The Hawk (31 page)

'No. No, I had not.'

'Will not you stay here again tonight?'

'I cannot. I must return to the Drawbridge Inn at once.'

'William, you have not forgot what we arranged between
us, for our future . . . ?'

'Eh? No no, in course I have not. However, I must tell you
that – '

'Will not you call me Sylvia, as I have asked you to?' Again
attempting to take his hand in hers. Her very anxiety, her
gazing into his eyes and feeling for his hand, made Rennie
nervous, and inclined to withdraw. He simply could not allow
pleading of this kind to impinge on his urgent design.

'My dear. Sylvia. Please not to make my task more
onerous – ' Then, seeing her distress at this adjective: 'Nay, I
did not mean onerous. I meant, I meant that just now, my
dear, I must give all my thought and energy to the task ahead.
It will not help me, you know, if you cling – '

'Cling? You think me clinging?' Hurt and offended. 'I have
no wish to impede you, sir, by clinging.' Withdrawing her
own hand now, and raising a lace handkerchief to her mouth.
'If that is what you think of me, then – '

'Nay, nay – I do not.' Rennie felt himself increasingly at a
loss. 'In course I do not, good heaven.'

'Then why say such a thing to me?'

'My dear. My dear, please. I am not a man for niceties of
language, I fear. If I have offended you, forgive me. Will
you?' Tilting his head, peering at her.

She glanced at him, then turned her gaze away in
continued reproach.

'Will you not forgive me? Sylvia?'

Clattering dishes. The sound, from the road outside, of a
dog barking as it ran after a wheeled vehicle. Rennie heard
these distracting, intruding sounds, and:

'Dearest, I am in a rush, just now. I must go.'

'Go, then.' Beginning to be tearful.

'Oh, dear.' A sigh. 'I am very sorry if I have said anything
untoward – '

'Must you go immediate? At once?' Tearfully.

'I fear I must, you know. It is most important that I – '

'Am I not important to you? I will like you to tell me,
William, if I am not.' The handkerchief.

'In course you are. In course you are.' And in desperation
and haste he kissed her full on the lips, held her to him a
moment, and was gone.

'Oh, William . . .'

He did not dare turn back for fear of further entreaties,
further desire for evidence of his affection. Why could not
women grasp the need for action in men, good God? Why
must they blind everything with tears, and the need for
tenderness?

'Because that is their nature,' Rennie told himself as he
hurried away from the house, pulling down his hat on his
head. 'They cannot help it.'

Rennie found Sawley Mallison in the taproom at the Drawbridge
Inn. He did not greet Rennie, but gave him a morose
wall-eyed glance, and when Rennie asked a question replied:

'What is the matter, you asks?' Mallison sucked at his pipe,
shook it out irritably and threw it into the grate, where it
smashed into white fragments. 'That damned villain Scott,
that come here seeking y'self, sir.'

'What has he done?'

'I don't know what he has done outside of here, but the
revenuers come breakin' down my door, and heaving my
sticks about, banging down in my cellar, banging out in my
yard, turning the whole bloody premises upside down – all in
the ques' for Scott, they says!'

'Oh, dear. I am very sorry indeed. I had no idea they would
come here. In truth I had no idea that Mr Scott would come
here, in search of me, and cause me such upset . . .'
'Well, they did come, izzen it? They come, and they made
theirself a bloody horrible nuisance, Captain Rennie.
"Where is the brandy? Where is the brandy?" Shouting at the
top of their fucking voices, frightening my lad fit to piss
hisself. "Where is your associate Scott?" A-hiding up his own
arse, I told them. Why don't you look there, hey?'

'You said that?' Raising his eyebrows.

'And more beside.' Frowning darkly, then allowing a
grimace to crease his face. 'Hhh-hhh-hhh – I said: Why don't
you hixamine your own arses, and make certain he ain't hid
there? Hhh-hhh, they did not like that, they did not, hhhhhh-
hhh, fucking trulls.'

'You did not lose anything by it, I hope?' Rennie looked
round quickly for evidence of damage. 'No casks smashed,
nor the like?'

'I ain't such a lackwit that I keep my spirits where they
could find them, Captain Rennie. Nay, I knows how to conceal,
how to dis-guise my goods. All they was able to find was
casks of ale, and a bucket of fish-heads stinkin' ripe, that
drove them off the scent right quick.'

