The Hawk Read online

  Lieutenant Hayter RN, commanding HM Hawk cutter, 10, shall act in concert with Commander Carr of HM Excise Board, commanding the Pipistrel cutter, in attempting to take the Lark cutter and her master.

  Additional aid & counsel will be offered to both Lt Hayter and Commander Carr by Sir Robert Greer, in his capacity as adviser to His Majesty's Government, & friend in this Duty.

  In view of the loss of Captain Apley Marles RN, attached beforehand to this Duty, it was thought advantageous to appoint Capt. W. Rennie RN, senior post captain, to take Capt. Marles's place – given that Capt Rennie & Lt Hayter had served together previous, in three successful commissions in HM frigate Expedient, 36, presently in Ordinary. However, several attempts to get into touch with Capt Rennie at his home in Norfolk having failed, it has been decided to afford another person that opportunity, & accordingly Their Lordships have appointed Mr C. Hope Esq. as a friend to the officers herein described.

  No mention was made in the letter of the circumstances surrounding the damage to Hawk, nor of the action in which that damage had been sustained. The import of the letter was that this was a new beginning for Hawk and her commander, with everything ahead.

  James had attempted at once to have Captain Rennie appointed to the position given to Mr Hope – a person unknown to James, and apparently not a sea officer – that is, he had been about to attempt it when Rennie himself declared:

  'No, James, no.'

  'Eh? You do not wish – '

  'Hear me out, will ye now?'

  'Certainly . . .'

  'Listen, now – if it came out that I had been at Portsmouth all the time, living as Birch, then in all probability it would come out that I was aboard Hawk when she was damaged, and that I had took command.'

  'You took command, sir?' James stared at him. 'You never told me that. I thought that the sailing master had – '

  'Nay, he did not. All was confusion on deck, very bloody and bad. I am a sea officer of long experience. I thought it my duty, given the condition of the ship, and the very great injury to her people – to you, James – I simply thought it my duty to assume command . . . as a matter in course.'

  'Yes, I see.' Quietly.

  'However, if it ever came out that I had done so – with no commission, under an assumed name, not listed on the books – well well . . .'

  '. . . we should likely both be court-martialled, and dismissed the service.'

  'Just so, James.' A nod. 'Had you undertook the thing privately, repairing and taking Hawk to sea under your own colours, so to say, then there would have been no scrutiny of your people, and I would gladly have joined you again, but now . . .'

  'Could not you return to Norfolk, recover the letters sent by the Admiralty, and respond – saying that you had been staying with friends a few weeks?'

  'Nay, James, it is too late.'

  'Very well, sir.' A resigned sigh. 'Then I fear I must leave you ashore, and accept Mr Hope. Have you heard of this fellow Hope?'

  'I have not.'

  'He is a mystery.'

  And so the mysterious Mr Hope had come into the Hawk. He arrived in a boat that at once pulled away, and jumped below – swathed in a great cloak, his hat pulled down – in a great hurry, but in such an agile way that James at once sensed that here was a fellow with salt water in his veins. James followed him below.

  'Mr Hope, sir, at your service!' Sweeping off the cloak and hat and flinging them down on a locker – with some little difficulty, since the deckhead lay so close over his stooping neck. James, bending into the great cabin, had stared nearly open-mouthed, and blurted:

  'Good God! I – I mean, I beg your pardon, sir – ' There followed the exchange about the sharing of quarters, and the rendezvous with Pipistrel and Commander Carr, then Mr Hope continued:

  'You wonder why I am come, d'y'not?'

  'Well, sir . . . I confess that I do.'

  'Naturally, ye do.' He sat down, and James sat down. 'It is the wish of Their Lordships – and the King – that this man be captured.'

  'The master of the Lark?'

  'Aye. I have a particular interest in him, because he has served with me.'

  'Served with you, sir? May I know his name? – I know that it is not one Sedley Ward, that died long since.'

  'His name is Aidan Faulk, and he served with me as Third in my first command. He then left the service, and went abroad, where he found himself – by design – among certain people who became his friends. He joined their cause. Subsequent to that he found the means to purchase the Lark – from Sedley Ward, the smuggler, whose name was used by Their Lordships as a convenience.'

