James had given Rennie all the information he had thus far himself been given, and had told him his proposed strategy. Rennie did not like the strategy. He felt that the Lark would be nearly impossible to intercept at sea, fleet as she was; that she could run up from France as quick as be damned, and likely not even be sighted; that she would be taken, if she could be found, only when close in to shore, in a bay or cove, and her pursuer upward of her, with the wind gage, cutting her off. But he had not felt himself able to say so, direct – until now. And even now he could only demur, politely demur, and say why. He could not countermand an order given by a commanding officer at sea. In spite of his rank of senior post captain he was rated as nothing and nobody here aboard the Hawk, not even as supernumerary, since he was not listed on the ship's books. Officially he did not exist.
And yet James had asked for his assistance, his advice, his opinion – had not he? Could not a senior post make a suggestion or two, in least? He opened his mouth again, but at that moment James stepped close to the tiller and said to the helmsman:
'Luff and touch her, Alden Knott, will you. I will like her a point closer, if she will answer.'
'Aye, sir.'
The helmsman put his weight on the tiller and brought the cutter a fraction closer to the wind, so that she heeled to larboard, on the point of sails a-quiver, but not beyond it, cutting sweet and true into the westerly wind, the sea hissing in a froth of lace along her wales and tumbling in on itself astern in the glow of the light. Presently James judged that they had run far enough on their starboard tack, and:
'Stand by to tack ship!' Striding to the weather rail he nearly knocked Rennie down, and there was a moment of embarrassment between them. Both men apologized, a little too quickly, and each stood aside. James did not mind that Rennie was on deck – indeed had felt obliged to invite him there – but he sincerely wished and hoped that Rennie would have the good sense, and the common courtesy, to keep out of his way. Rennie in turn wished to keep out of that way, but James was such an energetic commander, forever striding this way and that, looking aloft at his canvas, going to the weather rail, then to the lee, asking his helmsman how she lay, &c., &c., that in truth the senior man did not know where he should place himself to be out of the way. Should he go below? He asked the question.
'No. No, indeed, sir. I would not wish it. It is damned cramped below, and the air gets stale so quick. You are better off on deck, snuffing the wind.'
Both men knew that the real question had not been answered, had not in fact been properly put. Should Rennie be giving advice at all, about anything, unless he was particularly asked? A big sea rolled heavily in, smacked under Hawk's flat-sleeved bowsprit and bluff bow, and sent both men reaching to clap on to a back stay. The helmsman allowed her to sag off a little as she rode the wave, and Rennie drew breath to say something – and had to bite his tongue. To himself:
'Nay, I must not say a word. I must not say anything about the handling of the ship, good God.' And even as he thought it, James spoke:
'She is sagging off, Alden, bring her back now.'
'Aye, sir.'
James and his people brought the cutter through the wind and on to the other tack, so that now she heeled steadily to starboard, heading west-north-west into the wind, the coast away to starboard in occasional faint glimmerings of light. They sailed on, through the night.
They did not sight the Lark by hammocks up, when Hawk lay south in the Channel between St Alban's Head and Portland Bill. Rennie did not expect to see her. James had only half-expected it himself, their first foray into the open sea. They went below to breakfast.
'I hope you do not take it wrong – if I make suggestions,' said Rennie at breakfast, which they took together in the cramped little great cabin.
'Nay, in course I do not take it wrong.' James drank coffee. He did not eat. His guts had troubled him in the night, the sea chopping and disturbed, with a deep wind-enhanced swell as they had run close-hauled, tack on tack, heading west, then had come about and gone large, boarding long, in long sweeps. He had insisted on keeping guncrews on deck, fifteen men to man the weather guns, crossing the deck as their course dictated, and the weather side became the lee. This deployment, and the constant requirement of hands to make sail, haul, trim, sheet home, had tested his people to the full, and now they were tired. James had given the order to stand down, and a further order that a measure of grog was to be issued with their oats, to be taken unwatered by those who wished it.
'Is that wise, d'y'think?' Rennie had blurted, when James gave the instruction to his steward purser.
