The Hawk

by Peter Smalley

  'Sir, in course I am obliged to follow these instructions.' Tapping the documents with a finger. 'You have given them to me, and they are signed by the First Lord.' A brief pause, then: 'Have I your authority, sir, to show them to Admiral Hollister, should he require me to explain – repair aboard his flag and explain – why I have declined to obey his direct order to the fleet to put to sea?'

  'You have not.' Pouring chocolate, and drinking.

  'You do not give it?'

  'I do not.'

  James gave a reluctant shrug, and composed his face into a polite, reluctant grimace. 'Then, sir, you put me in a pretty near impossible fix. I cannot, I fear, lie on both tacks at once, starboard and larboard. It must be one or t'other.'

  The half-smile now returned, and became nearly a full smile. 'Yes, you put it nicely, Mr Hayter, I confess. Justly so.' He put down his cup, and refilled it. 'You oblige me to go to Admiral Hollister myself. It is some little time since I was aboard a ship of any rate, leave alone a first. I shall look forward to it.' He picked up the two letters, returned them to their packet, and put the packet away in his coat. 'I must take these with me, to show the admiral the signature and seal, should that become necessary – the signature and seal, and nothing more. Pray return to your cutter, Mr Hayter. I will send word to you.'

  'Very good, sir.'

  And Captain Marles paid their bill.

  Lieutenant Hayter remained aboard Hawk, far out at her mooring, and no word came to him from Captain Marles. He waited three days, during which time he exercised his great guns, but did not fire them. His supply of gunpowder was limited to the allowance designated by the Ordnance, since he could not – like richer commanders – buy extra powder from private contractors. Beside, he was at his mooring among great numbers of ships. He exercised his great guns in a punishing continuum of several hours each day, until he felt that his guncrews, and his people altogether, were efficient in the business of bringing a ship of war into such a condition that would allow her to fight her weight of metal against any opposing cutter, schooner, or even a brig sloop. In other words, he would be more than a match for the Lark.

  On the fourth morning, James decided that he must again go ashore. His steward had not yet been found, and he meant to find him. He would also seek out Captain Marles.

  'I cannot wait upon Captain Marles's good intentions for ever,' he told himself, and called for the boat to be hoisted out, the mast stepped, and the sail bent.

  He tacked through the assembled ships of the line, and ran in to the Hard. From the Hard he made his way to the Cockpit Tavern, and there enquired.

  'Has a man called Butt shown himself?'

  'Butt? Don't know no one of that name, sir.' The innkeeper, sucking his teeth.

  'Plentiful Butt?'

  'Ohh. Plenty. Yes. Yes, we knows Plenty.'

  'Well, has he been here? This last day or two?'

  'No, sir.' With certainty.

  'When did you last see him?' He paid for a mug of ale. 'Will you drink something, landlord?'

  'That is right kind in you, sir, I will.' He drew off a measure of brandy, and sucked down half.

  'You have not seen him recent?'

  'He will only come here when he is flush, d'y'see. You might try at the Drawbridge Tavern.'

  'At the Point? Good God, that is the worst den of scoundrels in Portsmouth.'

  'Aye, sir, I will not dispute that. Not that Plenty is a scoundrel. It's just they will allow him a bed there, when he ain't flush.' He sucked down the rest of his brandy. 'At one time I would oblige him here – but he could not never pay me, and I must pay my own rent, look.'

  'Indeed. Thank you, I will enquire at the Drawbridge.' He drank a mouthful of ale, left a further shilling on the counter, and went to the Marine Hotel in the High.

  'I will like to see Captain Marles.'

  'Captain Marles? Oh. Will you wait here please, sir?'

  James waited, and presently was shown into a small private room at the rear, where he was greeted by a lieutenantcolonel of marines.

  'You asked for Captain Marles?'

  'I did. Is he here?' Puzzled.

  'Evidently you have not heard . . .' Looking at James closely.

  'Heard what?'

  'Captain Marles is dead.'

  'Christ's blood . . .' Shocked. 'I had no notion that he was ill.'

  'He was not ill. Captain Marles has been murdered. He was found late last night in an alley off Broad Street in the Point.'

  'Murdered? In God's name – how?'

  'His throat was cut.' The marine officer leaned over the square table that stood against the wall, took up a quill pen, dipped it in the small silver well, and: 'May I have your name, Lieutenant?'