  'A convenience, sir?'

  'Aye. You were not to be party to the truth – at first. However, when you came to a sea action with the Lark, and was bested, and nearly killed, it was decided that I should come to your aid, in view of my – well, my unique position.

  The government is keenly interested in Mr Faulk. They know him to be not merely a smuggler of goods, but of men. Men inimical to the nation's interest. I may say nothing further at present, excepting that Mr Pitt wishes Faulk took. The Admiralty wishes him took. The King wishes it. And so do I, Mr Hayter. Together we shall do it. What say you?'

  Of course James had agreed, wholeheartedly agreed, and had pushed aside all private doubts and questions – flattered, honoured, pleased beyond measure to have been given this second chance in so important an affair. But later, when he came to reflect on those doubts and questions, they began to grow larger in his mind.

  He had failed to take the Lark. He had been outsailed, outfought, and bested in a fierce action. He had all but lost his own cutter, had come within an inch of losing his life, and had lost a dozen of his people wounded and killed. And yet Their Lordships had not relieved him of his command, nor obliged him to face a court martial; they had seen fit to allow him to continue in his duty, aided now by his exalted, disguised observer. Why? And what was Sir Robert Greer's role in this? How came he to be involved? Had he – in truth – been involved from the beginning? And what of that fellow who came to Captain Rennie's room at the Marine Hotel, put a pistol to his head, and demanded to know about cutters? Was that man Aidan Faulk? Was he?

  James had never regarded himself as a political fellow. He had little knowledge of party politics, and the machinations of power in London. Naturally, as an educated man and the son of a prominent family, he was aware of such things. It was simply that he did not regard them. The great men of the day – Burke, Pitt, Fox – were great in a way entirely detached from the life of a practical sea officer. James was aware that Edmund Burke abominated what had happened in France, and that Mr Fox did not. He knew the long history of conflict between England and France, and that if the fleet presently assembled went to war with the Spanish fleet then the French were bound by treaty to support their Iberian ally. Beyond these broad facts he did not venture. He saw his duty in narrower terms: he must follow his instructions, harness the wind, and seek out the Lark; he must take her, and her master, and deliver them up. However, however . . . he could not prevent, nor wholly ignore, the rising of doubts in his mind . . . could he?

  His new boatswain Mr Love approached, and hovered, hat off.

  'Yes, Mr Love?'

  'Your pardon for disturbing you, sir. You wished me to remind you as to the shrouds, and tar.'

  'Shrouds? Ah, yes.' And they began a technical discussion about Stockholm tar, and its use. Presently, the boatswain satisfied, James cleared his wind, strode aft, and:

  'Mr Abey!'

  'Sir?'

  'We will come over on the larboard tack, if y'please.'

  'Very good, sir. – Stand by to tack ship! Put your helm hard down!'

  The cutter's head through the eye, headsails aflap, and then she leaned tall on the port tack, mainsail bellying taut, stays and halyards sharp against the sky, and her pennant streaming aft, and began to run again fast and true close-hauled.

  Presently the lookout called: 'D-e-e-e-e-e-ck! Sa
il one point on the larboard bow!'

  Soon they could all see Pipistrel as she ran before, growing larger by the moment, towards the rendezvous.

  'Why, surely – it is Mrs Townend, ain't it?'

  'Captain Rennie, here you are at Portsmouth.'

  'And here you are, indeed.' His hat off, and he made a leg. 'I did not know you was here, Mrs Townend, else I should have sought you out. How long have you – '

  'A month and more, Captain Rennie. My sister Mrs Rodgers and I have taken a small house on the Cambridge Road. Where do you stay?'

  'At the Mary Rose Inn.'

  They had bumped into each other in the High, Rennie on his way to the coffee house, and Mrs Townend to Paley's the confectioners on the corner of Lombard Street. Captain Rennie was still dressed in plain civilian clothes, and keeping up the pretence of Mr Birch, Lieutenant Hayter having asked him to remain at Portsmouth as his unofficial adviser and friend. Mr Birch could pass unnoticed – a clerk, a merchant – among the massed naval coats and hats of this city. Mrs Townend was in blue, as was her custom, and her very becoming small hat was trimmed with fur. By God, thought Rennie, she was a handsome woman, a more than handsome woman.

