‘I will not serve under John Paul again, Ben,’ Harry said. ‘Not even if ordered to it by Congress.’
‘Ah, I am sure they will issue no such command. Heaven forbid. In any event, you are entitled to your own ship, as soon as one can be provided. But Harry … what I am trying to say is that it would be disastrous to both your ambitions, and to the hopes of all of those, like myself, who believe that the United States must have a Navy, and a strong one, for you to quarrel publicly with John Paul. And there is no reason for it. You supported him magnificently off Flamborough Head. Indeed, without you, I doubt he would have gained the day. He understands that, and is grateful, believe me. And he does have some crosses of his own to bear.’
‘Oh, sure,’ Harry said. ‘I have been reading about them. A gold hiked sword, presented personally by the King of France, isn’t it? Heavy stuff. What does the inscription say on the blade?’
‘Ah … as I recall, Vindicati mans Ludovicus XVI remunerator strenue vindici,’ Franklin said. ‘You’ll have to repeat that, in English.’
‘It means, “Louis XVI recognises the services of the brave maintainer of the privileges of the sea.” Rather a mouthful, I agree. But do you really suppose, Harry, that John Paul is interested in gold-plated swords? He is concerned only with his reputation, his glory, if you like. And Landais, well …’
Harry frowned. ‘What has he done now?’
‘Making outrageous claims. His ship was virtually undamaged, as you know.’ Harry nodded. ‘And so he sailed straight back to France.’
‘That is correct. To spread the most scurrilous rumours. Of how John Paul would attack no shipping …’
‘Well, that is fairly correct, I’m afraid. Until the convoy.’
‘And how it was actually he who secured the surrender of the Serapis.’
‘He says that?’ Harry was aghast. ‘He took no part in the action at all, save to go chasing merchantmen. And he didn’t even manage to capture any of those. Why, the Pallas was far more effective, in that she took on the other Britisher, the Countess of Scarborough, and captured her, too.’
‘But Landais did engage the Serapis, did he not?’
‘Well, he fired a few shots from a safe distance, if that is what you mean.’
‘Ah. He claims that it was his gunfire actually reduced the Serapis to a condition where she could be boarded from the Bonhomme Richard.’
‘His gunfire?’ Harry cried. ‘By God! As I have said, he kept firing at long range, doing no damage whatsoever. As a matter of fact, he hit us at least as often as he hit the frigate, and didn’t even manage to damage us. The man is mad. And a scoundrel.’
‘Nonetheless, it is what he is claiming. And unfortunately, his claim is being supported at least in one quarter.’
‘Not in Congress?’
‘No, no. Congress will hardly have received my report by now. No, in England itself, Harry. Their Lords of the Admiralty have recommended Captain Pearson for a knighthood.’
‘For losing his ship? He did, you know, far more than we took it from him. Had he not approached so close we would never have been able to entangle him in our rigging.’
‘He supposed you had surrendered. There is some criticism of John’s actions.’
‘The colours were not struck, Ben. They were cut away. It could have happened by a shot. That we did it ourselves was a legitimate ruse de guerre. Nor was there the slightest chance of our ruse succeeding, as I say, had Pearson shown the least common sense, and kept his distance until our intentions were clear; we were still firing our guns even after the ensign had gone. But he was too anxious, and gave us our chance.’
He did not add that the manoeuvre would still not have worked, but for his own muscles.
‘Well,’ Franklin said. ‘I doubt Hie matter will ever be decided to everyone’s satisfaction. But Pearson is being honoured, for conducting so splendid a battle against overwhelming odds. Their words, Harry. They say he fought two American ships to a standstill, and sank one, before his own serious damage forced him to surrender to the other. The other, of course, being the Alliance, and Landais.’
‘It is a strange world, to be sure,’ Harry agreed.
‘Then perhaps you can understand John Paul’s feelings. The crowning moment of his life, distorted by an undisciplined rogue.’
‘Yes,’ Harry said, ‘I can understand his feelings.’