  'Yes. Certainly. I am Lieutenant James Hayter RN, commanding the Hawk cutter, ten guns.'

  The officer made a mark on a list, and laid the pen aside. 'You had business with Captain Marles? This morning?'

  'Yes – yes.' Distractedly. 'The Point, you say? What in God's name was he doing there, at night?'

  'You know the district?'

  'It is notorious.'

  'What was your business with Captain Marles?'

  'Eh? Oh – Admiralty business.' His hand at the back of his neck. 'What a dreadful thing . . . a dreadful thing.' He turned away distractedly.

  'If you please, Lieutenant – what was that business, exact?'

  Turning to look at him: 'Well, Colonel . . . I am not at liberty to divulge it. Admiralty business, of a confidential nature.'

  'You will divulge it to me, if you please. I am charged with the investigation of all of the circumstances surrounding the captain's death.'

  'Then you must enquire at the Admiralty, you know, Colonel. I cannot help you. I may not. – Had Captain Marles any family, d'y'know? A wife?'

  'He was widowed, I believe. I must ask you again – insist – that you tell me your business with him, Mr Hayter. It may have a bearing on what has happened.'

  'How so?'

  'The captain's coat had been torn open at an inner pocket. An empty packet, which had itself been torn open, lay beside the corpse. It is thought documents was removed from the packet. In his effects, found in his bedroom, Captain Marles left a list of names, including your own, and that of Admiral Hollister. Do you happen to know if those stolen documents related to your business with him? Had you had sight of them?'

  'Aye, I did have sight of them.'

  'It is nearly certain that he was killed for those documents, Lieutenant.'

  'Yes, yes, your assumption is correct, I think.' Nodding. 'How very shocking.'

  'Well?'

  James looked at him, then made his back straight. 'All I am able to tell you, Colonel, is that the business upon which poor Captain Marles and I were engaged was under the direct instruction of the First Lord himself. The documents bore his signature and seal.'

  'I see.' Gravely. 'Then I must go to Admiral Hollister.'

  'He can tell you nothing.'

  'What? Nothing? How d'y'know that?'

  'Because he was not party to the business. Captain Marles merely sought the admiral's consent to my release from the Channel Fleet. I am not even certain that he had visited the admiral before – this sad event. In truth I think that probably he had not, else the admiral would have done so.'

  'Done so?'

  'Forgive me, I am a little distracted. Would have released me, d'y'see. If Captain Marles had asked him.'

  'Yes, I am not quite clear. Why should Admiral Hollister release you – supposing Captain Marles had seen him – without he was told the reason?'

  'Captain Marles was acting in the name of the First Lord. Not even so powerful a sea officer as Admiral Hollister may gainsay that authority, I think.' A thought came to him now, and he drew in a sharp breath. 'The documents! If Captain Marles had not had his interview with Admiral Hollister, then without the documents I am . . . I must go to London!'

  'Nay, Lieutenant, you must remain at Portsmouth until I have co
ncluded my inquiries.'

  'Why? I am not material to your inquiry, when I have been living aboard my cutter, far out at Spithead, these last three days. By the by, Colonel, should not such inquiry be conducted by the local magistrate and his constables?'

  'The magistrate is conducting his own inquiry.' The colonel looked at James, and frowned. 'However, he has not sufficient runners to be effective in such a matter. The Marines and the Royal Navy, acting together, will be a better instrument. You will aid me by remaining here.'

  'Sir, I must go to London without delay. I must obtain new documents, restoring my authority to act as instructed. Without them I am powerless to proceed.'

  'I know nothing of that, since you will tell me nothing. You will remain at Portsmouth, if y'please.'

  James effortfully kept his temper, and made no reply.

  'D'you hear me, Lieutenant?' Growing severe.

  'Very good, sir.' A brief bow, and James put on his hat and turned to quit the room.

  'I have not given you leave to go.'

  'You wish me to remain in this room, sir? Remain in Portsmouth, in this room?'

  'Do not be impertinent, Mr Hayter.' A warning glare.

  'I am very sorry, sir.' Icily.

  The marine officer sighed, and put the list into a leather fold. 'Look here, Hayter, we must not be at odds in this. A good man has been killed, and we must discover why, and by whom. We will go together to Admiral Hollister, first of all, and obtain your release from him. Agreed?'

