Rennie made a face, tugged an ear, sniffed. 'We could attempt it – here – or here.' Pointing. 'But there is such variation of depth, I will always be apprehensive how close in I may navigate.'
'Yes, twenty-five fathom here, and only three or four just here.' James, also pointing. 'Which means troubled water close inshore. Hazardous for a boat's crew, with all these rocks. I do understand your reluctance, sir. But I fear I must insist.'
'Very well, James.' Nodding, another sniff. In spite of his earlier assertion of equanimity, Rennie was not happy – but he would do his duty. He was not altogether sure that James was deliberately keeping him in the dark, but he strongly suspected it.
'I am to remain ashore until the twentieth of June, or at the latest the twenty-first. Will you be able to return and take me off then, sir?' James, looking up from the chart.
'At the same place?'
'Aye, the Pointe de Malaise.'
'The twentieth is a fortnight from today. I will proceed with my survey, and then make my best endeavour to take you off on that date, James, or the day following. It may depend on the weather, in course. You will be able to stand by a few nights until the weather lifts, if it is poor at first?'
'None of us can predict the weather in those waters, sir. Naturally, I will stand by if need be.'
They discussed the arrangement in detail, a system of signals by lamp, &c., and came to accord.
Later, when James had settled in his hanging cot in the coach – provided for him as sleeping quarters by Rennie – and Captain Rennie had retired to his own sleeping cabin, both men lay awake, listening to the creaking of cables and the liquid whisperings of the sea, the element that had shaped their lives and made them the men they were.
James thought of Catherine, and tried to imagine lying at her side. Thinking of her made him think of his lost son, and this was so painful to him that he turned on his back and thrust all thinking, all meanderings of the mind, all imagining and wondering and doubting away into the darkness, and made of his head an empty pasture.
Rennie thought first of James and his appearance in the ship in that absurd disguise, and of his surprise and pleasure in discovering his erstwhile lieutenant again at his side, however peculiar and vexing and unlikely the circumstances. Then he thought of Sylvia, his beloved wife, of their leave-taking at the Marine Hotel, her determination not to allow herself tears, and her failure, and his heart was suffused with feeling. How had she come to love him? How had she made of a balding, ageing sea officer, never a handsome fellow, an object of love, and desire?
'I do not know ...' Sighed. 'And I do not care. Just so long as it is so ... my dearest darling.'
*
James, in the guise of Mr Tonnelier, and on the advice of Captain Rennie, did not move about the ship, but remained in the coach. It became clear to James that the presence of a guest was an awkwardness for Rennie, not simply because the fiction of Mr Tonnelier must be maintained, but because of his guest's constant presence. Rennie had made available his quarter gallery for the comfort of his guest, but James soon understood that his frequent traversing of the canvas squares of the great cabin, to and from the privy, had begun to discommode the captain – so to say – and he took to using a chamberpot in the coach. Then again they were obliged to share their meals. Rennie, like many post captains, often preferred to eat his supper alone, but now he felt himself obliged, in order to maintain a show of his courtesy to Mr Tonnelier, to sit at table conversing with him. When they were entirely alone they could converse quietly and easily as friends, but that was not always possible. The steward Colley Cutton could not always be dismissed; other members of the ship's company sometimes needed to come to the great cabin on urgent business; various intrusions into the great cabin could occur at any time in the life of a ship at sea. They could never be entirely at their ease, and all this put a strain on things. James was relieved to think that the voyage would not after all last very long.
To keep himself occupied, and to sharpen his crew, Captain Rennie instigated a rigorous programme of gunnery exercises, feeling that his guncrews remained unproficient. This was abandoned, however, on the second day at sea, when the weather swiftly deteriorated. What should have been an easy little southward cruise of two days became five. Summer storms moved in from the Atlantic, swept up the Channel and ran blustery and turbulent in over the coast of France. Rennie had to beat close-hauled to the west to avoid being driven on a lee shore, beat into the teeth of the storms, and everything and everywhere in the ship was very wet and uncomfortable. The fire in the Brodie stove in the fo'c's'le went out, and cold rations were issued in the messes. Rum was issued to those men who preferred it over beer, and Rennie ordered that those men coming off watch should be given their rum unwatered if they wished it.
