The Pursuit

by Peter Smalley

  ‘D’y’mean . . . Admiral Hapgood himself sat down with a quill and wrote the warrant?’ James turned, delaying Mr Bracewell a moment.

  ‘Good heaven, no. His clerk Pell wrote it out, I am in no doubt.’

  ‘Yes, I expect you are right.’ A sigh, lifting his chin as Mr Bracewell hooked and then unhooked a stock at his neck, and added it to his list. ‘I expect it is all official and correct, even if it was not done in London.’

  ‘In course it is correct, James.’ Rennie, sharply. ‘Come on now, Mr Bracewell, we haven’t got all day, you know. There ain’t a moment to lose.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’ Mr Bracewell draped the measure about his own neck, added something else to his list, and suppressed an irritated sigh.

  Presently James twisted this way and that in front of the long glass, peering at his new undress coat in reflection, then:

  ‘When will I have sight of it . . . ?’

  ‘What?’ Rennie, pacing to the window.

  ‘My warrant, sir. When shall I see it? After all, it is my name wrote on it.’

  ‘Just as soon as it has been delivered. We must go and see Thomas again, before we weigh. We had better do that now. Are you done, Mr Bracewell? Good, good. Pray send everything to the Marine Hotel, as quick as you like.’ He strode to the door, James shrugged into his civilian coat, nodded his thanks to Mr Bracewell and followed, and the two sea officers went out into the street to the clanging of the above-door bell.

  They had gone briefly to the Haslar, found Dr Stroud, who had told them that Thomas Wing was again sleeping – his condition unchanged – and they had come away.

  And now as Rennie ducked his head against the whipping blasts of the wind, he came to a decision. He nodded to Mr Trembath, and to Mr Loftus, and went below to the great cabin. He made an entry in his journal, then summoned James.

  ‘I have found a title for you, James.’

  James straightened his stock and smoothed his hair, and stood very correct, his hat under his arm. In truth he had been asleep in his cabin when the summons came. He had had little to do but sleep and pick at his meals in the gunroom since he was piped aboard with Rennie early yesterday morning. He felt a little queasy. He had not yet quite regained his sea legs, after many months ashore.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘No doubt ye’ve been hard at work wondering why I haven’t permitted you to go on deck.’

  ‘Is that a question, sir?’

  ‘Fact, ain’t it? Well well, I have decided you are to be my Officer of Pursuit. Should any one of the other officers be indisposed, and so forth, you will be expected to stand in his place and take his watches, until he is again fit for duty. In usual, however, your duty will comprise the pursuit itself, in all distinctions. From the moment we have sighted the ship we are to pursue, everything pertaining to that vessel – her bearing, speed, handling, what sails she bends – will be pertinent to your attention. Nothing about her will escape your notice. You will report directly to me all of her actions over the preceding twenty-four hours, at noon each day, in a comprehensive written account.’

  ‘Am I to keep the deck, sir?’

  ‘I don’t mean you to be on deck all the time, in course. As I have said, y’will take another officer’s watch if he is indisposed – but y’may tread the deck or go aloft at any hour, as you please. Each officer of the watch will keep you informed of the pursuit, and allow you to have sight of his glass-by-glass notations, to add to your own observations. In addition you may choose the lookouts for each watch, to aid you, and I will expect you to know to a certainty where the pursuit is at any given moment, should I call on you to give me a verbal report at any hour. I will also like you to give me your sense of what the pursuit may do.’

  ‘May do, sir?’

  ‘You have been in a number of chases over the years. Do not you find, when you have been chasing a particular ship across the sea for a long time – days together – that you are able to anticipate, to guess and predict what the chase will do next? It is like the instinct of a beast of prey. You apprehend?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I do.’ Nodding.

  ‘Very good. I will like to hear what your instincts tell you. – Sit down a moment, will you?’ Motioning James to the table.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ James sat down, and laid his hat beside the chair on the decking canvas.

  ‘Two matters remain unresolved, that I had meant to attend to, but in the rush of departure was unable. The first is the question of your gold, which I had undertook to recover for you from Blewitt.’

  ‘I will recover it myself when we return, sir.’

