nearly the truth that Rennie was obliged to look away lest his eyes betray him.
'I – I do not believe that he has, sir, no. As I have said, his family—'
'Yes, yes, fever.' Over him. 'He lost a son, and his wife was ill. Such things are not uncommon in England, Captain Rennie. Typhus is a curse everywhere, from time to time. But good heaven, sea officers of all men must face these things and continue to do their duty. We cannot allow private difficulty to interrupt the king's service.'
'I am very sorry, sir, but Captain Hayter has made his decision. Naturally, I attempted to dissuade him. He is my valued friend, and we have sailed three hazardous commissions together. Nobody could more greatly regret his
departure from the service than myself, and I said so to him very sincere. However, he was adamant. It would have been ungentlemanlike to press him further, under the circumstances.'
'You think that, do you?'
'I do, sir.'
'Ungentlemanlike?'
'Just so.'
'You are a bloody fool, Rennie. You have allowed him to hoodwink and bamboozle you.'
'Eh?' Outraged.
'Self-approval is his fault, sir. Self-approval and damned self-pitying pride. Many men lose sons, sir. Life is fraught with such peril. But they do not then lie down to sulk and snivel in defeat. They lift up their heads, and behave manly, and courageous. That is how they may father other sons, and rise to their responsibilities.'
'Well, sir,' Rennie kept his temper, 'well, you was not there to see how hard the blow fell upon him. Men are not all the same—'
'Pish posh, Captain Rennie. You will like to make excuses for the fellow because he is your friend. His behaviour is very reprehensible, very foolish and weak.'
Tears of rage pricked Rennie's eyes, but he held himself in. The admiral grimaced and gave a furious sigh, throwing up his hands.
'However – if he will not return, he will not. I have done everything that is in my power to help him. I shall write to Their Lordships immediate. His ship will go to another officer.'
'I cannot argue with you, sir.' Rennie, angry and sad, conceding the inevitable.
The admiral looked at him, and in spite of his contempt for what Rennie's friend had done, he could not find it in him to blame Rennie any more. Rennie perhaps lacked certain qualities of imagination, but he had stood loyal by his friend, whose faults were not his own. The admiral relented.
'Very well, Captain Rennie. He is your friend, whatever his failings, and I will not like to say any more against him in your presence.'
'That is kind in you, sir.' Surprised.
'I am not kind, you know. I am merely trying to be – gentlemanlike.'
'It is the same thing, in a way – ain't it?'
'Hm. Perhaps.'
Rennie made his back straight, and:
'Good day to you, Admiral.'
'Good day, Captain Rennie.'
Rennie walked stiffly to the admiral's door, put on his hat thwartwise and settled it firm on his head. He went down the stair to the entrance, and out into sunlight and the sharp fragrances of the Portsmouth air: dung, tar, tide. He breathed them in, and was restored.
The Gathering Storm Page 3