‘Then perhaps you will agree to suppress some of your own. For you to come out in open antagonism to him, now, will lead people to believe that Landais may be telling something of the truth, after all. I am begging you to do this, Harry, whatever your differences, whatever injustice you feel he has done to you. I have said, it is the very Navy at stake here. That Old Glory which you revere so much.’ Harry poured himself another glass of wine. Whatever injustices. That mattered nothing now. But what of the injustice to Elizabeth? He could not bear to think of that. And yet, Franklin was right. Whatever his faults, John Paul had won the greatest victory ever recorded by an American seaman. It would be a tragedy if the glory of that success was whittled away, either by the extravagant claims of a madman, or by a personal vendetta.
It would be an even greater tragedy were the prospects of achieving yet more victories to be diminished, by any cause whatsoever.
‘Of course I will not quarrel with John in public, Ben,’ he said. ‘I will give him all the honour that is his due.’
And try to forgive him, he thought. But Lizzie, oh Lizzie, what terrible fate did he consign you to?
*
Elizabeth stood at the window of the drawing room at Steyne House, and looked down at the drive, up which a carriage was coming. She had been apprised by messenger from Chatham of her husband’s return, the day before, and had therefore had time to brace herself.
Strangely, she was not afraid. Apprehensive, but perhaps more for the babe than herself. And yet, even there she was more defiant than afraid. Having been held in Harry McGann’s arms, having known his love, and having discovered what love could do for her and in her, could she ever be afraid again?
Even if she was never to see his face again? But that was an impossible thought. If she had to wait ten years, she would see his face again. Because the babe was his. It could only be his. She had menstruated after Gilbert had left her to go to sea, and now she was pregnant, three months after her meeting with Harry, having not seen her husband in all that time. Once, for Harry. A thousand perversions, for Gilbert. So, never fear again. She had formed a plan of campaigns such as Harry might have done, and she would carry it through, regardless of the consequences.
The carriage door opened, and Captain Lord Steyne got out; he still wore his naval uniform. Both butler and footmen fussed around him, and he looked up at the drawing room window. She did not move, knowing that he could see her face through the glass. Only when he entered the house itself did she leave the window, and turn to face the door. She folded her hands on her lap as she sat on the settee, and waited, listening to noise coming closer, the voices of the staff welcoming their master home. She wondered if any of them knew how much of a crisis hung over all their heads. Or perhaps they felt it was her crisis alone.
Perhaps they were right.
The butler opened the door. ‘His lordship, milady,’ he said, and hurried across the room to pour a glass of sherry.
‘My dear,’ Steyne said. ‘It is such a relief to see you looking so well.’
She understood this was a necessary preamble, stood up, allowed herself to be drawn into an embrace. ‘And you, my lord,’ she said. ‘I always suppose you will return from the sea, somewhat tarnished.’
He stepped back to look at her, correctly suspecting sarcasm. ‘Not I, my dear one.’ He took the glass from the butler’s tray. ‘Will you not join me?’
There was another full glass on the tray.
‘Thank you,’ she said, took it, and raised it to her lips. ‘To your successful voyage. It was, a successful voyage?’
‘It had its mo
ments. Leave us,’ he said, without turning his head.
The butler bowed, gave Elizabeth a glance, and left the room, carefully closing the doors behind him. But he knew the situation all right, the sly old devil. Undoubtedly he would now be listening in the hall.
Steyne finished his sherry, himself went to the table and poured himself another. ‘There were letters waiting for me, in Chatham,’ he said, over his shoulder.
‘I am sure there were,’ Elizabeth said, sitting down again, knees pressed together, hands tightly clasped on her lap. ‘I hope mine was amongst them.’
‘Oh, indeed, madam. Yours was there. It contained nothing of any interest to me.’ He turned to look at her.
‘I am sorry about that,’ she said.
‘I found more interesting a letter from the Commander-in-Chief, Ireland, forwarding a report made to him by the officer commanding the Waterford garrison.’
‘Ah,’ she said.
‘And were I disposed, madam, to treat that as a scurrilous rumour …’ he walked across the room towards her, slowly. ‘There was also a letter from Squire O’Rourke.’
