The Hawk Page 23

  'How d'y'know she is lost?'

  'We were patrolling together in the Channel when the storm of wind blew in from the west, and we lost sight of her.'

  'Yes yes, but how d'y'know she is lost, though, hey? How d'y'know she did not make for another port, and that she ain't there now? Dover, as an instance?'

  'I do not think that possible, sir. Pipistrel was close by us in Hawk when – '

  'Yes yes, when the wind came up. Did you heave to, and send a boat?'

  'Indeed no, sir. Conditions – '

  'No? Y'did not? Why not, if you thought she was foundering?'

  'Well, sir, we did not see her founder – we simply observed that she was gone from her position. Beside, the conditions was very severe. We could not heave to, nor lower a boat, without great risk to Hawk herself.'

  'You say "we" very frequent, Mr Hayter. Are not you commander of Hawk? Ain't the sole responsibility of command your own?'

  'That is so, sir. However – '

  'No no no no. Not "however", if y'please. Are you in command of the Hawk cutter, or are you not?'

  'I am, sir.'

  'Then why d'y'insist on this "we-we-we" foolishness? Do not attempt to conceal blame behind others, sir, when the blame is entirely your own.'

  'Blame! I am not aware that I am to blame, in anything.'

  'Did not you just now tell me, sir, that ye had lost the bloody Pipistrel! Then you are to blame for it!'

  'Sir. Admiral Hapgood. I will not like to contradict you, sir, but Pipistrel was lost by the action of the storm, not by any action of my own.'

  'Then who is "we"?' With glaring triumph. 'Hey?'

  In his agitation and anger at this flood of unmerited accusation, James grew incautious, and:

  'My adviser and friend this commission is Mr Hope.'

  'Ahh – Mr Hope. And who is he, pray? What is his rank and duty in Hawk?'

  'He – he has no rank, official. He advises me.'

  'What? He is a passenger? A supernumerary? A gentleman idler? What?'

  A sharp rap at the door, just as James opened his mouth to reply, and Mr Hope came into the room, a bandage swathed about his head. Admiral Hapgood looked at him sharply, prepared to rebuke – then recognition flooded and transformed his face.

  'Good heaven – Your Royal High—' 'Nay, I am not. Not today, not at present. I am Mr Hope, Admiral.'

  'You are, sir? You are Lieutenant Hayter's adviser?'

  'Indeed. And in havin' advised Mr Hayter to come here today, I think perhaps I was mistook, after all. I will like you to notice nothing of what has been said here in this room today. Nothing of the Pipistrel, nothing of me. In fact, we was never here at all. You apprehend me?'

  'As you wish, sir.' Now more than ever baffled, his beetling brows up and down. 'As you wish.'

  'Am obliged.' Assuming a grave expression. 'Now then, supposin' Ireland was a large great backside, pointed at England. What would we find in the vital position? Hey?'

  'I – I hope that you will tell us, sir.' Admiral Hapgood.

  'Cork!'

  'Cork . . . ?'

  'Hhhhh – Cork! A bung stopper, in Ireland's arse! Hhhhh!'

  'Ah. Ha-ha. Indeed.' Admiral Hapgood, politely, a dreadful half-smile.

  'Come, Hayter, we cannot dally here, makin' jokes. Good day t'ye, Admiral.' Mr Hope paused at the door. 'And you mind me, we was never here.'

  'Very good, sir.' A bow, as Mr Hope put on his hat over the bandage, and stumped away down the stair. James followed him.

  Coming away from the Port Admiral's office, the hat pulled low over his face, James attending close by his side, Mr Hope gripped James's arm, and:

  'We'll go to Greer, now. He will know what to do. We should never have gone to Admiral Hapgood to report the loss. I should never have agreed to that, you know.' Forgetting that the idea had been altogether his own. 'We must have a new stratagem.'

  'Ain't Kingshill watched, though? Is it wise for us to go there, sir, d'y'think?'

  'D'y'presume to advise me, now, Mr Hayter? Ain't it t'other way about?'

  'Very good, sir.' Obediently, with an inward shrug, thinking: 'I do not care, now. It is a damned underhand, illfavoured, misbegotten shambles, careless of careers, careless of life. All I want is to be rid of it, right quick.'

