A Battle Won

by Sean Thomas Russell

  ‘A trial!’ Worthing said. ‘Do wolves make trials? Have we not all read the reports of what transpires in that accursed country? How the guillotine is active night and day? The queen executed. The Duc d’Orléans executed. The Girondin leaders executed. Marat murdered. Madam Roland, Bailey, Barnave… The French are not a people, they are animals.’

  There was an uncomfortable shifting about the table, but before Hayden could reply Griffiths looked up from his dinner, fixing his much-darkened gaze on Dr Worthing.

  ‘I was once taken to a hanging, Doctor, by the man who taught me surgery and anatomy… an English hanging. The criminal was a young woman of perhaps five and twenty – no more. She had been given a trial, or so I understood, and convicted of stealing a few loaves of bread. No guillotine being available, she was brought to the gallows in a cart, drunk, I suspect out of pity. With her was a boy’ – he nodded to Wickham – ‘half a dozen years younger than Mr Wickham, who was to be half hanged for his crimes.

  ‘The woman staggered onto the gallows before the usual crowd of civilized English men and women, many nobles in their carriages, the ladies turned out very fine for the occasion. They cheered unreservedly when the young women blew kisses to the bucks in attendance and indulged in some drunken banter with the executioner, who turned her off in the midst of a laugh.

  ‘The boy was then dragged onto the gallows, weeping and begging hysterically not to be killed, to which the audience all cried “Shame” at such a show of cowardice. They had not come to see that! The executioner threw the boy down and put a knee upon his chest, then proceeded to loop a cord around the child’s neck and to strangle him until insensible. When this criminal lay utterly still, the cord was removed and the boy brought back to this just world by the agency of a bucket of cold water dashed over him. He was then carried, silent and stupefied, to the cart that had borne him there, stripped to the waist and tied to the tail where he was to be whipped about the town for his crime, which was, if I have not already noted, begging. We then learned that the woman who had been hanged was his mother, and many of the people present voiced the opinion that, no doubt, this would prove an excellent lesson for him. The dead woman was then delivered to her father, who stood by with a barrow. As the man wheeled his daughter away he had the misfortune to impede the progress of a man and his wife in their carriage, so incensing the wife that she snatched up the whip and beat the man so that the barrow over-tipped, tumbling the poor, dead girl into the dirt.’ Griffiths took a sip of his wine with a shaking hand and then went on. ‘But I make it sound as though I was innocent in this affair – a mere paying bystander – but two nights later my teacher sent, by moonlight, myself, two of my fellow students and his man to disinter the body of this young woman so that we might have her fresh corpse for our anatomy class. Lots were drawn and I got to dissect the head and broken neck. We have little to recommend us over the French, or any other people, I believe.’

  There was a silence around the table.

  Worthing appeared not the least chastised by this account. ‘I am uncertain of your exact meaning, Mr Griffiths. The woman was a criminal, tried and found guilty. She was punished according to the laws of the land – the same that apply to you and me. My only disagreement is with the poor benighted people who believed the boy would learn from this example. I can tell you with utter assurance that he will not. Half hanged he may have been at ten years but fully hanged he will be before he is two and twenty. I have seen it times too numerous to recount – entire families with no moral principles to guide them. But half hanging this boy was our society’s attempt to preserve him from what awaits if he continues down his mother’s path. What is half hanging and being flogged compared with the torment of eternal damnation? It is a mercy. The good magistrate who stood in judgement no doubt hoped the memory of the noose tightening about the boy’s neck and the slipping into darkness would stay the child’s hand when next he was tempted to steal bread… or your coat or boots. It was an act of compassion, if entirely misplaced.’

  ‘Certainly we flog men with regularity upon our own ship,’ Franks said, clearly in agreement with Worthing, even if such agreement was not to his taste. ‘And I have been known to start many a man. The hands would not be inclined to work smartly or even obey the officers’ orders without such encouragements.’

  ‘Surely that is true, Mr Franks,’ Wickham said, ‘but many of our crew are not sailors by desire; they were impressed. It is not a life they have chosen’ – he waved a hand around the table – ‘as we have chosen it.’

