'Coach ... yes ...'
'Cheerly now, Mr Tait. There ain't a minute to be lost.' Another sucked mouthful, and: 'Cutton!'
Presently Tom Makepeace appeared with the list of defaulters. 'I'm sorry I did not come sooner, sir, but I saw that you were busy, and so I thought—'
'Yes, Tom, y'did right.' Glancing down the list. 'This is very long. Too long. Twenty names.'
'Yes, sir.'
'That is what comes of lying idle at our mooring, when we should have put to sea long since. The people grow restless, and make mischief.'
'I fear so, sir.'
'But that don't excuse anything, by God. They'd better learn that lesson, right quick.' Running a finger down the list of names. '"Hopeful Lubbock, rated ordinary, answered back when drunk, and raised his hand to a midshipman." Don't say which middy.'
'Richard Abey, sir.'
'Hm. The only one of our former mids that is with us again. A steady, even-tempered lad, too. He'll make a good sea officer one day. I'll warrant he did nothing to provoke the man?'
'Not in the least, sir. Lubbock was very aggressive, and foul-mouthed. Mr Abey gave him an order, which he ignored, and when it was repeated would have struck Mr Abey, had he not been prevented, and held.'
'Very well. Lubbock is to be singled out, and flogged. Two dozen lashes, all hands to witness punishment.'
'Very good, sir.'
SIX
Sir Robert Greer sat up in his bed at his house in Swallow Street in London, and prepared to receive his visitor. The day was warm and sunny, but the covers on the bed were heavy and Sir Robert wore thick flannel, as if it were a winter's day. He was remarkably pallid and skeletal, and very ill, but his black eyes were still penetrating and steady. He heard his visitor mount the stairs, and with an effort sat a little higher against the pillows. The pain returned to his belly, and he thought of reaching for the tincture on the cabinet, but now the door had swung open and his manservant Fender announced:
'Mr Brough Mappin to see you, sir.'
Fender stepped aside, and Mr Mappin came in, dressed in a grey silk coat, with matching waistcoat and breeches, a dark red stock and laced shirt. A gold-and-stone fob seal hung at his waist. His buckled shoes gleamed briefly as he crossed the floor through a muted shaft of sunlight from the high, leaded window. He was, thought Sir Robert, rather too much the dandy, young Mr Mappin, but he did not say it.
'Come in, Mappin, come in. What news have y'brought to me? Is the thing arranged? Altogether arranged?'
'Not quite altogether, Sir Robert. We are—'
'Not? Why not by now, Mappin?' In the querulous tone of an ageing man, that he was not unaware of, and regretted, since it undermined his authority. Had he heard that tone in his own voice not a year since it would have shocked him. Now it merely saddened and irritated him. He cleared his throat and tried again:
'We must be prepared in all distinctions. There must be no impediment to any part of the plan.'
'Indeed, Sir Robert. However, as I think you know, I was never happy about the denials I was required to make to Captain Rennie.'
'He must have no inkling of my involvement!' With an emphasis that made his voice thin and hoarse.
'I know that is what you advised, Sir Robert. I fear he guessed it at once, though.'
'But that was your specific task, Mappin. To deflect him. To make him believe you was acting on direct authority of the government. The moment he had a suspicion of my involvement he would deny you and thwart you!' His voice again rising thin.
'Yes, as you said. It is a difficulty we must acknowledge, however.'
'No-no-no-no-no! You must convince him! You must!'
'Sir Robert, with respect, I think that since Lieutenant Hayter knows of your involvement, and Captain Rennie strongly suspects it, then—'
'Hayter knows? How could he know?'
'I was obliged to tell him that he was joining the Fund.' A little shrug.
'You damned fool!' Nearly breathless with anger.
'Sir Robert, may I speak frankly?' Firmer, his eyes candidly regarding the ailing man.
'I think you are doing so, already.' Controlling his voice, pushing his head against the pillow.
'If I am to have charge of this venture, I think I must behave as I see fit, under any and all circumstance. In course I will like to ask for your counsel, and listen to your advice. But I must deal in facts, else make grave errors. It will be an error, in my view, to continue to pretend to Captain Rennie that the Fund ain't behind this.'
'He will thwart you! He will ruin the whole careful undertaking by his intemperate folly!'