  They hired a gig – rather, James hired a gig, while Mr Hope waited – and drove to Kingshill. Mr Hope waited outside in the gig, and James went up the shallow steps at the entrance, between imposing urns, and knocked at the door. Presently he returned to the gig, shaking his head.

  'Sir Robert ain't here, sir. We had better go away at once, else we shall be seen by those observing the house.'

  'D'y'believe there are such observers, do you?' Mr Hope looked away across the grounds.

  'Sir Robert has often said so, and surely he is in a position to – '

  'Candidly, I do not.' Over him. 'It is my belief they are a contrivance of Sir Robert's, for his own purpose. He is a great fellow for deception, and concealment, and danger-in-theshadows, ain't he? It is at the heart of his understanding, and mode of life. It is the greater part of his power and influence.'

  'I expect you are right, sir.' Neutrally, climbing into the gig.

  'However, it don't influence me.' Getting out of the gig, and flexing a leg. 'I am of a mind to drink something stronger than fresh air, and eat a biscuit. We'll go in, and enquire.'

  'Go in, sir? Sir Robert – '

  'Go in, and wait.' Glancing up at the sky, holding out a hand. 'It is coming on to rain, Mr Hayter, and I will not like to get wet.'

  The day was fine and sunny, with not a cloud in sight.

  They went in, were politely if bemusedly received by Sir Robert's staff, and given refreshment in the library.

  'Sir Robert don't do himself 'tall bad, hey?' Mr Hope strolled round the room, peered at a book or two, looked up and down at portraits, came to the window and stared out over the lake. He strolled to the desk, glanced idly at papers, sat down on a chair, got up again. 'Not wanting in comfort, here.'

  'No, sir.' James stood quietly by the broad mantel, holding an unsipped glass of wine.

  Mr Hope refilled his glass at the tray, stoppered the decanter, and:

  'D'y'think Admiral Hapgood will keep his gob shut?'

  'You ask my opinion, sir?' Surprised.

  'I do, Mr Hayter.'

  'Then – I think it very likely he will.'

  'Very good.' A pull of wine. 'And we should say nothing to Sir Robert, neither.'

  'Not tell him that Pipistrel is lost?'

  'Oh, we must tell him that, certainly. No, I meant – say nothing of going to the Port Admiral.'

  James knew very well that that was what he had meant, but chose to make Mr Hope uncomfortable.

  'Deceive him?'

  'It is not deceit, it is not deceit, good heaven. – I don't know why we went to Admiral Hapgood, now. I was persuaded against my better instinct.'

  'Persuaded, sir?'

  'We went together, did not we? It was damned folly. What bloody business is it of Hapgood's? He ain't party to our business. No no, Mr Hayter, next time you must endeavour to be circumspect.'

  'I do not quite understand you, Mr Hope.' A frown, holding his glass halfway to his lips.

  'Never mind, never mind.' Drinking off his wine.

  James put down his glass untouched, and leaned against the mantel. The room was cool, almost chill. No fire crackled in the grate today. A moment or two, and:

  'On reflection, sir, I do not know that I am altogether confident . . .'

  'Eh? Confident?'

  'That Admiral Hapgood will say nothing. As Port Admiral he may well decide he must make a written account of what was said to him, and – '

  'Lieutenant Hayter! You will do well not to entertain fantasy aloud, sir! I will hear no more of bloody Admiral Hapgood, when failure in our duty stares at us malignant! D'y'apprehend me!'

  'Very good, sir.'

  And so their waited for Sir Rob
ert, James having taken out his bitter discontent on Mr Hope by these several sharp thrusts. Conversation ceased, and they were left with the slow ticking of the longcase clock.

  SIX

  Captain Rennie, having made his decision to go away, to leave everything behind and go away for good – first by going to Norfolk to settle his private affairs, then by taking ship for America – had still been resolved to do so when at nearly dawn his bedroom door was opened. In alarm, believing himself discovered, he made to defend himself, and:

  'Captain Rennie?' Mrs Townend's voice, in the shadowy darkness.

  'Oh, Mrs Townend, you startled me, madam.'

  'I did not mean to, dear Captain Rennie. I wished – I wished only to convey to you . . .'

  She came forward to the bed, and Rennie saw that she was in her nightdress, her hair very fetching in a blue ribbon. She looked vulnerable, shapely, and entirely feminine.

  'Mrs Townend, you are – you are in my bedroom.'