Before the storms came, Rennie had obliged James to go into the orlop during the exercising of the great guns, where he would be out of the way.
'Could not I observe on deck? It is only an exercise, after all.'
'Cleared for action, James, as you know very well, there is no place for an idler on deck.'
'Am I an idler?'
'Well well, supernumerary. In effect the same thing, James. No place for you on deck, dear fellow, when we are at quarters and tompions out. Y'must go into the orlop. Spend your time with Dr Wing.'
'Eh? Good God, if you recognised me, surely so will he, will he not?'
'Talk to him in French. He is eager to grow fluent, and he delights in displaying all of his medical instruments and their uses. Like many surgeons he is at heart a ghoul, you know. He will hardly notice who you are – only an interested layman.'
'You will like to make jokes, sir – but supposing he does detect me under my peruke?'
'I'll wager you he won't. Half a guinea, what say you?'
Thus James found himself thrust into the company of Dr Wing in the cockpit. James and Thomas Wing were old friends, and James feared that at such proximity the sharp-eyed surgeon could not fail to see through his disguise. Dr Wing gave no such indication. As Rennie had confidently predicted he wished only to practise his French on the newcomer.
'I hope you will not mind, Mr Tonnelier?'
'No, no, in course not.' Crouching on the stool the doctor had provided in the cramped space.
'I am not yet fluent.'
'I am at my ease.' A tight little smile, half hidden by the beard.
'I fear we are lamentably short of space down here. The chest that is placed between us is for the performance of procedures, should they be required during an action. Comprendez-vous?'
'Ah, oui. La chirurgie.' A nod.
Dr Wing continued in careful French. He pulled toward him a leather fold, and laid out on the top of the chest his array of surgical instruments: amputating saw, metacarpal saw, catling, bistoury, forceps, scalpel, tenaculum, aneurysm needle. James, in spite of his long experience of the sea, of action at sea and its bloody consequences, began to feel distinctly queasy. He had never before spent any great length of time in the cockpit. In usual, during gunnery exercises, or during action itself, his place was on the deck in the open air, in the bracing stink of powder and flaming wad. Down here in the bowels of the ship the stench of the bilges was today very distinct, and Dr Wing's sedulous descriptions of the tools of his trade began to take their toll.
'Doctor ...' James, at last. 'I wonder if – if we might discuss something else?'
'Excusez-moi, monsieur?'
'Erm ... parlons du temps, non?'
'Ahh ... ahh ... mais certainement, monsieur, naturellement.' Was there a subdued gleam in his eye as he nodded politely in agreement?
James was almost relieved when the weather worsened, as then gunnery exercises ceased, the great guns were double-breeched in their tackles, and the flintlocks shrouded. Bad weather did not require him to descend into the orlop. He was permitted to remain in the coach, out of sight, and even on one brief occasion to go on deck. Rennie had at first refused. James persisted.
'I am desperately in need of fresh air, sir. I am very stale cooped up in the coach.'
'I do not wish you to be seen on deck, James. At any rate, you ain't dressed for it. Your fine clothes will be ruined in this weather.'
'I was hoping that you would lend me a foul weather cloak, sir, and a hat ... ?'
'Eh? Oh, very well, very well.' Rennie found his second cloak, and a battered hat, and handed them to James. 'But ye'd better stay close to me, clinging to a lifeline as if you was a terrified landlubber, hey?'
'Very good, sir.'