  'Is Mrs Rodgers's husband a sea officer?' he asked. 'That is why ye've accompanied her to Portsmouth?'

  'He was, Captain Rennie. My sister is now a widow, as am I.'

  'Two widows at Portsmouth, hey?' He smiled at her, and felt his heart lift when the smile was returned.

  'You are not in uniform, Captain Rennie?' A further smile, enquiring.

  'Nay, I am here – I am here privately. May I walk with you as far as Paley's?'

  'Pray do, Captain Rennie.' The merest hint of the coquette. They fell in step on the crowded pavement. An earlier shower of rain had left the cobbles slippery, and now Mrs Townend nearly lost her footing, and gripped Captain Rennie's arm. He steadied her. It made him feel very manly to support and right her so, and now she rested her hand lightly on his arm as they walked on.

  They came to Paley's, the twin bow windows filled with all manner of sugary delights – cakes, sweetmeats, glazed fruit – in elaborate and tempting design and display.

  'Will you come in a moment, Captain Rennie? I should like to introduce you to my sister.'

  They went inside, through the glass-panelled door, and found a comfortable crowd sitting, standing, milling slowly in the confined space, chatting and drinking chocolate and eating sweetmeats. Captain Rennie did not feel himself quite at home, and began to regret the care with which he had tied his stock; it was uncommon tight, and he was too warm in this press of women and girls. With an effort he kept a smile on his face as he followed Mrs Townend to the rear, where her sister was seated at a small table.

  Rennie was duly introduced to Mrs Rodgers – as the brave officer that had saved her sister from highwaymen – was selfdeprecating and civil, thought Mrs Rodgers a pretty woman but not near so comely as her sister, declined an invitation to stay and drink chocolate, lingered a moment or two and discovered their address, and made his escape. As he did so, behind an effusion of giggling girls, he was further accosted:

  'Rennie, good heaven! I thought that y'must've quit Portsmouth long since!'

  Captain Langton, bluff, tall, a smiling frown, in his dress coat.

  'Langton . . . ha ha, there you are, dear fellow. I have been away, you know, and have only now returned.'

  'No commission, as yet?' Making his face sympathetic.

  'No, no . . . oh, d'y'mean my clothes? My uniforms are at Bracewell & Hyde, refurbishing.'

  'Ah, ah. You have no dress coat? I had thought to ask ye to dine aboard. In course, you are welcome as you are – '

  'Um, um . . . I should be happy to dine, Langton, honoured to dine. Name the day, by all means.'

  'Tomorrow, then. My launch will come for you at the Hard at noon.'

  'Excellent. Happy. Very good.' Nodding, smiling, lifting a hand.

  'Noon, then.' And Captain Langton strode on.

  'Damnation.' Rennie, under his breath, and he strode on. 'Why could not I have said to him that I was engaged tomorrow?' He walked on towards the coffee house, changed his mind and turned about, and returned to the Mary Rose Inn. He would write a note to Mrs Townend, asking her permission to call on her tomorrow. If a favourable reply came he would send a message to Langton, excusing himself on the grounds of a previous engagement. That was the better plan.

  'Langton will be offended, I am in no doubt,' muttering to himself. 'That cannot be helped.'

  No, he could not allow himself to be seen aboard one of His Majesty's ships of the line just at present. Dining in Captain Langton's great cabin, doubtless with many other officers, was not advisable. He must remain absent from Portsmouth so far as the Admiralty was concerned, and available only privately to his close friends. He was and must continue to be Mr Birch, plain Dorsetshire Birch.

  He came to the Mary Rose, and was going in when he remembered: 'I had promised James that when he had put to sea I would call on Cathy at Mrs Fenway's, and reassure her – and I have not.' Was she yet at Tattham Grange? Or had she gone home to Dorset? He did not know. He had better go there now, today, else James would think him negligent of his duty.

  'Little!' Calling to the landlord. 'Mr Little!'

  'Yes, Mr Birch?' Emerging from his snug, wiping biscuit crumbs from his mouth.

  'I will like to hire your gig, if y'please.'

  Captain Rennie waited out a shower of rain, then drove to Tattham Grange at Bosham. There Mrs Fenway told him that Cathy had gone home.

