by Lee Rowan
Marshall did not look up. “Nothing was done to Mr. Archer in my presence, sir.”
Smith’s own discomfort was turning to irritation at Marshall’s careful discretion. “Of course not, man. I appreciate that you might feel a conflict of loyalties if Mr. Archer has told you something in confidence….”
Marshall opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again, looking wretched. Naturally, he could not say even yes or no without breaking the confidence.
Smith had to press the matter, but he tried to soften his tone. “Mr. Marshall, we are having this conversation because I believe that Mr. Archer has endured enough. I would prefer not to put him through an interview that would, if my estimation of him is correct, be an unnecessary and painful intrusion. I assure you, I have no intention of punishing one of my officers for something that was inflicted upon him without his consent.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But… as an officer in His Majesty’s Navy, my primary concern—and yours—must be the safety and security of all the men under my command, as well as those who will someday be under his. I need to know whether you believe Mr. Archer was a willing participant in whatever may have passed between him and our late host.”
Marshall’s jaw dropped. “Absolutely not, sir.”
He hadn’t the guile to feign that conviction. Smith was enormously relieved by his vehemence. “You sound quite sure.”
“I am, sir. Captain—” He met Smith’s eyes. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but may I ask that what I say be kept in confidence between us?”
Thank God he realized where his duty lay. “So long as it does not jeopardize the safety of our men, you have my word.”
Chapter 25
ARCHER SAT waiting in the officer’s wardroom. Between the small crew on the Artemis and the number of men on shore leave, he had the place to himself. The solitary vigil had gone on until he knew he might as well accept the worst. What can be taking them so long? Why not just throw me overboard and be done with it? He hoped Marshall wasn’t trying to plead his case and discrediting himself in the process. And, please God, don’t let Will’s overactive sense of responsibility ruin him, let him have enough sense of self-preservation to leave—us—out of it.
Apart from a day or two under the surgeon’s care for concussion—he’d managed to keep his shirt on—Archer had spent the last couple of weeks feeling as if he was in Limbo. He’d been returned to duty, but with the Calypso in for repair, duty for everyone aboard the Artemis was light. A few days after their triumphant return to Portsmouth, Captain Smith had departed for London to report directly to the Admiralty and get his recovered ransom money back into the bank. No one had mentioned the situation with Adrian, and Archer had begun to hope that William was right and the Captain had never caught wind of it.
But now—what else could that meeting be about? William had been included, so why exclude him, unless a decision had already been made, at a level that would brook no appeal? He had no illusions left on that score, and no hope. Drinkwater’s look of concerned sympathy, when they’d returned from the shipyard, had told him all he really needed to know.
Well, if he couldn’t have their respect, he’d be damned if he wanted their pity. He hadn’t survived that bastard Adrian to be broken by this. He would survive. Once he had word, he could clear out his dunnage in an hour. Less, really. Fifteen or twenty minutes. Shipboard life didn’t encourage accumulation.
And then what?
Archer had no idea what he was going to do now. He would have a few months’ salary coming, and the money from those last prizes. That would last for a while, but a midshipman released from the Service, even on good terms, wasn’t entitled to half-pay. He did not want to go home to face his father’s interrogation. He could not possibly explain the situation—especially not to his mother, or sisters—and he would not accept the inevitable offer of Army enlistment.
Hunt a job on a merchant ship, without being able to explain why he’d left the Service? Even if he found one, that would mean every time they met a Navy vessel, he would chance meeting someone who’d known he had been an officer who left under unnamed and, therefore, suspicious circumstances. No.
Survival was all very well, but one did eventually need a reason for it, and finding a reason was rather difficult at the moment. He wouldn’t even have Marshall’s friendship—for William’s protection, the break would have to be complete. The bastard’s won after all, hasn’t he? He’s taken everything.
