'He has not got another command?' The blue stare turned in surprise on James.
'No, sir.'
'That is damned back luck, Mr Hayter. A damned bad business altogether. Their Lordships ought to have applied themselves more assiduous and found something better for a courageous and capable post, that has served the King well, than the wretched low misery of half-pay ashore.'
'I am sure that those are his own sentiments exact, sir.'
'But we had better not damn Their Lordships altogether, hey, Mr Hayter? Perhaps they have got a seventy-four waiting for Captain Rennie at Chatham, or Plymouth, refitting, or undergoing large repair.'
'Perhaps you are right, sir.'
'Hm – but you do not think so, hey? In your heart you do not think so.'
'If I am candid – I do not, sir.'
When the barge reached the Hawk, and James had jumped on the cleated side ladder to go aboard, raising his hat in thanks and salute to the admiral, there was no one there on deck. The dockyard artificers who made up the meagre anchor watch were all huddled below in the cramped great cabin, out of the wind.
'Below, there!' James, at the companionway ladder.
An artificer emerged, and slouched up the ladder. He smelled of rum, and a clay pipe was wedged in the side of his mouth. He peered up at James on deck, shading his eyes against the glare.
'Don't you know better than to smoke below?' demanded James.
'The pipe ain't afire, mate. It is fidded in me teeth, permanent, and will not never work loose.'
'Are you a seaman? Who is below there with you?' Hearing other voices.
'No no, mate, we's all artificers out of the yard 'ere. Alookin' for someone p'tic'lar, was you?'
'No. No, I was not, thank you. I am merely come aboard to look at the ship.' Effortfully polite.
'Ship, izzit? You calls this a ship, does you? Which is very flatterin' of 'er, cert'nly, what is only a piddlin' little sloop, awaitin' on 'er piddlin' bloody off'cer, oo ain't dispose to stir hisself, and r'lieve us of this dooty by takin' command of 'er. If you was a-searchin' for 'im, you will not find 'im 'ere, mate. No, you will fuckin' not.' Swaying a little as the Hawk lifted on a passing swell.
'Will you tell me who is in command of your crew?' Vexed now, and beginning to show it.
'Ashore, mate. We was give this dooty ashore. – Has you come to r'lieve us? I do 'ope so.'
'No, I have not. At present I am making a brief inspection, that is all.'
'Ohh. Esscuse me, but oo am I aspeakin' to?' Puzzled. 'Noo clerk, izzit, from the Check office?'
'Clerk! I am not a damned clerk! Stand aside now, I wish to go below.'
'There ain't no need of biting off my 'ead.' Removing the pipe now, and bristling. 'If you ain't from the Check, where does you come from? Oo sent you?'
'I am not sent by anyone at all! I am offered command of this ship, and you will stand aside!'
'If you is an officer, in which I am doubtful – since you has only now said you wasn't – then where is your blue coat, and gold buttons?'
'I am not obliged to explain myself to you!' James was aware that this increasingly intemperate exchange could end poorly for him. He had no papers, he had no warrant, he was not in a blue coat. 'Look here, now.' Assuming a more conciliatory tone. 'The admiral has brought me here, and put me aboard. You see, there is his boat . . .' Pointing. The scolding cry of a gull echoed across the riding water.
'I see no p'tic'lar boat.' Peering a moment. 'There is many boats.'
'Yes, well, he has brought me to the ship, and I will just like to examine her briefly, you know. I will not interfere with your – your work aboard. I will not interrupt you at all. You may pretend I ain't here.'
'Can't do that, look, when 'ere you is stood. I must send someone to the Clerk of the Check, that has give us this dooty, and make sure of your claim.'
'He will know nothing of my being here aboard. I am come of my own volition, d'y'see. To examine the ship.'
'Your own what?' A menacing jerk of the head.
'Look here, now.' Growing resolute. 'I have pointed out the admiral's boat to you. He has brought me to my ship. If you wish to discuss my rank or my duties with anyone at all, it had better be Admiral Hollister. Send a boat by all means, send someone there to Vanquish, his flag. In the interim I will look at my ship. Stand aside, if y'please.'
Something in James's tone, some little stiffening of his back and setting of his mouth, told the artificer that no good would come of further dispute, and he shrugged, sighed – and stepped aside.