  ‘The other matter – infinitely more important – concerns in course your wife.’

  ‘That was the reason I went out of the ship in the jollyboat, sir. I had decided I must deal with this alone. I wrote a letter to Catherine accordingly, before I left the Marine Hotel, and sent it off.’

  ‘Ah.’ He did not ask what the letter contained. ‘Then I am forgiven for failing to intercede, as I had said that I would?’

  ‘There is nothing to forgive, sir.’

  ‘Hm, very good.’ A deep, relieved sniff. ‘We must now turn our minds wholly upon our task. I do not – as y’know – think very high of Mr Brough Mappin, but the more I think about this pursuit – the more engaging it becomes.’ He looked across the table. ‘And I am right glad to have you with me, James.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘We will go on deck, and see how the ship lies. Ye’ve earned a breath of fresh air.’

  Night was falling as Expedient dropped anchor at the Nore, off Sheerness, and hammocks were piped down immediately afterward, at two bells of the first – night – watch. Expedient was one of several and many naval ships lying at anchor, among them three brigs, a supply ship, and the guard-ship, but beyond making her signals in the gathering gloom Expedient did not try to speak to any of them, obeying Mr Mappin’s specific request. She was to wait, patiently and quietly and unobtrusively, for the pursuit. And now Rennie saw the particular point of anchoring here. Expedient was among naval ships, and thus would not be remarked.

  At supper in the great cabin, where James was Rennie’s guest:

  ‘Sir, given my new responsibilities, I must raise a question. What if the ship we seek should slip down the estuary at night, and be gone away out to sea before we even knew she had passed us?’

  ‘Intelligence will come to us, James. We will know when she approaches from the west, and be ready to weigh and proceed at a moment’s notice. Cut our cables, if we must.’

  ‘In darkness? In the Thames estuary? Ain’t that a very great risk, given the shoals and sandbanks at the mouth?’

  ‘It is a risk we must take. You as Pursuit Officer must prepare for all such exigencies, James.’

  ‘Yes, and in course I am ready to do all in my power to aid us. However, another difficulty arises, sir . . .’

  ‘What? Don’t talk womanish when we have scarcely begun, good God.’

  ‘I hope I will never do that. I must ask: am I to have duties of navigation and ship-handling, in addition to my duties of pursuit? In little, am I to be given the deck if I request it? Over Bernard Loftus? Who knows these waters as a pilot?’

  Rennie sniffed, raised his glass then put it down without drinking, and:

  ‘I am obliged t’admit you have a point there, James. Bernard Loftus is a very able man, an invaluable man, and I must not slight him nor deprive him of his standing in the ship. You was right to draw it to my attention.’

  Colley Cutton came in with their next remove, a plum duff. On the tray he brought their cheese also, and a decanter of Madeira.

  ‘Duff, is it? Good, very good. Mr Swallow makes an excellent plum duff, and his suet pudding ain’t t’all bad, neither. Thankee, Cutton.’

  ‘Will you be wanting me for anythink else, sir? Only . . .’

  ‘Only you wished – if I did not – to go to the fo’c’sle and smoke. Yes?’

  ‘You are ver
y kind, sir.’

  ‘Haven’t said I did not want you, though. What about our tea and coffee?’

  ‘Ho, I shall return in time to serve that, sir.’

  ‘Very well. Y’may go forrard one glass. No longer, d’y’hear?’

  When the steward had gone, James ate a part of his pudding – which he did not greatly enjoy, since for him plum duff had always lain stodgy and heavy on the stomach – and returned to his role in the ship:

  ‘It is not only Bernard, sir. On the open sea, should the pursuit grow difficult or problematic, am I to be given the deck then? Over Mr Leigh, or the junior lieutenants?’

  ‘There will be no difficulty about young Mr Trembath, who has passed his board only a few months since. The other fellow Mr Tindall was pressed upon me. I don’t know him, and don’t greatly like him. He will do as he is told, and like it too.’ Rennie finished his pudding, and drank off his wine.

  ‘And Lieutenant Leigh?’

  ‘Leave that to me, leave that to me. The thing will be managed. And Bernard Loftus. It will all be managed. Light along that cheese like a good fellow, will ye? Give y’self a glass of Madeira.’