'Surely he was chosen because of his steadiness, and courage, was not he?'
'Not by me!'
'Well, no, Sir Robert. I am entirely aware of that.' Another little shrug.
'Nor would I have picked Hayter, neither.'
'But they were chosen, Sir Robert. Have not you yourself made their shared role in this more difficult, by asking me – nay, obliging me – to be devious?'
'Mr Mappin, you overreach yourself, sir! I am controller of the Secret Service Fund. I am the Fund!'
'You, sir?' A tilt of the head.
'Me, sir!'
'Forgive me, Sir Robert, but ain't the Prime Minister the controller of it? Of us?'
'I have always acted independent. The Prime Minister has never interfered with the work I do in the nation's interest. He knows very well that I am the only person that—'
'Nay, Sir Robert.' A finger to his lips. 'You are not the only person. Not at all. The Prime Minister has made it clear to me that he wishes me to conduct this venture according to my own lights, from now on.'
'You have the ear of the Prime Minister?' Incredulous. 'You, Mappin?'
'My own lights, and his own.'
'I do not believe you for a single moment, Mr Mappin. I think you have took leave of your senses. You will soon discover, if you seek to inhibit me in any particular, that I am—'
'You are a frail old man, Sir Robert.' With icy candour.
'What! You dare to speak to me like this!'
'I dare because I must. The venture on which we are embarked is too important and delicate a matter to be the subject of internecine division. I wished to spare you this moment, but now that it has come I must be harsh. I followed your advice, and was wrong to do so. I should have said what I am saying now long since. From today I shall proceed on my own course, without further consultation with you. I am very sorry, but there it is.'
'You are sorry! You damned impudent—'
'Good day, Sir Robert.'
'I will have you arrested!' Thrusting out an arm under the fourposted canopy as Mr Mappin departed, closing the door. 'D'y'hear me, Mappin!' As footfalls descended the stair. 'You damned blackguard ... hnnh ... ohh ... Fender! Fender! ... ohhh ...'
The sound of the great door below closing with a subdued thud, and now Fender's footsteps as he came running up.
'Fend— Ohhh ...'
Fender pushed open the door with a bang and a creaking of hinges, and hurried to the bedside. And found the figure in the bed fallen to one side against the pillows, the face ghastly white, the eyes staring.
'Sir Robert ... ?'
'Hhhh ...' A last exhalation of breath, and the staring eyes ceased to stare.
Fender peered at him, then leaned in under the canopy and put his fingers to the pallid neck. And felt no pulse.
'He is done.' Whispered.
*
In the midshipmen's berth on Expedient's lower deck, the senior mid and master's mate Edward Dangerfield, a strong youth of seventeen, was discussing with Richard Abey, a boy of not quite sixteen, the merits of flogging. He took a biscuit, and some cheese, and:
'I know it is bloody and all that, but the blood is soon washed away, and the man is subdued without being gravely injured, only his pride, and justice is served.'
'Justice! You call—'
'Pass the butter, will you?'
Richard Abey p
ushed the butter dish. Dangerfield's family was rich, and the senior mid was thus able to provide heartier and tastier fare at table than the standard stodge that would otherwise have awaited them at mealtimes. Richard did not like to argue with Dangerfield overly forceful, in case he withheld supplies, but in this instance:
'I cannot see that justice is served in any distinction, Dangerfield. A man drunk does not know or care what he is doing. Ain't the real culprit the ration of drink?'
'What? You are not suggesting, I hope, that seamen should relinquish the comfort of their grog, are you?' Taking up his tankard and draining the contents.
'Well, it is beer while we are in home waters, Dangerfield. But grog or beer, I would cut the ration by half, or three-quarters.'
'Oh, would ye? How long is your sermon today, Chaplain? Hey?'
'When we lie at our mooring like this, day after day, the people have nothing arduous to do, and four quarts of beer per diem is far too much. That is why—'
'Sailing on the open sea, watch on watch in all weathers, going aloft, manning the pumps, and so forth – y'would deprive the people of their comfort, when they are wet and cold and tired? Even then? My dear Chaplain, you would provoke a mutiny right quick, if you did that.'
