The Hawk (20 page)

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! Sail 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?'

'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 – '

'A lubberly fellow, like the steward? Hey?' Mr Hope in
return regarded Commander Carr.

'It ain't my business, in course.' Commander Carr waved
his napkin in front of his nose in a vain attempt to disperse the
stench of vomit.

Lieutenant Hayter, at the door, standing aside from the
reeking splatters on the decking. 'Mr Abey, there you are.'

'Yes, sir. Oh . . .'

'Aye. You will find two idlers, and clear this up. At once, if
y'please. And for Christ's sake tell my steward to puke to
leeward, on deck.' As the sounds of further retching reached
them.

'Very good, sir.'

Lieutenant Hayter took up a flask of vinegar from the table
and sprinkled pungently aromatic drops liberally by the door.
Seating himself:

'I am very sorry about this.' A frowning grimace at his two
guests. 'Let us continue, by all means.'

'Before we do, Hayter . . .' Commander Carr, a brief, not
quite disapproving, glance at Mr Hope.

'Yes?' James waited.

'I think it must be made clear at once, as to which of us is
to be in command.'

'It ain't clear to you?' Politely.

'Not at present.' A slight edge in his voice.

'Very good. Allow me to make it clear. I am in command.'

'Ah. You think that, d'you? Allow me, in turn, to make
myself – '

'Commander Carr.' Mr Hope, putting down his glass.

'Mr Hope?' An impatient tilt of the head.

'Lieutenant Hayter, as the senior officer present, will be in
command.'

'Senior officer! Now, look here, he has only just now took
command of his first cutter. I have five years as master of
mine.' A frown. 'And pray, what business is this of yours, Mr
Hope? Who are you? What – '

'Kindly be quiet.'

'Eh?' Staring at him.

'I am here at the invitation of Their Lordships. This is a
naval cutter, sir, and you are an Excise man.'

'You say that with contempt, sir, whoever you are. How
dare you presume – '

'I have presumed nothing, Commander Carr. I have
merely stated a fact. Nor have I raised my voice. I think it will
be better if you lower yours, sir.'

'Well, I'm damned.'

'Nay, sir, you are not. You are a guest in one of His
Majesty's ships of war.' Mr Hope raised his glass. 'Speaking
of which . . .'

James, taking his cue: 'Aye, aye.' He raised his own glass,
and proposed the toast. When the health of the King had
been drunk, he said:

'Commander Carr, I have no wish to be in dispute with
you. Surely you must understand, the Royal Navy is the
senior service. It is my duty, therefore, to take command of
this endeavour – '

'What of my duty? Am I to – '

' – else I should be in direct contradiction of Their
Lordships' instructions.'

'Yes, instructions. Do not y'suppose that I have my
own
?'

Mr Hope removed from his pocket a small desk seal with a
carved handle, and pushed it towards Commander Carr.
'D'y'know what this is, sir?'

'A gentleman's seal.' Stiffly.

'Indeed. Pick it up.' Gesturing. 'Look at it close, if y'please.'

Commander Carr picked up the seal impatiently, and
glanced at it. His impatience gave way to a frown, then to a
look of astonishment.

'But . . . this is a – '