The Gathering Storm

by Peter Smalley

  'Sir ... we should not discuss this too loud, in a public place.'

  'Yes yes, very well.' Rennie lowered his voice, and now he too leaned forward. 'Listen now, we have done everything that we honourably could, short of giving up our lives. So now let Mappin seek us out, if he wishes. We will remain at Bedford Street one further day – four and twenty hours – and then go home.'

  'Home! You mean – to Norfolk? To Dorset?'

  'I do.' Turning and lifting a hand to signal for more tea.

  'But, surely, sir ... you cannot neglect your ship, nor your people, at Portsmouth ...'

  'James, James ... my career in the Royal Navy is at an end. I know that full well. If Mappin and Their Lordships will not say otherwise to my face, here in London – and I am certain they will not – then I shall go home to Norfolk and write my letter of resignation. Mr Leigh is at Portsmouth. He is a sensible young officer. He can undertake all that is required in paying off, and so forth. And then "my ship", as you call her, will be broke up. She ain't mine any more. She ain't even a ship. She is just a few hundred ton of timber and ballast, lying dry and purposeless.'

  James looked at Rennie, and saw resigned weariness in the deep lines of his face and forehead, and pain in his eyes. His thinning hair and exhausted pallor emphasised the sense of a man near to despair.

  'Sir, let us remain here in London not one day longer, but two.'

  'Nay, my mind is made up.'

  'Then, will you wait two days – for my sake? So that we may be entirely sure?'

  'Sure of what, for Christ's sake? That we are defeated? We know that certain, both of us.' Looking at James very direct.

  'I do not.' Stoutly. 'Not quite yet.'

  Rennie took a breath and looked away across the coffee house. He did not see anything of the animated groups at other tables, the waiters threading through those tables, trays held high, nor hear the ripple and murmur of conversation and laughter in this convivial place. He saw only darkness, and all of the dark things that had thronged his mind at the farm, and made him so low he could find no way out. He held his breath in, as if to shut the darkness out.

  The serving maid brought Rennie's fresh tea. He did not see her, and just as she leaned to place the tray on the table, Rennie turned abruptly in his chair to say something to James, and the tray was knocked to the floor with a crash. The girl slipped and fell, and gave a cry as hot tea splashed and scalded her arm.

  Rennie sat a moment as if stunned, and James jumped up from his chair, assisted the girl to her feet, and wrapped a linen napkin round her burned arm.

  Rennie fumbled for coins, dropped them on the tablecloth, and rose from his chair. Without a word he walked away to the door and out into the crowded Strand, leaving James to apologise to the girl in Rennie's behalf, and follow him outside.

  James caught Rennie up, and in silence – through the bustling crowds and traffic of the Strand – they made their way to Bedford Street. When they reached Mrs Peebles's hotel, James suffered a brief fit of shivering, his head buzzed thickly, and he was obliged to sit down on a hall chair. Rennie was concerned.

  'My dear James, I am a selfish villain, rushing you through the streets when ye've been so ill. You there!' To a startled maidservant. 'Fetch the porter.'

  'Yes, sir.' The girl bobbed, and ran to the rear.

  'I am all right, sir, really ...' James, attempting to stand.

  'No, you ain't.' Rennie put a hand on his shoulder. 'We'll just get you upstairs, so y'may lie down and rest. I'll send for a doctor.'

  'No, sir, no. I am not ill – just a little fatigued.'

  Rennie got James upstairs with the porter's assistance, and saw him to bed. James's pleas to be left free of further medical advice were ignored. Rennie descended the stairs and obliged Mrs Peebles to send for a local physician.

  'Well, sir, I don't know which doctor to recommend.' Mrs Peebles, in her little parlour. 'We has a surgeon that will stop in for cases of over-indulgence, like ... or there is an alt'gether grander gen'man, that will come for the higher type of case.'

  'Yes? Who is that?'

  'The grander gen'man?'

  'Yes yes.' Impatiently.

  'Dr Robards, sir. Dr Glendower Robards. But I don't know as he will come at once, just like that.'

  'Send for him, if y'please. Say that the patient is a very distinguished naval officer.'