'I did not say in all circumstances, Dangerfield. Heavy weather far at sea, and the fire gone out, the captain will certainly order a double ration of grog, unwatered if the men will like it. I am not against that, good heaven. But here at home, lying idle, where is the good in filling men's bellies with drink that will only addle their senses?'
'You wish to excuse the fellow that attempted to strike you?'
'No no, in course not. He deserved to be punished. But not by flogging him. Cutting off his beer would have been—'
'A simple inconvenience to him, for a week or two.' Over him. 'A flogging ain't an inconvenience, Richard. It is painful, and bloody, and above all else – mortifying. It ain't just the pain of the lash the man feels. It is the pain of his humiliation. Tied hand and foot, spread upon a grating, made to groan and cry out and soil his breeches, he is reduced to the condition of a wicked child. So that when it is over, and his cuts have healed, he will likely think twice before he transgresses again.'
'I had never quite seen it in that light before, Dangerfield. In a way it is even more disgusting.'
'Eh? Why?'
'To reduce a man – any man – to the condition of an infant is grossly unjust to him. And it demeans the chastiser. It makes him a bully.'
'By God, you sound like some damned radical dissenter, stood upon a cart in the marketplace.'
'Surely I am free to express an opinion, Dangerfield, when I was the cause of the poor fellow's flogging?'
'Poor fellow! Pfff! Drunken oaf is the better description. And you were not the cause. He was, by his own action in becoming drunk.' Shaking his head. 'Never think, by the by, that he will be grateful for your pity. He will look at you with contempt, and think you puny-hearted. Are you puny-hearted, Richard?'
'No.' A frown.
'You are not?' Another shake of the head.
'No, I am not!' Stung. 'I have seen action, Dangerfield, and have never shirked great hazard nor risk at sea! I was senior mid my last commission, in the Hawk cutter, that was twice near blown to splinters in the Channel!'
Dangerfield, mild and steady: 'Then for the love of Christ show them all who y'are, Richard, and what you are made of. A quarterdeck man in a blue coat, that must be reckoned with and obeyed. Hey?'
A hailing shout, then the sounds of a boat coming alongside, nudging bumps through the wooden wall, and the wail of the boatswain's call on deck.
'Hello, who's that, I wonder?'
*
It was the port admiral, who had himself brought Captain Rennie's sailing instructions to Expedient's mooring number. With him in the boat came Mr Brough Mappin. Admiral Hapgood could not think of himself as having brought Mr Mappin to the ship; it was simply that Mr Mappin had appeared at the Hard and decided to come. Admiral Hapgood had asked him:
'Why d'y'wish to go to Expedient, sir?'
And Mr Mappin had replied: 'To see Captain Rennie.' The half-smile.
'Let me save you the journey. I will gladly convey a message.'
'Ah, no, thank you. I must see Captain Rennie myself. It is a confidential matter.'
'Ah. Hm. Then by all means, Mr Mappin, avail y'self.' Grimly gesturing toward the stern sheets of his launch. The admiral noted with satisfaction that Mr Mappin possessed no boat cloak, nor any other means of protecting himself from the splashings and sprinklings produced by double-banked oars on open water. To the admiral's further satisfaction Mr Mappin arrived at the ship's side with his fine-cut coat near soaked through. There was a brisk breeze, the waves were chopped white, and the half an hour it took the admiral's crew to row out across Spithead to Expedient was an eventful time for the landlubber. He was distinctly paler in his face than when he had stepped aft across the thwarts at the Hard.
'Just clap on to the pieces as ye go up.' The admiral to Mr Mappin as the man at the bow held the boat in with a hook to the side of the ship.
'Pieces?'
'The steps of the ladder, man.' With a sea officer's impatience.
'Ah, yes. I have you. I see them.'
'Nay, Mr Mappin. Do not attempt to grasp the ladder as the sea falls. As it lifts is the moment ... Now!' Tapping him firmly on the shoulder.
To his credit Mr Mappin did not fall into the sea. He clung to the bottom of the ladder, felt his body lurch one way as the sea rose, then the other as the boat fell on the sea beneath him, and with a supreme effort he swung himself upward and into the waist, his fine shoes slipping on the narrow wet steps.
As the admiral came up into the ship behind him, Mr Mappin was startled by the piercing eagle's shriek of the boatswain's call, and the rigid expressions on the faces of the hastily assembled line of Marines.
