'Then why say such a thing to me?'
'My dear. My dear, please. I am not a man for niceties of language, I fear. If I have offended you, forgive me. Will you?' Tilting his head, peering at her.
She glanced at him, then turned her gaze away in continued reproach.
'Will you not forgive me? Sylvia?'
Clattering dishes. The sound, from the road outside, of a dog barking as it ran after a wheeled vehicle. Rennie heard these distracting, intruding sounds, and:
'Dearest, I am in a rush, just now. I must go.'
'Go, then.' Beginning to be tearful.
'Oh, dear.' A sigh. 'I am very sorry if I have said anything untoward – '
'Must you go immediate? At once?' Tearfully.
'I fear I must, you know. It is most important that I – '
'Am I not important to you? I will like you to tell me, William, if I am not.' The handkerchief.
'In course you are. In course you are.' And in desperation and haste he kissed her full on the lips, held her to him a moment, and was gone.
'Oh, William . . .'
He did not dare turn back for fear of further entreaties, further desire for evidence of his affection. Why could not women grasp the need for action in men, good God? Why must they blind everything with tears, and the need for tenderness?
'Because that is their nature,' Rennie told himself as he hurried away from the house, pulling down his hat on his head. 'They cannot help it.'
Rennie found Sawley Mallison in the taproom at the Drawbridge Inn. He did not greet Rennie, but gave him a morose wall-eyed glance, and when Rennie asked a question replied:
'What is the matter, you asks?' Mallison sucked at his pipe, shook it out irritably and threw it into the grate, where it smashed into white fragments. 'That damned villain Scott, that come here seeking y'self, sir.'
'What has he done?'
'I don't know what he has done outside of here, but the revenuers come breakin' down my door, and heaving my sticks about, banging down in my cellar, banging out in my yard, turning the whole bloody premises upside down – all in the ques' for Scott, they says!'
'Oh, dear. I am very sorry indeed. I had no idea they would come here. In truth I had no idea that Mr Scott would come here, in search of me, and cause me such upset . . .' 'Well, they did come, izzen it? They come, and they made theirself a bloody horrible nuisance, Captain Rennie. "Where is the brandy? Where is the brandy?" Shouting at the top of their fucking voices, frightening my lad fit to piss hisself. "Where is your associate Scott?" A-hiding up his own arse, I told them. Why don't you look there, hey?'
'You said that?' Raising his eyebrows.
'And more beside.' Frowning darkly, then allowing a grimace to crease his face. 'Hhh-hhh-hhh – I said: Why don't you hixamine your own arses, and make certain he ain't hid there? Hhh-hhh, they did not like that, they did not, hhhhhh- hhh, fucking trulls.'
'You did not lose anything by it, I hope?' Rennie looked round quickly for evidence of damage. 'No casks smashed, nor the like?'
'I ain't such a lackwit that I keep my spirits where they could find them, Captain Rennie. Nay, I knows how to conceal, how to dis-guise my goods. All they was able to find was casks of ale, and a bucket of fish-heads stinkin' ripe, that drove them off the scent right quick.'
'Well then, nothing very calamitous has happened, has it? All is well?' Anxiously.
'Nothing? I was disturbed. My place of business was disturbed and invaded. And unless I am mistook, they will return and disturb me again, Captain Rennie.'
'Then in course I will go away. I would not wish to bring further trouble here.'
Mallison protested. 'I do not blame y'self, sir. I would never do that. I blame Scott, that come here.' Protested, but was inwardly relieved by Rennie's reply.
'He came here only because of me. If I go away, he will not come here again, and the Customs men will lose interest in the Drawbridge.'
'Well, sir – if you is entirely sure? It is only I do not like revenue men a-breakin' down my door . . .'
'Yes yes, I am determined to go.'
'Then I will not hinder you in your intentions, Captain Rennie. The boy will fetch down your dunnage, when you are ready for him.'
'Thank you.' He turned away towards the stair.
'Ho, yes, by the by – a letter come for you, by hand.'
He found the sealed letter, and held it out. Rennie came back.
'Who brought it?' Taking the letter.
'The same boy as come previous.'
