The Gathering Storm

by Peter Smalley

  'As would you, at least in part – should you join us. A man must live, and pay his tailor.'

  James put up his sword, turned away from the desk and chairs, and stood quietly, his head bent. Presently, turning to Mr Mappin again:

  'You spoke of what happened in my last command – my first and last command. Yes, it's true I shot a man dead, that could not live long and was suffering very bad. I cannot forget it, and never will.' A breath. 'I had thought to go into the Company, and make my way there as an officer in a blameless duty. But I would still be obliged to command men, and gain their respect, and I am unfitted to it, even in a merchant ship. You have made me see that.'

  'Will you not sit down, Lieutenant?'

  'Eh? Sit? Why? I have said all there is to say.'

  'In course, in course, but if you will sit down one moment I think perhaps you will benefit.'

  'Oh, very well.' A sigh, and James pulled the chair to him and sat down.

  'I know that you have suffered very hard of late, and I am very sorry for you.' Mappin's voice was lower now. 'I too have lost my only son, two years ago.'

  'You?' Looking at him.

  'Aye. A riding accident. He was five years old. For a time – many weeks – I was not quite a human being.'

  James nodded, and said nothing.

  'Had it not been for my work, you know, I think I might have run mad.'

  'Yes. That is how I feel, now. But I have no work, Mr Mappin.' James looked away, and was about to rise again, take up his hat and go out, when:

  'There is work for you, very worthwhile work, waiting to be done.'

  A long moment, and at last James looked him in the eye.

  'I do not think I am the man you seek, Mr Mappin. Your world, the world of Sir Robert Greer – a man that in course you know – is foreign to me, and alien to my nature. You have done me a service today in showing me that I do not belong on the deck of a ship, either. I must seek employment in another field.' Rising, and taking his hat. 'Good day to you.'

  'Wait, wait. Will you wait one minute more?'

  'Well?'

  'There would be no official position, no acknowledgement of your ... employment.'

  'I don't understand you. I do not wish to take up the position.'

  'No, no, and nor would you, because it don't exist.'

  'Then what are we talking about?' Shaking his head.

  'Let us say ... an hundred guineas.'

  'I see. You are offering me one hundred a year?'

  'Oh no. No no. One hundred per quarter.'

  'Four hundred a year?' Astonished.

  'Guineas.'

  James, in spite of himself: 'And ... what would be my duties, exact?'

  'You are interested in the position, then?'

  'You have just said there ain't one, Mr Mappin.'

  'So I did. So I did.' A breath. 'You would be in a ship, at various times. Not in command. At other times on land, seeking people out.'

  'Spying?'

  'No no, not that. As you have told me, that is alien to your nature.'

  'Whom should I be seeking out? And where?'

  'Before we go further, I must know one way or t'other. Are you interested?'

  'I have not said that.' Stiffly.

  'Come come, Lieutenant, the navy is a plain-spoke service. Give me an answer. Yes, or no?'

  James looked at him, took a deep breath, shrugged – and nodded.

  'Good. I am glad. Your fluent French will greatly aid us.'

  'How did you know I spoke French, Mr Mappin?' Tilting his head.

  'It is part of my work to discover such things, Lieutenant. You spent time in France as a youth, and you are quite at ease there in polite society. I would not have chose you, else.'

  James looked at him again, frowned slightly, then again nodded. 'No – no, I expect you would not.'

  And now Mr Mappin rose, and held out his hand. James took it.

  'You have made the right decision,' said Mr Mappin briskly. 'And now you must disappear.'

  'Disappear? I do not—'

  Over him: 'You will say, naturally, that you must tell your wife of your new situation. We will do that for you. A message will go to her, at Shaftesbury.'

  'But if I vanish—'

  'And you will say that you must return first to your hotel, retrieve your things and pay your bill. That is being done at this moment. And in course there is no need for you to say anything further to Captain Sprigg. As I said, he has been told to look elsewhere for a mate.'

  'If I am to—'

  'By the by, I will like you to shift your coat.'

  Mappin went to the door, put his head outside and gave an instruction. A moment after, a bundle was handed to him, which he brought in and placed on the desk.

  'Your new clothes. Let me have your coat and breeches and hat, and your sword, will you?'

  'You mean – I am to shift my clothes immediate, here in this room?'

