The Following Wind Read online

  ‘Aye, a commission. The lowest possible duty for a disgraced sea officer. A duty they have no expectation that I will accept.’

  ‘But you have not been disgraced,’ Sylvia protested. ‘If you had been disgraced you would have suffered court martial and been cashiered. But there was no case for you to answer. You did your very best to--’

  ‘I lost the gold,’ over her. ‘I saved my ship and lost their damned stolen treasure. That is all that matters.’

  ‘Nay, I don’t believe it.’

  ‘It is a fact, my love.’

  ‘I think this is their way of admitting. of saying to you that they were mistook, and now wish to offer you a helping hand.’

  ‘A guardship.? ’

  ‘A stepping stone. To better things.’

  ‘Gravestone, more like.’

  ‘My dearest William, will not you in least consider their offer?’

  ‘Hm.’ He made a face and shook his head and sniffed.

  But Captain Rennie did consider the offer. Swinging his stick, he went for a walk across the hundred acre field behind the house, then along the low flint wall, past the tumbledown barn and on into the trees at the far side. He walked for an hour, considering, and it cleared his head. When he returned he said to his wife:

  ‘I believe you are quite right, my love. It would be foolish to refuse. Criminal, in truth, when I am a servant of His Majesty and the nation is at war. It is my duty, however harsh, and I must do it, and bear it. I must obey.’

  He put away his stick, sat down at his desk, took up his quill, and wrote the letter of acceptance.

  In doing so he had no hint of understanding that his former lieutenant had instigated this development, nothing at all to tell him that his friend from the best motive in the world had both betrayed and condemned him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  James continued at Portsmouth, living at the Marine Hotel with Catherine, as Ventura was refitted. The work went slower than he had wished and expected, and he was kept fully occupied in chivvying and urging and complaining across the dock yard in the main to the Master Shipwright Mr. Entwhistle in an agony of frustration over delay upon delay. At last he said to Mr. Entwhistle: ‘Tell me frankly now, Mr. E, would a consideration make the difference?’

  ‘I hope that you are not suggesting what I fear, Sir James’

  ‘Captain Hayter will do, if y’please. What I am suggesting is a consideration put direct into the artificers’ hands, to facil--’

  ‘Nay, nay. pray do not say it to me, sir,’ over him, holding up a gnarled hand.

  ‘Pray do not. I have enough trouble with their damned illegal combinations as it is. If you offer additional inducement they will take it as their new official rate,

  and I shall be crippled. Undermined, gagged and blindfolded, crippled.’

  ‘Well, in course I would not wish to discommode you unduly, Mr. E.’ James, placatingly. ‘I merely thought that after all this wretched delay, a discreet--’

  ‘Captain Hayter, sir!’ Violently, rising from his desk, knocking lists to the floor,

  and waving both his arms. ‘For God’s sake, no! And no, again!’

  James, astonished, opened his mouth to remonstrate, then closed it. He saw that he must not add to Mr. Entwhistle’s difficulties. That he must go away, out of his office, and give the poor fellow time to calm himself.

  ‘Very good, Mr. E, very good. I shall not trouble you further, today.’ He touched his hat and strode away across the cobbled yard, knowing he could not let the matter rest.

  At Norfolk Captain Rennie received a further letter from the Admiralty, requesting him to attend on their Lordships in London forthwith to receive his commission and instructions. He went up by the overnight mail coach from Norwich, and presented himself at the Admiralty the following day, having engaged a room at Mrs. Peebles’ private hotel off the Strand, shaved and changed his shirt, and walked down to Whitehall wearing his full-dress coat and dress sword, with something like a spring in his step.

  At the Admiralty he was asked by a clerk to wait in a side room. There were several other post captains waiting there, middle aged officers all. The dress coats of most of these men had clearly seen better days, the cloth faded and the

  buttons dulled, and their faces were resigned. Rennie’s heart sank. Christ’s blood, what had he let himself in for in writing that damned letter of acceptance? Why had he wrote it, good God? Yes yes, Sylvia had meant well, God bless her, but he should never have took her advice. And now here he was, among failed and disappointed men, condemned to misery. He took his seat on a plain hard chair against the wall, and fretful and cast down cursed himself for a fool.

  ‘Is it .is it Captain Rennie?’ A hoarse voice.