  Later, as he lay in his hanging cot, James could not help but reflect that very little had been decided, after all. His duties, and his status in the ship, were at best makeshift. And there remained the very real possibility that the vessel they were to pursue would give them the slip in darkness. As for his warrant of commission, Rennie had not only failed to allow him to keep it in his possession, but even to have sight of it. A sigh, and to himself:

  ‘In truth, I do not know to save my life what I am doing here, lying again in a ship of war, far from home.’

  He thought of Birch Cottage, of happy days roaming over the hills with his dog and his gun, of his dead son, gone for ever, of all the things he had held dear – and of Catherine, and that last letter, in which he had offered, after much heart-searching, to release her to a wholly independent life, without conditions or recriminations – if she wished it.

  ‘She is lost to me.’

  And quietly in the darkness he wept.

  *

  No word came to Expedient about the pursuit, and the ship lay riding at anchor all next day, her cables slowly lifting and dripping as she turned a little on the tide, a reefed topsail aback to aid her in keeping to her mooring place, so that she did not drift athwart the hawse of the guard-ship. In early afternoon a boat was lowered from the guard-ship and approached Expedient. Rennie was on deck, and saw in the boat a man he thought he knew, or had once known – a stout, red-faced post captain in undress coat and an old-fashioned wig. The boat was hailed, and in response a very young lieutenant called up:

  ‘Obelisk!’

  Now Rennie remembered. As the stout occupant of the boat came puffing up the side ladder, Rennie greeted him:

  ‘By God, Captain Paxton, it is you, sir. I thought I recognised you in your boat.’

  ‘Captain Rennie, good day to you.’

  He was piped aboard, and when the formalities of the deck had been observed Rennie took his visitor aft to the cabin. The two posts had got to know each other years ago, when both their ships were refitting at Deptford. Rennie had gone on to several far-flung commissions in Expedient, and Captain Paxton – who had even then, when they first met, lamented his lot as commander of a guard-ship – had remained at anchor here at the Nore, his elderly seventy-four gradually deteriorating under him, leaking, rotting and:

  ‘Stinking, sir. She stinks like an open sewer, below. Yet I do not dare pump ship for fear she will straightway sink under my legs.’

  ‘I am sorry for you, Captain Paxton. Will you drink a glass of wine with me?’

  ‘I will, thankee. Madeira, if you have it.’

  ‘We have it. – Cutton! Colley Cutton!’ And when his steward appeared, after a slight delay: ‘Bring us a bottle of Madeira wine. Jump, man, jump.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I shall leap.’

  ‘You are here to escort ships, no doubt, in these troubled days?’ Captain Paxton looked about him with evident approval as they waited for their wine.

  ‘Troubled days? D’y’mean . . . the troubles in France? So far as I am concerned, they are far away. I will not like to have anything to do with them. Until we are at war, in least. And we are not at war as yet, thank God.’

  Their wine came.

  ‘Your health, Captain Paxton.’

  ‘Your health, sir, and damn the French – war or no war.’ They drank, and Captain Paxton: ‘So you are here to go into Sheerness, then?’

  ‘Nay, I am not. I am under orders to – await orders.’

  ‘Await orders, hey?’

  ‘Just so.’ In fact Rennie was under orders to speak to nobody, but since he could not have prevented Captain Paxton from paying him a visit, he must now do his best to be hospitable.

  ‘This is all very mysterious, ain’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’ Mildly. ‘I don’t think so. We are newly commissioned, newly repaired and refitted, and I await my instructions.’

  ‘Where did you refit?’

  ‘At Portsmouth.’

  ‘Portsmouth. And then you came here . . .’

  ‘It is all quite usual, you know.’ He pushed the bottle across the table.

  ‘Nay, but it ain’t. A single frigate, lying unattached . . . ?’ He refilled his glass.

  ‘I know no more than you do, Captain Paxton. We learn in the navy, do we not, never to anticipate Their Lordships’ wishes too acute?’