James had frowned, glanced at Rennie and said, not quite curtly: 'They have earned it. I have tested them, and they have earned it.'
Rennie, knowing his error even as he spoke, had nodded and said nothing more.
As they finished breakfast a small vessel was sighted to the south. They went on deck, and Lieutenant Hayter put his helm down and ran towards the sighted ship. She was a cutter.
'Can it be her?' Half to himself. 'Can that be the Lark?' Aloud, lowering his glass: 'Mr Holmes! Where the devil is Mr Holmes?' Glancing about. His senior mid was not on deck. He had been on deck at the beginning of the watch. What in Christ's name did he mean by absenting himself? 'Mr Dench!' To the boatswain, who came aft from the waist. 'Mr Dench, where is Mr Holmes, if y'please?'
'I ain't seen him since two bells, sir.'
Three bells was now struck at the belfry by the companionway hatch.
'What! He has not been seen for half an hour! Christ's blood, Mr Dench, this will not do at sea!'
'No, sir. I will find him – '
'We will beat to quarters, Mr Dench, and clear the ship for action!'
A whack of wind as the call was sounded, and a further passing sea rode heavily under the keel. James steadied himself as hands thudded along the deck to their places, and Hawk ran on.
Mr Holmes could not be found, and presently the reason became apparent. Dr Wing came on deck, bracing himself as the wind flung itself into his face. Clutching at his hat:
'I must tell you, James – '
'Now then, Doctor, why have you come on deck? Your place is below, at quarters.' Ducking his head as spray showered over the quarterdeck. 'And you must address me as "sir", you know.'
'Yes, in course, how foolish of me to forget. But I must tell you – Ah, good morning, Captain Rennie.'
'Doctor.' A polite nod, standing well away.
'Yes, I must tell you that Mr Holmes has been took ill.' To James, formally.
'Ill? D'y'mean he is puking, Doctor? That don't excuse his absenting himself from the deck. We must all suffer seasickness from time to time.' Severely.
'It is not seasickness, I fear.' Gravely.
'What d'y'mean?'
'I mean that he is very seriously ill. I fear there is a rupture of the bowel. He is in great pain, and cannot stand.'
'Cannot you do something for him, Thomas?'
'At sea? No.'
'Not at sea, you say?' Glancing away at the other cutter.
'No, sir. No, we must get him on dry land, right quick. He must be got into the Haslar. That may be his only chance.'
'Only chance?' Jerking his head round to look hard at Thomas Wing. 'You are saying that he may die?'
'I am.'
James took a breath, glanced again at the other cutter, and: 'Then we have no choice. Very good, thank you, Doctor.' Raising his voice. 'Mr Dench! We will stand down!' To the helmsman: 'Put your helm up now, and we will run before, due east.'
The call, and the men at quarters stood down from their guns, the ship came off the wind, veered east handsomely, reefs were let out, and her great-bellied mainsail filled with the following wind.
Below, Mr Wentworth Holmes, senior midshipman, lay livid and staring in his hanging cot, his fair hair darkened with sweat and clinging to his scalp. He did not speak, he did not cry out. He lay silent and still, his whole being consumed by pain.
Away to the s
outh-west the mystery cutter kept to her course, dipping a little on the swell, her mast heeling tall and graceful and her pennant streaming as she ran closehauled.
When Mr Midshipman Holmes had been taken in a fainting condition into the Haslar Hospital at Gosport, accompanied there by Dr Wing, Lieutenant Hayter came on to the Mary Rose Inn at Thomas Street, and asked for Mr Birch. Soon he and Rennie were able to converse, in the privacy of Rennie's little room, Rennie perched on his narrow bed, and James on a stool.
'What of the young man?'
'Holmes? I do not know. Thomas Wing looked very dark, I thought, as the boy was took in.'
'Yes, yes – the boy looked very poorly when I left you to come on here. He may die. Hm. Had you thought of a replacement?'
'Eh? No, I had not, not yet. It is too precipitate early to think of that.'
