“A baronetcy for Hart? Post rank for Landry? Infamy for all the rest?”
Griffiths tried to smile. “It is too true to make jest of, I fear. I understand they require a surgeon of the hulks—my next commission.”
Hawthorne joined them. “Did I hear laughter? Muted, but laughter all the same?”
“We are discussing our likely futures,” Hayden replied.
“Ah. Now, that is a subject for drollery. Do you think it possible to pay passage to Canada and buy a sizeable plot of land for ten pounds thruppence?”
“Why travel so far, Mr Hawthorne?” Griffiths enquired. “Why not simply purchase a manor house here in England and ride to the hounds and spend the rest of your days at sport? Certainly you could do all that for ten pounds and have thruppence left to guard against misfortune.”
“You, Doctor, should know that any respectable manor house would cost at least three times that sum. No, it is the cold winters of Canada for me.”
“You have not a thing to smile about.” Barthe stopped in his orbit of the deck, his usually florid face pallid and doughy in the flat light. “I have been in this exact position before—waiting upon the plea sure of the court—and I will tell you, no joy will come of it. Hart shall prance away with a light step and the court will bring down its harshest judgement upon those least able to defend themselves.” He gazed at his companions a moment, an odd look coming over his face. “But perhaps you should laugh while you may. There will be no mirth when all is done.”
The officers and crew of the Themis went warily down into the great cabin and stood, hats in hand, their manner funereal, only the deck offering up an occasional complaint as the men shifted about upon the planks. Among the captains of the panel Hayden saw no smiles. Indeed, they appeared almost to a man out of sorts or displeased, as though what had transpired satisfied no one. The lieutenant felt his mouth go dry, fists forming into tight balls.
The admiral stood, taking up a sheet of paper that lay before him. “It is the decision of this court-martial that Captain Sir Josiah Hart and his officers and loyal crew did vigorously defend their ship against the mutiny of the sixth of October but were overwhelmed by superior numbers and surprise. Captain Sir Josiah Hart, his officers, and crew are therefore honourably acquitted.”
There was, for a brief second, silence, and Hayden waited for Duncan to go on, to speak his name, announce the utter ruin of his career. But the admiral instead turned to one of the captains and began speaking quietly. The court-martial was over.
Hayden did not know whether to be relieved or enraged. He slumped in his chair a moment as congratulations were being offered all around. Someone pumped his hand. And then another. Over the babble, Muhlhauser shouted something that did not register. At least one frightened crewman hid his face and wept.
The crowd in the cabin all began to file out, following the jubilant crew of the Themis, some of whom began to caper before they reached the door. Hayden stood and waited for the people next him to move. Griffiths caught his eye and smiled, obviously relieved, though certainly the surgeon had never been in the least danger.
Hayden wondered if he should speak with Gardner, but then seeing the crush around the captains of the panel thought better of it. He did notice, as he shuffled out with the crowd, Hart approach Duncan and the other members of the panel. These gentlemen stood in small groups by their tables, speaking among themselves and to a few friends. As Hart came up to the admiral, Duncan turned his back on the man and began speaking to North in such a way as to brook no intrusion. For a moment Hart stood, a blush of crimson overspreading his face. He then turned his attention to Spencer, who cut him just as sharply. Bainsbridge and a few others came to Hart’s rescue then, leading him quickly away.
Hayden noticed Wickham observing this same spectacle.
“And to think I once believed him quite the greatest man of my acquaintance,” Wickham said, unable to hide a certain sadness of tone.
So fall the heroes of our youth, Hayden thought, but said nothing.
He seemed to float in a kind of daze up onto the deck and down into the waiting boat.
As soon as they had travelled beyond earshot of the flagship, Barthe’s rage exploded. “Was that not the most perfect example of Admiralty justice?” the master wondered bitterly. “The mutineers shall hang, and the man who drove them to it receives a knighthood. Fucking Navy!”
