The Pursuit

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by Peter Smalley


  ‘Damage?’ Over him. ‘Wounded men? Repair? What nonsense is this, pray? How can y’have been in such a sea action as to’ve caused these things, without we was at war? We are not at war, sir, unless I am mistook.’

  ‘No, sir. With your permission, I shall endeavour to—’

  ‘I will like to see your written instructions, Captain Rennie. Show them to me.’

  ‘Show them to you . . . ?’

  ‘Ay, sir. Let me see what has been wrote out by Their Lordships, exact.’

  ‘I . . . I regret that I am unable to comply with your request, sir.’

  ‘No, in course, you have not got the papers on your person.’ A nod. ‘We shall send for them. Your lieutenant will go, hey?’ Glancing at James.

  ‘No, sir. I fear the admiral does not quite apprehend me. I cannot – I may not show you the papers.’ Why in God’s name had not Mappin, or Lord Hood, written him an official letter of release for just such a moment as this, giving away nothing, but absolving him from all or any interference?

  ‘Cannot? May not? Or will not?’ Raised eyebrows, then a frown, and slight, vexed tilting of the head to one side. Rennie felt a twinge in his water. A breath, and:

  ‘Well, sir, well well . . . it is simply beyond my authority. Further, my ship is—’

  ‘You refuse outright, sir?’ Over him. ‘You absolutely refuse to show me your written orders?’

  ‘Because I am forbidden to do so, sir, by direct indication of Their Lordships, and I beg that you will not insist. Further, my ship is in an indifferent condition of repair.’

  The admiral shifted in his chair, and thrust away his glass on the table. A brief little grimace of a smile. ‘Captain Rennie, I am being very patient with you, since you are my guest, and good manners must obtain at sea just as they do ashore. My squadron is engaged upon a mission of singular importance to Their Lordships. We have put into this bay because one of my ships – Excelsior, thirty-two, Captain Bagnold – has begun to leak so severe that she must at once go into the dockyard at the Hamoaze, or sink under Captain Bagnold’s legs. Since Expedient is sufficiently seaworthy to undertake independent duties, she is seaworthy enough to join me, sir. Excelsior must be replaced. Expedient is conveniently here, and Expedient will accordingly replace her.’

  Rennie was filled with such a potent mixture of emotions that he felt he must vent them, or explode.

  ‘Sir, I am very sorry to speak so blunt – but what you propose is impossible. Quite impossible.’

  The lines about the admiral’s mouth became deep furrows. His florid colour deepened. But he did not shout, or rail. His voice was scarcely above a whisper:

  ‘You dare to defy me, Captain Rennie?’

  ‘I have no wish to defy the admiral. I merely state the facts of the case.’

  ‘Facts! The sole fact y’have need of at present, sir, is your duty to obey me.’ His voice now rising above a whisper into sharp, carrying authority. ‘This interview is at an end.’ Rising. ‘You will return to your ship, gentlemen, and prepare to weigh. Malachite will lead. You will follow, taking your place in line astern of Hermione, thirty-eight, that follows me. Good afternoon.’

  Rennie and James rose in unison, bowed, and departed the admiral’s quarters. The lieutenant was waiting to conduct them out of the ship in the proper manner, but Captain Davidson was nowhere to be seen. As they came to the top of the side ladder, Rennie:

  ‘Is the captain on deck?’

  ‘No, sir. Captain Davidson is ill.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear it. Will you give him my compliments, and say that I wish him a speedy recovery?’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’

  The two officers were duly piped out of the ship, descended the ladder into their boat, and were rowed away to Expedient. As they went they discussed their dilemma.

  ‘I expect we must do as the fellow asks.’ Rennie, ducking his head in the stern sheets, his face very grim. ‘God damn and blast him.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Erm . . . do we know, in truth, what we are asked to do?’

  ‘Eh? We are asked join his bloody squadron, in course. You heard the fellow.’ Glaring at the line of anchored ships. He noted the frigate limping into Plymouth away to their north. ‘That must be Excelsior, I expect. Don’t appear to excel, nor stand tall, hey?’ Sarcastically.

  ‘No, sir. Erm . . . perhaps there is a solution to this, after all.’ James, sotto voce, glancing at Rennie.

