by Jay Worrall
Charles had himself rowed back to Louisa. He went first in search of Talmage. He found the lieutenant on the quarterdeck.
“What do you think he’ll do?” Talmage asked after Charles had given him the gist of it. It was the first hint of uncertainty that Charles had noted in Talmage’s otherwise unbending demeanor.
“I don’t know,” Charles answered. “He didn’t confide in me. He asked for your presence on board the flagship. Read into it what you will.”
Talmage nodded. “I see,” he said.
From Nelson’s expression, Charles did have a suspicion of what his admiral might do, but wasn’t sure he agreed with it. Quarreling with a fellow officer, no matter how carefully Charles had phrased it in his report, wasn’t something any admiral would smile upon. He turned as he caught sight of his youngest lieutenant. “Mr. Beechum,” he called, “a moment, if you please.”
“Sir?”
“Your presence is requested aboard the flagship this evening for an interview with Admiral Nelson.”
“Just me, sir?” Beechum said with alarm.
“Alas, I am afraid not. Mr. Talmage and I will be there. I have informed the admiral of your acting status as lieutenant and asked him to confirm it. He said he will consider doing so. I recommend that you present yourself as shipshape as you can and bring your logbook and certificates.”
Beechum puffed out his cheeks in concentration, then seemed to be in a great agitation to depart. “I should go wash and shave myself, sir.”
Charles gave the briefest glance at the young man’s smooth cheeks. Eliot, standing just behind, broke into a loud guffaw. “I should think the washing would answer both tricks,” he chortled.
Soon afterward, Charles went down to his cabin, where he found his wife at the table with Claudette, in the midst of an English lesson.
“ ’Ow art thou, Sharrle Edgemont?” Claudette asked prettily. “ ’Ow go thy …” She turned to Penny. “Bateau?” she asked.
“Boat,” Penny said.
“ ’Ow go thy boat today?”
“Why, I’m as fit as can be,” Charles said, wiggling his fingers as if to tickle her. “And the boat goes very well, considering she’s at anchor.” As the girl clasped her arms to protect her middle, he ruffled her hair and pushed her cap down over her eyes. When she moved to reset her cap, he tickled her ribs.
To Penny, he gave a buss on the cheek. “Admiral Nelson conveys his deepest appreciation of you.”
“Didst thou speak with him about Jacob Talmage?” she said.
“I did. I passed him my report on the incident, and he agreed to read it. He has requested that Talmage present himself after dinner. I expect he will make some kind of decision then.”
“What dost thou think he will decide?”
Charles hesitated. “I am in hopes that he will arrange for a transfer, but he may decide to convene a court-martial.”
“Is that serious?” she asked.
“It could be,” he answered easily. “If found guilty, Talmage would be dismissed from the service or, in theory, executed.” Charles would not mind terribly if Talmage were booted from the navy.
“Executed, surely that cannot be,” she said.
Charles began to say “I don’t think it will come to that,” when he came up short, the true enormity of Talmage’s offense dawning on him for the first time. He had assumed that, at worst, the lieutenant would be found guilty of quarreling with a fellow officer, the penalty for which would be his automatic dismissal. But if the act was interpreted as drawing his sword against a superior officer, the required punishment was death. The Articles of War were firm. His mind raced to recall exactly what he had written in his report. My God, he realized, if Winchester was considered Talmage’s superior at the time of the incident, they would hang Talmage. “I am afraid that is a possibility,” he said.
“Thou must protect him from this,” Penny said.
“Probably Nelson will just arrange the transfer and let it go at that,” Charles answered, his mind far less confident of that outcome than his words expressed.
Apparently satisfied, Penny changed the subject. “Did he speak of how Molly, Claudette, and I shall return to England?”
Charles dropped into a chair, preoccupied with the repercussions Talmage faced. “I mentioned the necessity of it, and my preference for going on to Gibraltar,” he said absently. “But he won’t send me. I’ll have my orders this evening. It’s likely you will have to return to Gibraltar with Daniel on Pylades.”
