A Battle Won

by Sean Thomas Russell

  Let us not be star-cross’d, Henrietta had said.

  ‘Yes,’ Hayden muttered, ‘let us be anything but that.’

  Three

  ‘Is it not just like the Channel?’ Barthe complained, waving a pudgy hand towards the waters beyond Plymouth Sound. ‘When we do have a fair wind there is too much of it by half. This bloody gale shows no signs of abating, Captain. It will blow another day yet, I am certain.’ He crossed Hayden’s cabin to the gallery windows and gazed intently out through panes that ran with rain. ‘I am certain we can make Tor Bay, sir, if we’ve a need to.’

  ‘I am certain you are right, Mr Barthe, at some cost to our gear and danger to our people. No, Pool’s convoy is not going anywhere in this. We shall wait.’

  Early morning, oily sky, rain-streaked. A metronomic ‘popplop, pop-plop’ in the quarter-gallery as water dripped into the tin sink through a leak above. Hayden was already able to estimate how hard it rained by the cadence.

  ‘What was that bloody row on deck at eight bells?’

  ‘Some bum-boat men, sir. It appears Saint-Denis has considerable debt among them and monies expected from his family are now long overdue.’

  ‘Pass the word to the marines that I do not want such a scene again – not upon my ship. Where is Mr Hawthorne, anyway?’

  ‘Due back today, Captain. I believe there was yet a heart in Bath he had not broken but will return as soon as that matter has been settled.’

  ‘Inform the ladies of Bath that they shall have to release him, for I require his presence aboard. His corporal is not quite up to a lieutenant’s duties, yet.’

  ‘I agree, sir.’

  A knock on the door. ‘Lieutenant Saint-Denis, Captain.’

  ‘Yes, show him in.’

  Saint-Denis strode in, several sheets of paper in one hand, hat under the opposite arm. ‘I cannot account for it, Mr Hayden, but it appears your suspicions have been borne out. Stores have gone missing.’ He raised the paper and glanced at the figures scribbled there. ‘Particularly, three barrels of beef, a keg of tallow and sundry bosun’s stores.’ He lowered the papers so that they slapped against his thigh. ‘I suspect it is the purser, Mr Hayden. Perhaps even the bosun.’

  ‘I am quite certain it is not Franks, Lieutenant.’ He turned to the sailing master. ‘How long have you served with Taylor, Mr Barthe?’

  ‘Some years, sir. He is the most private man upon God’s earth, but there has never been even a suggestion that he is dishonest. And Franks… though not the most careful keeper of records, is honesty personified. I believe we shall have to look elsewhere for our thieves.’

  ‘I agree with Mr Barthe. Franks I trust utterly and Taylor has a long record of reliability. I suspect we will find our thieves among the new men, Lieutenant. I trust you will ferret them out quickly enough. Anything more?’

  ‘No, sir. Oh, there is a Jew asking for you.’

  ‘Does this man have a name?’

  ‘He did say his name…’ The lieutenant’s brow furrowed. ‘It might have been Gold, sir.’

  ‘Ah, Mr Gold. Please have him shown in.’

  Barthe and Saint-Denis retreated from the cabin and a moment later one of the local merchants who served the needs of sailors and officers in port was let in. He stood, hat in hand, just inside the door. Hayden had known Gold for at least a decade, an honest, highly reserved man who navigated the sometimes hostile waters of Plymouth Sound and His Majesty’s fleets with such skill that Hayden had long since come to believe him a kind of social genius.

  ‘Mr Gold. I hope your labours go well?’

  ‘They do, Captain Hayden. And may I congratulate you on your promotion, sir.’

  ‘Very kind of you. I believe you have come to enquire about money outstanding on my account?’

  Gold attempted to appear surprised at this question. ‘Not at all, Captain Hayden. I heard of your prizes, sir, and knowing how slow the prize courts and agents can be, I thought you might wish to increase your credit, as you now have a table to keep and other expenses as senior officer of a frigate.’

  Hayden was very short of money, and was indeed worried about keeping up the social requirements of his new post.

  ‘You shall see a good sum from the frigate and the transport, I think, sir, and I should advance you money at the most reasonable rate. In truth, Captain Hayden, I have come to ask a favour and in return shall advance you any amount you require at no interest at all.’