  Dr Robards came – tall and dignified in his black coat – after half an hour, and was shown up to James's room. James was most reluctant to be examined, at first. But his visitor was so obviously at the higher side of his profession that James soon submitted.

  Dr Robards took his pulse, examined his tongue, looked into his eyes, examined his neck and chest. He asked questions with calm insistence, and to each reply nodded:

  'Mm-hm ... mm-hm ...'

  Then, at the end of the examination, a further nod:

  'Mm-hm. A tropick disease, malaria I should think. A recent recurrence.'

  'Yes, but I am quite recovered.'

  'Are ye?' A quizzical look.

  'Oh, indeed.'

  'No, y'are not. Y'must lie abed two days, in least. Three, for preference. My preference. Light diet. No excitements of any kind. No London life, d'y'take my meaning?'

  'I – I don't know that I do, Doctor.'

  'No wine, no excursions, no ... companions.'

  'Good heaven, I am a married man.' 'As most of us are, sir. But we are also men of the world. No London life. Y'apprehend?'

  'Your meaning is quite clear to me.'

  'Very good, Lieutenant.' Closing up his instrument case.

  Downstairs Dr Robards said to Captain Rennie:

  'I came at once because I was told he was a very distinguished sea officer. Is your friend very distinguished?'

  'He has the very highest connections.' Rennie, knowing that he sounded pompous, but feeling it was necessary.

  'Ah, has he?'

  'His father is Sir Charles Hayter of Melton House, in Dorset.'

  'Ah. I fear I do not know the name. And you are ... ?' Politely.

  'I do beg your pardon, Doctor. We was not properly introduced when you came in. I am Captain William Rennie, RN.'

  A frown of recall. 'Captain Rennie ... of HMS Expedient?'

  'The same. Have we met before?'

  'No no, but now I do recollect ...'

  'Recollect, Dr Robards?'

  'The late Sir Robert Greer was my patient. He mentioned your name more than once, Captain Rennie. You were evidently much in his thoughts – toward the end.'

  'Good God.'

  On the second afternoon of Lieutenant Hayter's period of enforced rest, Mr Mappin came to Bedford Street. Captain Rennie, having agreed to delay his departure to Norfolk, had gone out to 'clear his head', unable to bear his gloomy thoughts in the confined space of Mrs Peebles's hotel any longer, and James was dozing in bed upstairs.

  Mr Mappin came quietly into the bedroom, and sat down beside the bed in the only chair, his back to the window. Downstairs he had given a coin to the porter.

  'Do not announce me. I will go up and find him.'

  'Sir, the gen'man ain't well – he should not be disturbed.'

  A second coin.

  'Very well, sir, you knows best. I shall not interfere. Second door on the left.'

  Now he sat beside the bed patiently, studying the face of the young man. He did not shake him awake. He had no wish to startle or discommode him. Presently James stirred, and opened his eyes.

  'Good afternoon, Mr Hayter.'

  'Who is it ... ?' Blinking, peering at the figure silhouetted against the light from the window.

  'Brough Mappin.'

  James struggled with the covers, and sat up. Blinked again.

  'Mr Mappin – you have come.'

  'As you see.'

  'We sought you at the Admiralty, but they—'

  Over him: 'Yes, I know. I have been out of town, else I should have come sooner. I was sorry to hear you had been ill.'
r />   'I am all right. It was just a brief return—'

  'Of malaria, yes.' Again over him. 'Not a thing to be trifled with. Y'are right to lie abed until it is over and done.'

  'Who – who told you I had malaria?'

  'I keep my ear to the ground, Lieutenant. Naturally, I will always like to know how my associates go on.'

  'Yes, well ... you will not like to hear what I have to tell you, Mr Mappin.'

  'There is no need to tell me anything.' A brief shake of the head, and he brought a small silver snuffbox from his pocket, and took a pinch. Seeing James's glance:

  'You notice this snuffbox, hey? Yes, it belonged to Sir Robert. He made me a gift of it.'

  'I think I must inform you, Mr Mappin, that the very grave task you commissioned me to undertake ... has been a hopeless failure.'

  'Yes, yes ...' Mildly, putting the snuffbox away in his coat, and dabbing his nose with his kerchief. 'I have known all about it for some little time.'

  'You have ... ?'

