The Hawk (7 page)

'Hhh! Portsmouth ain't London – it is ten times as
dangerous!' A little out of breath, brushing dusty chaff from
his coat. 'Those damned draymen have no regard for safety!'

'It is the great volume of vehicles, and the comparative
narrowness of the High, sir, that make it seem so.' James, his
hat off and on. 'Do you wish me to come to the Port
Admiral's office?'

'Nay, I do not.' Taking his arm. 'Let us go to the coffee
house.'

They walked to the coffee house on the corner, and went
in. The gloom of the interior, after the din and glare of the
street, was a relief. In here there was not perfect quiet, but the
murmur of voices, and the subdued clattering and clinking of
crockery, combined with pleasant aromas, were welcoming.
The gloom became temperate low light, restful to the eye. At
tables round the walls, and at the end, merchants, clerks, a
scattering of sea officers, some reading newspapers. The
captain and the lieutenant were shown to a table in a corner,
and ordered chocolate. Captain Marles at once became
confidential, leaning forward.

'I have something to give to you. You must keep it with
you, and show it to no one.' He gave James a sealed packet.
James looked at the seal and saw to his surprise that it was not
an Admiralty impress. A coronet, and initials.

'Am I to break the seal and open the packet, sir?'

'When our chocolate has come – then y'may open it.'

They waited until the pot of chocolate had been brought to
the table, and the girl had laid out their cups. When she had
gone:

'Very well, Mr Hayter.' Pushing the chocolate pot aside.

'Y'may break the seal, and open the packet.' Nodding. 'Go
ahead.'

James laid the packet on the table, his back to the room, and
broke the seal. In the packet were two documents, one a letter.
James opened out the letter and at once saw a signature:

Chatham

and a smaller version of the seal, done with a ring.

'The Earl of Chatham?' James stared at the signature. 'The
First Lord?' And looked at Captain Marles in astonishment.

'Read it, read it.' Nodding again.

And James read:

To
: Lieutenant James Hayter RN
Commanding HM
Hawk
cutter –
to be given into his hand at Portsmouth

Sir,

According to the detailed Instructions that shall be
given to you together with this Letter, by Captain Apley
Marles RN, you will use your best endeavours to take the
privately owned cutter
Lark
, that frequents the English
Channel for the purpose of landing Contraband goods, &
having took that Vessel bring her without the loss of a
moment to Portsmouth, or failing that place to Weymouth,
or Plymouth, should either of those Ports prove
more convenient & necessary to your purpose of capture.

The master of said cutter, believed to be one Sedley
Ward, shall be arrested at all cost, and all other persons
aboard with him, and brought into your ship; he shall
then be brought ashore under close escort. His capture
is as vital to your purpose as the taking of his ship.

On no account, therefore, is
Lark
to be sunk, burnt or
destroyed, nor Captain Ward killed. They must be took.

5th June 1790

Chatham

James now slipped from the packet the second document,
unfolded it, and read his detailed instructions. These
included lists of dates and times when
Lark
would likely
appear, based on observations made over several months by
masters of three separate cutters in the service of the Board of
Excise, none of whom had been able to match
Lark
in speed
and handling. Also included was an accurate description of
Lark
, drawings, sail plan, and probable armament. There was
a list of ports in France where
Lark
would take in her contraband
goods, and a list of places along the southern coast of
England where she was thought to have made landfall. James
read through everything, noting the admonition 'Hereof nor
you, nor any of you, may fail, as you will answer the contrary
at your peril'. And at last looked up from the documents, into
Captain Marles's steady gaze. 'You are lucky in that letter, Mr
Hayter.'

'Lucky, sir? Yes, indeed, if you mean – '

'I mean that the First Lord is notorious apt to forget to sign
his letters, nor any of his official utterances. We are often in
despair at the Admiralty. You have been favoured.' A halfsmile.

'May I ask a question, sir?'

'In course you may.' Pouring chocolate, now quite cold.

'How am I to detach myself from the Channel Fleet, sir,
now assembled?'

'You will not.' A slight, dismissive gesture.