  ‘Yes, yes . . . I expect you are right.’ Captain Paxton gave a puffing sigh, knowing that Rennie would and could tell him nothing, but resenting it all the same, and finding in his heart a deeper resentment. He felt that Rennie had been favoured, and had made a considerable success of his career as a sea officer, with a string of exotic commissions to his name, all officially denied but much talked of in the service. Whereas he, Captain Paxton, as worthy and capable a post as any in the Royal Navy, had been left miserably to rot. He sucked down a great draught of wine, emptying his glass. He nodded at Rennie, and made himself smile.

  Rennie smiled in return, and in his head: ‘How can I get rid of the fellow? He is determined to pump me, and I am equally determined to say nothing. This can only lead to resentment on both sides, unless I can deflect him somehow.’ Aloud he said:

  ‘Will you allow me to show you over the ship, sir? There are one or two things that will spark your interest, I think. The Ordnance have given us the new eight-foot eighteen-pounders.’

  ‘D’y’mean the guns with a loop on the button for the breeching rope?’

  ‘Nay, it is the conventional button, but the gun is shorter and lighter, enabling a frigate thirty-six to carry a greater weight of powder and shot.’

  Captain Paxton forgot his resentment, and followed Rennie out of the cabin and forrard into the waist. Soon the two officers were discussing gunnery and tactics, full as opposed to reduced allowance cartridge, trajectory, accuracy of fire, and the like, and Rennie – who made most of the running – felt that he had achieved a successful diversion.

  Captain Paxton stayed to dinner, and although once or twice he did attempt to steer the conversation back to the purpose of Rennie’s visit to the Nore, he was again deflected – Lieutenant Leigh amused the table by imitating first a horse, then a duck, then a barking fox – and returned flown with wine to Obelisk in his boat, at seven bells of the afternoon watch.

  At eight bells a cutter was sighted running down the estuary on the tide, and half a glass later she went neatly about – nearly in her own length – and came dashing in under Expedient’s stern.

  ‘I have a dispatch for Expedient!’ The lieutenant in command, through his speaking trumpet.

  A weighted canvas packet was flung up over Expedient’s tafferel, and the cutter swung away, her great tall mainsail bellying taut, and flew back the way she had come, the sea curling and lacing under her transom and her gold-lettered name:

  SWIFT

&nb
sp; James had come on deck when he heard the commotion of the cutter’s approach, and now as he watched her heeling away his heart lifted a little as he remembered the Hawk cutter, his first command. Quietly:

  ‘There is nothing handles quite so true, by God.’

  ‘Mr Hayter.’ Rennie’s voice behind him, and James turned. ‘We will go below, if y’please.’ Holding the packet. ‘If I am not mistook, this is what we have been waiting for.’

  *

  The dispatch, written in Mr Mappin’s own meticulous, wholly unflowery hand, read:

  BY HAND as per the cutter Swift to:

  Captain William Rennie, RN, aboard HMS Expedient at the Nore.

  The name of the vessel is the TERCES. She is a small three-masted ship, square-rigged and light-built for speed, painted black so that her gunports are not clearly defined.

  Her dimensions as described to me are: 118 feet in the lower deck, 101 feet keel, depth of hold 11 feet, 451 tons & 28/94ths BM.

  ‘She is believed to carry eighteen 24-pounder carronades.

  Latest intelligence indicates she will sail with the tide early upon the morrow, from Gravesend, bound for Norway.

  You are to pursue her with all diligence, & the greatest possible discretion, at a suitable distance, so that you are never seen to be in pursuit, & your presence goes unremarked upon the sea, until you learn her final destination, which you will convey to me forthwith.

  Her master is named to me as one Denfield Broadman, aged 35 years. He is medium tall, black-haired, sturdy-made.

  Brough Mappin (and his seal)

  ‘ “Unremarked upon the sea”,’ said Rennie, handing the dispatch to James in the great cabin. ‘Does he have the smallest notion what he asks of us, the fellow?’

  ‘Nine twenty-four-pounder carronades per broadside is 216 pound weight of metal. Captain Broadman will very nearly be a match for us in armament, sir. That is what concerns me.’

  ‘Good heaven, James, we are not going to engage his ship in an exchange of fire. Our purpose is to pursue, not engage.’