'Well then, nothing very calamitous has happened, has it?
All is well?' Anxiously.

'Nothing? I was disturbed. My place of business was
disturbed and invaded. And unless I am mistook, they will
return and disturb me again, Captain Rennie.'

'Then in course I will go away. I would not wish to bring
further trouble here.'

Mallison protested. 'I do not blame y'self, sir. I would
never do that. I blame Scott, that come here.' Protested, but
was inwardly relieved by Rennie's reply.

'He came here only because of me. If I go away, he will not
come here again, and the Customs men will lose interest in
the Drawbridge.'

'Well, sir – if you is entirely sure? It is only I do not like
revenue men a-breakin' down my door . . .'

'Yes yes, I am determined to go.'

'Then I will not hinder you in your intentions, Captain
Rennie. The boy will fetch down your dunnage, when you are
ready for him.'

'Thank you.' He turned away towards the stair.

'Ho, yes, by the by – a letter come for you, by hand.'

He found the sealed letter, and held it out. Rennie came
back.

'Who brought it?' Taking the letter.

'The same boy as come previous.'

'When did he bring it? Today?'

'This morning, sir.'

'Thankee, Mr Mallison. I shall send down directly.'

And he went upstairs to his room. He had half expected to
find his own belongings scattered and flung about, but found
nothing disturbed. He sat on the narrow cot, broke the seal
and read:

Go to Bucklers Hard, where you will find a ferryman.

Go into his boat, and do not resist when you are
blindfolded. The meeting you desire cannot take place
upon the shore. We must find ourselves together at sea.
Eight o'clock tomorrow, if you please. The ferryman
will wait one glass only, at the lower slip.

Do not fail us.

A friend

Rennie went to the Marine barracks, where Lieutenant
Hayter and Mr Hope were temporarily accommodated, with
the
Hawk
's people. He found James alone in the officers'
quarters, up a narrow stair at the end of a corridor.

'Mr Hope has had to go to Gosport.' James, rising from his
chair, putting aside his book.

'Gosport? D'y'mean to the Haslar?'

'Yes, sir. His bandaged head, and copious wine, have
undone him. He is stricken with severe headache, crippled
with it. He had to be carried into the boat.'

Rennie nodded, and: 'Then at last we are free of all
impediment in this affair.'

'Eh?'

'Sir Robert is absent by reason of illness, and now so is Mr
Hope. They was always holding us back, James.' He showed
James the letter.

'You intend to keep this appointment, sir?' Reading the
letter.

'Yes yes, in course I do.' Pacing to the narrow window,
which overlooked the barracks yard.

'Let me understand you. Without even informing Sir
Robert?'

'How can I inform a man that is lying deathly ill, hey?'
Rennie, turning from the window, raised his eyebrows at
James. 'So far as I am concerned, Sir Robert bloody Greer
ain't a party to this any more.'

'Nor Mr Hope?'

'Nor Mr Hope, James. Good God, why are you so timid all
on a sudden? We agreed before we came away from Kingshill
that we should proceed on – '

'Yes, I know. I know we did, sir.' Over him. 'Proceed on
our own course, and so forth. But surely we cannot defy
Their Lordships altogether? In least, I do not think I can.'

'Well well, you make the distinction between us. You are a
serving sea officer, and I am not.'

'I meant no disrespect, sir – '

'Good God, James, do not we know each other well
enough to preclude all talk of "disrespect"? That ain't the
question.'

'Then – forgive me – what is the question, sir? I am
commissioned to undertake – '

'Pish pish, James, this ain't a regular commission, and we
both know it. There is nothing regular about it, in any
distinction. We must act according to circumstances, if we
are to succeed. That letter you hold in your hand will lead me
direct to Aidan Faulk.'

'Perhaps, but if you go away in that damned boat from
Bucklers Hard, who is to say you will not be held against your
will? You may be took away from England for ever. I cannot
be – '

'James, James – in the past we have always prevailed when
we faced our enemies together, just the two of us. This is our
opportunity to do so again!'

'I don't quite see where I come into it. Where shall I be,
tonight, when you go alone to Bucklers Hard?'

'Ah. Now then.' Rennie held up a finger, and told James his
plan.