'Ah.' James sipped cold chocolate, made a face and set the
cup down. He wiped his lips. 'May I ask: if the fleet is ordered
to sea against Spain, and my duties – that I am eager to
pursue, very eager, as you may imagine – if my duties hold me
here in England, what then?'

'The thing will be managed, Mr Hayter.' The half-smile.
'This chocolate is abominable.' He held up his hand, and the
girl returned. 'We will like a fresh pot of chocolate. Hot, if
y'please.' He gave the girl a coin. She bobbed, took away the
offending pot, and Captain Marles:

'Aye, it will be so arranged that your vessel will not take
station, that is all.'

'Ah. – D'y'mean that I am to weigh and make sail, if so
ordered, but not put to sea? With respect, sir, each ship must
make her signals to the flag, and – '

'Yes, yes,' interrupting, 'do not trouble yourself, Mr
Hayter. These are little things, minor details. You are
attached to the fleet official, but by the documents lying at
your elbow you are released.'

'Thank you, I do see that, sir. However, Admiral Hollister
has told me – '

'Admiral Hollister? He spoke to you?'

'Well, yes. I – I went aboard his flag.' James lifted his head.

'What caused you to do that, pray, without instruction?'
The half-smile now wholly absent.

'It was at his invitation.' Quickly.

'Hm. Why did he so invite you, I wonder? What prompted
him?'

'Sir, again with respect, I do not think you quite understand
my difficulty. By Admiral Hollister's spoken opinion to
me, I am attached to him. On his orders I have already put to
sea to exercise my great guns. I am presently at a mooring at
Spithead in plain view of his flag, and my cutter is absolutely
at his disposal. Can you not see, it is to him that I must look,
because his authority overrides and overrules these
documents – to all practical purpose?'

'Nonsense.' Curtly. 'Those documents bear the signature
and seal of the First Lord. Do not you suppose that – '

'Forgive me, but that is not an Admiralty seal, is it?'

'What? It is the Earl of Chatham's seal, and he is the First
Lord. D'you doubt his authority, sir?'

'No, sir.' James was uncomfortable.

'Do you?'

'In course I do not, sir.'

'Very well. Admiral Hollister, in commanding the Channel
Fleet, does not, however, command the Royal Navy entire,
does he? Their Lordships have that honour. The First Lord.
Hey?'

'I am in no doubt of that, sir.'

'Well, then?' Captain Marles sat back in his chair
impatiently. The fresh chocolate arrived, and there was a
brief lull in the conversation while the girl set the pot on the
table and replaced their cups. When she had gone, James
tried again:

'Sir, in course I am obliged to follow these instructions.'
Tapping the documents with a finger. 'You have given them
to me, and they are signed by the First Lord.' A brief pause,
then: 'Have I your authority, sir, to show them to Admiral
Hollister, should he require me to explain – repair aboard his
flag and explain – why I have declined to obey his direct order
to the fleet to put to sea?'

'You have not.' Pouring chocolate, and drinking.

'You do not give it?'

'I do not.'

James gave a reluctant shrug, and composed his face into a
polite, reluctant grimace. 'Then, sir, you put me in a pretty
near impossible fix. I cannot, I fear, lie on both tacks at once,
starboard and larboard. It must be one or t'other.'

The half-smile now returned, and became nearly a full
smile. 'Yes, you put it nicely, Mr Hayter, I confess. Justly so.'
He put down his cup, and refilled it. 'You oblige me to go to
Admiral Hollister myself. It is some little time since I was
aboard a ship of any rate, leave alone a first. I shall look
forward to it.' He picked up the two letters, returned them to
their packet, and put the packet away in his coat. 'I must take
these with me, to show the admiral the signature and seal,
should that become necessary – the signature and seal, and
nothing more. Pray return to your cutter, Mr Hayter. I will
send word to you.'

'Very good, sir.'

And Captain Marles paid their bill.

Lieutenant Hayter remained aboard
Hawk
, far out at her
mooring, and no word came to him from Captain Marles. He
waited three days, during which time he exercised his great
guns, but did not fire them. His supply of gunpowder was
limited to the allowance designated by the Ordnance, since
he could not – like richer commanders – buy extra powder
from private contractors. Beside, he was at his mooring
among great numbers of ships. He exercised his great guns in
a punishing continuum of several hours each day, until he felt
that his guncrews, and his people altogether, were efficient in
the business of bringing a ship of war into such a condition
that would allow her to fight her weight of metal against any
opposing cutter, schooner, or even a brig sloop. In other
words, he would be more than a match for the
Lark
.

