The Gathering Storm

by Peter Smalley

  'My dear James, I do beg your pardon for leaving you alone so long. So many damned distractions, you know, for a commanding officer awaiting his sailing instructions.' Bustling into the great cabin, removing his hat, striding to the table and glancing briefly and purposefully at his lists.

  'There is no need for apology, sir.' James, rising from his chair. 'I came uninvited aboard, after all, and took you by surprise. It is I that—'

  'Has Cutton looked after you?' Tapping a list. 'No, that has not been done. Damnation.' Distractedly, then: 'Has he given you wine, and a biscuit?'

  'Thank you, sir, I wanted nothing.'

  Looking up from the lists: 'He did not bring you wine, the wretch? I'll soon—'

  'Nay, sir, nay, he is not at fault. I did not want anything, and said so to him.'

  'Ah. Oh. Very good. Sit, sit, dear fellow. Will you drink a glass of wine now? Say that you will, a glass of wine with me – hey?'

  'Thank you, sir, then I will.'

  As they waited for Cutton to bring the wine, Rennie cleared his throat, and:

  'I may as well say at once, James ... I had to send the hoy away, you know.'

  'Send it away?'

  'It was generous kind in you, James, to think of giving us such a quantity of beer – and wine, indeed – but the plain fact is that we are fully stored, and the ship trimmed for sea. Mr Loftus was very unhappy with me, and I could not—'

  'Bernard Loftus objected?' James, surprised. 'He seemed pleased enough when I came aboard.'

  'Yes, did he? Well well, that was before the other trouble, about the tiers of pork. It is all a question of trimming the ship, as I'm sure you will grasp – as a sea officer.'

  'In course, sir. I do see that, now.'

  'Hm. Hm. – Ah!' With relief, as Cutton brought their wine on a tray.

  'Yes, I ...' Pouring wine. 'I had been promised – or rather, Mr Trent and the cook had been promised – fresh meat, d'y'see. But there was an interruption about that ashore, and then the trouble about the spoiled casks of pork ... Well well, y'don't want to hear all these irksome things, James, when ye've come aboard as a guest. Let us be convivial over our wine.' Handing him a glass. 'Your health.'

  'Your health, sir. In truth, I had hoped to discuss with you—'

  'How is Catherine? That is a question I should have asked at once, good God. How is she?'

  'She is much better, thank you, sir. Nearly restored to full health, and staying at Melton House with my mother.'

  'That is excellent good news, excellent. I am so very glad, James.'

  'Thank you, sir. May I – may I come to the matter which brought me to the ship, sir?'

  'In course, in course – by all means.' Dreading the next few minutes.

  'I am come to ask a very great kindness of you, a very great favour ...'

  'Go on.'

  Putting down his glass: 'As you know, I did not take up my commission in the Eglantine sloop. She has gone to another officer now, Captain Edward Semple.'

  'Yes – I had heard.'

  'Subsequent to that decision, which I now deeply regret, and consequent on it – I am left on the beach.'

  'Yes – on the beach.' A sympathetic nod, disguising great discomfort.

  'Therefore, sir, I am come here to ask if you will intercede with Their Lordships on my behalf, and take me again as your first.'

  'Indeed. Indeed. I had thought as much. I knew it as soon as you came aboard.' A wry grimace, an apologetic nod. 'I cannot pretend I did not.'

  'Then – you are willing to consider—'

  Holding up a hand: 'James, before you say any more, my dear friend, I must tell you that it cannot be so.'

  'Cannot ... ?'

  Both hands laid flat on the table. A deep sniff. 'Nay, nay, it cannot. You are master and commander, now. Your rank prevents it, leave alone any other consideration. I am very sorry, James, but there it is.'

  James looked away a moment, himself took a deep breath, and then leaned forward: 'Sir, I think you know me very well, and understand me. I was foolish to have declined the Eglantine, and greatly regret having done so. The world looked very dark, and I could not see beyond my own grief and despair. But that is not the man I am. I am a sea officer, to the marrow of my bones, and I think a good and brave one. As are you.' A breath, then: 'As one sea officer to another, I ask this of you. As a trusted friend I ask it. Intercede in my behalf, and ask that an exception be made. Give me this chance to save my career. Will you?'