  Rennie turned and saw a face sagging and fleshy under the chin that at first he did not recognize.

  ‘I am Captain Rennie, sir.’ A polite half smile.

  ‘Do not ye know an old friend, William?’

  ‘Erm you have the advantage of me, sir.’

  ‘I am Richard.’ And when Rennie continued to look blank: ‘Richard Langton.’

  ‘Good God .my dear Richard.’

  They shook hands.

  ‘Forgive me,’ Rennie said. ‘My mind was elsewhere, d’y’see, and at first--’

  ‘Nay, nay, old fellow. I was not certain it was you, neither, when you came in just now. We are both older men.’

  ‘Eh? Oh, yes. We have both grown older since last we met, hey?’

  Rennie was less embarrassed now as they fell to talking together, seated against the wall. They were indeed old friends, but had not encountered each other for .

  ‘How long since?’ asked Langton. ‘Five years?’

  ‘Aye, five. All of five.’

  Rennie was pleased to see his friend but could not quite believe how greatly he had aged. Did it mean, he wondered, that he himself had aged in equal measure?

  Did his chin sag so, and his cheeks, and the corners of his eyes droop? Was he quite so snowy at the temples? Nay, surely not.

  ‘What is your commission?’ he asked Langton now.

  ‘Eh? Well, hmm .in truth I am seeking a commission, here.’

  ‘Ah. Ah.’ Nodding in sympathy.

  ‘I have fallen on hard times.’ A sigh, that made him look even older, his shoulders slumped and his cockaded hat perched on his lap. ‘Aye, very hard.’

  Rennie searched his memory. Had not Langton commanded a ship of the line? What was she called? HMS Hanover 74, that was it.

  ‘Who has got Hanover, now?’ he asked, then immediately wished he had not, when he saw Langton’s pained expression.

  ‘She she went to another officer and was lost in a storm off the Lizard in ‘ninety-three.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘I have been on the beach three year. Well, nearly four.’

  ‘You, the captain of a ship of the line, passed over that long? It ain’t right, Richard.’

  ‘Nay, very likely it ain’t.’ Bitterly. ‘But I fell foul of a senior officer, d’y’see, I will not say the fellow’s name. We was in dispute very fierce and, well, the upshot was I lost my command.’

  ‘I am very sorry to hear it.’

  ‘Enough of my damned dreary woes, William. Tell me yours, hh-hh-hh.’ The trace of a smile.

  ‘Oh, well, I am here to take up a commission, in fact.’

  ‘You are? My warmest congratulations, dear old fellow.’ His obvious and spontaneous sincerity struck at Rennie’s heart, and he felt ashamed of his comparative good fortune. In a self-deprecating tone:

  ‘Nay, nay, do not rejoice in my behalf. It is only a guardship, the lowest of the low.’

  ‘A guardship, hey?’

  ‘That is all.’

  ‘Wait, though. didn’t ye command a frigate, years ago? Expedient 36, was she not?’

  ‘She is lying in Ordinary, in need of great repair, and may perhaps be broke up.’

  Clearly Captain Langton had not heard of Rennie’s last commission, n
or its calamitous end. Rennie did not enlighten him now, and instead continued:

  ‘I have therefore took the guardship, since nothing else was offered.’

  ‘I would do the same, exact, in your position. A commission is a commission, and we are sea officers, not lubberly civilians, content to lie about ashore.’

  Presently the clerk reappeared. ‘Captain Rennie, sir?’ Beckoning him from the doorway.

  Rennie shook Langton’s hand, wished him good luck, and followed the clerk out of the room and upstairs. The clerk showed him into an empty office. A desk and chair and one tall window. In addition a ladderback chair to one side of the desk. The clerk turned to leave, but Rennie stopped him.

  ‘Whose office is this?’

  ‘It is Mr. Driscoll’s office, sir.’

  ‘Third Secretary Driscoll?’ Puzzled.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And it is he, is it, that will give me my commission and instructions?’

  ‘I do not know that, sir.’

  ‘Where is Mr. Driscoll?’

  ‘I believe he is here.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Here, in the building itself. You must excuse me now, please sir. I am wanted downstairs.’

  ‘Yes yes, well well y’may go.’ A dismissive wave.

