The Hawk (6 page)

'Reload your guns! Stand by to go about!'

The deep-hulled, surging little vessel came about and beat
into the wind on the port tack, as the guncrews went through
the ritual of sponging, loading cartridge, roundshot and wad,
ramming, adjusting the elevation, and running out.
Hawk
ran
cleanly towards the floating target until it was again within
range, then James bellowed:

'Put your helm down! Handsomely now!' and brought his
charge through the wind on to the starboard tack once more,
and:

'Stand by your guns! – Starboard battery . . . fire!'

The repeated blasting of flame, the rushing balloons of
smoke and grit and fragments of flaming wad, and this time
the roped casks shattered into splinters, an iron hoop spun
looping high, and when the spray settled the raft itself had
entirely disappeared.

'Well done, lads! Our smashers have done their work! –
Reload!'

Lieutenant Hayter had insisted at the gun wharf on being
supplied with the latest carronades, fitted with loops and
bolts instead of trunnions, and mounted on a slide carriage.
Because the recoil of these squat guns was relatively short,
and they weighed one quarter of the equivalent long gun,
they could be fought with very small crews – three men, as
opposed to eight or ten men for the longer weapon. His
official complement was forty-two souls, but he had added an
extra man to his muster book, taking his own steward, instead
of relying on one of the boys to serve him; thus
Hawk
had a
complement of forty-three. His two midshipmen were
Mr Richard Abey, a capable Norfolk boy of fifteen years,
with whom he had already sailed two commissions in
HM
Expedient
frigate, and Mr Wentworth Holmes, of
Devonshire, a youth of seventeen, who would act as secondin-
command. His gunner, carpenter, boatswain and steward
purser had all been assigned to him, as had his sailing master
– warranted second. He had been able to fill his lower deck
with good seamen, rated able and ordinary, by interviewing
men at the Cockpit Tavern, and had also acquired eleven
landmen idlers and boys – included among the idlers was his
sailmaker, vital in a cutter, with such a vast spread of canvas.
He had his quartermaster and mate, and one final and very
important man of his choice. He had been able to obtain as
his surgeon Dr Thomas Wing, again a most valued shipmate
from
Expedient
. In the scheme of things Dr Wing was entitled
to expect a place in another frigate, if not indeed a ship of the
line. He had earned such a place. However, he knew that
because of his stature – he stood no taller than a boy – he
would not likely be so favoured, and had chosen to join
Lieutenant Hayter in his cutter, when asked.

'It will be a novel experience for me, in so confined a space.
I have become so accustomed these past months to assisting
Dr Stroud upon the wide wards of the Haslar again, that any
sort of ship will seem confining, and a cutter in particular like
being afloat in a seaborne wooden cupboard, or similar
receptacle.'

His careful diction, the studied language of the auto-didact
– he had begun his medical career as a hospital porter – was
not displeasing to James's ear because it was tempered with a
dry wit and the wisdom of a man who had seen the worst and
harshest of life, and overcome it. The lieutenant and the
diminutive doctor were firm friends.

'A wooden receptacle, hey. I hope not a coffin, Thomas.'

'Certainly not that, if I do my work efficient. I will not like
to kill seamen, James, only cure their costiveness, and lance
their carbuncles.' With a smile. 'What is our intended
voyage?'

'Ah. There you have me. Perhaps attached to the fleet,
perhaps not. I do not know for certain.'

'Do not know?' In surprise.

And now as evening approached, and the glow of the
sun sank into the sea beyond the Needles to the west,
Lieutenant Hayter brought his cutter back from the
Channel to Spithead. The Master Attendant had long since
deprived
Hawk
of her numbered place off the Hard, and
now she made her signals and dropped anchor on her
designated bearing far out. The ships of the Channel Fleet
lay tethered on their hawses all around, the flag
Vanquish
half a league distant.

'Mr Holmes.'

'Sir?' The senior midshipman attended him.

'We will hoist in our boat, if y'please.'

'You do not go ashore, sir?'

'Not tonight.'

'Very good, sir. – Mr Dench! Boatswain, there! We will
hoist in the towing boat!'

And as the tackles were deployed, James wondered
whether it would not be profitable for him to go ashore again.