“THE ADMIRAL REQUESTS your presence in his cabin, sirs,” Vanguard’s flag lieutenant said. While waiting, Charles and Talmage had sat tensely silent, as Beechum chattered nervously about what obscure elements of seamanship Nelson might or might not quiz him on.
“Please be seated, gentlemen,” Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson said. To Charles, he looked more careworn than usual and remained standing at the head of his bare dining table in the large cabin. Charles and Talmage found places on either side, and Beechum seated himself at its foot. “We have several issues to consider, and they must be dealt with expeditiously.”
Charles sat uneasily, his hands folded on the tabletop to keep his fingers still. He noted that no refreshment had been offered, which was unusual, and that there had been three marine sentries posted outside the cabin door instead of the customary one. He glanced across at Talmage, whose face was rigidly expressionless. Beechum, he observed, had beads of sweat on his forehead, in spite of a cooling breeze through the open gunports and windows.
“We will take up Acting Lieutenant Beechum’s case first, as that’s the easiest,” the admiral said seriously. “Is that agreeable to you, Mr. Beechum?”
“Y-yes, sir,” Beechum stammered.
“It is my unvarying practice in these instances,” Nelson continued, “to query such a candidate as yourself on all manner of naval lore so that I may be assured that he is fit, even for a temporary posting.” Charles thought he saw the hint of a smile showing at the corners of the admiral’s mouth. “I trust you have prepared thoroughly,” Nelson said.
Beechum seemed to be having trouble swallowing something risen in his throat. “Yes, sir,” he croaked.
“Acting Lieutenant Beechum,” Nelson intoned gravely, “you are standing on your quarterdeck facing the bow. The lookout shouts down that an enemy is approaching from starboard. Which side is that, sir?”
“From the right side, sir?”
“That is correct. Very good. And if the wind is blowing in over the railing to your left, which direction is to windward?”
“To the larboard, or port side, sir,” Beechum answered more firmly, but clearly mystified at the line of questioning.
With a wink to Charles, Nelson said, “I do profess myself impressed with this young man’s firm grasp of the fundamentals of seamanship. Mr. Beechum, I am pleased to approve your status as acting lieutenant to Louisa until such time as I can convene a proper board of examination to make it permanent.”
“I … I … thank you, sir,” Beechum managed, a puzzled look still on his face. Then he smiled.
“Always remember to do your duty to the best of your ability and to see that your deportment is a credit to your ship, your king, and the Royal Navy.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
Nelson shifted his gaze. “Captain Edgemont, I have already sent orders to Pylades to convey my reports on the location of the French, and my intention to engage, to Lord St. Vincent at Gibraltar. I have also ordered that Commander Bevan provide accommodation to the charming Mrs. Edgemont. I trust this is acceptable to you.”
“Yes, sir,” Charles said. It was the only thing he could say.
“As for Louisa, I have determined that suitable mast sections are available from Leander. They will be delivered to you at first light. The squadron will set sail for Alexandria at four bells in the forenoon watch. Your orders are to complete the repairs to your ship and resupply as expeditiously as possible. Then you will immediately take up our
wake, sir. We are no flying squadron; I am confident you will catch us up well before we reach Egypt.”
Charles was not entirely displeased by this. He would part from Penny sooner than he liked, but then he would be a participant in the coming battle against the French. “Yes, sir,” he said again.
“So far, so good,” Nelson said reflectively. “Now we come to the troublesome problem of Lieutenant Talmage.” He glanced down at Charles’s report, which lay on the polished table before him, then he stared directly at Talmage with a frown. “I must say, sir, that I am deeply disappointed in your behavior. In his report, Captain Edgemont tends to be forgiving. Reading it, I find that I am not. There will be no transfer to another ship, Mr. Talmage, not while I am in command. Drawing your sword in the presence of a superior officer is a most serious breach of discipline, expressly prohibited by the king and by act of Parliament. What have you to say for yourself ?”