He was now effectively cut off from everyone and everything he’d ever known—except, perhaps, Drury Lane. But if he found work there—doing what, painting scenery?—it would last exactly as long as it took for someone to recognize him and get word to his father. His Lordship was entirely capable of pulling strings to save himself the embarrassment of a son following such a disreputable calling.
Perhaps he might change his name and ship out to North America. He could disappear into that vast wilderness and start over somewhere. Others had, with much less cause, but it would be a long, bleak, lonely way to go, and hardly seemed worth the effort. Maybe he would be lucky and the ship would sink. No. The way my life’s been going, the ship would sink, but I’d float, and I’d be rescued by a shipload of French sodomites.
It would be funny, if it didn’t hurt so much.
DEAR GOD, Davy, you were right. How am I ever going to get us out of this?
Captain Smith’s questions were like a broadside out of thin air. Never mind how he found out; it was no secret anymore. Marshall was both honored and chagrined that Smith would put such weight on his observations, and he was pinned between two points of honor. True, Davy had told him to go ahead and tell the Captain about Adrian, but he hadn’t told him about any of that in confidence—it had come out through Marshall’s own clumsiness. And he could hardly explain what else had happened after that.
But if he wouldn’t or couldn’t provide sufficient answers, the Captain would no doubt call Davy in. To make him suffer that again, in an official inquiry—and what if Davy blurted out something that would incriminate them both?
No, Davy would never do that. He would sacrifice himself first. As he had all along.
The Captain was waiting.
“Thank you, sir.” Marshall looked at his hands and forced his voice to a formal, detached tone. “Shortly after Mr. Archer was first taken to Adrian’s cabin, he began having nightmares that woke us both.” That was literally true, at least. “Eventually I realized that something was amiss and… and confronted him. Based on what he said, as well as injuries to his person, it was clear that he was extremely distressed at what was happening.”
“Injuries?”
Marshall closed his eyes briefly. “He had been bound, sir, tightly enough to leave lasting marks. And… mishandled in a way that caused severe bruising over the greater part of his body.” Never mind how he happened to see that damage. “Further than that, I did not inquire in detail, though I assume that whatever else may have been done to him was in keeping with Adrian’s habits. Mr. Archer also told me that Adrian had threatened to injure you and myself to coerce his participation and his silence. That beating I received occurred immediately after Mr. Archer had first rejected his advances.”
“I see,” Smith said. “Not that I would have wished to see you mistreated, but surely Mr. Archer realized that Adrian needed us alive?”
“Yes, sir. But not….” Marshall struggled to find the right word; he felt as though he was walking on broken glass. “Not intact, sir. And I believe Mr. Archer was correct in assuming that Adrian was ruthless enough to follow through on the threat. He would only have had to demonstrate upon one of us. Sir.”
“I see.” And he clearly did. Marshall had never seen so black a scowl. “Not much of a choice for Mr. Archer, was it? Calling that filthy pirate a whoreson would be an insult to any whore.” He rose and paced the short strip of deck behind the table. “Well, I have one more question, Mr. Marshall, and I ask you to bear in mind
that it is not only the well-being of your friend you must consider, but your duty to all the men—and boys—who will one day be under his command. Do you believe there is any likelihood that, given his own command, Mr. Archer might….” It was the Captain’s turn to search for words, as the question was no doubt difficult to phrase neutrally. “Be tempted to abuse his authority?”
That was easy enough to answer, for himself and Davy, with no prevarication. “Sir, I believe that Mr. Archer would sooner be roasted alive—as would I. His comment to me on the subject was—” “I know too well how it feels to be on the receiving end.” No, he could not say that. “I believe his exact words were that we could do our best to keep such predators out of the Service, since we would recognize them in future.”
“I see.” Smith held his gaze for a long moment; Marshall felt almost as if the Captain could see right into his mind. “And you are convinced of his sincerity?”