‘Of course,’ Elizabeth said, and took another sip of her drink.
‘Written, it seems, before he had received news of the death of his son. The murder of his son would be more correct. Had you heard of that, madam?’
‘I had understood that Lieutenant O’Rourke died during the battle of Flamborough Head. In combat,’ she said, staring into the amber liquid.
‘He begged quarter, immediately before his ship struck her colours, madam. And was yet cut down.’
‘I have heard that these things sometimes happen, in the heat of battle,’ Elizabeth said, her voice quiet.
‘It is still murder. But as I say, poor O’Rourke had clearly not yet heard of this horrendous deed. Yet his tale was horrendous enough. Of how you forced his daughter at pistol point to help you assist the pirate and murderer McGann to escape.’
Elizabeth finished her drink. She and Annie had agreed this was how it would have to be told.
‘And of how you then rode off with the brigand, and were absent for twenty-four hours.’
‘I had some difficulty in getting back,’ Elizabeth said, feeling the heat gathering in her cheeks, and hating herself for that weakness.
‘Twenty-four hours, madam …’ he checked in surprise. ‘You mean you deny none of this?’
‘No, Gilbert.’ She raised her head. ‘Harry McGann was guilty at that time, at least in my eyes, of nothing more than a wish to visit his family, after ten years of separation. It was Sean O’Rourke who committed murder, by having Charlie McGann killed and Seamus McGann hanged.’
‘You amaze me,’ Steyne remarked. ‘I am sure Lady Mary Wortley Montague would enjoy a conversation with you, if only to unravel the twisted skein of your logic. Except that she would not deign to converse at all with a traitor to her King. Do you pretend you were unaware that McGann had come to you straight from the sack of Waterford?’
‘I attempt to know as little of this unjust war as possible, my lord,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Because I have come entirely to agree with Lord Steele and his friends, that it is an unjust and unnatural conflict, unworthy of the name of Englishman.’
‘I see. You set yourself up as above the law of the land, the will of the King, of Parliament. Do you know how fortunate you are not to have been arrested? And hanged, for treason? That nothing has been done about you is simply because you are my wife. But it has been suggested to me that you should be my wife no longer. That should I approach Parliament for a dissolution of our marriage, I would receive a most sympathetic hearing. What would you say to that, madam?’
‘I would say, hallelujah, and fall upon my knees to thank God,’ Elizabeth said, and bit her lip. She had spoken too quickly. Steyne smiled, his lips drawing back from his teeth like a wolfs. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Then you would hope to be even more of a traitor than you already are. Perhaps you even dream of fleeing to your lover. Well, madam, you are not going to do that. You are not even going to be free of me. I will not divorce you. I will keep you, as my wife, my plaything. I will make you suffer for the disgrace you have brought upon me, for every day of the rest of your life. Now strip. Strip yourself naked, and lie on the floor at my feet. I would amuse myself, after so long at sea.’
Elizabeth stood up, tensing her muscles. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I shall not do so. I shall not do so, ever again.’
He frowned at her. ‘Do you suppose you can defy me? You, a common slut? I only married you because you were your father’s heiress, and now …’
‘Now that my father has paid your gambling debts, and now that the British are virtually besieged in New York, and so many Tories have come fleeing across the ocean that Father is a bankrupt?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Is that what you were going to say? That now I am no longer worthy of your attention? I never was, my lord. It seems your judgement there was as poor as in everything else. But you judged, and chose, and I am your wife. So, yes, I do defy you, Gilbert, to do your very worst. Only you will not lay a finger on me, from this moment forth. Oh, I am not the least afraid of what you may do to my body, however much it may disgust me. But I will not have you harm the child.’ She walked across the room, slowly, her back turned to him, but watching his expression of incredulity in the mirror. She reached the table, and had poured herself another glass of sherry before he recovered his breath.
‘You are pretending to be pregnant?’
‘I am pregnant, Gilbert.’ At last she turned to face him.
‘After two years? You do not show it.’
‘Of course I do not show it, Gilbert. I am only three months gone. And of course the child is not yours. How could it be? It is Harry McGann’s.’