“Sir,” Talmage said immediately, casting a scowl at Charles, “I am the senior officer to Lieutenant Winchester, whom Captain Edgemont unfairly placed above me. This was a direct insult to my reputation and my honor, as Mr. Winchester well knew. No gentleman could allow such an affront to go unchallenged.”
Charles saw that Talmage was about to sink himself. “Admiral Nelson, sir,” he interjected.
“In a moment, Captain,” Nelson said. “I can well appreciate your objection to this line of defense.” Turning back to Talmage, he continued, “It does not answer that you are the longer-serving officer. I’ll grant that it’s unusual, but Captain Edgemont is well within his rights to appoint his lieutenants as he sees fit, particularly if his first’s abilities are found wanting, as he has clearly stated. However that may be, there is not a shred of doubt that Lieutenant Winchester was officially your superior on the date the altercation took place.”
“Sir,” Charles said again.
Nelson ignored him. “Mr. Talmage,” he said harshly, “I find that your deportment has been contrary to every tenet of good discipline in His Majesty’s Navy. I am ordering you placed under arrest for breach of the twenty-second article of the Articles of War, for drawing your sword against a superior officer. A court-martial will be assembled to determine your guilt and pronounce punishment immediately after we have dealt with the French force at Alexandria. Mr. Beechum, if you would be so good as to instruct the marine guard outside the door to enter.”
“Beechum, wait,” Charles said quickly. To Nelson, he pleaded, “Sir, may I speak?”
The admiral looked at him with raised eyebrows. “What is it?”
“Sir,” Charles said, trying to collect his thoughts, “I do not believe arresting Lieutenant Talmage to be warranted. The incident in question occurred several weeks ago, and there has been no repeat of it. Since he agreed to assume the position of second, his deportment has been more than satisfactory. I believe the rift between Talmage and Winchester to also have been healed, sir.”
“I do not—” Talmage began loudly.
“For Christ’s sake, shut up,” Charles snapped. He hurried on: “Admiral Nelson, sir, this is no rogue officer. The issue is that he felt himself unfairly treated by me, and he quarreled with my first as a result of that frustration. Since then we have come to an agreement, and the issue has been resolved.”
Nelson eyed Charles steadily. “But he quarreled, as you say, with a naked blade in his hand, did he not?”
Charles’s heart sank. This was the single unavoidable damning fact. “Yes, sir,” he said. “But its point rested mostly on the deck. I believe that the lesser charge of quarreling with a fellow officer under the twenty-first article to be more appropriate in this case.”
The admiral stared at him, either undecided or disbelieving; Charles couldn’t tell which. “Furthermore, I have the utmost confidence in Mr. Talmage’s conduct,” Charles added hopefully, “and I will personally vouch for his appearance at trial.”
Nelson hesitated. He cleared his throat, paused a moment longer, then said, “All right, if that is your wish, Captain. Mr. Talmage, are you agreeable to remaining on board Louisa, and do you give me your guarantee of future obedience to orders?”
“Yes, sir,” Talmage said, stone-faced.
“Then I will amend the charges against you to include violation of both the twenty-first and twenty-second articles,” Nelson said. “I will leave it to the court to determine which applies.”
The sky had turned moonless black when they emerged onto Van guard’s deck. In tense silence, Charles, Talmage, and Beechum climbed down the side steps to their boat waiting below.
“Mr. Talmage,” Charles said after they had settled themselves and the boat had shoved off.
“Sir,” Talmage answered.
Charles detected resentment in the lieutenant’s voice. “May I take it that you are agreeable to remaining on board Louisa?” he said.
“It seems that I have little option.”
“I am sorry. I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“It is your doing that brought me to this pass,” Talmage choked. “I have been sorely treated, and now my career is in ruins.”
“Goddammit, man,” Charles growled, “it’s that kind of prickly arrogance that has brought you to where you are. You know that if you go before a court-martial, they will hang you, don’t you? No jury of navy captains is going to overlook the fact that you drew your sword. Make no mistake, Jacob, they will hang you by the neck until dead. Is that what you want?”
Charles could hear Talmage’s labored breathing in the darkness beside him. “No,” Talmage managed.
