'A man of your reputation, Rennie, had better not talk about honour.' Glaring at him.
James now took his cue, and re-entered the fray: 'I do not think it wise in you, Major Braithwaite, to question Captain Rennie's honourable intent, and his best efforts in your behalf, since that would be to question his courage.'
'I have only said – '
'To do so would mean, in course – that you doubted my own courage.' A hint of menace.
'What damned nonsense is this?' Major Braithwaite was now less sure of himself. 'What I said was that I – '
'Sea officers that have just fought a bitter, bloody action will not like to hear their courage questioned ashore, nor their honour maligned.' James placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. 'They will likely take that very hard, you know.'
'Do you presume to threaten me, sir?' His anger reasserting itself.
'Will you look out of the window, Major? The officer you see standing under the tree is Colonel Macklin of the Corps of Marines. Should I have cause to signal for his assistance, he will summon his men, and come in. I hope that will not be necessary?' Raising his eyebrows.
'Good God, sir. You do threaten me!'
'No, sir. I merely point out – that you had better not threaten me.'
'I have not threatened you.' Very stiff, containing his anger. 'I have done nothing of the kind.'
'Did not you say something about arresting us both . . . ?' Including Rennie with a glance.
'Perhaps I did. I may have been hasty.'
'Hasty . . . ?'
'I did not mean it.'
James looked at him a long moment, then he smiled, and removed his hand from his sword.
'Very well, Major, thank you. I am glad that we understand each other.' A polite bow. 'And now I must look to my wounded people, and see to their comfort. Your servant, sir.'
'Servant.' Major Braithwaite gave him the briefest of nods.
Rennie glanced at James, bowed in turn to the major, and the two sea officers retired.
All of Major Braithwaite's dreams of making an important arrest, and perhaps being party to even greater events – events of national significance – had been dashed. He was dissatisfied, agitated, angry, suspicious, almost certain that he had been lied to and used, was nearly consumed by a desire to be vengeful – and knew in his heart that he could do nothing.
'God damn and blast them to the burning fires of hell!'
'What was that dishwater about Colonel Macklin, James?' As they came away in their gig.
'I knew Braithwaite would not go to the window to look out. He was too proud. He attempted to bluster and intimidate. I was obliged to respond in kind.'
'Hhh-hhh, he did not like it.'
'Nay, he did not. D'y'think he will stir up trouble for us?'
'About Scott? Hhh-hhh, nay. Even if he felt that he'd been hoodwinked, he is too vain to say so. Nay, he is not the fellow we must fear now.'
'Hm. Greer, d'y'mean? About Faulk?'
A glance. 'I do, James.'
'We had better go there, I expect, and get everything settled.' They drove on through the evening a moment or two, then: 'D'y'think he will ask to look at the body, to be certain?'
'Faulk's corpse?'
'Very probably he will insist on seeing it, will not he? I should not have allowed them to put him over the side. I should have insisted that his body was brought into Hawk. There was such damned confusion after the action. And I should not have put poor Garvey Dumbleton over the side, neither . . .'
'Now then, James, y'must not allow y'self to sink into a condition of gloom and guilt. We fought a bloody action, and there was not room in our vessel for all of our wounded, and theirs, and – '
'I should have insisted, though, insisted. I was lamentably at fault. It is all a wretched mess.'
'Now, James, this will not do – '
'Garvey Dumbleton was a married man. His widow will wish that she could visit her husband's grave.'
'Well well.' A shrug, and a reluctant, sighing sniff. 'She cannot, and there it is. You must not – '
'She will feel that it was a very heartless, cruel thing to have put him over the side. I will write to her. That is the least thing I can do.'
'It is always a good thing to write to the bereaved.' A nod.
'And to young Wallace's family, that was injured.'
'He will recover, though, will not he? He is at the Haslar?'
'Aye, under Thomas Wing. But many others will likely . . .
not recover.' A deep sigh, and when Rennie glanced at his companion he saw that James had tears in his eyes. For a moment he thought of saying something encouraging or consoling – and then he did not. A commanding officer who has lost men in battle will always grieve, thought Rennie, and that is fitting, that is right; if he did not he would not be worth anything as a commander, nor as a man.
