The Hawk

The Hawk Page 31

by Peter Smalley

  'Very good, sir.'

  'Pray keep me informed of all you accomplish. Will you?'

  'I will, sir.' Another little bow, and James quit the room.

  Mr Hope's fingers strayed to the ship draughts, and without enthusiasm he pulled them before him and began again to peruse them.

  'I do not think Mr Hope will likely fall aboard us immediate, sir,' James said to Rennie, as soon as he returned to their quarters at the Marine Barracks. 'He is not yet himself, but I fear he may be inclined to interfere when Dr Stroud lets him go. He feels himself neglected.'

  'Do not trouble yourself about Mr Hope, James. We have had news.'

  'Oh, Colonel Macklin.' James, noticing the Marine officer. 'I beg your pardon, I did not see you when I first came in.'

  'Lieutenant Hayter.' A nod, a brief smile.

  'What news, sir?' James gave his full attention to Rennie.

  'We have had word from a place called Wyrefall Cove. You have heard of it?'

  'No, sir.'

  'It is a very small, concealed cove, a few miles beyond Bucklers Hard on a lonely part of the coast. A cutter is lying there, repairing.'

  'Is it the Lark?'

  'Perhaps. The informant – '

  'Only perhaps?'

  'The informant is a local man, paid by Major Braithwaite to bring news of smuggling activity along that line of coast. The cutter he reports is painted blue, and a new mast has been got into her from a raft alongside. She lies behind a ledge of rock, which shields the small natural mooring.'

  'Painted blue?' A frown. 'That don't sound like Lark. She is black.'

  'Was black, at any rate. Now she may be blue, in disguise.'

  'How many crew there?'

  'The man could not be certain. Naturally he had to conceal himself some little distance away.'

  'We must go there.' James, going to the chest of drawers beside his cot, and opening his pistol case.

  'I am willing to provide a dozen men,' said Colonel Macklin.

  'Thank you, Colonel, but I will not need your men tonight. Captain Rennie and I must go there alone.'

  'Alone! How in heaven's name d'y'intend to attack them, alone?'

  'We will not attack them, you know. We will do nothing except observe.' Thrusting pistols into his coat, and taking up his long glass.

  'Would not it be more sensible to mount a heavy attack at once? I can give you more men, if you wish me to.'

  'I do not, Colonel. I must be certain of the cutter herself, her crew, and her master. This may not be the vessel we seek, nor the man.'

  'Very good.' Clearly disappointed.

  'I am very grateful to you for your offer, and in course I will call on you when we are certain of our facts. Your assistance then will be invaluable to me – to us.' A glance towards Rennie, who nodded.

  'I am ready to give it whenever you ask.' Colonel Macklin. A polite bow, and he went to the door.

  'Thank you, Colonel.' To Rennie: 'You are armed, sir?'

  'Nay, I am not.'

  'Colonel, may I call on your assistance, after all? Captain Rennie will like a pair of pistols.'

  'Certainly.' Pausing in the doorway. 'But – if you do not intend to attack, why d'y'need firearms?'

  'I do not intend to attack. That don't mean we may not need to defend ourselves, on that part of the coast, and I would never wish to be without the means.'

  They went in a commandeered ship's jollyboat, with a single mast and a lugsail. Because of James's more recent experience in handling a small boat, he took charge of sail, sheets and tiller, and Rennie was his obedient crew. They made the journey to the cove by midnight, close-hauled on a lifting swell, tack on tack under a gibbous moon, occasionally darkened by drifting cloud. They were guided by glimpses of lights ashore, and by Rennie's knowledge of the coastline. They beached the boat to the east of the cove, and climbed across a broad rise to the cove itself. They were careful, keeping to a low crouch, and very quiet. When they were immediately above the cove, hiding behind a clump of buckthorn on the humped eminence, James lifted his head and peered down.

  A steep shingle beach gave on to a spoon-shaped bay with a narrow entrance. A ledge of rock running east to west made a natural breakwater. The place was just wide and deep enough to accommodate a small ship or a brig. Within the breakwater tonight lay a large cutter. Her mainmast had been stepped, but not yet her topmast, and her shrouds and other rigging were only part-rove up. There were lights in her, and about her, and activity in the dull glow. James could juts make out the shape of a raft alongside, and there was a boat tethered astern. James nudged Rennie, who moved forward and looked down for himself. On the shingle beach lay casks, yards, rope, and under canvas the humped shapes of her guns.