  *

  Rennie returned to the Hard in his launch, as he had done every evening since the ship had been refloated and given her mooring number. Until his instructions came he was determined to live ashore with his wife, even if his people were obliged to live aboard. James had already departed in his hired boat. Rennie had come on deck to see him go down the ladder. It had been very painful for Rennie to turn him out of the ship, and James had been very subdued as he stepped over the thwarts into the stern-sheets of the boat. He did not again look up at the rail, nor did he even lift a hand in farewell as the boatman pulled away from the side. Rennie told his wife the story, concluding:

  'I fear it may be the end of our friendship.'

  'I have never met your friend, William, but you have so often spoke of him that I feel I do know him. I don't think he will wish to turn his back on you. I don't think he is that kind of man.'

  'I have turned my back on him, have not I, my dear?'

  'You have not, you have not. You told him the truth. It was the honourable thing to do, the only thing to do.'

  'Aye, it was.' A sigh. 'I know it – and yet I feel so damned guilty, all the same. I refused his gift of beer and wine. I turned him out of the ship. The poor fellow, after all he has endured ...'

  'But that was none of your doing, William. You did your best for him in going to Dorsetshire, and begging him to return.'

  'Yes, yes, I know – but to see him sitting so quiet in that damned boat, knowing that in all likelihood his career in the navy was finished ...'

  'William, it was not your fault.' Earnestly, looking into his face, her hand on his.

  'I wish with all my heart I could have said to him: "In course, James, we'll simply ignore your new rank. I will send away my third – a fellow I don't much like, anyway – and ask Tom Makepeace to go down to second, and my second to third, and give you back your old berth. We will stow your dunnage and drink a glass of wine on your reappointment." I wish that I could have, but I could not. Their Lordships would never permit it, under any circumstances, and it would be entirely foolish to entertain the notion that they would. It was made clear to me when I returned from Dorset that James was to be froze out. I could do nothing at all for him. Nothing.'

  'It was not your fault.' Gently.

  'You are right.' Kissing her cheek. 'You are right.' A moment, and: 'He asked if he might come into the ship as a supernumerary, and reminded me that he had took me into the Hawk cutter when he commanded her. And again I was obliged to refuse. I could not ask my junior officers to be complicit in that kind of deceit. If discovered it could lead to court martial and disgrace. It is one thing to slip aboard a cutter in a civilian coat to chase smugglers up and down the Channel. It is quite another to go into a frigate, in plain defiance of Their Lordships, following on the deliberate refusal of your own command. No no—'

  'William, my dear, I am going to forbid you to speak of it any more. Let us go down to the dining room, if you please, and eat our supper. I have ordered it.' Linking her arm with his.

  'You have? What did you order?'

  'We are to have broth, then fish, and then duckling.'

  'Ah. Ah. Very good.'

  'You are hungry?' A smile.

  'To say the truth, I am. It has been a long and difficult day, and I am hungry, indeed.'

  And he put away his guilt, and the pain of the afternoon, and went downstairs arm in arm with his wife.

  But later as he lay abed Captain Rennie could not sleep. James Hayter's drawn,
crestfallen face haunted him, and accused him, and he was ashamed of himself in the quiet dark.

  FOUR

  The wave, blue and undulating, rose to its riffling height and struck the cutwater as the ship pitched heeling into the wind. There was a solid thump of water against wood, and a shock of spray flew up white and fell in a cloud of glittering shards over the forecastle. The whole ship shuddered. The seaman clinging in the forechains as he attempted to swing the lead for a sounding streamed from head to foot. He shook himself, blew water from his nose and mouth, and tried again. Shoals lay close.

  On the quarterdeck, close by the helmsman at the wheel, Lieutenant Makepeace lifted his voice against the wind, and: 'Keep your luff! Hold her so!'

  Relayed from the forechains, the cry: 'Five fathom, pebble and shell!'

  Tom Makepeace lifted his silver speaking trumpet. 'Stand by to tack ship!'