He had seen his vessel provisioned, her guns, powder and
other stores taken in, had seen her trimmed, and in every way
got ready for the sea, and had then waited in vain for the
arrival of Captain Marles, or his representative, and for his
sailing instructions. A few days ago he had sought an
interview with the Port Admiral, Admiral Hapgood.

'Don't know anything about you,' Admiral Hapgood had
told him. 'You are attached to the Channel Fleet, are y'not?'
Contradicting himself. Standing very tall at the window in
frock coat.

'So I was given to understand, sir, but I – '

'Given to understand! By whom? What officer, where, and
when, gave you such "understanding", hey?' Moving back to
his desk, bending over to find a document, his black beetling
brow like a threat hanging over the room.

'Well, sir, Captain Marles said so, at the Admiralty, and
that – '

'You have come to me before this, have y'not?' Finding the
document now, glancing at it.

'Yes, sir, when I first came to take command of the
Hawk
cutter, some few weeks since, and – '

'What did I say to you, then?'

'That you knew nothing about me, sir.' Lamely.

'Yes, yes, I did say so. Because I did not, and do not. Don't
know Captain Marles, neither. Is his name on the Navy List?
I have not seen it, if it is. Yes, what now?' To a clerk at the
door.

'The ladies visiting the
Hanover
seventy-four, that has just
come ashore in the launch, sir . . .'

'Yes? Well?'

'Yes, sir. They had wished to visit you, sir, upon their
return – if you recall . . . ?'

'Good God, yes, you are right. I did ask them to join me for
sherry wine, when they returned. Give me five minutes, Pell,
to sluice my face and shift into my dress coat.'

'Yes, sir. – Where shall they wait?'

'Downstairs, Pell, downstairs. I will join them there
presently.' The clerk disappeared, and Admiral Hapgood
walked into his closet. James was left standing, unsure what
he should do. A minute after, as the admiral busied himself in
the closet, James quietly left the office, trod quietly down the
stairs, glimpsed a room full of pretty women, and quietly let
himself out into the daylight, and the saline breeze.

He had subsequently requested an interview with Admiral
Hollister, as one of the admiral's commanders, albeit a very
junior one. The admiral had granted this request, and had
seen him in his quarters aboard
Vanquish
.

'How is Captain Rennie?' Stooping, emerging from his
quarter gallery, as James stood quietly waiting, hat under
arm.

'I think he is quite well, sir.'

'Not pining, nor wasting away, on the beach?' Going to his
desk, lifting the lid of a silver box and taking a very small
pinch of snuff.

'I do not think that is in his character, sir.'

'Nay, nor do I.' He sat down, having cleared his nose into
his handkerchief with a short sharp blast.

James glanced beneath the lashed-up bulkheads at the
splendid hanging silks of the admiral's sleeping cabin to
starboard, and at the black-leaded stove, the shelves of books,
&c.; at the racks of swords, shelves of silver, and the long
gleaming splendour of the dining table beyond – until his
attention was recalled.

'But y'did not come to me to talk about Captain Rennie, I
think, Mr Hayter.'

'No, indeed, sir. I – I wished to discover my duties.'

'What? Your duties? Your duties, sir, are to hold yourself
available, watch by watch, until you are needed. Until you are
required. That is every captain's obligation and duty, in the
fleet.'

'Yes, sir, thank you.'

'To keep your ship clean, and disciplined, and ready for the
sea.'

'Yes, sir. I wonder if you were informed, sir, by Captain
Marles at the Admiralty – '

'Apley Marles?'

'Indeed, sir. Captain Apley Marles. He – '

'Lost a leg at Chesapeake, did not he?'

'That is so, sir, I believe. Certainly he has a wooden leg. He
had given me to understand – '

'You saw Captain Marles, at the Admiralty?' Puzzled.
'Why?'

'Sir, he gave me to understand that he would come to
Portsmouth, and himself give me my instructions, but he – '

'What instructions, pray?' A hard blue stare.

'I do not know, sir, exact. I have asked Admiral Hapgood,
and he could not tell me, neither.'

'Happy Hapgood? What has he to do with your attachment
to me, pray? Ain't a happy sinew in him, by the by. Only
don't allow I said so. What has Captain Marles to do with
your attachment here? I do not understand you, Mr Hayter.'

