A Question of Duty

by Martin McDowell

  “But you’re wounded!”

  “It’s nothing, Lady Willoughby. It’s getting better every day, look, I can now stand on it. Even hop!”

  He removed the crutch and waved it aloft, endangering the curtain pelmet, whilst his left leg stood steady and he jigged up on it, once. The maid giggled, but was immediately shooed out by Lady Willoughby.

  “But you must sit. Please do, by me.”

  Argent joined her on the long settee, but her anxious look had not been banished by his antics with the crutch.

  “How? Is it painful?”

  “What we call a splinter, Lady Willoughby, a large lump of wood hit me from behind. It was painful, but it’s a great deal better now. I wonder if you can remember me mentioning the wife of our Sailing Master, Mrs. McArdle?”

  She nodded.

  “Well she has been doctoring me vigorously with various unctions and ointments, and, I must say, I am now well on the mend.”

  She smiled, evidently relieved.

  “I am very pleased to hear you say so, Reuben. Septimus told me something about the affair. He has some concerns over it.”

  “Yes, Lady Willoughby, so I understand, but I’m a mere frigate Captain. For me such things are on another galaxy, beyond the thoughts of mere mortals such as I.”

  Argent looked steadily at her.

  “I mentioned in my letter the main reason for my visit. I was hoping that you might have some news.”

  Her face fell, at which expression, Argent’s did also.

  “No Reuben, I’m afraid I have no good news. I have tasked each Solicitor in Falmouth but the best that they can come up with is a mention of your family’s land as only that, land to the North of here, but no inclusion of any name. I’m sorry, and from two, it’s worse. They are of the opinion that the mere mention of your family name is not proof of ownership. You may live there, but do you have the right to live there? Broke and Cinch’s lawyers could drive straight through that. I’m so sorry. Wheeler and Simpson, the solicitors who hold my own deeds, have also drawn a blank. I wish there were more I could do.”

  Argent smiled encouragingly.

  “You have done all you could, Lady Willoughby, and all that I asked. I sincerely thank you for doing what you have done.”

  He rose from the seat, making full use of the crutch to hoist himself up.

  “May I excuse myself now? I wish to visit my family and I have to be back on my ship the day after tomorrow.”

  She rose also and walked to the bell pull, but did not pull it.

  “I have some news also, Reuben, which I hope may cheer you. Septimus and myself are to be married. This month, the 18th. The morning spent in Church, the afternoon on the lawn of our harbour house. Only a small affair, we are both well past any sort of fuss, but I do hope that you will come, if you are able.”

  Argent’s face showed genuine pleasure, which in turn cheered Lady Willoughby.

  “My fullest and heartiest congratulations, My Lady. I will make every effort to come. If I cannot get away, I’ll bring my ship! I wish you every happiness, and a long life together.”

  The last seemed a bit clumsy, but Argent was relieved when Lady Willoughby laughed.

  “Thank you Captain”

  She pulled the bell.

  “Now, you must go to your family.”

  Within seconds the door was opened to emit the same servant, who positioned himself to hold open the door. Argent arranged his crutch to comfortable then reached inside his coat with his right hand to extract Fentiman’s letter.

  “My First, Lieutenant Fentiman, asked that I deliver this, from him to Charlotte. May I leave it with you?”

  She took the letter, her face blank, but when she looked at him she smiled again.

  “Good day, Reuben. Good luck to your ship, and good luck with your quest. If anything does come my way, I will let you know immediately.”

  She extended her hand, which Argent took and then bowed over it.

  oOo

  Perhaps the good mare did remember the way, for, once out of the gate, Argent had barely to touch the reins and she trotted contentedly down the road, her hooves making a cheery “clip clop” against the hard, stony, earth. When she met the hill she set about it with a will and the order of sights for his journey to the farm passed rapidly. It was as if his sisters were waiting for him, for both stood in the road at the gate, their joy at seeing him was genuine and both instinctively moved forward to hasten the time they would meet, but their joy turned to consternation when they saw him drop the crutch prior to him dismounting. Once descended, he picked it up and placed it under his left shoulder. This brought shrieks of concern from both and each rushed to support him as though he were imminently about to expire and it was only his laughing at their distress that reassured them that he was to remain alive, at least yet awhile. It was Enid who spoke first, in admonishment.

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were wounded, and give us some warning? That you were still in one piece, at least?”

  Argent’s answer was to take both in his arms and kiss both, Enid first.

  “I didn’t because it’s nothing. Just a bruise. Of no mind.”

  Emily broke away.

  “It’s not, you’re hurt.”

  She gave him her customary push as a punishment, luckily from the right, so that he was still supported by the crutch, then she realised what she had done. Her hands went to her mouth, then she grabbed him, unnecessarily, just in case he did fall over. Argent grinned.

  “Let’s go in. A morsel to eat would not come amiss.”

  He took himself to the door, both sisters anxiously examining his progress. Inside there was a fire, on that day the wind was chill atop the hill and Argent took a seat where he would feel the heat. Enid came over to place the kettle on the fire.

  “How long can you stay for?”