  Thump, and again a shock of spray, and the sea frothed and hissed along the wales. Creaking timbers, and the groaning, gnarling, stretching complaint of shrouds, and stays, and braces. The slide of water along the deck, and the sluicing gush of scuppers as the ship lifted herself, and ran on.

  'Weather braces!'

  Feet slipping on the sloping deck. A midshipman vomiting over the lee rail.

  'Lee braces haul through!'

  Boom-thump, and a further storm of spray.

  'Helm's a-lee! Fore sheet, foretop bowline, jib and staysail sheets – let go!' Bellowed.

  The jib flapping and snapping emptily as the ship rolled and pitched closer to the wind.

  'Off tacks and sheets!'

  And as the ship came through the eye:

  'Mainsail haul!'

  Presently, shuddering and thrusting, streaming water and creaking in every part of her, the ship passed through the critical moments, and:

  'Let go and haul!'

  Foresails braced round, tacks and sheets trimmed. Broad canvas took the wind, bellied and filled, and the ship heeled true on her new heading.

  At Lieutenant Makepeace's shoulder, another voice now:

  'Very good, Mr Makepeace. Neatly done. Let us run right quick across to France, and show them how we handle ships in the Royal Navy.'

  HMS Expedient, frigate, 36, with her full complement of 260 souls, ran close-hauled on the larboard tack, buffeted by a stiff easterly, across the white-flecked blue of the Channel toward the faint grey wandering line of the French coast.

  Getting her to sea had not been a pleasure for Captain Rennie. It never was, he had reflected in the preceding days. His sailing instructions had failed to arrive, and in a quandary he had again called on Admiral Hapgood.

  'You had better make use of the available time,' the port admiral had allowed.

  'In what way, sir?'

  'Weigh, and take her out. Ye've been idle at your mooring far too long.'

  'Thank you, sir.' A relieved nod.

  'I do not mean that you should follow your preliminary instructions in full, or anything like. Y'will put your people through their paces, so to say, and find out the ship's strengths.'

  Rennie knew his ship's strengths perfectly well, and her weaknesses, but he did not say so to the admiral. He did say:

  'How long may I keep the sea, sir?'

  'No no, y'will not keep the sea at all, Captain Rennie. Take her out, run before the wind a board or two, then bring her about and return to your mooring. You apprehend me?'

  'I would wish to exercise my great guns, sir, I think.'

  'Yes yes, that is for you to say, and I will not interfere – except that you should not fire your guns. We must not waste powder.'

  'Very good, sir.'

  On the day following Rennie had been preparing to weigh when a boat came to the ship with a message. Would Captain Rennie kindly repair ashore, to the port admiral's office?

  With great but concealed irritation Rennie did as he was asked. At the office he was introduced to a gentleman of thirty-five or -six, in a dark coat, very slim and neat in his appearance, and with what Rennie took at first for a diffident manner. He was introduced as Mr Brough Mappin.

  'May I apologise, Captain Rennie, for inconveniencing you? Most kind of you to come here at such short notice.'

  'Mr Mappin. How may I be of service, sir?'

  'Service, yes. That is the word. I do seek a service.' Turning his head. 'I wonder, Admiral, if you will permit me a moment or two alone with Captain Rennie?'

  'Eh?'

  'A few minutes, if you would oblige me?'

  'Hm. Very well. I shall – I shall go downstairs.' A beetling frown, and he moved to the door. 'Pell! Pell, where are you!' And as he trod down the stair: 'Pell, damn you, come here!'

  Mr Mappin closed the door with a click of the lock, and motioned Rennie to a chair by the admiral's desk. The gesture, and the brief half-smile that accompanied it, revealed to Rennie the man behind the diffidence and apology. Here was a fellow accustomed to getting what he wanted.

  'I will come direct to my point.' Mr Mappin sat down behind the desk, in Admiral Hapgood's chair. Rennie waited, his hat across his knee, in the chair opposite.

  'Lieutenant Hayter is your friend, I think?'

  'James Hayter? He is now master and commander, you know, and so is known as Captain Hayter. And yes, he is my friend. Why d'you ask?'

  'I fear that he is again merely lieutenant. He accepted the sloop Eglantine, and then declined to go into her.'