  ‘You know, Mr Gold, that I would never take a bribe…’

  ‘Of course not, sir! And I never meant to suggest you would.’

  ‘Then I shall pay you to advance me money, which offer I will accept. What is this favour, which I might do out of friendship?’

  ‘I am flattered that you would consider me so, Captain. I understand you are in need of midshipmen, and would like to, respectfully, put forward the name of my son, Benjamin. He is a very clever boy, sir, and as eager to please and do well as any you will find.’

  Hayden was more surprised than he could say. ‘I remember him well, Mr Gold, and he is everything you say and more. There is, however, a very ancient act of legislation called the Test Act…’

  Gold nodded quickly. ‘I am aware of it, sir, but you might know my wife is a Christian and my son is willing to swear the same.’

  ‘But is he willing to publicly take the sacrament, for he could be so required if the Navy wished?’

  ‘I believe he would be willing, sir.’

  ‘You believe or he would be?’

  ‘He would be, Captain Hayden. I am quite sure of it. You must know you have Jews among your own crew.’ The briefly distant look indicated he was gathering evidence to prosecute his case. ‘And the Schombergs are a Jewish family… though the sons have converted to the Church of England. I have oft had the honour of fulfilling some small service for Captain Isaac Schomberg myself, sir.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Gold, all that is undeniable but the truth remains that the officer corps is a bastion of Anglicanism. My father was a post captain, which for most men would almost make their career, but my mother is French and Catholic and I have been the object of bigotry all my years in the Navy. For your son, success will be very hard won if he succeeds at all. I highly recommend you reconsider.’ Hayden could see the disappointment in Gold’s face. ‘Why would you want to subject your son to this life, Mr Gold? It is dangerous, uncomfortable, all-consuming.’

  A sad smile flickered over Gold’s face. ‘It is his heart’s desire, sir, to be an officer in the king’s navy, instead of a bum-boat man… like his father.’

  ‘We all play our part, Mr Gold.’

  ‘Some parts are more respectable than others, sir.’ The man was kneading his hat brim with both hands. ‘Will you not take him?’ he asked softly.

  Hayden felt a strange helplessness descend upon him, almost a weakness of limb. To his very core he understood what a difficult life the boy would face – an outsider in an insider’s world. He also retained a perfectly vivid memory of how blindly determined he had been to enter this profession, and how devastating he would have found a refusal. ‘I cannot keep him out of danger, Mr Gold – you must comprehend that.’

  ‘I do, sir.’ Gold made a quick bow in Hayden’s direction. ‘And thank you, sir. I shall have him aboard as soon as you like, sir. I’ll kit him out this very morning.’

  ‘There is yet one thing more, Mr Gold. I am but a job-captain. When a post captain is appointed to the Themis any middies sailing with me will certainly be cast free. Their future will be as uncertain as my own.’

  But this did not seem to dampen Gold’s excitement in the least. In truth, Hayden had never seen the man so happy.

  ‘I believe you will have a great future, Mr Hayden. I am quite certain of it. My Benjamin could not be in better hands. I know that full well.’

  The moment Gold had departed Hayden regretted his decision. ‘No good will come of this,’ he muttered to himself in the mirror.

  Some three hours later, Hay
den was making the best arrangement of his few effects in the great cabin, which seemed palatially large compared to the eight-foot square he was used to, when the sentry knocked on the door and announced Mr Archer.

  ‘There is a midshipman making application to you, Captain,’ Archer said upon entering. ‘He bears a letter from his father, I believe.’

  ‘So soon? Well, send him down, Mr Archer, and then I will have you settle him in the midshipmen’s berth.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  A moment later the door opened again and Hayden looked up from his labours to find Arthur Wickham standing just inside the cabin and grinning somewhat foolishly.

  ‘Wickham!’

  ‘Captain Hayden,’ the boy said making a rather exaggerated bow. He held out a letter. ‘My father has asked me to give you this. It is a request that you might find a place for me in the midshipmen’s berth, for once I had learned you had a ship I was determined to have him ask such a favour of you.’ He gestured around the cabin. ‘But I was not expecting this, sir. I heard you had command of a sloop, not a post ship.’