Hayden sat down at the table in the captain’s cabin and wrote letters for several of the accused mutineers. In each he said that they had been, prior to the mutiny, men of upstanding character and diligence. He knew that the letters would have no effect whatsoever—the men would all be hanged—but he wrote them attentively anyway, perhaps for no other purpose than to give the men hope for a few days or to assuage his own conscience. He wondered now, in retrospect, if he could not have done something to avert the mutiny. It was a question upon which he went back and forth almost by the hour. Certainly, Stuckey and his friends had been very cunning to exploit the natural anger that resulted from Hart flogging Aldrich, and the captain’s shyness at Belle Île—just when the men were gaining a measure of self-respect. No one could deny that Hart had done much to undermine his first lieutenant and had refused to listen to his warnings. But despite all that, Hayden wondered if he could not have done something more—gathered all the officers to repeat his warnings about the state of the crew, attempted to convince the captain again. He wondered if his wounded pride had led him to let the situation fester, thinking, “I have done my duty, now let Hart reap what he has sown.” And now many a man would hang, whose major offence was no longer being able to bear the tyranny and shyness of Captain Sir Josiah Hart.
A knock was followed by the doctor, whom he invited in.
“How fare you this evening, Mr Hayden?” Griffiths said, slurring his syllables noticeably.
“I am writing letters attesting to the good character of several of the mutineers. A rather futile business, but I feel I must do it.”
“Good for you, but do not waste too much effort in grief for them. We all suffered under Hart’s persecution and yet we did not choose to join the mutiny. For many it was the decision of the moment, perhaps, and their resentment betrayed their better judgement, which though it quickly returned, came too late. Even so, they so chose and we did not. Do not waste your energies in pity for them.”
“But I do.” Hayden leaned forward and spoke so very softly. “After all, did we not once conspire to give Hart his physic at an opportune moment so that we might take a prize? Was that not our own little mutiny?”
“I have no idea of what you speak, Mr Hayden. Indeed, I fear you are drunk. Captain Hart suffered from migraine and stones. I gave him physic when such was required. Here, let me fill your glass.” He reached for the decanter, almost knocking it over.
“Have you not had enough, Doctor?” Hayden wondered.
Griffiths sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. “Not nearly enough. I can still feel. I am not yet numb, to which state I aspire. Did you note how adeptly I said that? … To which state I aspire.” The doctor fell silent. For a moment Hayden thought he had passed out.
“Do you know,” Griffiths said softly, “of all Hart’s crimes, and they are manifold, the hanging of McBride is the one that seems to me most vile.”
“You should not blame yourself, Doctor; you only gave evidence that the finger did not belong to any man who remained on ship.”
Griffiths waved a hand drunkenly. “Forget my part. I shall be damned for it or not. Hart had a man hanged for a crime he did not commit. Certainly McBride was an obdurate and quarrelsome individual, but he did not deserve death for it.” A pause. “I am quarrelsome on occasion.”
“I have never witnessed it, Doctor.”
“Hart should have been made a Companion of the Order of Blackguard Knights.”
Hayden laughed. “An O.B.K.”
In the silence that followed, Hayden was sure he heard a voice call out that a captain h
ad come alongside. The sounds of feet thumping down the companionway stair. A sharp rap at his door.
“Captain Gardner asking for permission to come aboard, sir.”
“Gardner? At this hour?” Hayden rose quickly. “Help the doctor to his cabin, will you, Mr Jennings. I believe he has a touch of the seasickness.”
“In port, sir?”
“I believe it was claret.”
Hayden hastened up the ladders, where he found Gardner climbing unceremoniously onto the darkened deck.
“Captain Gardner, my most profound apologies. Not even a bosun to pipe you aboard, sir—”
“It was my purpose to draw no attention to myself, Mr Hayden. It is I who should apologize for appearing unannounced. May I speak with you in private?”
“Certainly, sir. By all means.”
They repaired to Hart’s cabin, where Hayden poured his guest some wine.