  “One night. Then I must get back, to Plymouth. Ariadne’s in dry dock there.”

  Emily was carving some ham to add to some cheese and bread on a huge plate.

  “Then she’s damaged. How? We heard nothing.”

  Argent smiled at her.

  “I’m not surprised. It wasn’t any kind of notable success, such as would interest the newssheets. Although I saw enough courage to fill the pages of a dozen such.”

  Seeing Argent’s serious face, changed her own as she brought over the plate of food and Argent could see that her face was near terrified.

  “So it was very dangerous?”

  Argent looked at her calmly, his mouth half smiling.

  “We had a fight with the French, Emily. They’re our enemies, it’s always going to be dangerous, more or less.”

  He considered adding, “I’ve come back”, but stopped himself. He took a mouthful of food and looked at her, then at Enid. No one spoke until he swallowed, then he did.

  “So, how’s Jacob, and Beryan, and Father?”

  It was Enid who replied, but she seemed as anxious as her younger sister.

  “Jacob’s fine, asleep next door. Beryan’s in the South field, and Father’s in the North. Both well.”

  She paused and looked at his bandaged leg and the crutch beside it.

  “You can use that horse of yours to take around their croust, that’ll save us both a journey.”

  Argent smiled and nodded.

  “Pleased to, but that’s not why I came. The Deeds, what did you find?”

  Emily sat and clasped her hands together in her lap, but remained silent, looking sideways, then downwards. It was Enid that replied; though busy wrapping food in a cloth. “Nothing. We found nothing. Some Bills of Sale for some odd strips, but for the main and the house itself, we found nothing.”

  Argent kept silent about learning the same with Lady Willoughby, why pile on more misery? However, he did have some good news.

  “Well, I’ve increased my prize money. Not by much, but some. We captured a smuggler, which will add the amount. So, as I said last time, we may not be able to stay on t
his farm, but, we can always buy another one. And now, perhaps a little bit bigger than before.”

  Enid did her best to respond to his attempt to cheer them and Emily managed a smile.

  “So, all is not lost.”

  “No, indeed, oh sisters mine! A roof will be maintained, if not this one.”

  Their faces fell, he wished he’d not added the last, but he was determined to be cheerful. Enid had finished the food parcels, so he stood and limped over, deliberately forgetting the crutch.

  “Now, which is which? Which for whom?”

  “Father’s in the red check and Beryan’s the green.”

  She looked up into his face, laughing.

  “Can you remember that? Yours is back here, when you return. You can finish what’s still on that plate.”

  If there was a reason why Argent loved his sister it was for her courage, her rocklike fortitude, against whatever came their way, good or bad. He leant over her outstretched hands that held the food and kissed her. She, in response, smiled and pushed the food against his chest.

  “The sooner they get theirs, the sooner you can come back and finish yours.”

  He limped and hopped to the door, but paused at the spot. Above the door was fixed the sword of the Captain of La Mouette, supported by two brass candlesticks. He noted that all three were carefully polished and wholly free of any dust. He turned around to look at Enid.

  “I see there’s been an improvement in the ornaments that you have around here now.”

  She gave a smile, but not quite a laugh.

  “That’s enough from you. You’ve got your orders. Now go.”

  She placed her hands on his shoulders, but remembered not to deliver the usual push.

  Argent decided to visit Beryan first, the South field was nearest and he wished to spend more time with his Father. He soon found Beryan, moving hurdles to pen in their cattle, the South field this year was set for grazing. They greeted each other not just as good friends, as they always had been, but as family, each now sharing the fortunes of the other. Argent dismounted but remained holding the reins as he took the green check bundle from the saddlebag. He looked at Beryan.

  “No good news, then?”

  Beryan instantly knew the subject in question.

  “No. They searched high and low, in every chest and bag. Bills of Sale, but no Deeds.”

  Argent nodded. Some re-assuring words came to mind, but Beryan was not a child. He knew the threat they were under and well understood the possible outcome, but Beryan did smile when he noticed the ridges of the bandage around Argent’s thigh, and pointed.

  “So what’s that? Is that where Navy boys wear their money belt?”

  Argent laughed.

  “No, just a bit of frapping to give me comfort in this saddle. Now, give me a lift up”

  Argent placed his left foot in the stirrup and pulled himself off the ground with his hands on the pommel. Beryan gave him a shove up for the remaining distance. Argent looked down at him.

  “See you at supper.”

  Beryan nodded and Argent pulled the mare’s head for the track. He set her for a trot along the short cut to the North field and there he found Argent Senior, on the same strip that they had ploughed weeks earlier, but this time hoeing, creating rows from the robust seedlings. He had his back to Argent, so Argent hobbled the horse and walked the row up to his Father. Father must have heard or sensed something, for he turned before Argent could speak and saw his son within the rows and, Argent was pleased to see, surprise and happiness came to his face.

  “Hello, son. Delivering again?”

  “Hello, Father. Yes, this one’s yours, I’ve just taken Beryan’s over.”

  Argent Senior dropped the hoe and sat on the ground, opening the parcel. Argent sat with him, but his Father noticed him wince as he placed weight on his left leg.