'When did he bring it? Today?'
'This morning, sir.'
'Thankee, Mr Mallison. I shall send down directly.'
And he went upstairs to his room. He had half expected to find his own belongings scattered and flung about, but found nothing disturbed. He sat on the narrow cot, broke the seal and read:
Go to Bucklers Hard, where you will find a ferryman.
Go into his boat, and do not resist when you are blindfolded. The meeting you desire cannot take place upon the shore. We must find ourselves together at sea. Eight o'clock tomorrow, if you please. The ferryman will wait one glass only, at the lower slip.
Do not fail us.
A friend
Rennie went to the Marine barracks, where Lieutenant Hayter and Mr Hope were temporarily accommodated, with the Hawk's people. He found James alone in the officers' quarters, up a narrow stair at the end of a corridor.
'Mr Hope has had to go to Gosport.' James, rising from his chair, putting aside his book.
'Gosport? D'y'mean to the Haslar?'
'Yes, sir. His bandaged head, and copious wine, have undone him. He is stricken with severe headache, crippled with it. He had to be carried into the boat.'
Rennie nodded, and: 'Then at last we are free of all impediment in this affair.'
'Eh?'
'Sir Robert is absent by reason of illness, and now so is Mr Hope. They was always holding us back, James.' He showed James the letter.
'You intend to keep this appointment, sir?' Reading the letter.
'Yes yes, in course I do.' Pacing to the narrow window, which overlooked the barracks yard.
'Let me understand you. Without even informing Sir Robert?'
'How can I inform a man that is lying deathly ill, hey?' Rennie, turning from the window, raised his eyebrows at James. 'So far as I am concerned, Sir Robert bloody Greer ain't a party to this any more.'
'Nor Mr Hope?'
'Nor Mr Hope, James. Good God, why are you so timid all on a sudden? We agreed before we came away from Kingshill that we should proceed on – '
'Yes, I know. I know we did, sir.' Over him. 'Proceed on our own course, and so forth. But surely we cannot defy Their Lordships altogether? In least, I do not think I can.'
'Well well, you make the distinction between us. You are a serving sea officer, and I am not.'
'I meant no disrespect, sir – '
'Good God, James, do not we know each other well enough to preclude all talk of "disrespect"? That ain't the question.'
'Then – forgive me – what is the question, sir? I am commissioned to undertake – '
'Pish pish, James, this ain't a regular commission, and we both know it. There is nothing regular about it, in any distinction. We must act according to circumstances, if we are to succeed. That letter you hold in your hand will lead me direct to Aidan Faulk.'
'Perhaps, but if you go away in that damned boat from Bucklers Hard, who is to say you will not be held against your will? You may be took away from England for ever. I cannot be – '
'James, James – in the past we have always prevailed when we faced our enemies together, just the two of us. This is our opportunity to do so again!'
'I don't quite see where I come into it. Where shall I be, tonight, when you go alone to Bucklers Hard?'
'Ah. Now then.' Rennie held up a finger, and told James his plan.
Rennie came down to the lower slip at Bucklers Hard in darkness, making his way through ti
mber and mud by the light of a hand lantern. He had come to Beaulieu Water much earlier, in a fishing boat, and come ashore south of Mr Blewitt's yard. He had made his way to the cottage rows beyond the yard, and had given an old woman in one of the cottages a shilling so that he could sit in her parlour by the fire – the day was overcast and damp – and wait.
Now in darkness and beginning mist he could make out a figure at the water's edge, and the dim outline of a boat. The night smelled of the sea, of tidal mud, and the tar and timber of the shipyard. A dog barked in the cottage rows, as if to lift its spirits. Rennie approached the figure, holding his lantern up.
'You are waiting for me, I think.'
The figure turned, peering at Rennie in the lantern glow.
'Who are you?' The voice harsh, almost hostile. An unshaven face.
'I am Rennie. William Rennie.'
'Douse that glim, will ye? D'y'want us to be took?'
'Who would take us here? We are all alone.' But he shut off the light.