  'Very good, sir.' His bearing less rigid.

  'I am remiss, I have not introduced myself. I am Lieutenant-Colonel Brian Macklin of the corps of Marines. Will you shake hands?'

  They shook hands, and James managed to relax his grim facial expression.

  'To say the truth, the local magistrate is not what I would describe as the sharpest sword in Portsmouth. You apprehend me?' Colonel Macklin put the fold in his pocket.

  'In short, he is a dullard?'

  'You apprehend me. You came ashore in your own boat?'

  'I did, sir. The boat lies at the Hard.'

  'I will fetch my cloak.'

  James knew that he must humour Colonel Macklin, must go with him to Admiral Hollister in Vanquish. He knew that to demur further, and then attempt to leave Portsmouth, would in all likelihood prompt Colonel Macklin into placing him under close arrest. As they made their way to the Hard, and then walked across and down the gentle slope toward the water:

  'No, I must go to Vanquish, and as soon as I am able thereafter go to London, by the fast mail coach.' To himself. He would seek out the only person known to him at the Admiralty, the Third Secretary Mr Soames. Soames might probably be able to help him obtain further documents – if not from the First Lord, then at least from some other high official – so that he could begin his pursuit of the Lark cutter and her master Sedley Ward. Ward was almost certainly behind the murder of Captain Marles.

  James, in sea boots, pushed the twelve-foot jollyboat out, and helped Colonel Macklin aboard, who had clearly expected a much larger boat, a launch or pinnace, with a proper boat's crew. James hoisted the single sail, and brought the boat to the wind. The little craft pitched and heeled, the sail taut in the stiff onshore breeze.

  'Aye, almost certainly he is,' repeated James to himself.

  'Certainly?' Colonel Macklin gripped the gunwale with white knuckles. 'You think we will certainly capsize?'

  James had spoken aloud, without knowing it. And now he did say aloud: 'No, sir, no. We are quite safe.'

  'I am not much at sea, you know. My duties have kept me altogether ashore of late. Oh!' As a wave smacked in under the boat's bow, and splintered in drenching shards over the two occupants.

  The single loose-footed lugsail was not ideal for beating close-hauled by the wind, but James managed both sheets and tiller with ease. He enjoyed this direct, spray-flying form of sailing, and had quickly learned the jollyboat's foibles, and how to master them.

  'Tacking!' he called now, and Colonel Macklin was obliged to duck low beneath the swinging foot and leech, clutching at his hat, as James brought the boat through the wind.

  Presently they came to Vanquish, and were hailed from the deck:

  'Boat ahoy! Who are you?'

  And James, with a little swelling of pride in his breast, was able as commander of a commissioned vessel to make the traditional reply:

  'Hawk!'

  'Come aboard!'

  'Ah, Lieutenant Hayter. I know why you have come, I think.'

  The Third Secretary Mr Soames rose from his desk, but did not come forward, nor proffer his hand in greeting. He remained where he was, his hand extended merely to indicate a chair.

  'I must thank you for receiving me so prompt, Mr Soames.' James sat down on the very plain chair, and put his hat beneath it.

  'Under the circumstances I could hardly do otherwise.' Mr Soames resumed his seat, and tucked a fine linen handkerchief into his sleeve. A waft of cologne on the slightly stale air. 'The death of Captain Marles has been wretched inconvenient to us – and to you, I am in no doubt.'

  'Inconvenient?' The word came rushing out, harsher and more hostile than he had intended.

  'More than inconvenient, indeed.' A brief puckering of the mouth. 'A great nuisance.'

  James opened his mouth, then shut it again before angry remonstrance could crash out into the room. He counted to five.

  'I – I have come because I need to have replaced the instructions Captain Marles brought to me at Portsmouth, but did not give to me.'

  'You never saw them?' Surprised.

  'I did see them, but they – that is, Captain Marles did not give them into my possession.'

  'Then it's true that they was removed from his coat at the time of the attack?'

  'We believe so, yes.'

  'We?'

  'Lieutenant-Colonel Macklin of the Marines, that is inquiring into the captain's death – his murder.'

  'Murder, yes.' Another brief puckering, and the trace of a grimace. 'Yes, an ugly word.'