A long line of poplars meandered by the stream that ran secret and quiet through the meadow at the lower end of a broad, undulating slope, a slope crowned on the north by a dense green copse of elm and ash and oak. On the east a flinty path ran down, and James now rode down there on his hired horse. He paused to shade his eyes, half-standing in the stirrups, and saw the house about a mile distant across the meadow, in its own surrounding stand of trees. The day was mild, but the warmth was tempered by a freshening breeze. Gulls floated against high feathery streams of cloud on the wide Anglian sky, coming in from the coast to the north. Norfolk, like so many of the counties of England, could never ignore the sea, James reflected. He lowered himself in the stirrups and cantered on towards the house.
Southcroft House lay just beyond the village of Middingham off the winding road from Norwich to Fakenham. James had come by the speediest means available to him from Portsmouth – by packet to Dover, thence by a second packet to Great Yarmouth, in a threatening storm that had cleared in great tumbling piles of cloud away out to sea; and from Yarmouth he had come upriver by ferry to Norwich, where he had hired his horse within sight of the castle wall, and taken the road out through Elm Hill. The journey had been arduous, and expensive, much more expensive than he would have liked, but he had felt that the expense must be borne, that the journey was entirely necessary to him. And now he came to Southcroft in the late afternoon, dusty and thirsty and tired.
As he rode up the short drive he found a handsome small red-brick house – smaller than Birch Cottage, his own house in Dorset – with a steep gabled roof, six windows at the front, and the door in a small lowbuilt annexe on the eastern side. Beyond the annexe lay a patch of white, daisy-like flowers, bright against the earth. A plain, plump maid, trimly dressed in apron and cap, answered James's knock.
'Who shall I say, sir?' In answer to his query as to whether or no Captain Rennie was at home.
'I am . . . just say an old shipmate, will you?'
'Old shipmate, sir?' Doubtfully, looking at James's dusty breeches and coat.
'I – I wish to surprise him, d'y'see?'
'Very well, sir.' A brief bob and she retired, leaving James to stand where he was outside, by the iron boot-scraper. He waited, and after a moment glanced again at the flowers, and thought of picking some to discover their scent, then:
'I am very sorry, sir, but Captain Rennie will not allow of anyone he don't know certain to enter the house, sir. "Give the fellow my compliments, and oblige him to state his name" was his very words, sir.' This time she did not bob.
'Oh. Ah. Then – then in course I will.' And he gave his name to the girl.
'Christ's blood – James!' From inside the door a moment after, then the door was flung wide. 'Is it you? – It is, by God! Yes, yes, it is! Come in, come in, my dear James! Why did not ye say at once who y'was, hey? I feel such a damned fool, leaving you waiting outside like a wretched middy at the door of the great cabin, ha-ha-ha. Are you well? You look well.' Guiding him into the library, and at once pouring madeira from a wide-bottomed decanter.
'A glass of wine, James.' Handing it to him, and raising his own. 'Your health.'
'Your health, sir.' They drank, and:
'Sit, sit, my dear James. No doubt you are weary after so long a journey. Jenny! Jenny!'
The maid, at the door: 'Sir?'
'My guest will like an ewer of hot water and a basin, brought to his room at the
top of the stairs. The blue room, y'have me?'
'Oh, well, you know – I had not thought to stay overnight – ' began James, but was overruled at once.
'The blue room, Jenny. Where is your valise, James? You have luggage?' As the maid withdrew.
'I have a small bag tied to the saddle of my horse, but I had thought to go to the inn – '
'No no no, y'will not, unless you wish to wound me, James. The least I can do is offer you a bed, and a good supper, hey?
You have come far? From Dorset?'
'From Portsmouth – and from Winterborne before that.'
'You are fatigued, no doubt. Let us get you berthed, and refreshed, and then we'll make an evening of it, eh? By God, it is right good to see your friendly face again, James. Is Catherine well? And your boy?'
'They are in excellent health, sir, thank you.'
Not once did he ask James why he had come, and as he was shown up to his room by the maid, and given hot water, and made comfortable, James realized that Rennie believed this was purely a visit born out of friendship and erstwhile association in a common cause, the reuniting of companion sea officers, both now on the beach.