And presently Captain Rennie and his guest ventured out of the cabin, climbed the ladder, and came up into the streaming, wind-tearing din of the storm. As they trod aft, pulling themselves hand over hand by the lifelines, ducking their heads under their hats against the wind, the lifting mass and swell of the sea surged all around. Pitching and sliding and heeling Expedient ran on – shuddering, creaking, groaning. She sank down into a trough, rose again in a pouring flood of water from the rails, and plunged like a wild animal into the thudding fury of the next onslaught. Smashed curtains of spray fell far over the waist, as far aft as the breast-rail. Four men fought the wheel, two on the weather spokes, two on the lee. James clapped on to a stay and clung as Expedient shivered again like a great beast, rolled heavily and thudded with awful force into a freakishly big sea. The deck, angled steep, was wholly and heavily inundated, and swam submerged. James clung and clung and felt his legs dragged from under him by the sheer rushing volume of water. His legs trailed aft a long moment, then his feet found the deck and he managed a semblance of standing. Rennie – knocked bodily against the binnacle – coughed, spat, grabbed another line and hauled himself abaft the wheel.
'How ... does ... she lie!' Bellowed to the quartermaster, who was half drowned under his cloak.
'She is sagging off heavy, sir!'
'Someone must go below into the hold!' shouted James, before he could prevent himself. Fortunately nobody heard him, and he turned away toward the rail, keeping his head low.
'We must get a party into the hold, and find out if tiers have shifted!' Rennie, to the sailing master, who now appeared lurching and streaming at his shoulder. 'Mr Loftus, I will like you to take half a dozen strong men with you, and if casks have broke loose secure them without the loss of a moment! Y'will report to me in half a glass! I wish to know if we must retrim!'
'Aye, sir.' Departing.
'Mr Dangerfield!'
The senior mid advanced, clinging to a line and ducking his head. 'Sir?'
'Where is Mr Souter?' Cupping his hand.
'He was took ill, sir, and has gone below!'
'The officer of the watch has gone below? God damn his negligence!' Looking forrard briefly. 'Mr Dangerfield, you will take the con until Mr Loftus returns! I am going forrard!'
'Aye, sir!'
'Mr Tonnelier ...' Turning to look for James. At that moment the ship struck another heavy sea, and for half a minute no further communication was possible on deck. Presently, as the ship rose on the great rolling lift, and shook herself free of flood, Rennie gripped James's arm and:
'This was a damned bad notion, after all! You will go below, if y'please!'
'I am quite all right—'
'That ain't a request, Mr Tonnelier! You will get your arse below right quick – if y'please!' A fierce glare.
'Thank you, then I will.'
And James went below, reluctantly went, knowing that to defy Rennie under the circumstances would be nothing but folly.
Later, when Rennie himself had come below, James was witness – by virtue of overhearing most of it from the coach – to an exchange in the great cabin between the summoned carpenter Mr Adgett, and Captain Rennie.
'Now then, Mr Adgett, what depth of water in the well, did y'say?'
'Three foot, sir, and rising.'
'Rising? The pumps ain't adequate?'
'As I say, sir, I am of the opinion that there is a leak forrard.'
'Leak?' A note of concern.
'I cannot locate it accurate just at present, but I b'lieve that is the cause of the ship sagging off and behaving sluggish on the rise of the sea – and not the shifting of tiers, sir, which was very small. Some few water casks did break loose, but they was secured.'
'So that is why the ship is by the head, Mr Adgett. We must double-man the pumps, men to be relieved each half-glass. I shall say so to Mr Makepeace, and Mr Loftus. In the interim you will continue to search for the leak.'
'Aye, sir.'
'If the weather continues severe – we may have to return to Portsmouth.'
'Aye, sir, we may indeed. As I say—'
Over him: 'Find the leak if you are able, and stop it. If y'cannot, report to me again at the change of the watch. Thank you, Mr Adgett.'
'Very good, sir.' And the carpenter departed.
Presently James ventured into the cabin, and anxiously:
'Return to Portsmouth, sir?'
'We must hope not, James, but it may become a necessity.'
'Surely Adgett can find the leak? Surely a repair may be affected at sea? As you are aware, sir, I have only until—'
'James, we have discussed your going ashore in all particulars – save these. Bad weather, and a leaking ship. Even if we find the leak, any attempt to put you ashore in these conditions would be fatal not only to you but to my coxswain and boat's crew. Even to attempt to stand in sufficient close to hoist out a boat and see it safely away would be grossly irresponsible.'
'The weather may perhaps abate. Don't you think so?' Gripping a timber standard as the ship lurched and yawed.