  'I do not know a better one. A more convenient one.'

  'You have not considered, I expect, that this was not deliberate murder?'

  'Not delib— . . . Christ's blood, his throat was cut!'

  'Was it? Was it? That I did not know.' He lifted the handkerchief to his nose a moment, then returned it to his sleeve. 'Yes, what I had meant to suggest to you, Lieutenant, was that the assault – though murderous – was merely one of opportunity, not design. You frown.'

  'Surely it is obvious, Mr Soames! I beg your pardon, I did not mean to shout. But surely it is absolutely clear, ain't it? The inner pocket of his coat was torn out, the packet removed and torn apart, and the papers took.'

  'Yes?'

  'Yes!'

  'Mm, yes. It had not occurred to you that the footpad, in such a place as the Point – notorious, I think, at Portsmouth – was merely seeking money? He saw a gentleman alone at night in an alley, supposed that the gentleman had gold money upon his person, and made his assault.'

  'In truth that explication had not occurred to me, no. I find it, with respect, entirely improbable.'

  'Do you? Ah.' Mr Soames sat impassive, and allowed a moment to pass. 'In course you are entitled to your view.'

  'My view! I beg your pardon. Sir, my very strong sense of the thing is that Captain Ward was behind it, that he is now in possession of our plan of capture, and that we must devise a new stratagem. That is why I have come, for new instructions.'

  'Sedley Ward, d'y'mean?'

  'Aye, Captain Sedley Ward, of the Lark cutter.'

  'Not Ward, I think.' Shaking his head. 'Word has reached us from Barbados that Sedley Ward died there two month ago, of the fever. He was second officer of a schooner there, thought to be a slaver. He had not been master of the Lark for a twelvemonth.'

  'When did this intelligence come?'

  'Yesternight, in a letter. The papers took from Captain Marles have been destroyed, to a certainty. To
rn up, or flung into the harbour, or burned – as worthless. Sedley Ward is dead, and we do not know who commands the Lark. But whoever he is, he does not know of our plan. Fair copies were made of your instructions. You shall have those, when further copies have been done. Come here at noon tomorrow, and the papers will be ready for you.'

  'I – very good, sir.'

  'The impediment is the loss of Captain Marles. He is not easily replaced as your immediate superior. You will have to proceed on your own initiative, for the moment.'

  'May I prevail upon you, Mr Soames, to advise me – should I need advice?'

  'My dear Lieutenant Hayter, I cannot possibly advise you. I do not decide, I am not party to decision, nor direction. I am a servant of Their Lordships.'

  'I wonder . . .'

  'Yes?'

  'I wonder if I might be permitted to call on the – the assistance of another officer?'

  'Another officer? D'y'mean, in the same role as the late Captain Marles?'

  'I do. I had thought – '

  'You do not mean . . . you cannot mean . . . Captain Rennie?' Mr Soames had lost his air of detachment.

  'He has been my commanding officer in three commissions, and he would – '

  'No!' Mr Soames half-stood, then as if collecting himself sat down again, and: 'Such a suggestion is wholly without merit – it simply don't bear examination.' The handkerchief again to his nose. 'It cannot be considered at all.'

  'But why not?'

  'Why not? Why not?' All of Mr Soames's detached decorum, his aloof, cologne-scented calm, had vanished on the stale air. 'Captain Rennie is an officer that has a question beside his name. In course, he has been exonerated of any charges against him, all charges was dissolved and dispensed with, but there remains in association with his name a very distinct question.'

  'What is the nature of this "question"? If Sir Robert Greer – '

  'No. No.' Very firmly, raising a hand. 'I am not at liberty to discuss it.'

  'Then why – forgive me, Mr Soames – but why bring this into the conversation? I have the highest regard for Captain Rennie, and any question raised by Sir Robert, or anyone – '

  'Young man! – Lieutenant Hayter.' The handkerchief. 'Hm. I did not mean to raise my voice.' The handkerchief again pressed to his nose, then returned to his sleeve. 'If I was you, I should collect my papers from the clerk tomorrow, proceed to Portsmouth, and there take up my duties. I should put entirely from my mind all other things. And now, if you will forgive me, there is many pressing matters in need of my attention. I trust that you will have a pleasant journey. Good day.'