'Hm. It is never too soon to make provision you know, James. Anything may – '
'– happen at sea.' Finishing for him. 'Yes, you are right. But I will not like to anticipate the worst outcome just yet.' A breath, and: 'I am nearly certain it was the Lark we sighted. You saw her raked mast? Her prodigious spread of canvas? Her lines, and speed?'
'I saw a pretty enough cutter, at a league and more distance, making fair headway in the English Channel into a stiffish topsail breeze, James. I do not say outright she was not the Lark, but I reckoned her at about sixty or seventy tons, no more. The Lark is a bigger, heavier sea boat than that, is she not?'
'I could not judge her size and weight exact, at a league and more.'
'No no, in course y'could not. Hm. Mm. – Forgive me, James, but I feel that I must speak up, now that we are again ashore. You do not object?'
'I do not, sir.'
'Well well, to be blunt I do not see how you may take such a vessel as the Lark in the Channel, nor anywhere along the coast – smasher broadsides or no – by yourself. I ask myself this: why was you not assigned another cutter to aid you, two cutters, three? If this vessel you seek is so damned important, or so damned inimical to the nation's interest, that the First Lord takes it upon himself to become involved – why are not you commanding a squadron of cutters, or indeed of brigs, or ship sloops. Hey?'
'I do not know the answers to those questions, sir. I had hoped to rely on Captain Marles to guide me, as you know, and – '
'Had you considered the possibility that Sir Robert may be involved in this?'
'Sir Robert Greer? Involve himself in my commission in Hawk? Surely you thought I had been given the commission by Their Lordships, as a kind of reward, compensating me for my losses in the tar paint scheme – had you not?'
'Well, I had thought that, but now I have changed my mind, because – '
'Sir, I have discovered that my father was behind my getting a new commission.'
'Your father? Then he must know all the facts of the thing. Have you asked him what – '
'No, sir, no. I do not mean my father asked for me to be given the Hawk. I think he used his influence to have his son considered for a new commission, that is all. The Hawk was to be acquired for a purpose, taken over from the Excise, that had built her for themselves in a private yard at Dover. That purpose, that duty, was given to me when my name was put forward.'
'Then who was that fellow came to me at the Marine Hotel, and demanded at pistol point to know what I knew about you, about this command, how many ships we had, and so forth?'
'Surely he cannot have come from Sir Robert, though. Else Sir Robert must know of your presence here in Portsmouth, that you have took great pains to conceal.'
'Aye, you are right. – Unless Sir Robert sent those highwaymen to follow me on the road, and – '
'Sir, really you know – I do not think that probable.'
'Eh?' Sharply.
'I do not mean to suggest . . .' James found himself awkward on the little stool, as if he were once again a schoolboy engaged in fanciful discussion late at night, in hushed tones, in a small, cold study room, by the light of a single shielded candle-flame. 'I would never think you were guilty of extravagant notions, sir, but I don't see how Sir Robert could likely be the culprit, there. Nor do I think that Sir Robert had a hand in the death – the murder – of Captain Marles.'
'I never said that he did.' Indignant now. 'Good God.'
'Very good, sir, you did not.' James got up from the uncomfortable stool. 'I must go to the Marine Hotel, and discover whether or no Colonel Macklin has made headway with his inquiry. And I must try again to find that wretch of a steward, that I paid a pound to in wages, in order to secure his employment. Then I had better return to Hawk, I expect.'
'You return to Hawk tonight? Why not spend the night ashore, James, and I'll give you supper here at the Mary Rose – '
'No, sir. No, it is kind in you, but I must think of my duty – of what may become of Mr Holmes.'
Captain Rennie was not unaware of a returning friction between them, and wondered at the cause. Lieutenant Hayter, for his part, was entirely aware of the cause. He was having second thoughts. He was having doubts. Was it wise to have asked his erstwhile commander to go aboard Hawk at all? How could they remain on amiable terms, when a man of Rennie's temperament, and experience – used to commanding men, to being Lieutenant Hayter's superior – was in the nature of things bound to begin to assert himself as if he was still in that position? And then, in course, there was the fact of the debt – the two hundred pound debt.
'Will you like me to come aboard on the morrow, James?'