Rennie came down to the lower slip at Bucklers Hard in
darkness, making his way through timber and mud by the
light of a hand lantern. He had come to Beaulieu Water
much earlier, in a fishing boat, and come ashore south of Mr
Blewitt's yard. He had made his way to the cottage rows
beyond the yard, and had given an old woman in one of the
cottages a shilling so that he could sit in her parlour by the
fire – the day was overcast and damp – and wait.

Now in darkness and beginning mist he could make out a
figure at the water's edge, and the dim outline of a boat. The
night smelled of the sea, of tidal mud, and the tar and timber
of the shipyard. A dog barked in the cottage rows, as if to
lift its spirits. Rennie approached the figure, holding his
lantern up.

'You are waiting for me, I think.'

The figure turned, peering at Rennie in the lantern glow.

'Who are you?' The voice harsh, almost hostile. An
unshaven face.

'I am Rennie. William Rennie.'

'Douse that glim, will ye? D'y'want us to be took?'

'Who would take us here? We are all alone.' But he shut off
the light.

'Come on, then. There is no time to lose.' The ferryman
strode to the boat, shoved off and stepped in, all in the one
easy movement, and Rennie was left to follow. He stumbled
on tide-greasy slip timbers, nearly lost his footing, and
clambered into the boat, wet to his knees. The boat heeled
under his weight.

'Don't upset the boat, for Chrice sake. I thought you was a
seaman.' Growled.

'I am,' Rennie said defensively, seating himself on a thwart,
bracing his wet feet. 'I have been at sea all my life.'

'Then show it. Take up them oars, and I will steer.'

'You mean that I am to row?' Astonished.

'If you wishes us to catch this tide.'

'But I am an officer.'

'Lissen, there is no officers in this boat, mate, only boat's
crew.'

'One thing puzzles me. Will you enlighten me? Why have
I not been blindfolded?'

'Enlighten, y'said? Allow me to endarken you.' The
ferryman handed Rennie a strip of dark cloth. 'Put that over
your eyes, and tie it behind.'

Rennie did as he was told and tied the cloth round his head,
shutting off his sight.

'Is it tied secure?' The ferryman. 'Can you see anything?'

'Yes, it is tied. And no, I cannot see.'

'Nothing at all?'

'Nothing, I assure you.' A hint of impatience.

The ferryman aimed a sudden darting blow at Rennie's
head, but Rennie did not flinch. The ferryman was satisfied.

'Get them oars to pass, now.'

Rennie fumbled and found the oars, fitted them into the
thole pins, pulled blindly to larboard with one oar, and felt
the boat swinging round to head into open water. The
rippling suck of the oar, a waft of air off the sea, and a dank
swirl of mist. Rennie felt the moisture on his face.

'Give way!' The ferryman, now at the tiller.

And for the first time in many years William Rennie bent
his back to row a boat. Within ten minutes he was soaked in
sweat and aching in every limb and sinew, his back a curved
blade of pure pain, his breath on fire in his throat.

'Give way, there! We has a long journey tonight!'

'Damn your blood, you wretch!' Under his burning breath.

In twenty minutes they were sliding down the estuary
toward the open sea, carried along on the ebb, and Rennie
could sense swirling mist all round them. Another twenty,
and by now he had begun to get his second wind.

'How much further?' he asked.

'I will tell you when we are near.'

'Near to the
Lark
?'

'Do not keep asking me.'

Rennie ceased rowing, and rested on the oars. He did not
like the tone of the ferryman's reply. It was avoiding, and
duplicitous. 'Listen now, either hhh you tell me that it
is
the
Lark
we are going out to, or I will hhh allow us to drift.'

'You give way there, you idle bugger!' But the ferryman's
bluster was not entirely convincing. 'We be going where we's
supposed to go, see.'

Rennie's increasing doubt was now sharper even than the
pain in his back, and had descended prickling and spiking into
his guts. 'I will not give way until you tell me this: are we
going out to meet the
Lark
, or are we not?'

'I am only doing what I was
told
to do.' A note of angry
defiance entering the gruff voice. 'Bring the man Rennie
from Bucklers Hard, wivout fail. For Chrice sakes give way,
will you!'

'How much did they pay you?'

'That is nothing to you.'