  ‘What? Speak up, James. Can’t hear you.’

  James bent closer to Rennie, keeping his voice low, so that neither the coxswain Clinton Huff, nor any of the seamen at the oars, could overhear.

  ‘If I may suggest, sir . . . why do not we fall in line astern, as ordered, then simply lose way and lose the squadron – by design, but apparently by accident – in darkness, tonight?’

  Rennie made no reply. He frowned, and looked north again at the retreating Excelsior. After a moment, James ventured to continue:

  ‘I have every confidence that having lost way and fallen behind, in darkness, we would not be missed until first light. By then, well . . . we should be heading into the Atlantic and resuming our legitimate duty of pursuit. There would be nothing Sir Jendex could do to us, or about us, since we should be far away, out of sight. Vanished. Gone.’

  Now Rennie looked at James, and at first his expression was dark and severe.

  ‘What you propose is – it is mutiny.’

  ‘Oh, no, sir. Nothing of the kind.’

  ‘It is, though, by God.’

  ‘Nay, it ain’t, sir.’ Confidently. ‘It is tactics. We have a clear duty of pursuit we could not reveal to the admiral. We do not know his own duty, since he would not deign to tell us. Therefore, our sealed instructions must be our first and only concern, don’t you think so? I am quite certain that is what Their Lordships would advise. Clearly, under the circumstances, we are obliged to employ tactics to achieve our design. We have no choice.’

  ‘That is the most slippery, specious line of reasoning I have ever heard, Mr Hayter.’

  James said nothing, and waited. Rennie glanced once more at Malachite and the squadron, then:

  ‘Slippery, wretched, and underhand. Had y’not been instructed as an Anglican clergyman, I should have said your train of thought was Jesuitical.’ A moment. ‘But it is just what we require, by Christ! A splendid devious scheme! Well done, James!’ And he gripped James’s arm and nodded vigorously, his face alight.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  A moment more and Rennie’s expression again became sober and stern. He released James’s arm.

  ‘We will conduct ourselves as if we was conforming in every particular to our new orders. No person in the ship, except ourselves, must have any inkling of what we are really about until the moment comes.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Presently the pinnace came round under Expedient’s wooden wall, and the seaman in the bow hooked the boat in to the side.

  Rennie did not send his dispatch ashore in a boat, but instead made a long entry in his journal, and put the dispatch aside among his papers for later reference. Then as the afternoon watch advanced, Expedient replied to a signal from Malachite, weighed and tacked into line astern of the frigate Hermione, thirty-eight. The squadron headed out of the bay and beat away west close-hauled into the moderating wind.

  James Hayter, now restored to the position of Pursuit Officer – and acting first lieutenant – stood on the quarterdeck with Captain Rennie through the piping of the hands to their supper, and the first dog watch. Presently Rennie strode aft to the tafferel and motioned his lieutenant to join him there. The ship astern of Expedient was following close, yards braced, her sails taut on bowlines, and made bright by the westering sun.

  Rennie sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t like it, James. Lyle is headed directly into the Atlantic. In the name of Christ how are we to evade him if he follows the course we wish to take ourselves?’

  James made no reply.

  The sq
uadron beat west another glass, then at the first bell of the second dog watch there came the boom of a gun, and Malachite signalled the squadron to bear south-west by south. Expedient came over on the new tack.

  Thank God.’ Rennie took off his hat, wiped sweat from his forehead, and from the inner band of the hat. He replaced it thwartwise, then sniffed and peered aloft, hands behind his back. ‘Our scheme will answer.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Tell it to me again, will you?’

  ‘Very good, sir. In the dead of night, at four bells of the middle watch – as we agreed – the masthead light and the stern lantern are to be doused. With no shouts of command, only by quiet word passed along, we will shorten sail, come off the wind and fall out of the line. We will then wear, and beat nor’west, crowding on sail as soon as we are well clear. The whole to be accomplished within half a glass, so that the squadron has no time to notice our sudden absence.’

  ‘Very good. Excellent. – We are favoured from on high, I think.’

  ‘Favoured, sir?’

  ‘Indeed. There will be no moon tonight, praise be.’