Gardner glanced around the barren compartment. “Hart has taken his belongings ashore?”
“Yes.”
Gardner nodded approvingly. “I do not think he will go to sea again.”
“With his knighthood and now great reputation can a pennant be far off? Admiral Sir Josiah Hart.” Hayden felt his bitterness and anger rise up like bile. His eye fell upon his guest. “He has been saved by the court-martial, after all.”
Gardner turned his intelligent gaze upon Hayden. “It was not Hart I wished to save, Mr Hayden, but you. Oh, in a perfect world, matters would have arranged themselves differently, and Captain Hart would have been exposed to the world for what he is …” Gardner paused. “But the world is less than perfect and arrangements have to be made. Hart was held accountable for none of his failures, but in return you escaped censure. And I must tell you that without the support of Admiral Duncan, Hart’s friends would have seen you blamed in Hart’s place.”
“I apologize, Captain Gardner. I spoke without thinking, an unfortunate habit of mine.”
“We all must speak our minds now and then. But it should comfort you to know that Hart is done in the service. Even his supporters in the Admiralty must realize that now; his acquittal and knighthood are his compensation. It was a devil’s bargain, perhaps, but something good came of it—your future in the service.”
“I owe you and your friends a great—”
“You owe me nothing, Mr Hayden,” Gardner interrupted. “Both my good friends Mr Bourne and Mr Stephens—who is soon to receive a knighthood himself, much deserved in his case—have given you such an excellent character that I felt obliged to do everything in my power to extricate you from your unfortunate situation. In this I had help, for I could never have done it alone.” A grin, lopsided and conspiratorial, appeared on the man’s face.
The grin disappeared. A sad shaking of the head. “It is almost a crime that Hart should receive credit for your deeds, but I think the truth shall soon be in circulation.” For a moment Gardner was silent, as though he had lost his train of thought. “There is another matter upon which we must speak, Mr Hayden. A matter worthy of your greatest attention. It was my distinct impression that this seaman, Peter Aldrich, was dear to all of the officers—with the notable exception of your gallant captain.” He paused but did not allow Hayden time to respond. “The man is in very grave danger, Mr Hayden. He was flogged for mutinous language, and though the court will not punish him again for this offence, he is certainly guilty of mutinous assembly, or will be seen to be so—”
“But his reading of the pamphlets was done in complete innocence—because he believed knowledge to be uplifting. He would have just as happily read the crew the doctor’s medical books.”
Gardner raised thick, angular hands, stark palms out. “I do not doubt you for a moment, Mr Hayden, but the captains of the court do not know your Aldrich. It will be seen that he read seditious texts to the crew, who then mutinied while he was in the sick-berth, too ill to join them. It is true that he did stop the floggings, but even if the man is not seen as part of the mutiny, he will be perceived as contributing to the unrest that led to it. He may not hang, but he will almost certainly be flogged around the fleet—a hundred lashes if the court is lenient, three hundred if it is not.”
“He will not survive it,” Hayden said, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Three dozen lashes were almost his end.”
After he broke his fast, Hayden paid a visit to Robert Hertle aboard his new frigate, christened Fairway by the Lords Commissioners.
“I suppose Roadstead was already taken,” Hayden observed, as his eye ran the length of the expanse of new-planked deck, almost virginal in its purity.
“At least it is not a name of the Indomitable school. Indefatigable et cetera.”
“Impregnable …?” Hayden suggested. “No women allowed.”
“Indefensible,” Hertle countered, “for sea-lawyers.”
“Irresolute?”
“We all know whose ship that would be.”
They both laughed.
“I am so relieved that you were not dragged into the court-martial, Charles.”
“Hart and the others were all honourably acquitted.”
“Acquitted, perhaps.”
Hayden glanced up at the men working aloft, shading his eyes against the sun. “When do you sail?”
“On the morning tide.”
“Mrs Hertle will be very sad to see you go.”