  'I do mean that, yes. If you please.'

  James began to remove his clothes, first unbuckling his sword. As he did so:

  'Where am I to go?'

  'To a safe place.'

  'Will you tell me where?' Removing his shoes.

  'It is quite safe, I assure you.' A nod.

  James paused, one foot on a chair as he made to unfasten one of his stockings. 'I think we had better understand each other, Mr Mappin.' He lowered his foot to the floor and stood straight in his shirt and breeches. 'I have agreed to your proposal, but never think I am some meek servant boy, his voice not yet broke, that will go blind and uncurious anywhere he is told.'

  'In course I do not think that.'

  'Then tell me where I am to go, and why.'

  'In due course, in due course.' Opening the bundle on the desk.

  'No, Mr Mappin, no. Tell me now.'

  Mappin held out a fine linen shirt, and a coat and breeches of dark velvet. 'Here, these are what you will need, exact.' Also in the bundle were a silk waistcoat, dark stock, and new stockings.

  James did not take the clothes. Instead, he began putting on his uniform again.

  'Nay, what are you doing?' Mappin, frowning. 'Lieutenant Hayter has disappeared from view. You cannot go out in his uniform, now.'

  James, his fingers on the buttons of his white waistcoat: 'If I am to remove it, kindly oblige me with a reason, and tell me where I am to go. Either that, or you and I have no agreement of any kind. I never came here today, and tomorrow I will go home to Dorset – to be a farmer, content among his cattle. Well?'

  'You have no cattle, since you have no acres on which to graze them.' Mildly.

  'Fields may be leased, Mr Mappin.'

  Mappin regarded him, head a little on one side. At last: 'Very well. You are to remain here in London. Rooms have been engaged for you at Clerkenwell. You are to have a new name. Henry Tonnelier.'

  'Tonnelier? A French name.'

  'You are not French, yourself, but your family came to England from France a century ago.'

  'What is my profession? Shipping?'

  'You are a silk merchant.'

  'I know nothing of the silk trade, Mr Mappin.'

  'Nor need you. You will not trade in silk. You will do nothing at all.'

  'Nothing? At Clerkenwell? How long must I endure this condition of life, this nothinghood?'

  'Until we call upon you. Then you will go into the ship.'

  'Oh, yes, you said something about a ship. A merchant vessel?'

  'No.'

  'Then – what? You cannot mean it is a naval ship ... ?'

  'Yes.'

  'Mr Mappin, ye've just took me out of the uniform of a sea officer, RN, and now you propose to put me into one of His Majesty's ships of war?'

  'I do. That ship will take you to France.'

  'When?'

  'When your passage has been arranged. Quite soon, we think.'

  'And when I am in France, what then?'

  'You will meet various persons, gain certain information, and proceed
to act upon it.'

  A sigh. 'Christ's blood, Mr Mappin.' Looking at him not so much in anger as in resigned exasperation. 'Talking to you is like drawing teeth – no great pleasure for neither party.'

  'I assure you, Lieutenant – that is, Mr Tonnelier – when the time comes I shall be right loquacious, and you will become enlightened. For the moment it is well that you know nothing, or next to it.' Reaching into his coat, and producing a silk purse. 'Here is some money. You must live quiet, but y'must live well.' He handed the purse to James, who felt the heavy weight of coins.

  'A fitting purse for a silken gentleman.' James, an ironic smile. 'How much have you given me?'

  'An hundred guineas.'

  'Good heaven.' Looking inside the purse, then: 'And I am to have no sword?'

  'I do not think a silk merchant would go about with a sword.'

  'Then I want my pocket pistols. They are with my things at Mrs Peebles's hotel, a pistol case—'

  'Mr Tonnelier, you are now a man of peace. A trader in luxury goods, not a warrior. There can be no swords and pistols now.'

  'If not the pair of pistols, then a single one will do.'

  'No, it will not do.'

  'I will not go about in London without protection.' Firmly.

  'You will not "go about", except where we tell you. You will live very quiet.'

  'Look here, now, Mr Mappin—'

  Over him: 'I fear I cannot allow you any weapons.'

  'You fear! I am the one you wish to act for you, creeping and skulking under a spurious name, carrying a large sum in gold, in a part of London where even the watchmen go fearful at night. Either allow me the pistol, or my sword, or go to the devil!'