'Abate! Christ's blood, James, you are a sea officer of long experience! D'y'see any sign of an imminent calm!' Nodding toward the part-shuttered stern gallery window, and the heaving sea beyond.
'Yes, sir, forgive me, but I am under a most pressing obligation to—'
'Your obligation is to go into the coach, and stay there.'
'Sir, if I may just—'
'Y'may not. You are in my way, sir.' Pushing past him as the ship again rode deep in a heavy, creaking roll. 'Sentry!'
The sentry came to the door, looking very green about his nose and mouth, and James reluctantly retreated to the coach.
'Pass the word for the first lieutenant to attend me in the great cabin.' Rennie nodded in dismissal and as the sentry departed: 'With my compliments, say to him! If he pleases!'
Fortunately for James – and all aboard – he was proved correct. As night fell over the sea so did the storm subside, and by four bells of the second dog watch calm had descended, the stars and a sliver of moon appeared, and Expedient was relieved of immediate peril.
EIGHT
Captain Rennie summoned his second lieutenant to the great cabin, on the fifth day out of Portsmouth, the French coast now mistily visible to the east, in the form of the Côtes des Abers. Porspoder lay some five leagues east of Expedient, and the point at which James – Mr Tonnelier – must be put ashore lay some ten miles to the south. The Pointe de Malaise was the westernmost tip of land in the Chenal du Four. Numerous rocky islets lay close in, and the whole coastline was treacherous. Rennie looked up from the chart.
'Mr Leigh, there you are.'
'Sir?' Coming in, his hat under his arm, very correct. He stood in front of Rennie's table.
'You are aware that Mr Souter is took ill?' He did not invite the young man to sit down.
'I am, sir, yes. The poor fellow—'
Over him: 'It means that ye must rearrange the watches between you – you and Mr Makepeace, and Mr Loftus. As you know, in Expedient the first lieutenant always takes his watch, so that the second and third are not obliged to keep the deck watch on watch.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Now that Mr Souter cannot take his watch, Mr Loftus must stand in his place.'
'Aye, sir, very good.'
'In course Mr Loftus may at his discretion ask the master's mate Mr Dangerfield to stand his watch, take the con a
nd so forth, if as sailing master his duties call him elsewhere in the ship.'
'Yes, sir.'
'We have a troublesome leak forrard, not altogether pressing, but we must be vigilant as to pumps, trim, and so forth.'
'I am aware of it, yes, sir.'
'Now then. We will approach the French coast, and send in a boat party, Mr Leigh. You will command that party.'
'This is – this concerns our duty of survey, sir?'
'Exact, exact, Mr Leigh. The survey. We will make all the relevant observations, take bearings and prepare, during the hours of daylight. Then the boat will go in at night.'
'At night?' In great surprise.
'You heard me correct, Mr Leigh. At night.'
'D'y'mean, it is – it is like a cutting-out party, sir?'
'Nay, I do not. You will put a man ashore.'
'And this is part of our duty of survey, sir?' Thoroughly puzzled.
'Yes yes, Mr Leigh, it is.' Nodding. 'The survey is to be comprehensive in all distinctions. Step to the table, if y' please, and I will show you on the chart where I wish this to be done.'
Mr Leigh did as he was told, and bent over the weighted chart on the table. It was several years old, but looked accurate in every detail, down to the smallest shoal and rock, marked depths by fathom, the carefully intricate line of the shore, even details of vegetation immediately inland.
'Here is the place.' Rennie pointed to the Pointe de Malaise.
'Good heaven ...' Involuntarily aghast.
'Yes, you are going to say, are not you, Mr Leigh, that putting a man ashore there is damn' near impossible?'
'Well, I – I would not say quite impossible, you know ... but pretty near. Sir.'
'Indeed. And that is why we must make our observations with utmost caution, exactitude, and precision, during the hours of daylight. This chart is all very fine, it is a good chart in its way, but we must make observations and take bearings, the situation of every shoal, rock and islet, to a degree that allows of no error at all. You have me?'
The Gathering Storm Page 10