  But as afternoon became evening James grew deeply perturbed, and felt that Expedient would not survive the voyage across the Atlantic in pursuit of Terces. Expedient was in no sounder a condition than she had been when she lay at anchor in Cawsand Bay. She was no less short-handed. Nor was the possibility of actually finding Terces and resuming the duty of pursuit any more likely than it had been when the admiral’s squadron arrived, and subsumed Expedient.

  Night came on and deepened. Captain Rennie continued to keep the deck, nervously pacing back and forth, and James kept it with him, his heart heavy. The plan they intended to execute had been revealed to a small number of the people only, and to the other officers. The first watch proceeded without incident, and Expedient kept station behind Hermione, observing the regulation distance of a quarter of a mile, Hermione’s stern and masthead lights riding clear in the darkness. In turn, Expedient’s lights were kept in plain view by the ship a quarter of a mile behind. The ship behind was the six-pounder frigate Avril, twenty-eight, and the other four ships were two sloops of twenty-two guns, and two brigantines.

  ‘I have no knowledge of the admiral’s duties or intentions,’ Rennie had said earlier to James, as the sun sank red in the west, ‘but I believe now that he may be going to Gibraltar, and the Mediterranean.’

  ‘Very likely, sir.’

  The first watch passed, and Rennie had sustenance brought to him and his lieutenant on deck by Colley Cutton, in the form of wedges of pie and flasks.

  As James ate his pie, and sucked down raw spirit, his mood lifted.

  ‘Why should I be obliged to fret and trouble my soul over our plight?’ To himself. ‘Why should I doubt Expedient, as fine and stout a sea boat as was ever built at Chatham? Why, good heaven, to doubt her is to doubt her captain, and have not we always come through even the most hazardous peril and calamity together, strong and hearty? Hey? Well, we have – no doubt about it.’

  It did not occur to him until much later – when his head began to ache and his tongue was dry and thick in his mouth – that the reason for the diminution of his doubts, and parallel elation, had been purely and simply the contents of his flask: several generous ounces of purser’s rum.

  But by then Expedient’s purpose had been accomplished, and the ship was alone on the sea, heeling tall into the Atlantic swell as the sun sent its first glorious gleamings over the horizon in the east, far astern.

  *

  Six bells of the morning watch, and the two officers still on deck. The deck newly washed, and hammocks up piped. Lieutenant Hayter, with the assistance of a duty mid, took the ship’s bearings, 49 degrees and 33 minutes north, and 11 degrees and 45 minutes west, and reported them. Rennie nodded, and:

  ‘I believe Captain Broadman is making either for New York, or Boston, James. We have headed nor’west sufficient long wholly to escape Admiral Lyle’s squadron, and will therefore now come about on our new heading. Set me a course west-sou’west and a point west, if y’please.’

  ‘Ay-ay, sir.’

  The orders were given to the duty quartermaster, and James returned to Rennie at the after part of the weather-rail, where he stood at the newly packed hammock netting. As the ship came round on her new heading, petty officers bawling, yards bracing, the afterguard hanging their weight on the falls, Rennie:

  ‘Breakfast, James? Or are ye dead tired? I will understand if you wish to fall into your hanging cot.’

  ‘Nay, I am wholly awake and alert, sir.’ In spite of his thick head.

  ‘Then let us eat breakfast together in the great cabin, by all means.’

  They went below. As they came to the door of the great cabin:

  ‘Cutton! Colley Cutton! We are two starving men! Light along our breakfast, cheerly now!’

  Presently, when they had settled themselves at the table, hats and coats off, and stocks loosened, Rennie called to his steward:

  ‘Where is my cat? Where is Dulcie?’

  Colley Cutton appeared, holding a pan. ‘I do not know, sir. She is disturbed in ’erself, in my ’pinion.’

  ‘Eh? Disturbed? Do not talk in riddles, y’fool. I asked you where the animal was.’

  ‘And I said, I do not ezackly know, sir.’

  ‘Well well, find her and bring her to me, right quick.’

  ‘As you wish, sir. In course, I cannot cook your breakfast at the same moment as I am seeking Dulcie, sir. As you will ’preciate.’

  ‘Do not be insolent.’

  ‘I hope I will not never be insolent.’ Then, muttering: ‘Not aloud this commission, anyways.’

