Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead

by S. thomas Russell

  “The Church of Rome does not hold sway here,” Hayden informed him firmly.

  “It is done, Miguel,” Angelita said softly, “and it cannot be undone while we both live.” She took hold of Hayden’s arm. “This is my husband and, if we are so blessed, soon to be the father of my children. Do you wish my children to be born outside of wedlock? That would be a far greater scandal than my marriage to an English officer and gentleman.”

  Miguel swayed a moment as though he might fall, then turned his bleary eyes on Hayden. “I should have shot you when first we landed.”

  “I will not allow it,” Angelita said with utter conviction. “My husband and my brother . . . ? I would stand between you. I have joined my future to that of Captain Hayden, Miguel. You had best make your peace with it.”

  Miguel stood a moment more and then spat out, “Look what you have become! The wife of a common sea captain!” He turned and stomped noisily out.

  Neither Hayden nor his bride moved for a moment, then he turned to her.

  A silent tear streaked her cheek. “He is very stubborn, my brother. Very proud. Will it matter that I was not one and twenty?”

  “If he could take us before a judge . . . perhaps, but not likely. And, besides, even if the marriage could be annulled, would you find a husband in Spain once your marriage to me was known?”

  “Not of the sort my family intended . . . No, I think they will have to accept us. We are man and wife. And now, we must break our fast and go to find this modest house of which you spoke. Will it have a garden?”

  “If you desire a garden, I shall move heaven and earth to find you a house so endowed.”

  A house, it turned out, was not a difficult thing to come by on the island of Barbados. There were Englishmen in some numbers who spent time overseeing their interests on the island and then returned home to England for extended periods, leaving their homes vacant. With some aid from Admiral Caldwell, Hayden and his bride found and let a pleasant house set on a street of equally pleasant dwellings on a small rise, which encouraged the breeze to cool the high-ceilinged rooms.

  Hayden’s letter of credit, secured before departing England, was turned into currency, and the few things needed for the fully furnished house were purchased. A dressmaker was located, measurements taken, and a wedding trousseau ordered. Hayden was pleased to see that the new Mrs Hayden showed an admirable restraint in her expenditures, given that she came from circumstances where restraint was likely a concept to cause amusement.

  A few days of this pleasant flurry passed while the Themis was watered and prepared for whatever part the admiral would find for her. Hayden divided his time between his ship and his new home and bride, spending nights ashore while the weather appeared settled, trusting Lieutenant Archer and his officers to keep the ship safe and the crew in order.

  One morning, however, as Hayden went down to join his ship, he found three more frigates at anchor, newly returned from their cruise, no doubt. His boat awaited him in the appointed place and at the appointed time. It took only a few moments for the cutter to deliver him to his ship, and when he climbed up to the deck, where the bosun awaited to pipe him aboard, he found four apprehensive Africans standing upon the quarterdeck, being gaped at by one and all.

  Hearing the bosun’s pipe, Wickham broke away from the group and came immediately to his captain.

  Hayden nodded towards the visitors. “Our rescued slaves, I presume?”

  “Exactly, sir. Mr Barthe, myself, and Mr Ransome purchased them at auction yesterday. Mr Barthe and Mr Ransome remained for the entire auction, sir, and recorded all the sales so that we might avoid being cheated, which we believe the master of the slaver might have intended had we not been vigilant.” Wickham turned to look at the family, who were gathered in a tight knot, man and woman clutching each other and their two children.

  “And what becomes of them now?”

  “Well, sir, we are now engaged in securing their freedom and trying to make them understand that they are free. We do not have a language in common, sir, so it is very difficult.”

  “And once the idea of freedom has been grasped? What will you do with them then?”

  “We do not yet know, sir.”

  “You do realize that we cannot keep them aboard ship?”

  “Indeed, sir. We are attempting to find lodgings or a position for them ashore. We fear they will be taken advantage of or worse, Captain, given their inexperience in our world.”