'Come on, then. There is no time to lose.' The ferryman strode to the boat, shoved off and stepped in, all in the one easy movement, and Rennie was left to follow. He stumbled on tide-greasy slip timbers, nearly lost his footing, and clambered into the boat, wet to his knees. The boat heeled under his weight.
'Don't upset the boat, for Chrice sake. I thought you was a seaman.' Growled.
'I am,' Rennie said defensively, seating himself on a thwart, bracing his wet feet. 'I have been at sea all my life.'
'Then show it. Take up them oars, and I will steer.'
'You mean that I am to row?' Astonished.
'If you wishes us to catch this tide.'
'But I am an officer.'
'Lissen, there is no officers in this boat, mate, only boat's crew.'
'One thing puzzles me. Will you enlighten me? Why have I not been blindfolded?'
'Enlighten, y'said? Allow me to endarken you.' The ferryman handed Rennie a strip of dark cloth. 'Put that over your eyes, and tie it behind.'
Rennie did as he was told and tied the cloth round his head, shutting off his sight.
'Is it tied secure?' The ferryman. 'Can you see anything?'
'Yes, it is tied. And no, I cannot see.'
'Nothing at all?'
'Nothing, I assure you.' A hint of impatience.
The ferryman aimed a sudden darting blow at Rennie's head, but Rennie did not flinch. The ferryman was satisfied.
'Get them oars to pass, now.'
Rennie fumbled and found the oars, fitted them into the thole pins, pulled blindly to larboard with one oar, and felt the boat swinging round to head into open water. The rippling suck of the oar, a waft of air off the sea, and a dank swirl of mist. Rennie felt the moisture on his face.
'Give way!' The ferryman, now at the tiller.
And for the first time in many years William Rennie bent his back to row a boat. Within ten minutes he was soaked in sweat and aching in every limb and sinew, his back a curved blade of pure pain, his breath on fire in his throat.
'Give way, there! We has a long journey tonight!'
'Damn your blood, you wretch!' Under his burning breath.
In twenty minutes they were sliding down the estuary toward the open sea, carried along on the ebb, and Rennie could sense swirling mist all round them. Another twenty, and by now he had begun to get his second wind.
'How much further?' he asked.
'I will tell you when we are near.'
'Near to the Lark?'
'Do not keep asking me.'
Rennie ceased rowing, and rested on the oars. He did not like the tone of the ferryman's reply. It was avoiding, and duplicitous. 'Listen now, either hhh you tell me that it is the Lark we are going out to, or I will hhh allow us to drift.'
'You give way there, you idle bugger!' But the ferryman's bluster was not entirely convincing. 'We be going where we's supposed to go, see.'
Rennie's increasing doubt was now sharper even than the pain in his back, and had descended prickling and spiking into his guts. 'I will not give way until you tell me this: are we going out to meet the Lark, or are we not?'
'I am only doing what I was told to do.' A note of angry defiance entering the gruff voice. 'Bring the man Rennie from Bucklers Hard, wivout fail. For Chrice sakes give way, will you!'
'How much did they pay you?'
'That is nothing to you.'
'They paid you to bring me in your boat to them without fail, and to make sure that I was at the oars, blindfolded, and you at the helm, so you could keep your eye on me all the way. Yes?'
The ferryman was silent.
'They forgot that a sea officer of long experience would wish to ask certain questions. That he would not just obey orders blindly, so to say. Hey!'
'I am only doing what I was told to do.' Sullenly now.
'Paid to do! How much?' Barking out the words, trying to assume the authority of a post captain, in spite of the blindfold and his apparently helpless position.
'I have been paid adequate.'
'I will double it, whatever it was, if you will tell me the truth! Where do we go?'
'I dare not do anything against them – '
'Not even for double what they gave for your loyalty?'
'They ain't men to cross, I knows that. I do not wish for a knife in my guts.'
'Then we will drift. I will not row any more.' Determined not to proceed until he was certain that the Lark was their design, since the plan he and James had devised could only succeed if this were so.