“I am, sir. Mr. Archer also told me, specifically, that he did not want me to risk compromising myself by trying to conceal what I knew, lest I jeopardize my career. He feels that his own….” Marshall looked at the brandy before him, forgotten until now, and swallowed it like a dose of tonic. It burned going down, but didn’t help at all. He could still hear the despair in Davy’s voice. “I’m tainted now. He won’t want me anywhere near his ship.”
And here Marshall sat, above suspicion, almost sitting in judgment, when his own behavior had been much more reprehensible. Wrong? No. Not by his own inner compass. But certainly contrary to both regulations and English law.
“Captain,” he said, “Mr. Archer is convinced that… that what was done to him will result in his expulsion from the Service. I thought he was worrying unnecessarily; he obviously saw the potential difficulties more clearly than I. But I believe….”
He believed he would rather not be any part of a Navy that would be stupid enough to discard a treasure for so little reason. But to say so would sound like an ultimatum, and Smith would not—could not—accept what amounted to a threat. If Marshall said what he felt, he would almost guarantee that Davy would be dismissed, and he would have to leave, as well. And despite all its difficulties, he loved this life, could not imagine himself out of the Service.
But he knew where his loyalty lay. If they throw Davy away, I’ll resign too. It’s only fair. He was forced. I wasn’t. But he would hate to do it. There had to be a way….
He took a deep breath and chose his words with care. “Sir, Mr. Archer gave himself as ransom for our safety. I cannot conceive of him ever behaving as Adrian did. I further believe that to dismiss him would not only be a monstrous injustice in return for his loyalty and sacrifice, but a serious loss to the Service. If… if I were ever to have a son, I would place him under Mr. Archer’s command without hesitation.”
“I see.” Smith sounded almost surprised. “Since you put it that way, Mr. Marshall, I must admit that my concern is that of a father as well as an officer. I have two young sons myself, and the eldest clearly intends to follow me into His Majesty’s Service. Either he or his brother may one day serve under Mr. Archer—or yourself.”
Marshall had never thought of that, but it went a long way toward explaining Smith’s vehement insistence on executing Adrian on the spot. The sort of creature that would force himself on anyone, let alone youngsters, had no place in the Service. “They would be safe in either case, sir,” he said honestly. “And not only because they are your sons.”
“As safe as one can be on a fighting ship going in harm’s way,” Smith amended. “Very good, Mr. Marshall. Thank you very much for your candor.” The Captain let out a deep breath and his shoulders relaxed. “That being the case, there is one other thing I wish to tell you. You are aware that Mr. Archer missed his examination for Lieutenant due to our hiatus.”
“Yes, sir. He has not mentioned it since our return.”
“Another examination is scheduled in five days’ time at the Admiralty in London. As the Calypso will be in for repairs for another three to four weeks, I am sending Mr. Archer to London to take his examination there.”
Marshall heard the words through a haze of disbelief. It’s over? So quickly? His heart leapt. “Thank you, sir!”
“And I’m sending you with him. You both deserve shore leave, and I don’t want you wandering off alone and getting into trouble. Again.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!” It hadn’t only been up to him, then. Captain Smith must have put Davy’s name in for the examination before he ever left the Admiralty, and the relief left him tongue-tied. “I mean, no, sir. We won’t.”
“See that you’re issued pistols before you go, just in case. And, Mr. Marshall, I realize this is a matter of extreme delicacy, and you may not have the opportunity to discuss it, but—” He extracted a slip of paper from his waistcoat. “This is the name of my own physician in London. Please assure Mr. Archer that if he feels the need for medical attention, the doctor can be relied upon for discretion.”
“I believe he’s recovered, sir, but I’ll find a way to let him know. Thank you, sir.”
“A Captain is responsible for the health and safety of his crew,” Smith said noncommittally.
“Yes, sir.” Marshall took a step toward the door. “Sir… I hope one day I can live up to your example of what a Captain is.”