  The clerk left him alone, and Rennie sat down on the ladderback chair, and waited. When twenty minutes had passed, and thirty, and Mr. Driscoll had not appeared, Rennie rose and went to the window behind the desk and looked out disconsolately at the sky.

  ‘Where the devil is the fellow ?’

  The door opened behind him, and as Rennie turned he saw a slim figure in early middle life, in a plain frock coat and breeches, and his greying hair tied in a cue behind. The figure advanced to the desk and put down a neat bundle of papers tied with a ribbon.

  ‘Captain Rennie?’ A surprisingly deep voice.

  ‘I am Rennie.’ Returning to the desk. ‘Who are you, sir? You ain’t Mr. Driscoll.’

  ‘Indeed, I am not. Will you sit down?’ Indicating the ladderback chair.

  ‘I will sit down directly, thankee. When I have been informed what I am doing here in this office. I came here this morning to receive--’

  ‘Please do sit ye down, Captain Rennie.’ Again indicating the chair. ‘I am here to explain.’

  ‘Then will you kindly tell me your name, sir?’ Rennie had grown brusque. He did not want to be here. He did not want this damned commission, but knew he must accept it. Had accepted it. And now this absurd delay and deliberate obfuscation were intolerable.

  ‘My name is Havelock Symonds.’ Politely. ‘I am Mr. Mappin’s successor, at the Fund.’

  ‘Mr. Brough Mappin, d’y’mean?’

  ‘The late Mr. Brough Mappin.’

  ‘Mappin is dead?’

  ‘He is, Captain Rennie.’

  Brough Mappin had been the official in charge of the Secret Service Fund, with whom Rennie had had close if sometimes unwelcome dealings in the past.

  ‘Did he die recent? Was it a fever?’

  ‘In confidence it was a duel.’

  ‘Good God.’ Staring at Symonds.

  ‘The ball pierced his throat and broke his neck.’ Matter of factly. ‘He died at once.’

  ‘Good God.’ Rennie was genuinely shocked, and now he did sit down. He and Mappin had not been bosom friends, but had shared hazardous duty on many

  occasions, in the nation’s interest. After a moment:

  ‘Who was his opponent? What was the quarrel?’

  ‘That I cannot tell you.’

  ‘Cannot. or will not?’

  ‘I may not, Captain Rennie. And I hope that you will not press me.’

  ‘Nay, nay you move in a world of secrets, after all, as did he.’

  ‘Indeed.’ A nod, and he sat down at the desk, drew the bundle of papers toward him, and pulled loose the ribbon. ‘And now let us get down to our business.’

  ‘Eh? Our business?’ Frowning at him. ‘Mr. Simpkins, I have come here to--’

  ‘Symonds.’

  ‘Yes, hm, Mr. Symonds. I have come here this morning to receive my warrant of commission and my written instructions as a serving sea officer. All I have received so far is obfuscation and delay, and now this most unwelcome intelligence. Where is the Third Secretary? Am I to receive my warrant of commission? Surely you yourself have not come here expressly to inform me of Mappin’s death? What is your purpose here, today? I may tell you if it is to involve me, yet again, in some damned scheme for the Fund--’

  ‘If you will allow me to explain, Capt--’

  ‘I am a simple, plain spoke naval man, sir. I am confused, and discommoded, and now I begin to feel that I have been lured here under false pretences!’

  ‘I will allay your distress, my dear Captain Rennie ’ Patiently. ‘ if you will allow me to tell you the facts.’

  ‘Yes yes, very well. Do so, Mr. Symonds. Do so, if you please.’ A sniff, and Rennie forcefully adjusted his position in the chair with a creaking of the ladder back.

  ‘Very good.’ Mr. Symonds glanced through a couple of his papers, then he too sat back in his chair. ‘I will begin, if I may, by asking you a very simple question.

  Would you consider giving up HMS Taciturn?’

  ‘Refuse my commission?’ Astonished.

  ‘I think it is a commission you do not really want?’

  ‘Eh?’ Brought up short.

  ‘And there would compensation naturally.’

  ‘I haven’t the smallest notion what you mean.’

  ‘Come, Captain Rennie. We are not gullible boys, you and I. We are men of the world. If you gave up Taciturn, you would be handsomely compensated.’

  ‘D’y’mean given money?’

  ‘Hardly that, sir.’ A faint smile. ‘I would not so insult you.’