The plan was for Rennie to go in the ferryman's boat to the Lark, and when they approached the cutter, overpower the ferryman. Rennie would then fire off the red rocket that he had brought with him to Bucklers Hard, and slung inside his coat. James would be waiting at sea in the Hawk, standing off. As soon as he saw the rocket on the night sky he would fly to the place, and attack, while Rennie kept clear in the boat. Attack and take the Lark, and Aidan Faulk. The strongest part of this scheme was the element of surprise. The weakest part – of many weak parts pointed out by James when Rennie first put the scheme into words – was that Hawk might be far away from the Lark when Rennie fired the rocket, and thus unable to prevent her escape. Or Rennie's capture, or worse.
'The only surprise to them would be your rocket, sir,' James had said. 'If I am far distant I will have no advantage at all.'
'Well well, it is a risk worth taking, don't you think so?'
'Supposing they blow the boat out of the water, to prevent you firing further rockets?'
'But I will have only one rocket with me.'
'They will not probably know that in Lark, sir – will they?'
'You make difficulty where none exists, James.' Rennie had begun to grow irate, and impatient.
James was disinclined to be deflected:
'Even if they did know it, they could well decide to smash you to splinters out of vengeance. Could not they?'
'I do not think so, I do not think so. They will be thrown absolutely into confusion. It will not occur to them to fire on me in a damned little boat.'
At length Rennie – by virtue of his greater years, authority and experience, and his passionately expressed wish to see Aidan Faulk took and the whole affair concluded – had persuaded James to agree to the plan, in spite of his grave doubts, and even graver misgivings. They had calculated roughly where the Lark might lie, waiting for the boat, and decided where Hawk should lie accordingly. But it had all been guesses. The whole thing hung upon guesses.
And now here in the boat on the open water, with the clammy menace of the night all about him, and the cold, rippling tide, Rennie had begun horribly to doubt those guesses, and to fear that it was not after all the Lark for which they were bound, but another vessel, a larger ship altogether, hidden far offshore in the slow swirling fog. He felt the boat sway as the ferryman stood. Rennie sensed his anger.
'Lissen, now . . . you 'ear this?' The ferryman's voice, then a further rustle of movement and
a metallic click. 'You knows that sound?'
Rennie lifted a hand to snatch off his blindfold, and felt cold metal at his throat.
'Ho, no. You do not require to see what is in my 'and. It is a pistol, cocked. Which I shall not 'esitate to pull the trigger of it, if you continue in dis'bedience. Give way!'
Rennie lowered his hand, sighed, then took up the oars and did as he was told. He would have to bide his time, and carry the plan through whether or no they were headed for the Lark. He felt the movement of the boat as the ferryman returned to his tiller and resumed his seat, and heard the subdued, ratcheted click as the hammer of the pistol was carefully lowered. Rennie bent his aching back, and rowed on.
SEVEN
A rolling bank of fog off the coast, and Hawk standing away in the lightest of airs on the larboard tack. The cutter showed no lights, according to the plan Lieutenant Hayter had agreed with Rennie. No lights, no bells at the turning of the glass, no stamping of feet, shouting in the top or at the falls as sails were trimmed. No undue noise below, at the Brodie stove, or at the messes. Hammocks down had been accomplished with nearly unnatural quiet. Even the issuing of grog – in usual accompanied by jokes and laughter – had been done with preternatural solemnity. Lieutenant Hayter had been fiercely in earnest about the need for silence, and his people had seen it in his eye, and the set of his mouth, heard it resonating in his voice as he enjoined and instructed them before they weighed at Portsmouth:
'Never be in doubt, we must be quiet – or fail. I will not like to fail. I will not allow it. Our business tonight is to prevail. Are you with me in this?'
'Aye sir.'
'Aye.'
'We are with you, sir.'
'And what are we called?'
'We are Hawks.'
'I cannot quite hear you. Do not fear to speak out, now. It is your last opportunity. What are we called?' 'Hawks! We are Hawks!' Roaring together.
'Very good. – Mr Love!'
'Sir?'
'Stand by to weigh and make sail!'
And now Hawk came over on the starboard tack, and slid silent to the west-sou'-west. All her carronades were doubleshotted at full allowance, and her swivels loaded with canister. The fog floated and slowly rolled, eddying before puffs of breeze through the shrouds and ratlines and yards, through stays and halyards and blocks.
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