  Worthing appeared to suppress a small smile of affection. ‘When you are a captain of your own ship, Lord Arthur, I hope to sup with you again and hear your views on this subject. Time may alter your opinions in ways you cannot expect.’

  ‘Perhaps, Dr Worthing,’ Wickham replied, clearly disliking being patronized, ‘but I doubt human nature will change appreciably in so short a time.’

  ‘Am I given to understand, acting lieutenant,’ Hawthorne said, ‘that you believe you will make your post in “so short a time”?’

  ‘That was never my meaning!’ Wickham protested, actually blushing.

  ‘There are a few lessons yet to be learned,’ Mr Barthe added. ‘Spherical trigonometry yet to be completely mastered, working a ship over a bar, predicting tides…’

  ‘Shaving,’ Hawthorne said wickedly, causing much laughter.

  ‘To Mr Wickham making his post,’ Madison offered, raising a glass. Everyone lifted their wine in response.

  ‘To Mr Wickham making his post,’ the guests responded, as well as, ‘To Captain Wickham.’

  Wickham laughed and coloured at the same time.

  Hayden thought Wickham’s statement was more truth than boast – Lord Arthur would very likely make his post before Hayden, especially as things were progressing. Already Hayden dreaded reporting to Lord Hood, who had, no doubt, received reports of Hayden’s character from Captain Pool when he joined the Admiral several weeks earlier.

  ‘I think we should have a toast to Captain Hayden,’ Mr Smosh suggested, ‘who has brought us this far through storms, groundings, attacks by the enemy, abandonment by our comrades, pestilence, and most recently by preserving us from a French prison.’

  ‘Hear,’ the others responded. ‘To Captain Hayden.’

  Despite knowing this was done in good faith and out of concern for his impending loss of command, Hayden thought to deflect this attention from himself. ‘I believe we should drink to Mr Ariss, Mr Gould and Mr Smosh, who saved so many lives through their utterly tireless efforts. Saint-Denis believed that he and the doctor would both have died without you,’ Hayden added, nodding to Gould and Ariss. He lifted his glass. ‘To your tireless efforts.’

  And so they toasted. But after this a silence fell on the assembly and Hayden thought that it would be his last such dinner with these men for in a day or two at most he would be removed from his command and probably waiting for a ship to return him to England.

  He resembled, to a remarkable degree, engravings Hayden had seen of George Washington. The same nose and elongated chin. The high forehead, kindly, intelligent eyes. Hayden would not allow himself to be misled by the eyes; Lord Hood was the commander-in-chief of His Majesty’s fleets in the Mediterranean and had not achieved this position in life through the agency of kindness. The Lord Admiral sat upon a large, almost throne-like chair, coatless, his silk waistcoat as white as sea foam on a summer’s day. His long, almost melancholy face was tanned like a ploughman’s, his massive hands the same. For a moment he regarded Hayden, his look, if anything, appearing to grow sadder, which alarmed Hayden no end.

  ‘Captain Hayden,’ Hood said, his voice strong and surprisingly melodic, ‘I have had several letters, posted at Gibraltar, from the Reverend Dr Worthing, and another from Captain Pool, all mentioning your name in less than benevolent terms. Dr Worthing especially appears unable to contain his venom.’

  It had been driven home in his conversation with Admiral Brow
n that one could never be certain who might be acquainted with whom in the service, so Hayden decided to be circumspect. ‘I am sorry, sir, for any irritation such letters might have occasioned.’

  The admiral chose not to answer this but only raised his thick brows a little. He lifted his cup of coffee from a small table, found it either empty or not to his taste, and with a sour look returned the dainty china to its saucer.

  ‘Am I to understand that you were left with Pool’s convoy after he was separated from it?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Captain Pool could not discover us, apparently.’

  ‘And given how soon after he arrived in Gibraltar, I cannot say I am surprised.’ Hood turned his gaze on Hayden. ‘I should like to hear your accounting, Hayden. Be candid; I mislike modesty as much as vanity.’