  'Yes. Yes, I am here quite deliberate.' Softly. 'I wished you to know, certainly and beyond – '

  'Madam, I am not quite prepared for this.' His voice curiously unsteady, and hoarse.

  'Nor am I in truth, dear William. It has just – happened, that is all.'

  'Happened?'

  'There is no use in pretending, when we have both been wed, and know what life is, dearest.' Coming very close to him. 'Is there nothing you wish to say to me?'

  'I? Say?' Hoarsely.

  She touched his hand now, took it in both of her own small, warm, trembling hands. Before he could think, calmly, resolutely, sensibly about his condition of life, and all that he had decided and planned, he was drawn into a soft, intimate maelstrom of lips, and hands at his head and neck, and yielding flesh against his harder self. Until he himself helplessly yielded, and they sank down on the bed together, and presently, fervently, became one.

  Dawn came, and the room slowly filled with light, and a waft of air came from the window over the pillow. Soon, as the reality of the world beyond filtered into the room with the broadening day, they began to talk.

  Their voices rose and fell, became passionate and even vehement in exchange, but were always subdued by the need for decorum in a shared house. Rennie revealed his plan to go away to America, and much of the underlying cause of this extreme design. Mrs Townend was tearful and practical in turn. They declared their love for each other, and Rennie was deflected from his intended course, dissuaded of the need to go away, and persuaded instead that he must stay – not only to make the best of things, but to improve upon them, upon all of the life that lay ahead for them both.

  'I must go to Sir Robert, and make an ultimatum.' Rennie, sitting up at last, pulling on his shirt.

  'Will it not be best, my love, to make – a suggestion?'

  'I must be firm with him, you know. He is not a man to be influenced by polite supplication.'

  'Nay, in course . . . but will not he be better persuaded by sound reason, argued forthright and decent, by a sea officer?'

  'Well well – put like that . . .' He leaned and kissed her. 'You are right.'

  And so as the morning grew late Captain Rennie – feeling his life, his whole being and way of seeing the world transformed – had set out from the house in Cambridge Road towards Kingshill.

  He came to the house careless of Sir Robert's watching enemies, in a gig, saw another gig waiting and was puzzled – and went in at the entrance.

  'Sir Robert ain't at home, sir.' Fender, the servant.

  'Ah. Perhaps I will wait – if I may?'

  'You may as well, sir. Nearly the whole world is a-doing it already.'

  'Eh?'

  'Just step in the library, sir, and you will discover my meaning.'

  Rennie went in there and found Lieutenant Hayter and Mr Hope.

  In the hour following there came in turn recrimination, indignation, detailed and surprising revelation, and at last the united determination of three sea officers to face down Sir Robert Greer, when he deigned to appear. They would demand that he allow them all of the intelligence, all of the facts of this vexing, taxing, troubling matter, before they set foot outside Kingshill again. Never again would they permit themselves to be made party to half-truth, obfuscation, and hidden motive. They wished to know all of the truth about Aidan Faulk, what he was about, and why he was sought.

  'The Royal Navy is nothing if not a plain-speaking service, gentlemen.' Mr Hope, refilling his glass. 'We must have plain answers in response to plain questions, and Sir Robert is the only man can properly provide them. We are in accord?'

  They drank on it, and thus fortified settled themselves to wait.

  Sir Robert Greer did not return.

  They waited all day, with undiminished purpose but increasing pessimism, Rennie and James talking together, Mr Hope, fumy with wine, sprawled dozing on a sofa. At dusk he roused himself, and at first did not know where he was. As he began to come wholly awake, there was a commotion in the depth of the house, the alarmed shrieks of the housekeeper, and then the door of the library was banged open.

  'What the devil . . . ?' Mr Hope rose from the sofa as James and Rennie came forward from the desk. Several figures strode into the room, two of them manhandling the struggling Fender, whom they had gagged. The leading figure wore a blue coat. As Mr Hope stared at him blearily:

  'Mr Scott? Is it?'

  'Scott? Who is Scott? And who the fucking hell are you, sir?'

  'I am Major Braithwaite, of His Majesty's Board of Customs – sir. If you are not Mr Scott – which of you two gentlemen is?' Turning to Rennie and James.

  'I am Lieutenant Hayter RN,' said James.

  'And I am William Rennie.'

  'Come, gentlemen, one of you is Scott. This is his house, and here you are inside it.'