He took a step towards her, and she braced for a blow, but then he checked, clearly unable to understand her demeanour. ‘You dare to confess that to me?’ he asked.
‘Should I not? As I have not denied being his mistress? In fact, I have never been his mistress. I can swear to you, Gilbert, that he has held me naked in his arms but once in our lives. He needed but that one occasion.’
‘You … I will beat you within an inch of your life,’ he snarled. ‘I will flog you …’
‘I have decided,’ Elizabeth interrupted, ‘that if you ever lay a finger on me again, I am going to visit Lady Steele, and before all her friends, I intend to tell them exactly how you have best liked ‘using’ your wife, as you would say.’
His jaw fell open. ‘They would crucify you. All of society would crucify you.’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘I wonder. I wonder if it could possibly matter, to a common slut, my lord, the daughter of a bankrupt?’ She sipped her sherry. ‘But what do you suppose society would do to you? And more than society. Sodomy is a hanging offence, I understand. Even for peers of the realm.’
‘Bah,’ he said. ‘Do you suppose anyone would believe you? Do you suppose any court would even accept your evidence? That of a wife against her husband? You do not know enough of the law you claim to quote, madam.’ Elizabeth sat down. ‘I know I cannot give evidence against you, in court, Gilbert. Nor would I wish to do so. You may find me inconsistent, but believe me, I do not actually wish to see you hanged. I wish you to live, until Harry McGann comes back, to seek you out, because he will, you know, and then I hope he will treat you as he treated Sean O’Rourke, while you beg for mercy. But whether I am allowed into court or not, Gilbert, I think people will still believe what I have to say. I think people will know. I have grave doubts that your career, or the ancient name of Steyne, would survive such a scandal.’
He glared at her, his fingers opening and shutting in indeterminate fury. ‘So you have two choices,’ she said. ‘You can kill me now, with your bare hands. That would be a pity, because then they would certainly hang you. Or you can acknowledge my right to continue living as your wife, to give birth to a child who will bear your name … and never to touch me again. I have no doubt, my lord, that a man of your
stature and determination can secure willing bed partners, of either sex, from other members of the lower classes.’ She stared at him. ‘You do, of course, have a third choice, as well. To ill use me now, and be damned in the eyes of the world. Because I will do it, my lord. I will do it.’
He returned her stare for several seconds, then his face cleared. ‘Oh, I shall accept defeat, my dear,’ he said. ‘And never touch you again. And wait, as you say, for Harry McGann. Yes, madam, I think that is what I will do. Because when your Irish lout comes for you, I shall kill him, and I shall make sure it is before your eyes.’
Elizabeth frowned at his confidence.
Steyne smiled. ‘Oh, indeed, madam. I am aware of his phenomenal strength. And that he is too low born to be worthy of my attention. But I shall make an exception, and I shall not make the mistake of coming within reach of those mighty muscles. Possibly you have forgotten that I am regarded as one of the four best pistol shots in England. I wonder if your Harry McGann knows how to sight such a weapon. So I shall shoot him down like a dog. And I do promise you, madam, no one is going to hang me for that.’
CHAPTER 14 – The United States and Chesapeake Bay, 1780-81
‘It only remains for me to say,’ said Mr Hancock, coming to the end of his long speech, ‘That, Captain Jones, it is the unanimous opinion of this Congress that your victory over the British squadron, off Flamborough Head, on 23 September of last year, will be seen in future years not only as one of the most brilliant feats of arms ever accomplished, but also as one of the essential foundations of the greatness of this United States of America, of which we are so proud to be the representatives. It therefore gives me the very greatest pleasure, on behalf of this Congress, and thus of the people of America, to hand to you this gold medal, a perpetual reminder of what you accomplished on that unforgettable day, Captain Jones.’ There was a rush of applause, and John Paul stood up, and bowed slightly to have the chain put round his neck, to settle against the white pique of his vest. His new vest, as indeed his entire uniform was new. He looked down at it, and touched it, then grasped it, leaving his hand against his breast as he faced the assembly. And almost the entire Congress was assembled here this day.
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