Not yet quite severe.

'Sir, if you please, I was told that I was to be attached to you
official, but – not in fact.'

'Was you? By the Admiralty? That is a singular curiosity at
such a time as this, when we have assembled because of the
emergency in North America. – Not in fact?' A little jerk of
the head.

'In course – I had thought the same thing, sir,' James
nodded in hasty agreement, but the truth was that he had been
so caught up in his own dealings of late that he had taken little
notice of the crisis – the reason behind the assembling of the
fleet of forty ships at Spithead: the capture by Spain of British
fur-trading posts on the north-west coast of America, and her
claim on the coast entire. He had not thought of himself as
caught up in the crisis at all, until this moment.

Admiral Hollister frowned at the young sea officer. 'I will
not like to think that my officers was not paying their fullest
attention to their obligation, Mr Hayter. All officers attached
to me.'

'I – I am very grateful to you, sir, for allowing me to come.'
A formal bow.

'You are the
Hawk
cutter, are y'not?' Again the blue stare.

'I am, sir.' His back straight.

'Yes – you came to her in my barge some little time since,
I think?'

'I did, sir.'

'Pretty little ship, your
Hawk
. How does she handle? Fast
by the wind? Sturdy sea boat, is she?'

'Well, sir, I have not – that is, I have waited day by day,
since we provisioned and took in our guns and powder,
and – '

'You have not weighed and took her out, even for half a
day?' Growing severe.

'I have not, sir – since I was without instruction as to my
specific duty.' Shamefaced.

'Then, by God, ye'd better discover how your cutter
behaves, do not y'think so, Mr Hayter? You must take her out
into the open sea, work her, put her about, exercise your great
guns, and so forth. How may you become – you and your
people – a capable addition to the fleet, else?'

'I have your permission then, sir?'

'My permission? You have my direct order to weigh and
make sail, Mr Hayter, without the loss of a moment. Do not
stray far, however. The fleet may be given its sailing
instructions at any hour.'

'Thank you, sir. Will the French fleet support the Spanish
in this, d'y'think?' Attempting to lift himself in the admiral's
opinion.

'I do not know the French need give us pause in anything,
at present. Their nation is in – disarray.'

'Their fleet is still considerable in size and strength, ain't it,
sir?'

And then the admiral had made clear that the young sea
officer had imposed long enough on his time, and his
patience. 'I am not a political man, Mr Hayter. I do as I am
told by Their Lordships, in the King's name. My concern as
a commander is the Spanish fleet, not the French. You will
oblige me by working up your cutter and your people, in a
short exercise at sea, and then you will return to your
mooring. Good morning.'

'Very good, sir.' Very correct, and a swift departure, with
his chief question left unanswered: in Christ's name, to whom
did he really belong – to the fleet, or to Captain Marles?

The answer did come, on the day following that brief
exercise at sea.

By design James went ashore, not to enquire yet again at the
Port Admiral's office as to the whereabouts of Captain
Marles, but to discover what had become of the steward he
had put on his books. This man he had recruited at the
Cockpit Tavern, requiring him to bring himself and his
dunnage to
Hawk
, but no one had come; the steward had
disappeared. James wished to find him, and to send a letter
to his wife Catherine, and to receive hers, care of the Marine
Hotel. He wished also to visit his tailor, Bracewell & Hyde,
from whom he had bespoke a new coat, waistcoat, breeches,
and a dozen shirts. He could not afford them, but
Portsmouth tailors were accustomed to wait for their
payment, since many sea officers were long away from
England. He was emerging from the Marine Hotel with two
letters from Catherine in his pocket, and about to make his
way to his tailor, when from across the street:

'Hayter!'

James turned in the direction of the voice, but saw no one
he knew in the jostling crowds – with the fleet assembling
Portsmouth was crammed with urgent humanity – and after
a moment he went on his way, but again the voice, louder this
time:

'You there, Mr Hayter!'

This was an unmistakably naval summons, and again James
paused and turned. A figure stumped towards him, apparently
indifferent to the clopping, wheel-rumbling traffic, was twice
nearly struck, then gained the safety of the pavement.
Captain Marles, and his peg.