  'Yes, I know, but surely they would not—'

  Over him: 'He never read his commission aboard, and thus refused quite deliberate to take up his duties. I am informed he could have been dismissed the service. Instead Their Lordships have decided to strip him of the rank of master and commander, and reduce him to lieutenant.'

  'Good God, that is nearly unprecedented.'

  'He came to you, did not he, and asked that you take him into your ship?'

  'You are well informed, Mr Mappin. He did make that request. I was unable to grant his wish.'

  'You would not take him, even as – I think you call it – supernumerary?'

  Rennie took a breath. 'Mr Mappin, we in the navy are plain-spoke men. I ask that you come to your point, sir. If you please.'

  'Yes, forgive me, you are right to chide.' The half-smile. 'I want you to take a supernumerary into your ship.'

  Rennie looked at him again, and saw the same man sitting in his well-cut coat, but there was something new in his expression. A hardness had replaced the sudden little smile, and there was a new acuity in his gaze.

  'Mr Mappin.' Politely. 'Will you tell me who you are?'

  'By all means. I am a man in usual private, with private interests. On occasion I give advice, and assistance, in other circles. Government business.'

  'Ahh. Hmm.' Rennie raised his eyebrows. 'I had heard that Sir Robert had retired, after that unfortunate episode with the Excise. But I was doubtful, myself.'

  'You have left me behind, Captain Rennie. Sir Robert? The Excise?'

  'Come now, Mr Mappin. Sir Robert ain't a man to allow himself be bested by a pipsqueak like Major Braithwaite, that arrested him on a spurious charge, and then attempted to have him brought to his trial. No no. I don't think Sir Robert has retired quite yet. What say you?'

  Mr Mappin tilted his neat head, and shook it. 'I do not know the gentleman ...'

  'Don't know Sir Robert Greer? Ha-ha, that is a capital joke. You work for him! Or in least by his side! Hey?'

  'I do not.'

  'Not? Hh-hh, I do not think you are being entirely fair to me, you know. I am not such a fool that I don't recognise the attitudes and tactics of the Fund.' An amused jerk of the head.

  Mr Mappin brought one finger to his lips, left it there a brief moment, then withdrew it and leaned forward.

  'Look here, now, Rennie. I don't know the fellow with whom you so confidently associate me. Nor have I any interest in, nor connection to, any bank or fund in the City. I am here on government business.'

  'Yes?' A polite glance, an
d a nod.

  Mr Mappin sat back in his chair. Again the finger to the lips. Again withdrawn.

  'Perhaps I was misinformed, after all.' A little sigh. 'Disappointing.'

  'What?'

  Mr Mappin got up on his legs, and came round the desk. Standing before Rennie's chair:

  'Your name was given to me as a reliable officer, that could be trusted to undertake whatever was required of him. I am not—'

  'Y'said you wished me to take a supernumerary into my ship. Since I am to go to France, or in least to the French coast, that can only mean a spy.'

  'I have not said who, nor have I said—'

  'Christ's blood, man!' Angrily rising. 'I am tired of men like you! Like Sir Robert Greer, and all his works at the Secret Service Fund! I have had more than my fill over the years of your schemes and deviousness and denials! Either tell me what you want, damn' quick, or I shall proceed to the Hard, go into my launch, and return to my ship. In least there I will be where I belong as a sea officer – an honourable calling!' Jamming on his thwartwise hat.

  This little display of naval ire had not been impeccably spontaneous. Rennie had wished to discomfit Mr Mappin, and show him that sea officers could not be intimidated. He also wished to make the fellow admit his connection to Sir Robert Greer. Mr Mappin, however, had not been discomfited in any way. He had waited for Rennie's tirade to cease, then mildly:

  'Yes. The reason I mentioned Lieutenant Hayter to you was because, having refused to take him into your ship as supernumerary, I knew you would likely refuse to take anybody at all.'

  'Then you was correct in that assumption.'

  'Lieutenant Hayter was an embarrassment to you, was not he? He had behaved foolishly in refusing his own command, and then he came whining to you. What could be his role in—'

  'I do not care to discuss that with you, nor with anyone! If you are attempting to make me take on my books some other person, by belittling Mr Hayter, I will not listen to you!'