“Then I strongly suggest that we look for some way to repair your reputation before any court can be convened.”
Charles allowed Talmage and Beechum to mount Louisa’s side by themselves. To Williams, the coxswain, he said, “Take me across to Pylades.
“You’ve orders for Gibraltar?” Charles asked Bevan as soon as he had climbed to the brig’s deck.
“Aye,” Bevan answered. “The moment we’ve replenished our water and such. I’m instructed to provide accommodation for Mrs. Edgemont. I’m sorry, Charlie.”
“It’s probably for the best,” Charles said. “When do you think you’ll up anchor?”
“Sooner rather than later,” Bevan answered vaguely. “What are you thinking?”
“Could you delay for a day or so? I was hoping you could help with our repairs.”
“I believe that can be arranged,” Bevan said.
AT TWO BELLS in the morning watch, Charles stood on his quarterdeck as a ship’s cutter, tied up alongside Leander the past half hour, spread its oars to begin the pull across the low gray chop of Syracuse harbor. He could see the line from the boat’s stern and the two long spars being towed through the water behind.
A swarm of activity showed itself on board the men-of-war of the British squadron as anchors were hove short, men swarming aloft to loosen the gaskets on the yardarms prior to dropping their sails, and a multitude of ship’s boats on last-minute errands plying back and forth between the heavy two-deckers like so many water bugs.
As Leander’s cutter neared, Charles observed the somewhat unusual sight of an officer—the lieutenant commanding the work party, he presumed—standing in the bow, sawing back and forth with his arm as if playing an imaginary fiddle.
“Boat ahoy, what is your business?” Charles heard Beechum, standing officer of the watch, call down.
“His Majesty’s lieutenant Jack Aubrey of Leander, youngster. I’ve two mast sticks for you. Permission to come aboard?”
“Come aboard, Mr. Aubrey,” Charles shouted. “It’s all right, Mr. Beechum, he’s expected.”
That the lieutenant was a man of robust proportions Charles could tell while he was still in the boat alongside. On deck he saw him to be tall, taller than Charles, with a ruddy, good-natured face and long blond hair tied in an old-fashioned queue behind.
“You would be Captain Edgemont, sir?” Aubrey asked.
“I am he,” C
harles answered.
“I’m honored, sir,” the lieutenant said, extending a very large hand and a rather infectious smile. “We was at Cape St. Vincent together a year and more back.”
Charles shook the hand, which gripped his almost painfully. “What ship were you on?” he asked.
“Third on Colossus, I was. We lost some yards on the foremast straightaway.” Aubrey laughed, a hearty, uninhibited laugh that seemed to come up from his belly. “Almost the first whiff of gunsmoke, and we was out of the battle.” He took a moment to compose himself. “And you were second on little Argonaut, I recall. I winced when I saw her poor battered state. That must have been the devil’s own trial.”
“I wouldn’t want to repeat it,” Charles said.
“No, I imagine not. Still, it got you your step,” Aubrey said happily. Then he seemed to remember his business. “I’ve brought your spars for you. If you will just sign for them.” He removed a piece of ham and then produced a wrinkled paper and the stub of a pencil from a jacket pocket. Charles scratched his signature.
The lieutenant tipped his hat. “Good day to you, sir. The admiral has us off for Egypt. You’ve just been there, I hear tell. I don’t suppose you’ll be coming along?”
“We’ll catch up as soon as your sticks are in place,” Charles said with a small laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you to fight them all by yourself.”
“How many do you reckon they are?” Aubrey asked, turning serious.
“Thirteen big ones, including L’Orient,” Charles answered. “Enough to make a fair fight.”
The lieutenant whistled his appreciation. “We’ve nothing approaching that size. Still, Nelson has never been known to be shy.” Then, with a nod and a smile, Jack Aubrey hoisted his bulk outboard and descended the side steps with surprising agility.
“Mr. Keswick,” Charles called for the boatswain. “Your mast sections are alongside. See to hoisting them aboard, if you please.”
