Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead

ALSO BY S. THOMAS RUSSELL

Under Enemy Colours

A Battle Won

Take, Burn or Destroy

G. P. Putnam's Sons

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Published by the Penguin Group

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Copyright © 2014 by Sean Russell

Originally published in the United Kingdom by Michael Joseph 2014

First U. S. edition published by G. P. Putnam's Sons in 2014

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Russell, S. Thomas.

Until the sea shall give up her dead / S. Thomas Russell.—First U. S. edition.

p. cm.—(A Charles Hayden novel ; 4)

ISBN 978-0-698-17716-1

1. Ship captains—Fiction. 2. Themis (Ship)—Fiction. 3. Kidnapping—Fiction. 4. Great Britain—History, Naval—18th century—Fiction. 5. British—Caribbean Area—History—18th century. I. Title.

PR9199.3.R84U58 2014 2014023352

813'.54—dc23

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is dedicated to the memory of my mother, Shirley Russell, who taught all of her children a love for books.

L
ady Hattingale, accompanied by the physician, descended the great stair a few steps at a time, paused, her head inclined and nodding at the doctor's words, and then undertook the next three steps. The butler awaited them at the bottom, a near-statue of discretion and deferment. When the physician and the noblewoman came near he whispered a few words and both physician and lady turned their attention to Charles Hayden, who waited ten paces distant.

“Captain Hayden,” she said, crossing towards him.

Hayden made a leg. “Lady Hattingale.”

“Dr Goodwin, our physician.”

“Sir.”

“You have come to enquire of Lord Arthur,” she said—it was not a question.

“And to speak with him if it is possible.”

Lady Hattingale glanced at the physician, who seemed to consider this request most seriously.

“I do not think it would do any great harm,” the doctor decreed. “Ten minutes, though, no more. Do not speak on any subject that might cause him distress.”

“Is he yet so fragile?” Hayden asked.

“He lost a great deal of blood. I am still somewhat surprised that he survived. But the young are full of surprises.”

“And his arm?”

“We will see. I think he will keep it, but he may never have full use of it again.”

“Thank you, Dr Goodwin,” Hayden said, “for all you have done.”

The man made a modest nod. “Who is your surgeon?”

“Obadiah Griffiths.”

“Carry him my compliments. I do not think Lord Arthur would have survived without his timely ministrations.”

“I will very gladly do so,” Hayden replied.

Lady Hattingale saw the doctor to the door and the butler took Hayden up to Lord Arthur. He was let into a large, sun-flooded room, where he found Wickham buried under a sea of white coverlets. The midshipman's face beamed like a lighthouse upon seeing his shipmate.

“Captain Hayden, sir . . .”

“This is a cosy little cabin they have given you, Wickham. You must be an admiral now to have such a cot.” Hayden sat down upon a bedside chair. “You are pale as a cloud. I have seen fish bellies not half so white as you.”

“I am told I left half my allotment of blood upon the deck of our ship, sir.”

“Someone is always cleaning up after you reefers.”

Wickham smiled.

“Did you speak to Dr Goodwin, sir? Did he say when I might be allowed on my feet again?”

“He did not. All he said was that you are recovering apace and that you should be playing the fiddle again in a fortnight.”

“My mother will be most happy to hear it. I was a terrible disappointment as a musical prodigy.”

“Well, there, you see, one advantage already—a happy mother.”

Both fell silent a moment.

“Did we lose many men, sir?”

“We took losses, yes. But all our
Themis
es came through unharmed, you excepted. Did I never tell you not to stand in the way of a musket ball?”

“You did, sir, but I forgot myself in all the excitement.”

“That is why you should listen to your elders, for I am four and twenty and you are but six and ten.”

Again a silence settled around them.

“I am told there is to be a medal, sir?”

“That is the rumour. All the captains Lord Howe saw fit to mention in his missives to the Admiralty are to receive a medal for their part in the battle on June first.”

“You must have been mentioned, sir.”

“By some miracle, I was. I did not think the admiral knew my name. He did not, however, mention a number of captains who I am certain shall feel they have been slighted. I expect there will be a great deal of resultant ill will.”

Wickham nodded, as there was nothing new in this; admirals always had their favourites. “Have you any news, sir? Are we given orders?”

“
I
have been given orders. Y
ou
are to rest and recover.”

Wickham nodded and glanced away, blinking.

“Where is
Raisonnable
bound, if a mere landsman may ask?”

“You are no landsman, Wickham, but only temporarily aground. The spring tide will float you off. I am the captain of
Raisonnable
no more, but have been given a new ship. One you are more than a little familiar with.
Themis
is her name—a fine frigate with a black character.”

“
Themis
, sir!”

“Indeed, and we are sent on convoy duty into the Baltic, with most of your old shipmates aboard.”

“Why, sir, whenaway? Mayhap I will be recovered enough to take ship with you.”

“We sail within the week, but I expect you to buckle down and
recover so you will be ship shape when we return. Mr Stephens has informed me that it is likely we will be sent to the West Indies after the hurricane season has passed.”

“November, sir?”

“Not before December, I should think. That gives you some goodly amount of time to complete your refit and resume your station aboard.”

“I shall set the dockyard hands to work on my ailing limb immediately, sir.”