  'Oh, yes. Yes, the intelligence came to us through Lady Sybil Cranham. The royal party was retook by the National Guard, after ye'd brought them off at the Pointe de Malaise. That is old news.'

  'Ah. Oh.' A breath, sitting up straight. 'I had wished in course to come at once to London, the moment we landed at Portsmouth, but I was took ill on the journey, and—'

  'Yes, yes ...' Holding up a hand, closing his eyes briefly. 'Don't distress y'self, Lieutenant. I know all about it.'

  'I am very sorry indeed that we were not able, in spite of our best attempts, to save Their Royal Highnesses.'

  'No. Well. You could not have saved the king and queen, even had you brought the party out of France, you know.'

  'Not saved them ... ?' James stared at his visitor.

  'Nay, y'couldn't. You see, the king and queen were took at Varennes.'

  'Varennes? Where is that? D'y'mean, they had escaped again, when—'

  'Varennes is north-east of Paris on the road to Montmédy, near the Luxembourg frontier, where there are large Austrian forces. Alas, King Louis was recognised en route, and the National Guard summoned.'

  'But – how could they have come there, Mr Mappin, when they were captured on the Breton coast?'

  'They never were at the Breton coast, Lieutenant. Never anywhere near.'

  'Eh ... ?'

  'The party you and Captain Rennie so gallantly attempted to rescue was a troupe of Parisian theatricals, cleverly disguised.'

  James stared at him in mute disbelief.

  'In short, they were decoys, sent to that far coastline deliberately to put the National Guard off the scent, while the real royal party made ready to flee to the queen's brother, across the border to the east. Count Axel von Fersen – an intimate of the queen – had arranged that flight. Lady Sybil Cranham, among others, arranged the flight to the coast, and we did the rest.'

  'We ... ?'

  'You and I, Lieutenant, and Captain Rennie – and others.'

  James stared at him, and saw Mr Mappin's silhouette dissolve into a blur, attended by a thick, bilious buzzing. He fell back against the pillow, his face waxy and damp with sweat. Mr Mappin stood up at once and poured a glass of water from the jug on the cabinet. He bent over James, carefully and gently lifted his head, and brought the water to his lips.

  'My dear fellow, I do beg your pardon. The truth was too much for you, when you have been through so very great an ordeal. Here, drink a little more.'

  When James had recovered his colour and his composure, Mr Mappin said to him:

  'Never think you have failed, Lieutenant Hayter. You and Rennie acquitted yourselves admirable well. The fact that the overall design was a failure was not your doing.'

  'We have lost above half our people killed and wounded ... and our ship is to be condemned.'

  'I know. It is very regrettable. But never forget – you acquitted yourselves flawless and brave. That is the thing to grasp, and hold on to. You are not to blame for Varennes. Hm?'

  'Flawless, and brave?' Drinking off the water remaining in the glass.

  'Indeed.'

  'In course ...' Musingly, half to himself. '... neither Captain Rennie nor I could've had any real notion of the depth of duplicity we faced.

  'Necessary duplicity – will not you agree?' Taking the glass from him, and returning it to the cabinet.

  'Mr Mappin.'

  'I am here.'

  'I will like you to leave me alone, now.'

  'In course, in course. You've had a shock, and you are tired.'

  'Nay, not because I am shocked, nor tired neither. Because I cannot bear your company a single further moment.'

  'Ah. Very well.'

  'This ain't the end of it, though. When I am on my legs, we will meet again.'

  'I hope so, Lieutenant.'

  'Face to face on open ground, with pistols. God damn your blood!'

  *

  The following morning Captain Rennie was summoned to the Admiralty, where he was interviewed in camera, in the nearly empty boardroom. It was not a comfortable interview. Beside himself there were present the First Naval Lord, Admiral Hood, the First Secretary, Sir Philip Stephens, and a clerk, who took minutes. Rennie was permitted to say very little in his defence, in fact very little at all. The First Naval Lord made clear his own view:

  'The whole enterprise was damnable nonsense from the beginning, Captain Rennie. I don't like subterfuge, and half-truth, and reckless forays in the dark. This business, this intrigue, was nothing higher than a damned courtesans' masquerade.'