  Hayden was not sure if he could walk a road so narrow; nor was he certain that Hood wanted the truth. The admiral’s small slight of Pool, however, gave Hayden some hope and he began a retelling of the story of his convoy across Biscay, holding back only matters relating to Worthing. It seemed he hurried overly, for Hood kept interrupting with questions, finally leading Hayden to relate almost every circumstance – the French squadron, influenza, the accidental ramming of the French seventy-four, the loss of the Syren and poor Cole. He ended with their near capture in Toulon, at which Hood sat silently, as though turning over the events Hayden had related.

  ‘Dr Worthing wrote that you confined him to his quarters?’

  ‘That is true, Lord Hood. I do apologize for treating your chaplain so.’

  ‘He is not my chaplain,’ Hood stated firmly. ‘I have not met the man above three times – at the home of a friend – but it is the curse of command that everyone asks favours… and then never returns them in kind. A relative of Worthing’s – a surgeon – delivered my niece of a child in the worst circumstances for either mother or child to survive let alone thrive, and brought them both through – subsequently, I promised to find Worthing a position aboard ship.’ The admiral shrugged as though to say, ‘What other course could there have been?’ ‘It seems you have had a rather adventurous time of it, though one would hardly call the influenza an adventure. Never in all my years have I heard of one so severe. It was the influenza? Your surgeon was not mistaken?’

  ‘He is an excellent surgeon, sir, and he had seen influenza before. I would be very surprised if he were wrong.’

  The admiral made a little gesture with shoulders and face that seemed to say ‘perhaps’. ‘Admiral Cotton has requested I find a captain for the Themis, which has had infamy attached to her name, unfortunately. I shall have to give this matter my full consideration. For the time being, Hayden, I shall leave you in command. I understand you are short of officers?’

  ‘Yes, sir. My first lieutenant was killed in Toulon, and I have only one lieutenant and a midshipman acting. He is a precocious young middy, sir, but has only been two years in the service.’

  ‘I will give this some thought as well. I might have a lieutenant for you. He is aboard my ship and hoping for promotion but I believe a year or two in a frigate would benefit him greatly.’ The admiral fell into thought again.

  Given the demands on his time, Hayden was surprised Hood had spent so much time with a mere master and commander.

  ‘Worthing wrote that one of your middies is a Jew – or so he claimed. Is this true?’

  ‘His father is a Jew, sir – a reliable Plymouth merchant – but his mother is not. The boy has been raised in the Church of England, as the Reverend Smosh – the second chaplain I have brought you – will attest.’

  ‘Ah. Do you know Captain Schomberg? Isaac Schomberg?’

  ‘Only by reputation, sir.’ Hayden knew the Schombergs were a prominent London Jewish family, though the sons were said to have been raised outside of their faith.

  ‘A sea officer of great ability. Should you feel it necessary, I believe Captain Schomberg would take this boy on. I would ask it of him myself, on your behalf.’

  ‘I believe Gould has won the respect of the crew, sir. He is well placed for the moment.’

  ‘As you like.’ Hood looked up at Hayden and almost smiled. ‘Do I understand, Captain, that you have something of a gift for languages – remember, I mislike modesty.’

  ‘I speak several well enough, sir.’

  ‘Italian?’

  ‘There are numerous dialects, sir. I should do well enough in Genoa.’

  ‘I think that will answer nicely. You also speak French?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I would have you make company with several army officers. They all travel with Sir Gilbert Elliot to Corsica to treat with General Paoli. Do you know him?’

  ‘I know to whom you refer, sir. One of my midshipmen, Lord Arthur Wickham, was acquainted with him in England. Apparently the general promised to take him shooting should he ever visit that island.’

  Hood chuckled. ‘Is the boy of a… practical nature?’

  ‘Indeed, sir. He is mature beyond his years and I believe has a great future in the service.’

  Hood contemplated this only a second. ‘I wonder if his presence would please General Paoli – he is a stubborn old man, I will tell you.’

  ‘Wickham wins over all around him, sir. I don’t know if General Paoli would be any different.’