  The African family were likely enough looking, Hayden thought. Certainly, Barthe had chosen some family in good health, given that they would probably have to endure another sea voyage. They stared back at the men gawking at them with almost as much curiosity as wariness. What were they thinking? Hayden wondered. Did they understand they had escaped slavery? Had they realised it was to that horrifying life that they had been destined? If they could make themselves understood, what would their desire be? To return to the home from which they had been torn?

  Archer came forward then, touched his hat, and presented Hayden with a sealed letter. “From Captain Jones, sir. And there is a Spanish gentleman in your cabin, with Miguel.”

  “That will be the merchant to whom Caldwell wrote. I shall go down immediately.”

  Hayden took the precaution of knocking on the door to his own cabin.

  Within, he found Miguel and another sitting at his table. Both came to their feet, and the visitor made a leg.

  “I am Don Jenero de Otero, Captain Hayden. Admiral Caldwell asked me to visit your castaways and to aid them if it was within my power.” He shook his head. “I have just been hearing the story. A terrible tragedy, but out of it a marriage. May I congratulate you, sir.”

  “Thank you. Are you able to offer Don Miguel aid?”

  “Oh, yes. We have just been discussing it. He will be my guest for a few days until we find him lodgings or a ship that will carry him on to either Vera Cruz or perhaps Port Royal, from where he would certainly find a ship to carry him the rest of the way.”

  “That is good news. Mrs Hayden will be most happy to hear it, though she will miss her dear brother, I am certain. I will leave you gentlemen to your discussion, if you will excuse me.”

  Hayden went quickly out of the door, and, at the foot of the ladder to the upper deck, he stopped to read his letter—an invitation to dine with the other frigate captains that day at noon. He tucked the letter away in a pocket, and just as he had a foot on the bottom rung, the Spanish merchant emerged from his cabin.

  “Ah, Don Jenero, are you bound for shore? Have you a boat?”

  “I am and I do not, but a boat can easily be found here. I know all the masters and all the boatmen, too, for that matter.”

  “I would gladly have my own coxswain take you ashore.”

  “Thank you, Captain, you are very kind.” He stopped a pace distant. “May I have a moment of your time, Captain Hayden?”

  “Of course.”

  “You do realise that Don Miguel opposes your marriage to his sister?”

  “I do.”

  “He assures me she is too young to marry without her parents’ consent—even by British law.”

  “Mrs Hayden assures me she is of age. I have no reason not to believe her.”

  “The Church of Rome would not recognise this marriage, Captain.”

  “The Church of Rome holds no sway here, Don Jenero. We were married within the Church of England, in observation of the laws of Britain, while at anchor in an English port. Has her brother considered what would become of Mrs Hayden were he somehow to manage to have our marriage annulled? He should give that serious consideration.”

  “I would agree, Captain, and let me say that I personally am unconcerned by this matter. Admiral Caldwell has assured me that you are an honourable gentleman—that your family is known to him.” He made a sweeping gesture in the direction o
f the island. “I dwell here, Captain, and I obey the laws of your country. I will attempt to help Don Miguel to see this more clearly.” He smiled at Hayden and shrugged. “It is, as the French say, a fait accompli. There is nothing to be done for it now but to wish you a happy marriage and the blessing of children.”

  “Mrs Hayden and I thank you, Don Jenero.”

  A boat was manned and Miguel and de Otero were carried ashore. Hayden finally had his cabin back. He consulted with his officers to discover the progress of readying for sea and was more than satisfied with everything that had been done. Archer, to his surprise, was becoming a competent and efficient first lieutenant. When they had first met, Archer had seemed less than interested in his chosen career, but over the past year, that had changed. Hayden now held hopes that the lieutenant would have his own command one day—and Hayden would be sorry to lose him.