  'I am wholly—'

  'Save the king of France? This scheme was as likely to save him as soaking him in spirits of wine and setting him on fire, for Christ's sake.'

  'Well, yes, sir. But we—'

  'Kindly be silent, sir. I am not finished.'

  'I – very good, sir.'

  'When I approved this scheme I was told it entailed no more than an enquiry into the condition of the silk trade, in France. I had no idea of its underlying purpose. Had you, Sir Philip?'

  'I had not.' The First Secretary shook his head. 'No, sir.'

  'None of us knew anything about it, in whole, nor even in part. We was persuaded that the silk trade was of sufficient importance to the nation's interest and prosperity to warrant our assistance. Had we known the real nature of—'

  Rennie again opened his mouth. 'I did not know myself, sir, until—'

  'Had we known, we should have stopped it. You fired on and destroyed French ships, in French waters, when we are not at war with France. You have cost the lives of fifty of your people, and lost another hundred wounded and took. Your ship is so badly damaged she will likely have to be condemned.'

  Rennie stood silent, miserable and angry and powerless.

  'As it is, the whole lunatic thing has achieved – what? King Louis has not escaped. He has been arrested and returned to Paris. The entire business has been futile. Utterly and wholly worthless, and if the French will like to make trouble for us, damned embarrassing in the bargain.'

  Rennie said nothing. Let them condemn him. He would not defend the indefensible, even if he had not been the cause, only the instrument.

  'The truth is, Captain Rennie, you could be broke for this. Court martialled, cashiered and ruined. You and that damned young fool Hayter, that allowed himself be persuaded to act as a spy. We had no notion the man you would put ashore in France was a sea officer. No inkling at all. What business has a sea officer to enlist as a spy, behind our backs. Hey?'

  Rennie looked straight ahead at the weather telltale at the far end of the room, and bit his tongue. It seemed to him that these high men, these powerful official men, were attempting to distance themselves from any culpability at all, by placing all of it at his door, and that he had no choice but to stand and listen.

  'You have brought the king's service, all the traditions of the Royal Navy, into disrepute of the most dismal kind. You acted with a belligerence and aggression far in excess of your ins
tructions and your competence. Your actions could have brought us to a condition of war, sir, d'y'realise? May do so yet. Who can tell?'

  The First Secretary now cleared his throat, gave a little lift of his head, and glanced at Lord Hood, who:

  'Yes, Sir Philip?'

  'Ought not we ... to bring matters to a conclusion, sir? In fairness?'

  'Yes? You think so?'

  'In all fairness, I do.'

  'Very well.' Again turning to Rennie, who had stood throughout with his back straight, since he had not been asked to sit down. 'Captain Rennie.'

  'Sir?'

  'I am obliged to acknowledge that you y'self may have been misled in this. That don't excuse your conduct at sea, mind you. Your conduct was recklessly unwise, in nearly all distinctions. However ...'

  He let the word hang in the air, and Rennie waited, with the faintest stirring of hope in his breast, for the words that would follow.

  'However ... we have concluded that no good purpose would be served by bringing you to court martial.'

  'No, sir?' Glancing into Hood's deep-set eyes, his stern face.

  'No. You have suffered very severe, and while we cannot condone what ye've done, we cannot condemn you entire, neither. In short you have been lied to, Captain Rennie – as have we ourselves at the Admiralty – by a person without scruple in his undertakings and machinations, the fellow.'

  'Do you mean – Mr Mappin, sir?'

  'I do, sir. I may say to you candidly as one sea officer to another that was it in my power to have the bugger flogged, then by God I would make it so!' A deep sniff. 'It ain't in my power, Captain Rennie. Mr Brough Mappin has very high connections, very high protection. He has cost the Royal Navy very dear, but he cannot be touched. And given that he cannot, that was at the heart of this whole wretched affair, then I cannot in all conscience punish you, sir. Nor Lieutenant Hayter, neither.'

  'I am – very greatly obliged to Your Lordship.' A bow.

  'You are, by God.' Turning to the clerk, who had been sedulously making his notes at a corner of the table. 'Mr Bunt.'

  'Sir?' Laying aside his quill.

  'I have changed my mind. You will keep no minutes nor notations of this interview, after all. You will destroy them forthwith.'