  'Is it the Lark?' Rennie, whispering.

  'If she ain't then she is her twin, I recognize the lines.'

  James peered through his glass at the men working on the vessel.

  'Can you see him, James?'

  'No, sir. The light ain't enough for me to see faces clear. I do not think he will be here, though, when she is repairing still, and her guns remain out of her. He will likely come only when she is ready for sea – don't you think so?' Whispering, then peering down again through the glass.

  'I think we'd better wait here a while, hey? In case he should come?'

  James nodded, and lowered his glass. 'Very well, sir.'

  They settled themselves as best they could on the uneven stony ground, concealed by the buckthorn, but they were not comfortable. They were tired and damp from the long trip in the boat, and the night air was chill.

  'Did ye bring a flask, James?' Rennie, presently.

  'I did, sir.' Handing it to Rennie, who took a long, grateful pull.

  'Rum, hey?' Handing the flask back.

  'Aye, rum.' Sucking down a mouthful of neat spirit. 'There is nothing quite like it for keeping out the cold, and lifting a man to his duty.'

  Within a few minutes both men were asleep.

  They woke in the small hours to the sound of raised voices below. Both felt ashamed in having allowed sleep to overtake them, but neither said so. James lifted his head and peered down, and saw that a second boat had entered the little bay. The moonlight was brighter now, unimpeded by cloud, and James noticed a figure in the second boat as it beached on the shingle. The others crowded round the man as he stepped ashore, and appeared to defer to him as he pointed at the cutter, asked questions, and made comments. James handed his glass to Rennie.

  'Is that the man?' Whispering. 'Is that Aidan Faulk? I have never seen him.'

  'If I can only see his face . . .' Taking the glass, and pointing it downward.

  'Well, sir?' Impatiently.

  Rennie focused the glass, and peered. After a minute or two he sighed in exasperation, and:

  'I cannot see his face clearly, even in the moonlight. He wears a hat.'

  'We must discover if it is him – or not. Also whether or no the vessel is the Lark.'

  'Y'said you recognized her, James.'

  'I thought so . . .'

  'I am fairly certain of her myself.'

  '. . . but we must be certain, absolute. There is too much hanging on this to allow of any doubt.'

  'Yes – yes, you are right, in course. I will go down there.'

  'You, sir?'

  'Why shouldn't I go down?' Curtly.

  'Well – it is a very great risk. It will require a certain . . . agility of movement.'

  'I am not a decrepit old man, James. I am healthy and strong – and agile. I will go down and look at the fellow close, and at the vessel.'

  'How will you do it, sir?'

  'Eh?'

  'How will you contrive to get close enough on the beach. It is a shingle beach, impossible to walk over silent, and – '

  'Lark, I recall, had particular furniture at her tafferel, that I would know at once.' Ignoring James's protests. 'We cannot hope to see it from this height, but from the beach I should certainly be able to make it o
ut.'

  'Furniture?' James, doubtfully.

  'Aye, it is the stepping for a ringtail mast. I have never seen it before on a cutter.'

  'I did not notice it.'

  'It ain't something you would likely have remarked, perhaps. I remember it distinct from the first encounter, after Lark had bested us. She delivered a final broadside, and ran to the north, and I saw her tafferel then as we wallowed on the swell, crippled and half-drowned, and you lay near death upon the deck – '

  'Yes, yes, thank you, sir.' James, over him. 'You saw her tafferel. However, I do not think you should climb down there.'

  'One of us must. I have proposed myself, and I fully intend – '

  'You forget, sir, that at present you hold no commission, and therefore cannot be in command, cannot give orders.'

  'Eh? What the devil d'y'mean, James?'

  'I am in command, and I do not permit it.'

  Both men were now growing angry, and the necessity to limit their speech to furious whispers did not improve their temper.

  Rennie drew in a deep sniffing breath, and bit his tongue. Then without another word he crawled rapidly away from James along the top of the little eminence, and disappeared down the slope to the west.

  'Sir! Captain Rennie!' A hoarse, dismayed, furious whisper.