  His dinner with the recently returned frigate captains was held aboard Sir William Jones’s thirty-eight-gun frigate, Inconstant. In attendance were Captain Peter Oxford of the thirty-six-gun Themis and Captain Albert Crawley, who commanded the thirty-six-gun Phaeton. It would be difficult, Hayden thought, to find two more self-satisfied officers than Crawley and Oxford. The source of this apparent contentment was not something they felt a need to keep secret—at least not from Hayden. They informed him that they were making such sums from prize money that, upon their return to England, they could purchase estates.

  All three officers were brown from the southern sun, and the handsome Jones, with his sea-blue eyes and yellow hair, appeared even darker for the contrast. Oxford wore a well-groomed wig, and Hayden knew from scuttlebutt that the man had lost much of his hair, though only three and thirty years. Crawley, Hayden had met on several occasions, and had invariably found him amiable, even jolly, and the sun had brought out the lines around his eyes that creased whenever he laughed or smiled. All three men were well made, though none tall. Jones had the kind of bearing people generally associated with the military, and his uniform would have been the envy of a lord.

  Sir William, whose knighthood had been granted him by the Swedish King, looked decidedly uncomfortable with all this talk of prize money, though he did agree that harming the enemy’s commerce was a valuable contribution to Britain’s war.

  He changed the subject as soon as it was polite to do so and turned instead to the story of Hayden’s crossing and the Spanish castaways—a story that had swept around the island like a cool wind.

  “And there she was,” Crawley said, a bemused half-smile upon his face, “in a ship’s boat—your bride to be—dressed as a man?”

  Hayden conceded that this was true.

  “It seems a very seaman-like way to find a bride, does it not?” Oxford ventured.

  “I could not agree more,” replied Crawley. “Why, I believe every sea officer worthy of his post should find his bride in the middle of an ocean.”

  “This acquiring a wife ashore . . .” Sir William added, making a sour face, “one is all but certain to get a landswoman. A very poor mate for a sea officer.”

  They drank a toast to Hayden’s sea-bride.

  The conversation turned to the trials of the British forces in these waters, and the sea officers had little good to say about the efforts of the Army—though Hayden knew this might be nothing more than the usual prejudice.

  “Are you familiar with the Comte de Latendresse?” Hayden asked, to which all answered in the affirmative but no one offered more.

  “The admiral asked me to sit with him while he spoke with the comte, on account of my felicity with the French language. The comte had just returned from Guadeloupe with news. Perhaps I am wrong, but this nobleman told me his family hailed from Burgundy, yet his accent would seem to indicate he came from the south. My wife’s brother was of the opinion that the comte’s manners were . . . how shall I say?—somewhat coarse for a Frenchman of that rank.”

  Crawley glanced at Oxford. “Are you suggesting that he is not what he claims, Hayden?”

  “I am merely curious as to your opinions.”

  Crawley nodded to their host. “Sir William knows him best.”

  Jones, as Hayden and everyone else in the Navy knew, cultivated people of high rank. As well as the King of Sweden, he boasted a friendship with the Prince of Wales and various peers of the highest order. He had dined with the King, or so claimed, and, at different times, his name had been linked with the daughters of lords, though marriages never ensued.

  Sir William appeared decidedly troubled by this question. “I have always found the comte a most amiable companion. His manners are invariably perfect, in the French way, and I have known many a French nobleman. No, nothing seems the least out of place to me.” He glanced up at Hayden. “Could you be mistaken about his accent? Perhaps it would be difficult for an Englishman to distinguish?”

  “I spent much of my childhood in France, Sir William, and speak the language as a native. Perhaps there is a perfectly reasonable explanation, but his accent is not Burgundian, I am quite certain.”

  This seemed to disconcert Jones even more, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  Crawley picked up his wineglass, then hesitated. “You would appear to be suggesting, Hayden, that it is possible the comte is not spying for the admiral.”

  Hayden considered a moment. “I would not go quite so far, but I do think he bears watching. I have been debating whether I should broach this subject with the admiral . . . You know Caldwell better than I; should I speak to him of this?” he asked the others.