“Thank you, Mr. Marshall. I believe you’ve made a good start. The job is never an easy one, and it can sometimes be an ordeal. But every once in a long while, it has its compensations.” He cleared his throat. “Now, stop dallying. It’s a long way to London. Go find Mr. Archer and make your preparations. That’s five days from now—not as much time as you seem to think. I’ll see you back here two weeks from today.”
“Yes, sir!” He wasn’t sure where Davy was, but there were only a couple of places to look. So much to tell him: his Lieutenant’s examination, the trip to London, and the Morven as a prize, simply unbelievable. But how exactly did one go about finding the quickest way to London?
Davy was waiting for him in the officer’s wardroom. Apparently he’d spent the whole time working his nerves to shreds, because he looked as though he expected to be taken out and shot. Well, what else could he have expected, being excluded from the meeting? Not that it would have been any kinder to make him sit through that last bit.
“Will!”
“You will never believe me—” Marshall began.
“Oh. So they’ve given you the dirty work.” Davy blinked rapidly, then his expression closed down. “One way of making sure I won’t shoot the messenger, I suppose.” His attempt at a smile failed dismally. “Don’t worry, Will, I’ll go quietly. I… I can be packed and gone in an hour. There are a few things I’d like you to have—”
“Davy, no. It’s all right.” Anxious to reassure him, Marshall got it all wrong. “You’re not going anywhere. No, I’m sorry, you are, but—”
“William—” Davy’s composure cracked. “For God’s sake, get it over with!”
“Davy, you were only half-right. The Captain is sending us both—”
“He can’t!” Archer lost all his apprehension in a burst of indignation. “No, you don’t deserve—”
“No less than you.” Marshall seized his shoulders and pushed him back down to his seat. “Listen to me, Davy. It’s only good news, I’m just making a mess of it.” He sat down himself. “First: you are not in disgrace, nor out of the Service. Second: the Captain has arranged for you to take your Lieutenant’s examination in London, and since he thinks you might get into trouble alone, he’s sending me along to look after you.”
Archer frowned and shook his head. He looked afraid to hope. “Say that again?”
“I know it’s a terrible blow, Mr. Archer, but we have been ordered to take shore leave in London so you can have a chance at a new uniform before we sail. God knows your old one is in worse shape than mine.”
“Didn’t he ask—”
“Yes.” Marshall said. “I’m afraid you were rig
ht about that, Davy. He did ask. He asked if I knew whether anything happened between you and Adrian, and how I thought it would affect you in future, when you had your own command. When, Davy. Not if.”
“And?” Archer asked doubtfully.
“And I told him the truth: that you were trying to protect both of us, besides being physically overpowered. I told him that whatever might have happened, you would probably have the safest youngsters in the Fleet. And he accepted that—I think because it only confirmed what he already knew.” Should he tell him the rest? Yes. Better that he know. “I wouldn’t have brought it up at all, Davy, but somehow the Captain learned that Adrian had gotten at you.”
“Oh, God.”
“Parker or Nearns, I imagine. I can’t believe the rest of the crew would have incriminated themselves as accomplices. I don’t think you’ll hear any more about it from any of them, especially the Captain.”
“But he knows—”
“That’s all he knows. What Adrian did to you. He already knew. And now he knows how it happened and why.”
There wasn’t likely to be anyone in earshot, but there was no counting on privacy aboard a ship. He held Archer’s eyes and said, very quietly, “That’s all, Davy. Only Adrian. No unlikely, improbable, wonderful dreams.” And, louder, “Bear in mind that even before he knew why, he nominated you for the examination. The Captain did that before he left London. He didn’t doubt you any more than I did.”
“But if he knew—”
“As you once said, it wasn’t the first time and won’t be the last. The Captain just wanted to be sure of you. But it’s over now, Davy. It’s over,” he repeated, aware that Archer was having trouble absorbing the fact. “And that damned brig has been declared a prize ship, and if I understand correctly—I can’t have understood correctly—we each get a full share of the thing—thousands of pounds. We are both almost rich.”
Archer looked as though he’d been smacked with an oar.