They drove on in silence, and after half an hour came to Kingshill, in gathering darkness.
'A great many bluffs have been called, sir, in this affair.' As they reached the urn-flanked stone entrance. 'We have exhausted the supply between us. There can be no attempt to do anything, inside, other than to tell the plain facts. Hey?'
'I reckon that is true, James.'
'You need not go in with me, you know. I am able to – '
'Not go in by your side?'
'You are not attached to me official, sir. You have already suffered much at Sir Robert's hands. I am willing to bear all of his – '
'We was in this together, James.' Rennie, shaking his head.
'We are in it together yet. Let us walk in, heads held high – together.'
'Very good, sir.'
They went in.
Sir Robert turned from his fireplace.
'I had half expected it. Half expected that he would elude us. You brought the body ashore?'
'No, Sir Robert. His people disposed of the corpse at sea.'
'Ah. – So there is not even the possibility of verifying his death?'
'I can vouch for it, Sir Robert.' Rennie had been silent until now, allowing Lieutenant Hayter to make his report in full. 'The man I saw lying dead upon the cutter's deck was Faulk.'
Sir Robert's black gaze. 'You are certain?'
'Yes.'
'Very well.' He walked to his desk, a little stiffly, thought Rennie. There he tied a sheaf of papers into a leather fold, and placed the fold in a drawer, which he locked.
'This is a dark day, gentlemen.'
'It has certainly been a dark day for me, Sir Robert.' James. 'I have lost several men killed.'
'I do not mean this one trivial battle, Lieutenant Hayter.' He turned and walked from the desk to the window, stared out a moment at the night, then drew the curtains there. 'I meant that it is a dark day for us all.'
James did not like the word 'trivial', and would have said so, but Sir Robert continued:
'The Prime Minister, Their Lordships at the Admiralty, the Secret Service Fund – all of us wished Aidan Faulk took, in order that he might be converted.'
'Converted, Sir Robert?'
'Aye, his mind turned again into that of an Englishman, rejecting his radical foreign beliefs, returning to the truth known by his father, and his father's father, and all his antecedents. That if England is lost – so is the world.'
Rennie and James exchanged a glance.
'Aidan Faulk has brought into this country several and many spies. An whole secret clan of alien men, working against our interests, sending intelligence back to France. It was our hope that we could return him to his original beliefs, so that he would betray these men to us. Betray them, and then begin to act in turn as our own spy in France. And now he is dead, and we will never discover these evil creatures that hide among us.'
'Surely – was you to capture only one, might not he lead you to the others?' Rennie enquired.
'Faulk was the key. Without him our task is infinitely harder.' Sir Robert returned to the desk, and leaned on it. 'We needed such a man
in France – several men – else place everyone in these islands, from His Majesty himself down to the humblest yeoman, at risk from dark, vile, poisonous tribulation. It is not too much to say that all of Europe faces a new Dark Age.'
'Really, Sir Robert – ' began James.
'You think I exaggerate, gentlemen? You think I overstate my case?' Over him. 'I assure you, I do not.'
'In least if we cannot persuade Faulk now, Sir Robert – since he is dead – then he cannot bring any more of these fellows into England,' said Rennie. 'And ain't it probable that without his guiding hand, those that are here will now find themselves at a loss – and thus of very little use to their masters in France.'
'You are an optimist, hey?' Sourly.
Rennie was about to say that he was not, that in usual he was the opposite, but Sir Robert:
'You may wish to brighten this black circumstance, Rennie, and you, Lieutenant Hayter, but it cannot be done.'
'Surely all is not quite lost as yet, Sir Robert?' said James. 'England is strong. And there are many of us to defend her, was she to be attacked.'
'She is already under attack.' Grimly. 'And I have failed. Failed altogether.'
'Does that mean you think I have failed altogether? As a sea officer?'