  ‘Then, if not money what would you offer?’ A sniff. ‘That would not insult me. Hey?’

  ‘Before I answer, Captain Rennie, I must first hear your reply.’

  ‘Reply? When I don’t know what you offer, Mr. Symonds? Y’may go to the devil, sir. Either that, or tell what me it is you want, and stop wasting a sea officer’s valuable time.’

  ‘Hm. Hm. Very good. I am offering you the opportunity to take command of your old ship.’

  ‘Expedient?’ In spite of his determination to give nothing away in either demeanour or speech Rennie sat forward in his chair.

  ‘Indeed, Expedient.’

  A dozen questions rose and jostled and wrestled furiously in Rennie’s mind.

  He made himself sit back in his chair and be calm. ‘Proceed, sir.’

  ‘Well are you interested in my proposal?’

  ‘I have not heard it.’ Bluntly.

  ‘Ah, yes, I see. What will be your task, should you agree to give up Taciturn and instead take command of your frigate?’

  ‘Exact.’

  ‘That, I fear, I may not tell you in the immediate. All I can say is that it would involve a long voyage.’

  ‘I am used to that, Mr. Symonds. That don’t deter me in the least.’

  ‘Then you will take her?’

  ‘Nay, I have not said so.’

  Mr. Symonds opened his mouth to speak, but Rennie held up a hand, and:

  ‘Are you quite aware, I wonder, of the condition of HM frigate Expedient? She lies in Ordinary at Portsmouth, on a high mooring number in the upper reach, broken, reduced, and wounded in every part of her copper loosened, her timbers rotting, a sorry, sad and dying ship, sir. To make her ready for the sea would mean a full dry dock great repair, at a cost of ten thousand pound, and months of continuous labour. I cannot imagine their Lordships--’

  ‘Twelve thousand.’ Over him.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Twelve thousand pound. Ten thousand of which has already been spent, and much of the work completed.’

  ‘At Portsmouth?’ Again astonished.

  ‘Not at Portsmouth. At Chatham, where I think Expedient was built.’

 
; ‘Aye, she is Chatham built.’ Rennie, nodding.

  ‘Meanwhile, your erstwhile lieutenant, now Captain Hayter, is at present awaiting the completion of repair to his own ship--’

  ‘HMS Ventura 36.’ Rennie, over him. ‘What has that to do with me, sir?’

  ‘Erm well ’ Mr. Symonds drew a paper toward him, examined it briefly, then pushed it away. ‘Captain Hayter Sir James wrote some letters, d’y’see.’

  ‘Eh? Letters?’ Frowning.

  ‘Indeed. Which was how and why you was given HMS Taciturn. Through his influence.’

  ‘Nay .’

  ‘I assure you, Captain Rennie, it was his intercession in your behalf that got you that commission.’

  ‘But, I .that is .we had agreed .’ Dismayed and angry.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing. It is a private matter.’

  ‘Hardly that, I think.’

  ‘I do not care what you think, Mr. Symonds.’ Brusquely.

  ‘Do y’not? Hm. Hm. Well ’ Mr. Symonds perused another paper. ‘I think perhaps you will be interested in this.’ Looking up. ‘It concerns you both.’

  ‘D’y’mean Captain Hayter and myself?’

  ‘I do.’

  Rennie glared at him, sniffed, then:

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It has been decided, at the very highest level, that your ships, Ventura and Expedient, are to make that long voyage I mentioned together.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘In course, their Lordships were not at all disposed at first to allow it.’ Mr. Symonds drew a sheet from the bundle of papers on the table and sipped his sherry. A decanter and glasses had been brought at his request. He went on:

  ‘I must tell you, Captain Rennie, they don’t rate you very high.’

  ‘I know it all too well.’ Rennie, with a harsh little chuckle. ‘God knows what you have told them, Mr. Symonds, to make them change their opinion, but I thank you for it.’ He raised his glass, and drank it off in one draught.

  ‘Oh, they have not changed their opinion.’ Mr. Symonds waved a hand.

  ‘They have not?’

  ‘No, no. It was not their decision, d’y’see.’

  ‘Ah. Ah.’ Rennie nodded, then: ‘What was their decision?’

  ‘To obey.’

  Rennie put down his glass and raised his eyebrows. Dealing with Mr. Symonds was proving entirely as vexing and difficult as dealing with his predecessor.