  Mr Hope, recovering his composure: 'You are mistook, Major Braithwaite, you know. This is Sir Robert Greer's house, and we are his guests. That poor fellow your men have apprehended . . .' glancing at the struggling Fender as he was taken away '. . . is his manservant. Sir Robert will not like it, on his return, when he discovers you have mistreated members of his household.'

  'The man was obstructive, and violent. He was restrained. Now then, gentlemen – if you please, let us have no more obstructive behaviour from yourselves. Which of you is Mr Scott? I may say that in course you will not be manhandled, if you give yourself up quietly.'

  Mr Hope glanced at Rennie and James, and became wholly naval in his manner: 'Major Braithwaite, you overreach y'self, sir. You are in the wrong house, and ye've got the wrong men. Stand off now, or know the consequence!' Confronting him squarely, feet planted apart, hands behind his back.

  'Bluster will not aid you, Mr Scott. I am placing you under arrest. Smethers!'

  'Sir?' One of the men that had manhandled Fender, returning to the room.

  'You will escort Mr Scott outside to the – '

  'Damn your blood, sir!' Mr Hope stepped to James's side, and drew James's sword from the scabbard with a ringing hiss. He moved toward Major Braithwaite, the sword pointed, and: 'You attempt anything against me, and I will run you through! D'y'hear me!'

  'Mr Scott, sir, this is most unwise in you – '

  Smethers was joined by another man, and they began to advance. Rennie now produced from his coat a pocket pistol, which he cocked and aimed at Smethers.

  'You damned fools! Do not y'know that you are about to arrest His – '

  'Be quiet, Rennie!' Mr Hope. 'There is a mistake here. Let us not add to the confusion.'

  Another man now entered the library, a young officer, brisk and upright in a blue coat. Shutting the door behind him: 'Major Braithwaite, sir, we have discovered forty-one casks of brandy in one of the outbuildings, and a great quantity of tobacco leaf – oh . . .'

  'Did y'say brandy?' Mr Hope, to the young officer. He lowered the sword.

  'I did.' Glancing from his commanding officer to Mr Hope and back, unsure quite what he had walked in on.

>   'And tobacco, y'said?' 'I did.' Noting the pistol in Rennie's hand, which Rennie now uncocked.

  'In an outbuilding, in the grounds of this house?'

  'Yes.'

  'What in God's name is going on?'

  'We had hoped that you would like to tell us, Mr Scott.'

  Major Braithwaite. 'All right, Lucas. Examine all of the buildings, break down doors if necessary, and make a full list of everything y'find, will you?'

  'You – you do not need my assistance here, sir?' Glancing again at the sword, and the pistol.

  'I do not, thank you. Everything is in hand.'

  'Very good, sir.' The young officer retired, doubtful but obedient, followed by the two underlings. The click of the door behind them.

  'Put up the sword, Mr Scott.' Major Braithwaite sighed, raising his eyebrows. 'The evidence is plainly there, sir, ain't it?'

  Mr Hope passed the sword to James with a nod of thanks, and James sheathed it. 'The evidence, as you call it – ' began Mr Hope, but was interrupted by Rennie, who addressed the major:

  'May I ask – have you a likeness of this Mr Scott you seek?'

  'Eh? Likeness?' Major Braithwaite frowned at him.

  'A sketch, a portrait drawing of him.'

  'Nay, I haven't.' Curtly.

  'He has been described to you, then?'

  'Described?' Harshly.

  'D'y'know what he looks like, sir?'

  'In course I do, when he is standing before me!'

  Rennie, with exaggerated patience: 'My dear Major Braithwaite. This is not Mr Scott. This is Mr Hope, known to me and to Lieutenant Hayter. We three are here to meet Sir Robert Greer, in whose library we, and you, are presently standing. You have made – a mistake!'

  'Aye!' Mr Hope, emphatically.

  'There is no mistake in those outbuildings.' The major's eye had begun to gleam, and there was a new hardness in the line of his mouth. 'Contraband, sir. Forty casks of it!'

  'We know nothing of contraband, at all.' Mr Hope gave a confident grimace, and nodded. 'Nor, I am entirely certain, does Sir Robert. If you have found these things, they have been hid without his knowledge, by this fellow Scott. A large house, set far from the road, in extending grounds, and many outbuildings, barns and the like – it is the ideal place for concealing such things, without the hapless owner of the estate knowin' anything about it.'