Captain Rennie came forward to greet the port admiral, his hat formally off and on, and took him aft to the great cabin. Mr Mappin found himself virtually ignored, and was obliged to bring up the rear as Rennie endeavoured to be affable to Admiral Hapgood:
'I had not known you was coming, sir, else we could have put our boys in white gloves, and so forth, and rigged ropes at the ladder.' As the sentry at the great cabin door stood aside, his back straight, Rennie continued: 'Come in and sit down. I fear we are not quite prepared for guests, but you are in course welcome.' He hurried in ahead of the admiral, and thrust away in a drawer a spread of papers and journals that lay scattered over the table.
'Captain Rennie, I bear your instructions.' Pulling them from inside his coat with a gesture that in another man might have been a flourish, but in Admiral Hapgood was merely an irritable jerk. He thrust them at Rennie, who took them with a little bow.
'Thank you, sir. It is kind in you, indeed, to bring them yourself.'
'What? Why should not I bring them?'
'No no, in course – I did not mean – I merely meant—'
'Mr Mappin has come in the boat.' Not 'with me', Rennie noted, as Mr Mappin now stepped into the cabin. 'I do not know why. You had better ask him, I expect. He would not tell me.'
'Yes, Mr Mappin, come in. Will you both sit down? May I offer you a splash of something?'
'Sherry, if you have it.' The port admiral sat down at the table.
'Nothing, thank you.' Mr Mappin moved to the other side of the table and pulled out a chair.
'Tea, perhaps? Or perhaps you will like grog, Mr Mappin?' Noting his pallor.
'Nothing at all, I thank you.' He sat down.
'As to sherry, Admiral, I can offer you only Madeira. Will that do?'
'Madeira, then.' A nod.
'Cutton! Colley Cutton!'
'I am here, sir.' Cutton, attending.
'Bottle of Madeira wine, Cutton. Jump, jump. Now then, Mr Mappin.' Turning to his second guest again as the steward withdrew. 'How may I be of assistance to you?' A slight emphasis on 'you'.
'Y'will kindly assist me, if y'please, Captain Rennie.' The port admiral.
'I beg your pardon, Admiral.' Facing him. 'Erm ... now?'
'I will like you to open your instructions, Captain Rennie. Break the seal and read them out.'
'Yes, sir, very good.' A compliant nod, and Rennie broke the Admiralty seal and unfolded the document. He scanned the opening lines, and looked up quickly.
'Ah. I – I fear that I am unable to read them.'
'Unable?'
'That is, I am unable to read them aloud.'
'What? Why not?'
'Well well, Their Lordships do not wish it, d'y'see.'
'They have sent me here to you in my launch, directly obliged me to come, bearing your instructions, and I am to know nothing of their content?'
'I – fear not, sir.' Briefly raising his eyebrows.
The admiral leaned forward. 'Where does it say that? Let me see.'
'Well, sir ... you will apprehend, I am in no doubt, that I cannot – may not – do so.' Again raising his eyebrows, and folding the document with what he hoped was authoritative finality.
The admiral glanced at Mr Mappin, who sat pale and silent, then looked again at Rennie.
'Is Mr Mappin, by any chance, to be allowed to know what is in those instructions? Hey?'
Rennie tapped the document. 'Mr Mappin ain't mentioned, sir.'
'Not mentioned? Then what is he doing here, Captain Rennie?'
Rennie, embarrassed: 'Mr Mappin, I hope that you will excuse us in talking about you as if you was not in the cabin—'
'Do not apologise in my behalf, Rennie.' Admiral Hapgood was prepared to be severe; they were aboard one of His Majesty's ships, and here Mr Mappin was out of his depth. 'Mr Mappin has chosen to be present without invitation at our interview, and he may think what he pleases about my questions to you, and your answers to me. Now then—'
'Contrary to that, Admiral.' Mr Mappin, raising a finger to his chin. 'Contrary to that, Their Lordships have asked me specific to come here today.' He took the finger away from his chin, tapped the pocket of his coat and drew out a letter. 'So you see I am not uninvited, after all.'
'I beg your pardon, Mr Mappin.' The admiral, stiffly. 'Well, sir, I shall ask you direct. Are you party to what is in Captain Rennie's instructions?'
The Gathering Storm Page 8