“I am happy to hear it. The midshipmen's berth has become a nursery, full of children who do not know which end is which—and I am talking about their person, not the ship. I need you back to instruct these boys in the finer points of being an officer in His Majesty's Navy.”

Wickham grinned. “I remember, sir, when I first set foot aboard in my new rig with gleaming buttons and snow-white breeches.”

“Yes, I remember my first days as well. I could hardly comprehend a thing that went on around me.”

“I was the same, sir. And then a new, young lieutenant came aboard and taught us all what service meant.”

“You know those new lieutenants, all brash and thinking they know all.”

“I hope to be one myself, some day.”

“You were an excellent acting lieutenant, Wickham, and not in the least brash or all-knowing. Why, I should recommend you to any theatre company, you were so convincing.”

This almost put a hint of colour into the midshipman's face, and he appeared to search for something to say.

“I have been reading the papers,” Wickham offered, “one-handed.” He tried to smile. “Do you think that Robespierre can survive the summer?”

“I do not know,” Hayden said, feeling his spirits sink. He had had no news of his family in France for many months. “The Committee is sending anyone to the guillotine, almost without trial—a mere
accusation is enough to take a man's head. It is a frightening time to be French. There must be a backlash against this—there must be a return to reason.”

The door opened then and Lady Hattingale entered. Immediately, Hayden rose to his feet.

“Please sit, Captain Hayden,” she said. “I am but a nursing sister here.”

“Your ministrations have worked a small miracle,” Hayden observed. “This midshipman appears well on his way to a full recovery.”

“He is doing splendidly, but forcing him to rest is my greatest contribution . . . which he resists at all times. Perhaps, Captain, you might order him to stay abed until the doctor allows him to quit it?”

“Mr Wickham, I hereby order you to rest until this good nurse and the physician allow you to rise. In fact, you are to follow their instructions in every detail. Do you comprehend what I am saying?”

Wickham nodded submissively. “Aye, sir. I shall do all within my power to be a better invalid . . . but it is not in my nature.”

“No,” Hayden responded, “it is not, but you will be back aboard ship the sooner for a little patience, I am certain.”

“Is it three o'clock already?” Lady Hattingale enquired as the mantel clock chimed. “You see, Lord Arthur, how quickly time speeds? You shall be on your feet in no time at all.”

Hayden took the hint and rose.

“I must bid you adieu, Lady Hattingale, and thank you again for all you have done for Lord Arthur. We all believe he will be an admiral one day, if he does not want to be Prime Minister.”

“He will make a better admiral, I think,” she answered, and rose as well. “Let me walk you out, Captain.” Then, to Wickham: “You have your orders, Lord Arthur. Rest. I shall find you another book to read.”

Hayden gave a nod to Wickham, who touched an invisible hat with his good hand.

“Thank you for coming, sir. Remember me to the others.”

“I do not think they have forgotten; they ask about you hourly. We
will be back from our convoy in a few weeks and I will look in on you at that time. Be well.”

Wickham gave a nod, appearing suddenly unable to speak.

Hayden and Lady Hattingale went into the hallway beyond, and towards the stair. She was a very tall woman of perhaps fifty years, though she carried these lightly. She was elegantly but simply dressed and wore no jewellery—not even a ring. To Hayden she seemed a practical and steady woman—just the sort he would choose to nurse his unlucky midshipman.

“He appears thin as a whip,” Hayden observed.

“Yes, he very nearly did not survive,” Lady Hattingale replied, shaking her head but a little. “I thank God that he is on the mend and hope he does not take a sudden turn. Lord and Lady Sanstable will arrive presently.”

“I expected them here.”

“They were visiting in the north but I am certain set out the very instant they had word.”

“I am sorry not to have met them. Lord Sanstable has been a good friend to both me and my ship.”

“And well he should be,” she said, and smiled. “Lord Arthur worships the ground you walk upon—or perhaps I should say ‘deck.'”

“I cannot imagine that is true.”

“Lord Sanstable is convinced you have been a great and good influence upon his son.”

“I wonder if His Lordship will feel the same after he has seen his son so gravely hurt?”

“You could protect him only at the cost of his honour,” Lady Hattingale very wisely observed. “Lord Sanstable comprehends this.”

The final stair was reached and in a moment they arrived at the great entrance.

Hayden paused. “Thank you again, Lady Hattingale, for all you have done for Lord Arthur.”

“I have known him since the day his mother brought him into this
world, Captain Hayden. I could not have done less and wish I might do more.”

Hayden was out the door, where a groom stood waiting with his hired horse. Portsmouth was but a short ride, and all the way there Hayden found himself overcome with the most morbid feelings and such tides of emotion that he could hardly keep his saddle. All of the midshipmen were his charges, given into his safekeeping by apprehensive parents. But the truth was he could not keep them safe. He could try to make them good sea officers, but they would ever face mortal danger. Wickham, he realised, had become something of a protégé—more like a nephew than a young gentleman. Of course, it flattered Hayden to think of himself somehow part of such a distinguished family—for he was of more modest stock. But musket balls did not care what colour blood they spilled—blue or red, it was all the same to them. That was the harsh truth of the sea officer's life. Anyone who stood upon a quarterdeck was a target for enemy fire. Hayden, Archer, Wickham—they could all easily end their lives sewn up in a hammock, slipped over the side into a dark, watery grave . . . there to wait until the sea shall give up her dead.