On the fourth morning, James decided that he must again
go ashore. His steward had not yet been found, and he meant
to find him. He would also seek out Captain Marles.

'I cannot wait upon Captain Marles's good intentions for
ever,' he told himself, and called for the boat to be hoisted
out, the mast stepped, and the sail bent.

He tacked through the assembled ships of the line, and ran
in to the Hard. From the Hard he made his way to the
Cockpit Tavern, and there enquired.

'Has a man called Butt shown himself?'

'Butt? Don't know no one of that name, sir.' The
innkeeper, sucking his teeth.

'Plentiful Butt?'

'Ohh. Plenty. Yes. Yes, we knows Plenty.'

'Well, has he been here? This last day or two?'

'No, sir.' With certainty.

'When did you last see him?' He paid for a mug of ale.
'Will you drink something, landlord?'

'That is right kind in you, sir, I will.' He drew off a measure
of brandy, and sucked down half.

'You have not seen him recent?'

'He will only come here when he is flush, d'y'see. You
might try at the Drawbridge Tavern.'

'At the Point? Good God, that is the worst den of
scoundrels in Portsmouth.'

'Aye, sir, I will not dispute that. Not that Plenty is a
scoundrel. It's just they will allow him a bed there, when he
ain't flush.' He sucked down the rest of his brandy. 'At one
time I would oblige him here – but he could not never pay
me, and I must pay my own rent, look.'

'Indeed. Thank you, I will enquire at the Drawbridge.' He
drank a mouthful of ale, left a further shilling on the counter,
and went to the Marine Hotel in the High.

'I will like to see Captain Marles.'

'Captain Marles? Oh. Will you wait here please, sir?'

James waited, and presently was shown into a small private
room at the rear, where he was greeted by a lieutenantcolonel
of marines.

'You asked for Captain Marles?'

'I did. Is he here?' Puzzled.

'Evidently you have not heard . . .' Looking at James closely.

'Heard what?'

'Captain Marles is dead.'

'Christ's blood . . .' Shocked. 'I had no notion that he was
ill.'

'He was not ill. Captain Marles has been murdered. He was
found late last night in an alley off Broad Street in the Point.'

'Murdered? In God's name – how?'

'His throat was cut.' The marine officer leaned over the
square table that stood against the wall, took up a quill pen,
dipped it in the small silver well, and: 'May I have your name,
Lieutenant?'

'Yes. Certainly. I am Lieutenant James Hayter RN,
commanding the
Hawk
cutter, ten guns.'

The officer made a mark on a list, and laid the pen aside.
'You had business with Captain Marles? This morning?'

'Yes – yes.' Distractedly. 'The Point, you say? What in
God's name was he doing there, at night?'

'You know the district?'

'It is notorious.'

'What was your business with Captain Marles?'

'Eh? Oh – Admiralty business.' His hand at the back of his
neck. 'What a dreadful thing . . . a dreadful thing.' He turned
away distractedly.

'If you please, Lieutenant – what was that business, exact?'

Turning to look at him: 'Well, Colonel . . . I am not at
liberty to divulge it. Admiralty business, of a confidential
nature.'

'You will divulge it to me, if you please. I am charged with
the investigation of all of the circumstances surrounding the
captain's death.'

'Then you must enquire at the Admiralty, you know,
Colonel. I cannot help you. I may not. – Had Captain Marles
any family, d'y'know? A wife?'

'He was widowed, I believe. I must ask you again – insist –
that you tell me your business with him, Mr Hayter. It may
have a bearing on what has happened.'

'How so?'

'The captain's coat had been torn open at an inner pocket.
An empty packet, which had itself been torn open, lay beside
the corpse. It is thought documents was removed from the
packet. In his effects, found in his bedroom, Captain Marles
left a list of names, including your own, and that of Admiral
Hollister. Do you happen to know if those stolen documents
related to your business with him? Had you had sight of
them?'