  ‘Nor am I a post captain, Wickham. Only a job-captain and once I have delivered the Themis to Lord Hood I shall more than likely be without a ship again and my midshipmen without positions.’

  ‘Not for a moment do I believe such an event possible. You will have a ship, I am quite certain.’

  ‘Your faith is heartening, Wickham. Truly it is.’ Hayden received the letter, and broke the seal. A rather ill-formed hand very graciously requested that he take on Lord Arthur as midshipman, a request Hayden was delighted to grant.

  ‘Well, Lord Westmoor has made such kind application on your behalf that I cannot help but grant his request. You will have a great deal to learn, I expect, young and green as you are.’

  ‘I shall apply myself with a will, Captain Hayden. You will not regret taking me on.’ Wickham laughed with pleasure. ‘I understand that you are in need of middies, sir?’

  ‘I have only one other and he truly is green – utterly new to the life. I hope you will give him the benefit of your experience and be kind to him.’

  ‘That I shall, sir. I have taken the liberty of alerting two other young gentlemen in my position – having recently been released from their ship. I can vouch for them, sir, most highly.’

  ‘And might their names be Hobson and… Stock?’

  ‘Madison, sir. Hobson and Madison. I don’t think Tristram Stock will go to sea again. He was much affected by the loss of his friend Williams. It will be some time before he recovers, I fear.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear it. But Madison and Hobson I should be happy to sail with again. Are you certain of them?’

  ‘I left London before I received answers to my letters, but I would be very much surprised if they did not make straight for Plymouth the moment they received word.’

  Hayden could hardly have been more pleased with this turn of events. ‘They will need all speed, for we make sail the moment the weather allows. Are you well, Lord Arthur?’

  Wickham looked suddenly serious – his habitual pose when asked a question. ‘I am, sir, and better now that I am to sail with my old shipmates. I understand from Archer that we have much of the Themis crew intact?’

  Hayden shook his head at this. ‘Yes. Is it not passing strange? No other captain would take them – a terrible mistake but much to our benefit for only the most loyal men were left after the mutiny and there are some very good seamen among them, too.’

  ‘I will miss Aldrich,’ Wickham said.

  ‘As will we all. Poor fellow, rest his soul. He was never found so I suppose he did drown, after all.’

  Wickham shrugged. ‘I almost forgot! My father has sent you a gift, as well, for advancing me so far in understanding my trade, sir.’

  ‘My part in the advance of your understanding was very small. You have a natural gift, I believe, and few men are so born.’

  Wickham actually coloured a little. ‘Why, thank you, sir. I count it a great compliment, Captain Hayden. But my father has sent you a rather handsome table – all the finest mahogany and fit for a cabin such as this. Perhaps he had a bit of foresight, Captain. It will seat a dozen or can be reduced to accommodate as few as four. The chairs are terribly cleverly made, sir, and fold up completely flat. You shall not have the least trouble storing them away when we clear for action, which I hope we shall be doing soon enough.’

  ‘That is a very handsome gift! Too generous by a great deal, I fear. How shall I ever repay him?’

  ‘It is Lord Westmoor who is repaying you, sir, for furthering my education. And perhaps for the prize money that will be coming my way.’

  ‘When we finally see it. I shall sit down this evening and write the Marquis a letter expressing my gratitude.’

  Wickham eyed Hayden’s writing table with its impressive pile of papers. ‘If I may, sir, I should go down and pay my respects to Mr Barthe and the doctor, and leave you to your work.’

  ‘Indeed you should. They will be very pleased to see you.’

  Another quick leg, and Wickham was nimbly out.

  Having had his fill of paperwork, Hayden left his cabin intending to visit the sick-berth and then see to some particular racks he had ordered Chettle to build in the bosun’s store room – an attempt to bring order to Mr Franks’s realm and allow him to keep a better tally of his stores.