  'Well, perhaps after all you are not the man we want, Lieutenant.' A languid shrug. 'So bellicose a fellow could not go into France unnoticed. He would give himself away in half an hour. Let me have the purse, and throw on your naval coat. Your sword is on the desk. Take it up, and go on down into Dorset by all means, where you may wave it about in the fields and keep your cattle in check.' Holding out his hand for the gold, and raising his eyebrows.

  James frowned fiercely, glared at Mr Mappin, then was unable to prevent a wry smile. 'You have called my bluff, Mr Mappin, by God.'

  Mr Mappin lowered his impatient hand and gave a faint reciprocal smile. 'You wish to proceed?'

  A conceding nod. 'I am your man.'

  'There must also be, I should explain at once, further alteration to your appearance – aside from your clothes.'

  'You mean – I am to go disguised, like a player in the theatre?'

  'Exact. I do.'

  *

  Two men were waiting aboard Expedient when Rennie returned to her on a bright, breezy morning. As he came up the side ladder and was piped aboard, he glanced aloft.

  'Tops'l breeze, Mr Makepeace. A weighing breeze, hey?'

  'We are to weigh, sir?' Tom Makepeace, in hope, his hat off and on as the sound of the call ceased.

  'Nay, Tom. Not this morning.'

  'Oh.'

  'Hm. "Oh." Exact.'

  'There are two persons waiting on you, sir.'

  'Perhaps they have our sailing orders.'

  'No, sir, I think not. They—'

  'Where are they?' Over him.

  'At the door of the great cabin, sir. I have the defaulters list—'

  'Yes, very good. Bring it to me in half a glass, will you?'

  Rennie went aft to the great cabin and found the Marine sentry in conversation with the two waiting men. One of them was very tall, in a warrant officer's plain blue coat; the other was shorter and stooping, in a civilian frock coat.

  'Gentlemen.' Nodding to them, and: 'I will see you first' to the tall man, who followed him into the cabin. Rennie removed his hat, and unbuckled his sword. 'You are a doctor, I take it?'

  'I am Edmond Mace, sir, surgeon. Here is my warrant from the Sick and Hurt.' Producing the document.

  'Yes, yes, yes.' Rennie, facing him across the table, putting down his hat and hanging his sword on a chair. 'Unfortunately, Dr Mace—'

  'Oh, I am not a physician, sir. Only a passed surgeon.' Handing his warrant to Rennie.

  'Just so, but y'would be called Doctor in the ship.' Taking the warrant, glancing at the seal. 'Unfortunately, the position of surgeon in Expedient is already took. I have my doctor, d'y'see?'

  'Oh.' Puzzled and crestfallen.

  'Yes, I applied for a surgeon, right enough. But my own man came the same day, and – well well, there it is.' He tapped the warrant on the surface of the table, and dropped it there.

  'What am I to do ... ?'

  'Never fear, Dr Mace, never fear. I happen to know that Captain Langton of the Hanover, seventy-four, is in need of a surgeon just at present, his warranted man having took ill of drink. Are ye a drunkard, Dr Mace?'

  'No indeed, sir.' A wounded frown.

  'Very good. Forgive my bluntness. I'll just write a letter to Captain Langton, introducing you, and then send you over to his mooring number in a boat. He will arrange everything with the port admiral, your warrant will be amended, and all will be well with you.'

  'If you are quite sure, sir ...'

  'It ain't that I'm rejecting you on merit, nor the lack of it, Dr Mace. I am arranging for you to go to sea in a ship of the line. You ought be glad of that, you know.'

  'Yes, sir, I expect so. Thank you.'

  Rennie moved to his desk, sat down and picked up a quill. Finding no ink:

  'Cutton! Colley Cutton, where are you!'

  Presently young Edmond Mace departed the ship in Rennie's boat, and Rennie interviewed his second visitor.

  Removing his hat as he came in, the stooped young man: 'Dr Wing advised me to come to—'

  'Thomas Wing?' Puzzled then: 'Ah, in course, in course, you are the clerk! Are you?' Peering at him anxiously. 'I hope you are.'

  'Yes, sir. I am—'

  'Come in, come in. And sit, sit – after all that is your usual posture, when you are working, hey? Tell me your name.'