  “Unquestionably,” Crawley replied without hesitation. “Admiral Caldwell has come to rely very heavily on the comte for intelligence. If this Frenchman is giving the admiral false information, and spying for the French instead, it would put us at a great disadvantage.” He took a sip of his wine, then turned the glass slowly, staring into the contents. “I wonder if there is not some way we could discover if the man is on our side or not.”

  “We might put one of our own people in his household,” Oxford offered. “Though it would have to be someone French.”

  “In England,” Hayden offered, “we could find a royalist nobleman, who would tell us if he is an imposter. But here . . .”

  The others shook their heads.

  Hayden considered a moment. “I have a Frenchman aboard my ship—a royalist and an excellent cook—I could ask him if he might agree to be placed in the comte’s household.”

  “That might answer—if he would do it—though he must realise there would be some risk.”

  Jones remained unsettled but finally said, “I for one do not doubt the man, but if all of you mistrust him, then, by all means, let us endeavour to discover where his loyalties lie. We cannot have a spy giving us false information. Any number of lives might be lost as a result.”

  The dinner ended on this note, Jones appearing rather unhappy, and Hayden suspected it was with Charles Saunders Hayden.

  As they climbed down the ship’s side into their waiting boats, Jones turned to the newest member of his squadron.

  “Hayden?” he said quietly. “Stay back with me a moment, if you please.”

  Hayden nodded, and Jones led him aft to the transom, where they might have a private conversation. Expecting to be informed that he did not understand the local situation, having only just arrived, Hayden was prepared humbly to agree, while still asserting that he thought the comte might not be quite all he claimed.

  “I know you by reputation, Hayden,” Jones began. “I have heard what you did in Corsica and along the French coast. Crawley and Oxford are excellent sea officers, and I do not mean to suggest for a moment that they are shy. They are not. But they are far more interested in lining their pockets than prosecuting Britain’s war in these waters. In this, I regret to say, they have the admiral’s support. He feels he has been wronged—and, I suspect, in truth, he was—and he knows
he will not keep the position he holds now for much longer. For this reason, he has decided to enrich himself to the greatest degree possible while he may. His admiral’s share of all prize money is not insignificant. To this end, he has sent us on repeated cruises, ignoring the French possessions and the gains the enemy have made. I believe you understand what is at risk in this war?”

  Hayden assured him that he did.

  “Then we will carry the war to the enemy. Prizes we may take, but to cripple the enemy, that is our purpose. To control the seas between the islands. Make it dangerous for the French to shift troops from one island to another, which they do now with impunity whenever our armies attack an island we believe is vulnerable.”

  “But will we not have orders from the admiral? If he sets us to cruise in one part of the sea . . . ?”

  Jones met Hayden’s eye and lowered his voice. “The Admiralty has always expected—even encouraged—me to take more initiative than most post captains would be granted. It is well known that the Prince of Wales and the King admire both my resolution and my independence. Caldwell comprehends this. Once we are at sea, and beyond communication with the admiral, it is incumbent upon me to weigh any newly acquired intelligence and make the best decisions I can, bearing always in mind the interests of King and country. Having dined with His Majesty, I feel I can claim to know his mind as well as any.”

  It was as everyone who knew Jones claimed—his character was a combination of patriotism, vanity, boastfulness, gallantry, and extravagant imprudence. His gallantry and bravery, combined with a simple, unquestioning patriotism, earned him much admiration and loyalty, especially among the common seaman, but his imprudence and foolish vanity made him an object of much satirical wit among officers. It was said of him that most men who combined so many contradictory qualities would be torn asunder, but Jones was saved by an astonishing naivety—he was utterly unaware that the different parts of his character were at odds. Like a royalist and a revolutionary living under the same roof, oblivious to the fact that their ideals placed them in opposition to each other, and therefore believing the other a most capital fellow.