  'I entreated her to stay with me here, and to send for her little boy – that was her chief reason for going to Dorset, in course – but she could not reconcile herself to staying a moment longer, and so she has gone away this morning. It was selfish in me to expect her to stay on, no doubt, when James has gone to sea, but I do feel her absence very acute. She is such a dear young woman and I have grown very fond of her.'

  'Do not distress yourself, my dear Mrs Fenway. James will not be long at sea, I think. It is not foreign service, after all. And when he is again at Spithead, I am certain Cathy will wish to come to him, and that they will be glad to join you here at Tattham, together.'

  'A comforting thought. Thank you, Captain Rennie. To be a sailor's wife is a lonely thing, and my husband is away sometimes twelve months together, or longer.'

  'Indeed – indeed.'

  'You are not married, Captain Rennie?' Then, as she saw a shadow pass over his face: 'Oh, do please forgive me – you are a widower, as you have told me.'

  'There is nothing to forgive. I am quite recovered from my loss.'

  'I am glad.'

  They were drinking tea in the sunny drawing room, and Rennie – having done his duty, and not feeling himself competent to make small talk – was thinking of making his excuses and coming away, when:

  'I wonder, Captain Rennie – do you like to dance?'

  'Eh? Dance?'

  'There is to be a dance at Mrs Caversham's in a few days. She has begged me to bring a party, and – '

  'I do not think I know that lady . . .'

  'Oh, she is a friend of mine, you know, and I have said to her, My dear I shall do my best. I have not been quite truthful, however, because I cannot bring a party. All the women or girls I might have asked are already engaged for it, to dinners and suppers and the like, and I had thought that I must at last send a note of refusal, since I cannot respectably go alone.'

  'Ah. Ah.' In something like dread. Captain Rennie did not love to dance.

  'If you were not engaged on that evening, Captain Rennie – '

  'What evening is it?'

  'Wednesday evening.'

  'Wednesday? Well well, you are very kind, but on that day I regret to say I am engaged to – I have another engagement.'

  'Oh.' Mrs Fenway looked very prettily wistful and disappointed. 'Oh, could not you break your engagement, Captain Rennie? Surely it cannot be so much fun as a dance – can it?'
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br />   'Hm. Hm. It is – it is a naval matter, Mrs Fenway.' A polite little bow. 'It is kind in you to think of me, very kind, but I regret . . .'

  As he came away a few minutes after, Rennie said to himself: 'A handsome woman, indeed, but a married one, William Rennie. You don't like to dance, my boy, and dancing there would be damned dangerous sport.' Climbing into his gig. 'Walk on!'

  At the Mary Rose he climbed the stairs, turned towards his room, paused at the door, sniffed in a breath through his nose, and resolved his difficulties all at once: 'I cannot continue to be Birch any longer. I cannot continue at Portsmouth at all. I cannot be useful here, in any particular. I shall return to Norfolk.' A nod, another sniff, and he opened the door and went in.

  'Mr Birch, is it?'

  'Christ Jesu – Sir Robert.'

  At sea, Hawk and Pipistrel in line astern, sailing steadily due east, under reefed canvas. Four bells of the second dog watch, and the scramble and thud on Hawk's deck of hammocks down. In the great cabin, a supper in the cramped space for Lieutenant Hayter, Commander Carr, and Mr Hope. Lieutenant Hayter's new steward Plentiful Butt present – having been duly entered in the ship's books immediately prior to sailing – and squeezing his way at a crouch to serve and remove.

  'May I speak wiv you, sir?' An urgent whisper.

  'No.' Curtly. 'Fetch along our next course.'

  'Sir, if you please, I – '

  'Did not you hear me?' Furiously.

  'Sir I – ' Plentiful Butt made a dash, reached the door but failed to pass beyond it, and was violently sick.

  'Oh, Good God! You wretched, lubberly . . . go on deck! Gentlemen, I apologize. – Mr Abey! Mr Abey! – He is . . . my steward is new.'

  'Never think of it, Mr Hayter. We are used to such things at sea.' Mr Hope, taking a pull of wine.

  'You are familiar with the sea, Mr Hope?' Commander Carr regarded the other guest. 'I had thought you was – '