'We will meet again at seven o'clock, James,' Rennie had said at the foot of the stairs, 'when you are rested and eager for food and conversation. Unless you are hungry now? A wedge of pie? Another glass?'
'No, thank you, sir. You are very kind.'
'At seven, then.' A hand on James's shoulder a moment, a brief pressing of fingers. From such an Englishman as Rennie the sign of great affection.
At seven James descended the stairs, refreshed by a nap, a thorough sluicing, and a change of shirt. The maid had brushed his coat, and now he felt himself presentable as gentleman and guest. Voices in the library made him pause at the door; he had not expected other guests, had wished to talk privately with Captain Rennie – but he went in.
And found Rennie deep in conversation with a man perhaps forty-five or -six, spare except for a comfortably protruding belly beneath his waistcoat, with a pleasant, intelligent, ruddy face and spectacles.
'Ah, James, there you are. Allow me to introduce my neighbour and friend, Mr Rountree.' And he completed the formal introductions. James bowed, the other gentleman bowed, and glasses were filled. A toast was proposed, and drunk, and presently the three of them were seated – rather nearer to the crackling fire than James would have preferred, but Rennie was of the view that a fire should be lighted in a gentleman's library whatever the season.
'We was talking of fear, James, as you came in,' said Rennie, taking a pull of wine.
'Fear, sir? I hope that I have not provoked it, in this pleasant house.' James, with a smile.
'No, indeed, Mr Hayter.' Mr Rountree smiled in return. 'No, indeed. I was telling William about a man I knew years ago, at Norwich. A man that was ever fearful, that was entirely consumed by apprehension. He had a terrible certainty, each time he quit his house, that his head would be beaten in by footpads, or that he would slip on the cobbles of the hill and plummet to extirpation, or that he would be struck by a lightning bolt and instantly braised. The poor fellow could scarce stir abroad for mortal fright.'
'Good heaven, why – '
Mr Rountree raised a hand, deterring interruption. 'Indoors, a dozen prophylactic potions lay at his bedside, within close reach, in case of incipient apoplexy, or fever. A pitcher of water lay at the foot, in case of midnight fire. A great wool scarf entwined his throat, in case of noxious chill.'
'Did not he fear strangulation?' James, lifting an eyebrow.
'Eh?' Rennie.
'From the scarf, sir.'
'He did fear it,' nodded Mr Rountree, 'and kept a handbell by him, in case he should need to raise the alarm. A handbell – and a drum.'
'What was his profession, the fellow?' Rennie, a frown.
'Undertaker.'
'Undertaker! Ha-ha-ha!' Rennie's sudden delighted laugh made him cough.
'That was why he was ever fearful,' said Mr Rountree. 'His duties obliged him, after all, so continually to dwell on the mortality of others that he could not help but reflect on his own, and that became the habit of dread.'
'And did it kill him?' James, again with raised eyebrow.
'Hhhhh – did it kill him!' Rennie coughed and wheezed with laughter. 'Ha-ha-ha, James, ye've always had a way of seeing the absurd side of things. Did it kill him-hhh-hhhhhh!'
Later, after they had eaten their supper – of fish, and wildfowl, and syllabub, and cheese – and drunk their wine, Rennie became reflective, and talked of his youth:
'Where is that unfeathered boy now, hey? Where his hungry, undiscriminating mind, his wonder and astonishment at the world and all its workings? Where his romantic notions, his ardent fancies? – He is lost. They are gone.' A vinous sigh, and he refilled his glass.
'His heart remains, does it not, sir? In the older, wiser self?'
'Heart, James?'
'A man dare not lose that, else he is lost altogether.'
'Softness, d'y'mean?' Growing severe. 'What business has a sea officer with softness of heart? He makes his decisions out of hard experience and hard instruction. His eye is on his canvas, and his mind on the design of his commission. His heart don't come into it.'
'I didn't mean – '
'He must govern everything of emotion with sound judgement, and practical sense. That is his proper work when he wears a blue coat, and serves the King.'
'Indeed, sir, I would not quarrel with – '
'You above all men should know that, James, good heaven.' A sniff, and he drank off his wine.
Later still Mr Rountree became philosophical, and touched on politics, and the great advances in the present age of enlightenment:
'Who are the great thinkers that have informed the modern scene?'