'Nay . . . nay . . . I placed too much upon your shoulders. I should have known you was not up to the task, Lieutenant. Neither you nor Rennie, that are merely pawns in the game.'
James began to bristle. 'I think perhaps you have forgotten, Sir Robert, that the task – as you call it – was not given me by yourself, but by Their Lordships. I will place myself at their disposal, if blame is to be apportioned in this.'
'Yes, yes, yes, Lieutenant, you are aggrieved.' A black glance. 'You do not like to be called a little man. We are all little men now. We have failed, and must face the consequence.'
A week passed, and Rennie and James were still at Portsmouth, at the Marine Barracks. A message had come to them from London, requiring both men to remain where they were until otherwise advised.
Admiral Hapgood had sought out Lieutenant Hayter there, and James had been obliged to endure a very uncomfortable interview with the Port Admiral at his office:
'You have took a prize, I hear?'
'I have not, sir.'
'What? You deny y'took a cutter out of the Channel? The Lark cutter?'
'I was obliged to defend my own cutter against attack by smugglers, sir. We towed the smuggler in, dismasted.'
'Where is that cutter now?'
'I believe she lies at Bucklers Hard, sir.'
'By whose authority?'
'She was turned over to the Board of Customs, sir. To a Major Braithwaite, I believe, that requested it – and since the Board is the proper – '
'Yes, yes, very well. I was not informed, in course. Where is your own cutter, now?'
'At the Dockyard, sir.'
'Why? Why have not ye rejoined the fleet?' &c., &c.
Then, on the eighth morning, another message came from London, addressed to James. When he broke the seal and unfolded it, he read:
Whereas the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, having determined, at Board, that the undernamed officers shall attend on them in the matter of the Lark cutter, and all associated Questions pertaining to that vessel, Their Lordships require that Lieutenant James Rondo Hayter RN, commanding HM Hawk cutter, 10; and William Rennie (late Post Captain RN); shall present themselves upon the date hereunder named, to answer for their Actions in all Particulars related to & concerning the said cutter Lark.
'Well, sir, there it is.' Showing the letter to Rennie. 'Our death-warrant.'
On the due date the two sea officers duly presented themselves at the Admiralty in Whitehall, having travelled from Portsmouth by express coach overnight.
James was in dress coat, with tasselled dress sword and cockaded hat. Rennie had deliberated long about his own clothes, and had repeatedly asked his friend's advice.
'What shall I wear, James, d'y'think? Should I attend in civilian dress – in Mr Birch's coat? Or should I wear my uniform?'
'I should wear my dress coat, sir, if I was you.'
'Ah, uniform. You think so?'
'Yes, sir.'
'I am not entitled to it, you know, since my court martial. I am no longer a post, official. I am nothing.'
'Then why have they wrote the word "officers" in their letter?'
'I was to've been reinstated, in course, but now . . .'
'Certainly they must regard you as an officer, if they wrote that.'
'Yes, but lower on that same page you will see me called plain "William Rennie" – "late Post Captain". Nay, I had better dress in civilian clothes.'
'Very well, sir, as you think best. It don't matter much, as things stand.'
'On t'other hand, though, perhaps they will take it as an insult – if I do not wear a dress coat.'
At length, quarter of an hour before their time of departure, Rennie had shifted into his dress coat, pulled on his hat, searched frantically for his sword – until he remembered that he no longer possessed it – and rushed to the crowded High, where the coach stood waiting outside the Marine Hotel. He had clambered aboard with barely half a minute to spare.
And now they turned in under the arched stone entrance of the Admiralty, removed their hats at the door, and were asked to wait.
They waited in a side room, not very large, with a window but no view, only a modicum of stone wall and filtering light. They waited long, and began to fret. Rennie fidgeted, sitting on the single chair; James paced the floorboards, one of which creaked each time he trod over it. At last Rennie:
'James, James, for Christ's sake stop making that damned nail squeak, will ye?'
'What? Does it squeak? I did not hear it.' He stood briefly at the window, staring at nothing, then resumed pacing.