“She won’t watch my ship leave—a superstition. Mrs Hertle and Henrietta went up to London yesterday.”
Hayden was rather taken aback. “They left …?”
“Yes.” Hertle glanced at him, and then down at the spotless deck. “You should have spoken, Charles. I think you should have spoken. I know … you are dissatisfied with your prospects … but now Henrietta believes you are uncertain of your attachment. And I have begun to wonder myself.”
“I am not the least unsure. You cannot know, Robert, what an unrelenting cause for worry is a narrow income. Henrietta is used to a life of comfort, of going up to London whenever the whim strikes, of wearing the latest fashions—of buying the latest fashions. A lieutenant’s eight pounds eight a month will not keep her in such style, and her father has numerous daughters. He cannot possibly offer them all a living.”
“Have you forgotten already Lady Hertle and her two fine homes?”
“It is not my practice to think of a woman in terms of her fortune.”
“You are uncertain of your own attachment. Certainly you must be, for these are the slimmest excuses. Henrietta Carthew shall never be poor, and do not think other men are insensible to this.”
“And would she follow a failed naval officer to America? Will she forsake England and her remarkable family for the uncertainties of Boston or New York?”
Robert crossed his arms and regarded his friend. “If your attachment were profound you would not be asking such questions. You would not even be terribly concerned about having your suit rebuffed. I know of what I speak. When love is like a madness you care very little for how dignified you appear or about where or how you might live. It is better that you said nothing, Charles.” He pushed away from the rail where he had been leaning. “Come, let us have the rest of our tour.”
Over a dinner in the captain’s cabin, Hayden related recent events, the court-martial, Hart’s knighthood, the unheralded visit from Gardner. He chronicled these proceedings with little zeal or even interest, feeling the sting of Henrietta’s rather abrupt removal to London and wondering all the while if he had made a terrible error. Perhaps he was unsure of his own attachment …
Hertle remained silent, pensive, while his friend spoke. When Hayden finished, his manner did not change, as though he placed everything said upon a scale and watched, now, as the balance rocked one way then the other.
“I believe it is good news that both Philip Stephens and Captain Gardner—who will soon have his flag—have gone to some effort to shield you from the taint that your fellow officers will never quite be rid of … Hart’s mutiny.”
>
“Stephens made me no promises, which distressed you in the past.”
“Yes, but he has done much to preserve your reputation, so that you might find employment in the future, I would venture.”
“Perhaps he has some other captain who needs a nursemaid.”
“Stephens knows how diligently you prosecuted the war against the French on your recent cruise. Others must know it, as well, despite the Times account. Let us hope that something will come of it. But I will tell you, stealing back the master’s log probably had more effect than you realize. Until then Hart probably thought he could lie and bluster his way through the court-martial, but after that some arrangement had to be reached.” Hertle sat back from the table. “So, what is your opinion of my ship?”
“She is everything a man could hope for, though I dare say her crew will take some working up, as I have seldom seen a more unlikely collection of landsmen and bleaters.”
Hertle laughed. “They shall take some labour. I will have someone read Tom Paine to them each evening to improve their minds. That should answer.”
But this jest did not sit well with Hayden, whose smile disappeared.
“I am very concerned about Aldrich, Robert. If he does not hang, Gardner believes he will be flogged about the fleet, which will kill him just as dead as a noose.”
“The man was very foolish to have read such pamphlets to a disaffected crew. It might have been done in innocence, but so have many a black deed. The courts do not much care for a man’s good intentions if another’s death has resulted. Aldrich showed very little common sense, if I may use the term.”
“Aboard our ship, common sense was on every one’s lips but in no one’s character.”
After attending to some business ashore, Hayden returned to the Themis just as the sun set into a shoal of coal-dust cloud. Down into the bowels of the ship he went, seeking the doctor, whom he found in the sick-berth, decidedly pale if not ashen.
Under Enemy Colours Page 49