'Eh?' Rennie, again refilling his glass. 'Who?'
'Hobbes? Locke? Burke? Are not these the men that have taught us to – '
'Burke!' Rennie was now well flown. 'A very dangerous fellow, ain't he? He presumes to know everything about everything. He knows all about the insurrection in France, and approves it!'
'On the contrary, sir, he does not,' began James. 'His views are entirely – '
'Y'find his views congenial?' Rennie turned his fuddled glare on James, and was inclined to be fierce. 'A damned radical Irishman, ain't he?' Mr Rountree perceived his error in having raised the subject, and intervened:
'Ah! Is that the hour?' Making a show of consulting his watch. 'My dear William, I must beg your pardon for having lingered so unconscionable long, and kept you from your bed.'
'Bed? What?' Swinging his head to squint at his other guest.
'It is very late, and I must away.' Pushing his glass from him, and rising.
'Away? Nonsense, it ain't late, not at all.'
'Eleven, you know, eleven o'clock, and I must get to my own bed. It is a mile and more to walk, and I must make an early start tomorrow. I go to Norwich.'
'Ah. Norwich. Ah.' Rennie nodded his head, fuddled but placated. An early start took precedence, always, in a sea officer's mind. When Mr Rountree had put on his cloak and departed with a bow, James too excused himself, knowing that to attempt to introduce the topic on which he wished to consult Captain Rennie was unwise, tonight. It had better wait until morning. And the two sea officers retired.
On the morrow, when James came down to breakfast, he found Rennie already seated at the table in the dining room. Breakfast had been laid out, and a place for the guest. Rennie was drinking hot water, and a whiff of vinegar rose with the steam from his cup. There was no teapot on the table.
'Good morning, sir. You do not drink tea?' James, surprised.
'Ah, good morning, James.' No hint of last night's excess. 'Nay, I am advised by my physician Dr Noble that hot water, with a teaspoon of cider vinegar, is quite the best thing for the digestion in the morning.'
'Ah.' Sitting down. 'And is it?'
'Is it what?'
'The best t
hing. In the morning.'
'Certainly it is. Certainly. You know that I have always took tea, that I have always drunk it, at any hour. Well well, since I have took up hot water and vinegar, months since, I am altogether improved, and hale.'
'I am glad.' A smile.
'You ought to take it up yourself, James. It purifies the urine, and aids the bowels, it cleanses the mouth, and – ' But now he saw James's smile become a dismayed frown, and relented. 'In course there is coffee, if you will like that instead.'
'Thank you, sir, I would prefer coffee.' Relieved. 'But I did not know that you ever liked it . . .'
'I do not. I never drink the dark troublesome liquor, never. But I know that a gentleman's house ain't quite civilized without it. Jenny! Jenny! Coffee for Mr Hayter, right quick!' When the maid had brought a tall pot of coffee for James, and filled his cup, Rennie said as she quit the room:
'She would like it if I rang this table bell, you know.' He lifted the little bell, and put it down with a muffled clink. 'She would like me to modify my sea manners, talk quieter and so forth. I fear that I always forget.'
James drank the grateful dark reviving brew, felt its aromatic power clear his head, and presently, as Rennie chopped into a boiled egg:
'Sir, I wonder if I may consult your opinion on an important matter, very important to me? Will you give me some advice?'
'If I can, James.' Digging yolk from the shell. 'Gladly, if I am able.' A benign glance, with slightly bloodshot eyes.
James told him about the Hawk. About having been offered her, his first command. About having gone to Portsmouth to look at her. And about his – doubts.
'Doubts!' Rennie dropped his spoon with a clatter. A blob of yolk on the cloth. 'Doubts!'
'Well, I do not like to take her when you are on the beach. It don't seem quite right to accept – '
'Not take her! When I am on the beach! What has my present circumstances to do with it? Christ's blood, James, you damn' fool! You astonish me, altogether astonish me!'
'Please hear me out, will you, sir?'
'Not accept!' Shaking his head. 'Not accept!'
'I thought that I could not desert you in the question of Sir Robert Greer's pursuit of us – of us, that is to say – concerning our last commission, and the loss of Rabhet.'
The Hawk Page 2