  'Nehemiah Tait, sir.' Sitting down, holding his hat on his knee.

  'Nehemiah. Hm. And how are you called?'

  'I am – I am called Nehemiah, sir. Oh, d'y'mean, familiarly?'

  'Aye, exact.'

  'Enty, sir. As my initials are N and T.'

  'Enty, very good. Well well, you will not object if I call you that? Enty?'

  'No, sir. I hope that you will.'

  'And in course Mr Tait, when more formal address is required. You have served in ships?'

  'I have been employed for five years by the Company, sir, and—'

  'The East India Company? That is fitting, that is fitting. The man you replace has just gone into service with them. Now then, tell me your ships.'

  'Well, sir, you see—'

  'There is no need of embarrassment that you have not been in fighting ships, you know. There is no shame in going to sea with John Company, a very reputable—'

  'No, sir, you don't understand me. I have never yet been to sea.'

  'What? Never?'

  'No, sir. Dr Wing – Thomas – said that neither had your previous clerk been to sea your first commission in the ship, nor had Thomas himself, and you had no complaint about neither of them, in fact the opposite.' All in a rush.

  'Well, yes – that is true.' A sniffing breath, and: 'But I was obliged to show my clerk the ropes, so to say, and he was so damned seasick the first leg I thought he would die. Are you subject to seasickness, Mr Tait?'

  'I do not know, sir.' The formal 'mister' not lost on him. 'Since I have never been to sea.'

  'Never at all? Never even in a packet-boat?'

  'I have been the length of the Thames, sir, from London to Northfleet and back, in the ferry.'

  'The Thames ain't the open sea, Mr Tait.' A puffing sigh. 'What other experience have y'had? I take it you was in some sense dealing with ships, at John Company?'

  'I dealt with tea, sir, in large. Tonnages of tea, number of bales, and t
he like.' Lamely, fearing that his chances of employment were rapidly fading.

  'Then we have that in common, in least. I am an avid drinker of tea. Talking of which ... Cutton! Colley Cutt— Oh, there you are. Is that my tea?'

  'Hit is, sir.' Cutton, emerging from the quarter gallery with a tray, and bringing it to the table.

  'Well well, put it down, man, so that I may drink it. Where is my cat?'

  'She is about, sir, somewheres in the ship.'

  'Find her, and bring her to me.'

  'I will, sir, if I am able.' Going out of the cabin.

  'Can you instruct boys, Mr Tait?' Rennie poured tea.

  'Erm – no, sir. I have had no experience of that.'

  'Then I cannot put you on the books as clerk and schoolmaster.'

  'I expect not, sir.' An apologetic grimace.

  'Where on earth did Dr Wing find you? – That is, that is, how d'y'come to know each other?'

  'We lodged in the same house in London, and Dr Wing was kind enough to provide medical assistance when I was near crippled with costiveness, which he was able—'

  Over him: 'Yes yes, well well, just so. Y'may begin, Mr Tait, by making order out of these lists.' Indicating the mass of papers lying at a dozen angles on the table.

  'You mean, I am – I am situated?'

  'I must have a clerk, and you are here.' Sucking a mouthful of tea. 'Where is your dunnage?'

  'My ... ?'

  'Your belongings, Mr Tait.' Impatiently. 'Your chest and hanging cot, and so forth.'

  'I ... I have my valise, and my writing case.'

  'No cot? Then one must be rigged for you, Mr Tait. Say so to Mr Adgett. Sentry!'

  'Sir?' The Marine sentry, opening the door.

  'Pass the word for the carpenter. He is to attend on Mr Tait at his earliest convenience.'

  'Aye, sir.' Closing the door.

  'As soon as you go out of the cabin, Mr Tait, ye'd better look at the ship. Discover all you are able both on deck, and below, since you are to live aboard from now on. Mr Trent will wish to speak to you, also.'

  'Yes, sir. Who is Mr Trent?'

  'He is the ship's purser, Mr Tait. Without his say-so you will get nothing to eat, and nothing to drink, neither.'

  'When am I to look at the lists, if you please, sir?'

  'Now, Mr Tait, now. Before you do anything else.'

  'I ... I ... yes, sir.'

  'Very good.' A brisk nod. 'Take up the lists, and go into the hole by the coach. That is where you will work.'