'I must study the recorded movements of the Lark, the dates, tides, and so forth, and decide whether I should again attempt to take her. Perhaps she will not likely appear again for a time. Perhaps not before a fortnight, or a month, even . . . if it was the Lark we sighted.'
'You do not wish me to go aboard.' Rennie's voice was cold and beginning hostile.
'No, sir, in course I do not mean that, nor anything like. You are welcome in Hawk at any time. But where is the sense in your living cramped aboard, living deprived of all comfort – to no immediate purpose?' A little smiling sigh, and a brief shrug, to make Rennie believe him.
'You will not weigh without me, James?' Lifting his head to stare at Lieutenant Hayter very direct. 'You will not dash off sudden and leave me behind?'
'Nay, I will not. There is nothing further from my mind.'
James returned to the Marine Hotel and found – not Colonel Macklin, but Catherine, waiting for him on a chair in the parlour, off the public lobby. A clerk directed him to her, when James gave his name and asked for Colonel Macklin. He went to her at once.
'My darling, you are here.'
'I am here.' They embraced, and he kissed her, tasted chocolate on her lips, and felt himself dissolving into that taste, and the scent of her, her bodily warmth and sweetness. And yet again was astonished by her beauty – of which in usual she was quite unconscious – that made him whenever he saw her after an absence into a heart-thudding boy, near breathless in her presence. A long moment, he released her, and:
'You stay here at Portsmouth? My love, why did you not say you were coming here, in your letters?'
'I did say so, in my last letter. Did you not read it? Oh, James.' Pretending hurt.
'Yes, yes, in course I have read it.' Hastily. 'In truth, my darling, I have been close occupied with many things, and – '
'You did not read my last letter – written so fond?'
'I may not have read it with the attention I ought.' Looking at her, and now he saw that she was teasing him, and took her in his arms again, and kissed her as a lover. At length:
'You have engaged rooms? Where is our son?'
'He is at Melton.'
'At Melton, ah.' His father's house, near Shaftesbury in Dorset. 'Perhaps that is well, when I have so much to say to you . . .'
'You do not wish to see your son?' Reproving him with a smile.
'In course I wish to see him – but not now. Now I wish to see his mother.'
'Look, I am here.'<
br />
'In private. I wish to see her altogether in private.' Holding her.
'There is a gentleman . . .'
'What?' Kissing her, pushing his face in her hair and neck, drinking her in.
'James.' Gently disengaging herself. 'My dear, there is a gentleman at the door.'
'What? Who . . . ?' Reluctantly turning.
'My dear Hayter, do forgive me. I will not intrude now.' And an embarrassed Colonel Macklin, getting red at his own neck, began to turn away from the door of the parlour.
'Nay, nay, Colonel . . .' James frowned an apology to Catherine, and stood away from her a little.
'Nay, I had left my name with the clerk, asking for you, and I must not inconvenience you now. May I present you to my wife? Colonel Macklin that is investigating – a matter.'
The formalities; Colonel Macklin made a leg; Catherine acknowledged him with a polite smile.
'Colonel, will you allow me one moment more?' As the colonel stepped away, James turned to Catherine. 'Are you stopping here, my love?'
'Yes, here at the hotel.'
'Then you have engaged rooms. How on earth did you manage it? Portsmouth is full to bursting.'
'I was persuasive, James. We have got a very small suite – at the rear – very private.'
'But . . . how can we afford it?'
'I will tell you all my news when you have conducted your business with the colonel. You must not keep him waiting.' She gave him the number of the suite, kissed his cheek, and retired by a rear door.
'What news, sir?' James, a moment after, as the colonel came back into the parlour, the lobby and public rooms beyond a-swirl with a large party of people, the sound of their voices hubbub and din. 'Have we made progress, at all?'
'We have, a little. But I don't want to keep you from your charming wife . . .'
'Nay, nay . . . I shall be with her soon. What is the progress?'
'One of the stolen documents has been found.'
'From the packet?'
'Aye. Discarded in a gutter not far from where the captain was attacked. The letter – it was a letter – was much fouled and nearly indecipherable, but for the seal and signature, which identified it.'
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