  “What’s the matter? Some injury?”

  “Yes, Father, just a whack, but it’s on the mend.”

  He looked at his Father, now chewing vigorously.

  “No good news on the Deeds.”

  Argent Senior swallowed.

  “No, but I’ve heard that the County Court in Truro may keep some kind of records, copies even. I’m going to take a visit there, soon, sooner the better.”

  Argent brightened.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Oh, a few friends. You know.”

  Argent stopped there. He knew that nothing more would be forthcoming.

  “And the Enclosure Act?”

  “Going through. It’s with Parliament as we speak.”

  Argent looked at his Father, trying to detect some emotion, but there was none. His Father continued to bite into his food.

  “Your visit to Truro, delay it until I can come with you. After our next patrol, I’ll get some leave and we’ll go together. I’ll wear my full dress uniform, which’ll stir some stumps. County officials are always chary of the military, and a bit of apprehension in their minds won’t come amiss.”

  His Father chewed and looked at him. He then took another bite and chewed some more. Argent spoke further.

  “I’ve increased my prize money as well, so don’t forget that.”

  No reaction.

  “This beet’s come up well. Must be something to do with the ploughing. And the sowing.”

  For the first time for some minutes, his Father nodded.

  Evening supper was surprisingly cheerful, made more so by Jacob joining them, now that he was big enough to sit on his Mother’s knee and be fed. The way he happily devoured whatever came his way on the spoon raised the spirits of them all. With the meal finished and the table being cleared, Argent, his Father and Beryan sat by the fire and talked, mostly prices, both for buying and selling. This being a faraway topic for him, but important to his companions, Argent was content to keep out, go through the motions of puffing the pipe and study the fire. The cloud of worry that was over them all was not mentioned and remained in the background, out of their conversation, if not out of their thoughts.

  In the morning Argent rose late and found both his Father and Beryan gone. His taking of his leave was both fraught and emotional, why his sisters should be so, he didn’t ask, nor did he raise any issue. It could be that his leg reminded his sisters of the dangers he could be exposed to, or the worry of the farm, or the two together. He handed the crutch down to them from the saddle.

  “Put that in a corner for me. I’ll need it come old age.”

  They both smiled into a day that had no sunshine, but it made Argent feel warm despite the grey clouds.

  oOo

  With the setting of the sun, he was ascending the gangplank of his own ship, welcomed by the calls of Bosun Fraser and his mates, as he crossed the deep void below him, for Ariadne remained still in dry dock. The next morning saw the new arrivals, each arriving in very different fashion to each other. The seven Marines marched up, with no NCO, having organised themselves into three two’s and a one. They waited for the Sergeant to come down to the quayside, one handed over their papers and then they filed aboard. Their place was taken by a very different spectacle. The new crewmen were marched down under close guard from the local Militia, all in a group, volunteers, pressedmen, and convicts, all gathered together. Although all were in a tight group, it was not difficult to discern the three types. The volunteers stood looking eagerly at the ship and the high masts, they were dressed better and most had some kind of satchel or sack slung across their shoulders. The pressed men could be identified if only by the angry look on their faces. They looked resentfully at the ship and angrily at each other, sharing their resentment to curse their ill fortune. Their hands were bound before them. Likewise the convicts, only for them there was extra, a tether from the back of their neck to the hands of the man behind and thick ankle chains. All these were scruffy, dirty, and unshaven. Most couldn’t bring themselves to look at the ship they had been condemned to. The majority of the Militia guard were grouped around these la
tter.

  Fentiman took the book of the Ship’s Muster down to a crude table that was set up on the quayside, at the beginning of the gangplank. First, the volunteers. These gave their name and their previous occupation, then they signed their name, or made their mark. They were then given their volunteer’s bounty, 3s and 3d. Then came the pressedmen, but less willingly and with blank anger. When they had given their name, their bindings were removed to enable them to sign their name or make their mark. No bounty for them. Finally the convicts. First their chains were removed, then they were asked their name. The question regarding occupation was omitted, each was entered as “convict”. Then their neck bindings were removed, but those around their wrists only taken off if they could write. It was assumed that they could make a mark with hands tethered. Then, with all bonds removed they were allowed up the gangplank. One, in utter desperation, for there was no water to jump into, tried to run along the quayside, to be halted by the butt of a musket into his face. Semi conscious and bloody, he was carried up the gangplank, to be dumped on the deck, at the end of the assembled gathering of new “recruits”.

  Argent waited for Bosun Fraser and his Mates to shove them all into two lines along the starboard gangway. The volunteers were to Argent’s right, waiting eagerly to hear what he had to say. In the centre, the pressedmen looked at him with pure hatred, the convicts on the left, looking anywhere but at him. Most of the latter were thinking, “Will this be worse than gaol?” Many, amongst all types, looked anxiously at the battle damage not yet repaired. With all assembled Argent nodded at Fraser.

  “Attention.”

  The volunteers all came to a stiff upright, the pressedmen made no move, but most of the convicts achieved a better posture. Argent began. He had to search for words, this was his first time to address such a gathering.