  As he left his cabin, he was met at the foot of the companionway ladder by three men in the most disastrous state owing to the near torrential rains. The smallest and youngest was a mere lad of perhaps fourteen years, who stripped off oilskins to reveal an almost gleaming new midshipman’s uniform beneath. Every motion the boy made seemed a self-conscious parody of a human movement, and he smiled awkwardly all the while. The tallest, and eldest, was a spare, cheerless-appearing man who gazed about with a look of poorly hidden distaste upon his narrow face. The last of three was his apparent oppos-ite, round-faced and rather vacantly satisfied-looking. A little twist of a smile hovered upon chubby lips, and Hayden thought him the kind of gentleman who would stand, perfectly pleased with the world, in horse droppings without ever noticing or the smile being displaced.

  Archer hovered just to one side.

  ‘Here is our captain,’ he said to the small gathering. ‘The Reverend Dr Worthing.’ The austere gentleman nodded. ‘The Reverend Mr Smosh.’ The smaller of the two made a leg. ‘And our new midshipman, Mr Gould.’

  ‘Gould?’ Hayden echoed.

  ‘My father arranged my place with you most recently, Captain Hayden.’

  ‘Ah. Gould. Pleased to have you all aboard.’ He turned to his second lieutenant. ‘See these gentlemen to the cabins arranged for them, if you please, Mr Archer, and introduce young Gould to Mr Wickham, who will see him settled.’ Hayden turned to the chaplains. ‘I hope you will be free to dine with me this evening? Ship’s fare, I am afraid, but one is forced to it eventually.’

  That being arranged, Hayden left the men of various faiths to Archer. A package had been given to him by Benjamin Gould – from the boy’s father. The package contained some money which Hayden would hold for the boy and release as needed – quite traditional – as well as the money Gold had advanced to Hayden.

  Hayden’s newly appointed steward passed by at that moment. ‘Mr Castle. What is on the menu this evening?’

  ‘It is pork day, sir.’

  ‘So I feared. I shall be having a dinner in my cabin for a number of people and we shall be serving the lamb sent aboard for me this afternoon. Along with the most reverend gentlemen, I shall have Wickham, the new middy – Gould – and… I shall make you a list.’

  They were ten at table; Mr Barthe, Lieutenants Saint-Denis and Archer, Midshipmen Lord Arthur Wickham and Benjamin Gould, Dr Griffiths, the Reverends Worthing and Smosh, the recently returned Hawthorne and, of course, Hayden. The table itself was an object of much admiration for it was a magnificent affair, far finer than anything Hayden could ever have purchased for himself. It had ve
ry conveniently arrived with exquisite linen, which was on display, putting all of Hayden’s modest china, flatware and plain serving bowls and chaffing-dishes to shame. The fare, however, was first-rate – lamb sent aboard by Mr Gold, whose son’s patronymic had evolved into Gould, it seemed.

  ‘I am surprised to find a physician serving in a frigate, Dr Griffiths,’ the Reverend Dr Worthing offered into a lull in the conversation. ‘I assume you are a physician as you are habitually addressed as “Doctor”?’ Worthing had a rather ponderous, haughty manner of speaking, as though his slightest observation was of undeniable import.

  ‘I am a mere surgeon, Dr Worthing.’

  Worthing’s laden fork stopped on the journey to his sour mouth and returned to the plate. ‘Is it not presumptuous to style yourself “Doctor”, in that case? My own brother was a surgeon and never claimed any title other than “Mister”.’

  Hayden thought it proper to intercede, here, on Griffiths’s behalf. ‘It is the habit of sailors to refer to medical officers, indeed to address them, as “Doctor”. Of the ships I have served aboard, it has been so upon all but one.’

  ‘Why, I think it is a strange custom. Do seamen not appreciate the great disparity in learning between a surgeon and a physician?’

  ‘Upon the land such a disparity in knowledge may exist, Dr Worthing,’ Barthe said gently, ‘but upon a ship the surgeon is also apothecary and physician. You will find that Dr Griffiths has educated himself, at great effort, far beyond the understanding of most Navy surgeons.’

  ‘Well, I hope you will not be offended if I do not participate in this custom, Mr Griffiths, for I must tell you, I think it… undue.’

  ‘I shall take no offence at all, Dr Worthing,’ Griffiths answered easily. ‘ “Mister” me all you wish.’

  Despite his claim to wish no discourtesy, Hayden thought that Worthing could not quite hide his disappointment that his censure had been accepted with so little sign of offence.