  But Rennie was gone.

  Rennie came down to the beach from the steep slope on the western side of the cove, and wished that he was wearing Lieutenant Hayter's working rig. In the past he had deplored these clothes – old shirt, jerkin, and breeches, and a blue kerchief tied rakishly on the head – as unbecoming to an officer, altogether too much of the lower deck, and likely to lead to familiarity and indiscipline among the people. Now he would have welcomed any and all of these faults. James's working clothes would have allowed him to appear on the beach as a natural member of the throng there. He crept along the top of the beach, discarded his coat, waistcoat and hat, tore off his stock, rolled up his sleeves and tied his pocket handkerchief loosely round his neck. He took a handful of earth and rubbed it on his face and forehead, then smeared it to a smooth patina of unwashed skin. Then he took a deep breath, another, turned and walked swiftly down to the pile of casks and other gear, and caught up a length of rope. Coiled and slung it on his shoulder, and strode steadily down the shingles to the water's edge, joining the large group of men there. All were at work, some carrying gear aboard the raft, others preparing it ashore. A forge had been set up, and fired. There was a ring of lanterns on the shingles, and others aboard the cutter and the raft. The rumble of voices, the clinking of metal on metal at the forge.

  Rennie edged closer, cleared his throat and spat, and settled the rope on his shoulder. He peered at the tafferel of the cutter, and at once saw the stepping for the ringtail mast. He noted that although the vessel had been painted blue, traces of black showed underneath the blue paint along her port strake. Here was the Lark, without question. Rennie looked for the man who had come in the boat. Was he still on the beach, or had he gone aboard the cutter?

  'Clap on to t'other end of this, mate.' A voice behind Rennie. He turned cautiously, keeping his head lowered a little, as if he had a natural stoop. Took hold of the length of planking thrust at him, shouldered it and found himself stepping in unison with the other man, in line ahead, across a short gangway to the raft.

  'Heave!'

  And they heaved the timber on the pile of planking already there with a thwacking thud. Keeping his head down Rennie pretended to push the plank better into position on the pile, and looked across the Lark's deck. There was no sign of the man he sought.

  'Is you going to stand there fartin' into y'breeches all the night long, mate? Bear a hand lighting along the rest.'

  Rennie straightened up, nodded, and in an assumed seaman's blur: 'Aye, go on. I am wiv you.' And followed his companion ashore.

  'Come in the uvva boat, has you, from along the coast? Wiv the master?'

  'Eh? Oh, aye, in the boat. Got a painful feerce head on me, from the drink.' He spat again.

  'A-going back theer t'night, is it? On the tide?'

  'I am to stop 'eer. Lend a hand, like.'

  'Bofe 'ands, then. Cheerly, too. She must be made ready by t'morrer night.'

  'I shall pull my weight – but I must piss away some of that drink, first.'

  He stepped up the shingles, unslinging the rope from his shoulder, and pretending to unfasten the front of his breeches. As soon as he was safely beyond the glow of the lanterns he ducked down and ran doubled-up away to the place where he had left his hat and coat, gathered them up, pulled them on, and began to make the climb to the top of the steep slope. Presently he reached the top, and made his way cautiously along to the clump of buckthorn bushes, and James.

  'Christ Jesu, I had given you up for lost, sir – or took!' Half angry, half delighted.

  'Hhh – never think that, James – hhh.' Short of breath from the climb. 'Hhh – I am here, as you see. Whhh . . . I am not as young as I was.'

  'What did you discover – if anything?'

  'There can be no doubt. None at all. She is the Lark.'

  'Very good, excellent.' James, nodding. 'You saw Faulk? You recognized Faulk?'

  'I did not.'

  'Ah! Damnation!'

  'However, I spoke to a man who referred to the fellow that came in the boat as the master. That can only be Faulk, I reckon. And I discovered another valuable piece of information. She is to be made ready by tomorrow night.'

  'Tomorrow night! Hell on fire, then we cannot lose a single moment.'

  'I am sorry to wake you so confounded early, Colonel, but we must assemble and depart by nine o'clock.'

  Colonel Macklin was not yet wholly awake in his cot. He stared blearily at James, sat up and rubbed his face, yawned, and scratched the back of his head. Then: 'Nine in the forenoon?'