An hour passed. Rennie stood up, and James sat on the chair, and tapped the summoning letter against his thigh, until:
'James, for God's sake, dear fellow – will y'stop that bloody tap-tap-tap?'
Presently they were released from their misery, and summoned.
The clerk who took them upstairs showed them into the Board Room, with its tell-tale on the end wall, its wall of furled charts above the fireplace, its long table at the centre. All members of the Board were today absent, save one. Vice-Admiral Lord Hood came forward to greet the two officers.
'Gentlemen, come in.' Deep-set eyes, and a face that might have been forbidding in a less sympathetic man. 'Mr Hayter.' Shaking James's hand. 'And Captain Rennie.' He shook Rennie's hand. 'Let us sit down, and be comfortable.'
They sat down, James and Rennie on each side of one end of the great table, Lord Hood at the head.
'A glass of sherry, gentlemen?'
'No, thank you, sir.'
'Thankee, sir, no.'
'No? Well, perhaps not, just at present. I am today representing the First Lord, the Earl of Chatham, who is indisposed.' He opened a leather fold that lay on the table, and turned over several pages. He nodded. 'Hm. Yes. It is all quite straightforward, I think.' And closed the fold. 'The position is this. You are to be reinstated as post captain, Rennie, with immediate effect. Your warrant of commission is being wrote out in another room.'
'My . . . warrant of commission . . . ?' Staring at the admiral.
'Indeed. You are to have the Expedient frigate once again, as your command. That is – if you want her?'
'Want her? Good God. I beg your pardon, sir. Yes, yes, I want her.'
'Very good.' Turning to his other side. 'Mr Hayter, now we come to you.'
'Sir?'
'You are to be offered the ship-sloop Eglantine, twentytwo, with the rank of master and commander.'
James sat with his mouth open in astonishment, became aware, and closed it.
'However, you must make a choice.'
'Choice . . . ?'
'Yes. We have decided – the Board has decided – that should you wish to return to duty und
er Captain Rennie, as his first lieutenant in Expedient, we should not object. It would in no way reflect on your character and standing as a sea officer. But I should make clear that if you do decide to return to Expedient, the Eglantine would in course be given to another officer. We could not hold that commission open indefinite, you apprehend me?'
'I – I do, sir, thank you.'
'In course you need not decide immediate. We are disposed to allow you a week or two to make up your mind. That is right, that is fitting.' Turning back to Rennie again: 'You will not object, Captain Rennie, to a short delay?'
'Eh? No, no, in course I will not object, sir.'
James sat quiet a moment, trying to come to terms with all that had happened in the past few minutes. Tried, and could not.
'Sir, with your permission, I should like to understand . . . are we to be asked nothing about the Lark, today?'
'No.'
'The letter I received . . .' James took the letter from his coat '. . . said that we should – '
'It was merely a formal summons, wrote out in formal language. It don't signify in this room.'
'Ah. Oh.' James put the letter away, then: 'Sir, again with your indulgence, may I know – '
Lord Hood raised a hand, and over him: 'We have decided – the Board – that given your very courageous conduct in fighting several actions at sea, in the nation's interest – albeit without the result desired by all parties concerned – we have decided that you should be suitably rewarded. What better, what greater reward can there be, Mr Hayter, than the offer of his own ship to a sea officer?'
'None, sir.'
'Exact. And there you have your explanation.' A glance at both of them, now. 'A condition attaches, gentlemen, to both of these offers.'
'Condition, sir?' Rennie.
'Aye, a proviso. You are, neither of ye, to discuss in any distinction, with any person, any of the matters pertaining to the Lark, nor the man Faulk, now or at any future time. Your lips must be sealed, gentlemen, sealed absolute and for ever. Is that quite clear to y'both?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Very good. I will say in passing that large effort is being made to discover the spies that Faulk smuggled into England – but that need not trouble us as sea officers, gentlemen. It is not our duty, nor our concern, thank God. And now, I think, we will drink that glass of wine. Yes?'
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