  ‘Take the boy as your aide. We cannot hope to drive the French out of Corsica without Paoli’s supporters.’ Hood appeared to gather his thoughts a moment. ‘We shall need to transport and land troops on the island, Hayden, and I want to be certain the army officers do not concoct some plan dependent on us landing troops in some untenable situation. I expect you to speak up and be certain any such landing places will be acceptable to the Navy.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  ‘I have prevailed upon Dundas to send Colonel John Moore.’ A little amused smile appeared on the admiral’s face. ‘He is too perfect by half but one of the more capable officers I have met – capable of sizing up a situation and drawing a plan without dithering. A very decisive sort. Not unlike you, Hayden. You shall either be like brothers or loathe each other utterly.’ This made the admiral smile but then again he slipped into his thoughts.

  For several long moments the admiral did not speak. Once Hayden was sure he would, but Hood appeared to change his mind.

  Finally Hayden asked, ‘Is there any other service I might perform, Lord Hood?’

  ‘No,’ the admiral said softly, shaking his head. As Hayden rose to his feet, the admiral asked, ‘How old would your father be, now, Hayden?’

  Hayden could not have been more taken aback, and for a few seconds could not answer. ‘Fifty-one, sir,’ he managed, ‘this coming June.’

  Hood did not look at Hayden but brushed at something on his breeches. ‘He might have had his flag by now. Imagine. And your mother, Captain… she is well, I hope?’

  ‘Very well, sir. She has removed to Boston.’

  ‘Boston!’ Hood repeated, clearly surprised. ‘You have more of your mother’s features, though you have the carriage, even the gestures, of your father.’ The admiral looked up at Hayden. ‘You have heard this before?’

  Hayden nodded. ‘I have been told I have my father’s voice and habits of speech.’

  ‘So you do. It is a bit unsettling for any who knew him. Good luck in Corsica, Captain Hayden.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Hayden turned and went to the door, but just as he put his hand on the handle, the admiral spoke again.

  ‘I wonder if I shouldn’t assign Worthing to Captain Pool’s ship? Does that seem a good match?’

  Hayden tried not to smile. ‘I believe they would get along famously.’

  ‘Then it is done. And this other parson… what was his name?’

  ‘Smosh, sir.’

  ‘Aye, what a name! I wonder who will deserve him…’

  ‘If you have no ship in need, sir, he might serve aboard the Themis for the time being. We would welcome him.’

  ‘Then
he is yours, Hayden.’ He raised a finger. ‘I have almost forgotten. This evening I shall have the captains of the fleet to dine. I hope you will join us.’

  ‘It would be my honour to do so.’

  ‘And bring this middy we are sending to Paoli. Until then. Good day to you.’

  ‘Good day, sir.’

  Hayden exited the cabin in something like shock. Having so often left such audiences in a rage it was utterly strange to feel that he had been treated both kindly and with justice. He had only needed to travel a few thousand miles from England to find this. Lord Hood had known his father! Had known him and held him in high regard; perhaps, even, affection. A remarkable stroke of good fortune… for a change. He emerged into the sunshine with these thoughts whirling in his head.

  Upon the Victory’s deck Hayden found the same scene that had greeted him earlier. French families, gathered in small groups, endeavouring to stay clear of the sailors working. British army officers formed their own squadrons. Children played chase-me around the capstan, laughing as though on an adventure, unaware that their parents had relinquished everything to escape Toulon. By the expressions on the adults’ faces, however, Hayden knew this innocence did not extend to them.

  A well-dressed gentleman, clearly English though with excellent command of French, was surrounded by supplicants, and Hayden could hear him promising over and over that the English would not abandon them. Hayden hoped that this would prove true, as these poor refugees had sided with the British against the excesses of the Convention. The loss of Toulon had left them without a country.

  As I am, Hayden thought. This idea came to him unbidden and engendered a little vertigo of distress.

  Hayden stopped and stood by the rail, observing his own ship a moment. It had not occurred to him until then to feel any sense of relief – he had not been cast free by Hood and replaced but still had his post ship – though without his post to accompany it. Still, he had much to be thankful for, though there was no way of knowing if and when Hood would decide to replace him with some other. It was ever his situation that uncertainty could not be banished, but hung on the horizon like an irresolute gale which might at any time sweep down upon him, bearing with it utter disaster.