  'Aye, today, if y'please.' James, briskly. 'We have found our quarry, and if we are to best him we must take him by surprise. A dozen men, I think you said?'

  'I did, Lieutenant.' The colonel sat up, and swung himself out of his cot. He shrugged off his nightshirt, and tipped water from ewer into basin. 'Allow me five minutes, and I shall join you.' Dashing water into his face, and sluicing himself from head to foot with a dripping sponge. The bare floorboards round his cot were soon liberally splashed. James stepped back to avoid getting wet, and went out.

  True to his word Colonel Macklin appeared fully dressed in the corridor five minutes after, strapping on his sword and gorget.

  'We need a larger boat, Colonel.' As they walked along the narrow corridor towards the stairs. 'A thirty-two-foot pinnace. Can you request one at the yard?'

  'I expect so, yes.'

  'Very good. Extra powder and ball for musket. And several brace of spare pistols, if you can get them.'

  'I will get them.' As they clattered down the narrow stone stairs. As they came out into the open air, the colonel saw James's drawn unshaven face in the harsh glare of daylight, and: 'By God, Hayter, you look all in.'

  'We've been at work all the night,' admitted James. 'Many hours in the boat, and watching ashore.'

  'You must get some rest, if we are to fight an action.'

  'I'll snatch a wink or two in the boat on the way to Bucklers Hard. Captain Rennie is waiting for us. I must rouse and assemble my people, and – '

  'Have you ate breakfast?'

  'Nay, there ain't time. It is already past seven o'clock.' Striding away across the barrack square.

  Colonel Macklin hurried after him, gripped James by the shoulder and made him pause. 'Now then, don't be altogether a damned fool. No sleep, and no victuals neither, will not answer. You and Captain Rennie will eat breakfast with me, if y'please, and my sergeant of marines will assemble the men and equipment.'

  'I tell you, there ain't – '

  'That will take forty-five minutes at the very least.' Over him. 'During which time, eggs, bacon, toast and coffee for you, m'dear fellow, and for Captain Rennie an
d me. – You there, Corporal!'

  At Bucklers Hard Lieutenant Hayter said to Redway Blewitt that he must have the Hawk today, as a matter of extreme urgency.

  'She will not be ready until the morrow, Mr Hayter, as I told you very specific last time you was here.' Jamming his pipe into his mouth.

  'I do not care about that, thank you. I must have her today.'

  'And I cannot do it.'

  Below them the contingent of Marines, and the Hawks, waited at the boat under a cloudless, gull-tilting sky.

  James drew a determined breath, but Captain Rennie had now stepped forward, and he took James's elbow and murmured something in his ear. James frowned, and then moved away to stand at the side of the slip. The smell of adzed timber floated on the air, and tar, and tide.

  'Mr Blewitt.' Rennie smiled at him.

  'I am here.' Puff.

  'I am willing to pay you a handsome bonus.'

  An exasperated sigh, pulling the pipe from his mouth. 'And I have said, repeated, it ain't a question of money!'

  Rennie smiled again, nodded, moved a step closer. 'An hundred guineas over the agreed sum, as a boon. Gold guineas.'

  'One hundred . . . ?' In astonishment. 'Ye'd pay that?'

  'I would. I will.'

  'But . . . but that is half as much again as we agreed.'

  'Aye, it is. – Well?'

  'I don't know . . . my artificers are working at full speed, and – '

  'Was they working at midnight last night?'

  'Eh? Midnight? Nay, in course they was not.'

  'I was. So was Mr Hayter. And we was being paid nothing. Nothing, sir. While you are being paid handsome. With an hundred guineas offered, extra and above, if you will only grant us this small favour.'

  'Well . . . you put it very persuasive . . . but I do not think it can be managed. No. No. I think it cannot.' Shaking his head. 'My artificers – '

  'Oh, very well.' Rennie shook his head in turn, with a wry, downturning mouth. 'Stop the work. Stop it at once.'

  'Eh?' The pipe poised halfway to his mouth.

  'If we cannot have our cutter by this evening then we will not need her at all. Our duty must be abandoned, and our task go by the board.' He turned away, paused as if on an afterthought, and: 'In course, there may then be a dispute as to moneys owed.'

 

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