  ‘What? What did y’say?’ Sharply.

  ‘I said, I bow to your wishes, sir.’

  ‘Bring us our breakfast, then. Find the cat afterward.’

  ‘I bow to your wishes, sir.’ Retreating with the pan.

  ‘By God, I shall put the impertinent wretch ashore in America, and sign a new man into my service. I swear I will.’ Rennie, glaring at the door.

  James kept his face straight, and spread his napkin with great care on his lap.

  Their breakfast did not come, and after ten minutes Rennie rose on his legs in a rage, and was about to bellow his steward’s name when Cutton appeared, his eyes shining and his face cracked open in a gap-toothed smile.

  ‘I knew she was out of sorts, and so she was!’

  ‘What? What?’ Rennie stared at him.

  ‘She is a muvver, Gawd bless ’er!’

  ‘Have you gone raving mad, man?’

  ‘Ho, no, sir! No, indeed! She has become one, four times over!’

  ‘What is the man talking about?’ Rennie asked James.

  ‘I think he means that your cat has had kittens, sir.’ Calmly, then turning and raising his eyebrows: ‘Yes, Colley?’

  ‘Yes, sir, yes. And four de-lightful little critchers they is. Delightful.’

  ‘D’y’mean to tell me . . . that Dulcie has given birth, good God?’

  ‘It would appear so, sir.’ James, with a smile.

  ‘Well, I’m damned. Ha-ha. My own cat.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘D’y’know, I had not the smallest notion of anything of the kind. Well well. Well well. It is a miracle.’

  ‘Perhaps not quite that.’ James, with another smile.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘More a simple, natural event, would not you say, sir?’

  ‘Nay, nay, in course it is a miracle.’ A confirming nod. ‘Well well, where is she, Colley Cutton? Show me the mother and her babes.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Leading the way. ‘They is residing in your sleeping cabin. In your . . . in your hat.’

  ‘My hat?’

  Rennie followed his steward into the sleeping cabin, and found Dulcie and four blind, mewling kittens nestled in his upturned foul-weather hat, beneath his hanging cot.

  ‘When I seen she had made her nest in the hat, I did not like to dis
turb ’er, sir.’

  ‘Nay, we must not. Dulcie, Dulcie my dear . . .’ Cooing fondly, bending down.

  James followed them in, looked and saw, and politely:

  ‘Do you intend to keep them all, sir?’

  ‘Hm . . . ?’ Peering down still.

  ‘The kittens.’

  ‘What?’ Turning.

  ‘Often at home we used to drown unwanted—’

  ‘Drown! Unwanted!’ Fiercely.

  ‘Not in every case.’ James, hastily. ‘Only if—’

  ‘That will do, Mr Hayter.’ Over him. ‘I will not like to hear any more of your unpleasant musings on the question. There is no question. Dulcie and her infants shall have the best of care. You will make that your first consideration, Colley Cutton, above all else, these next days.’

  ‘Even above my care of yourself, sir?’

  ‘My care ain’t important at all. You are to see to their comfort in every particular, d’y’hear me? – We must find them a proper bed. I will say so to Mr Adgett, who will make me a cot for them. Yes yes, no trouble must be spared.’

  ‘As you wish, sir. Shall I move ’em now, then?’ Cutton prepared to bend down.

  ‘Move them! They must not be disturbed at all, good heaven! Did not y’pay attention to anything I have just said?’

  ‘I fought you said you wisht Mr Adgett to make them their own bed . . . ?’

  ‘Yes yes, so I did, but I don’t want her upset, not now. – We must think of what to give her to eat. Delectable things, to please her. I will speak to Swallow. – Dulcie, dear little Dulcie . . .’ Rennie again bent over her.

  James and the steward exchanged a glance behind his back, and Colley Cutton gave a bemused, silent shrug. James jerked his head and the two men discreetly retired, leaving Rennie alone.

  Two days passed, and Rennie was watching over his cat and her kittens where they lay in a corner of the day cabin in their new cot. The cot had been made and delivered yesterday, according to Rennie’s explicit instruction, and was lined with number six canvas, a quantity of oakum, and two of Rennie’s older shirts.

 

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