The Pursuit

by Peter Smalley

  Oak House was built in the high Georgian manner, of brick, with a steep mansard roof, tall windows, tall chimneys, and a grand stone architrave above the columns of the entrance. To the rear was a spreading walled garden, with newlaid lawns, dozens of newly planted trees and one enormous old oak tree that had survived the relandscaping and given the house its name.

  Mr Hendry had made his fortune in shipping. He was thus of a mind – when he learned of Expedient’s arrival – to honour the sea officers of a nation with whom he now had no quarrel, a nation with whose merchants he conducted the greater part of his very profitable business. He had enquired among his official acquaintance in the port, learned the names of those officers, and sent his invitation. He was a tall man, grey-haired, with the strong features and black brows that in another man might have been forbidding. His clothes were beautifully cut. He had assembled a large party to honour Expedient, and greeted Rennie with affable formality, and:

  ‘But my dear Captain Rennie, sir, are there but two of you? I meant that all of your officers should come to my house.’

  ‘That is kind in you, Mr Hendry, most generous kind, but a ship must be governed, you know, even when she lies in harbour, and some of my officers have that duty tonight.’

  ‘Are you hurt, Captain Rennie?’ Mr Hendry, anxiously, noting Rennie’s slight wince as they shook hands, and a stiffness in his shoulders, the result of his wound during the mutiny, now bandaged under his coat.

  ‘It is nothing, nothing – a slight mishap at sea.’ Rennie made himself smile, and: ‘May I introduce Lieutenant James Hayter, RN, my first officer?’

  ‘Lieutenant.’ An exchange of bows, and Mr Hendry noticed the scar on James’s cheek, but said nothing. ‘Welcome to Oak House, sir. Please think of it as your home while you are here, both of you.’ Including Rennie.

  ‘You are very kind, sir.’

  ‘All of your officers, in fact. Oak House is open house to HMS Expedient.’

  A great many introductions, and quantities of Sillery and Madeira. The party was largely made up of other merchants and their wives, but when Rennie enquired after Mr Hendry’s wife he learned that his host was a widower.

  James had already noticed an exceptionally pretty, dark-haired young woman in a very becoming blue dress among the throng, who did not appear to be attached to any of the younger men present. He contrived to find himself in conversation with her, and having not caught her name during the general introductions discovered that she was their host’s niece, Miss Constance Amelia Dunne, of Lexington.

  ‘And which do you prefer, Miss Dunne?’

  ‘Prefer, Lieutenant?’

  ‘Of your two Christian names – Constance, or Amelia?’

  ‘Oh. The first.’ A glance, then averting her gaze. A slight flushing of her cheeks as she felt his eyes on her.

  ‘I agree. Constance is by far the prettier name.’

  ‘What is your own Christian name?’ She caught sight of the scar on his face as he turned his head in the candlelight, and: ‘Ohh, you have been hurt!’

  ‘What? Oh, no, that is – it is a little scorch.’ Touching his face. ‘I was clumsy with a lantern, in heavy weather.’

  ‘I hope it is not painful?’

  ‘Not at all, I had forgot all about it. And to answer your question, I have two names – James Rondo. Like you I prefer the first.’

  ‘James.’ She turned to him, and once again averted her gaze, since James’s own eyes were still very directly upon her.

  James contrived to take her into dinner, and was gratified to see that she had been seated on his right at table. Miss Dunne by contrast was clearly disconcerted.

  ‘Oh, but I had made sure that I was to be seated between Mr Ingleby and Mr Prior. I made my uncle promise.’ Frowning, looking up and down the table.

  ‘They are particular friends?’

  ‘Oh, I have known them both a very long time. I wished particularly to ask Mr Ingleby’s advice on a matter, and to gain Mr Prior’s support.’

  ‘Perhaps I can help.’ Gallantly.

  ‘Oh, no. You could not.’

  ‘Ah.’ James felt himself unaccountably disappointed and discommoded by this blunt response. As they sat down the soft candleglow, and the sparkle of silver and crystal along the table in that glow, were suddenly less welcoming. He tried again.

  ‘Will it wait until after dinner?’

  ‘Wait?’ Miss Dunne turned her face toward James as a liveried servant poured wine.

  ‘The matter on which you seek advice?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I wish to buy a riding pony, that is all.’ Lightly. ‘Yes, it will wait.’

  ‘I am glad.’ He smiled at her, and she returned the smile, then her smile faltered and again she averted her gaze. Quietly, under the bursts of conversation beginning along the table:

  ‘Please, Lieutenant. You stare at me so. I wish you would not.’

  ‘Was I staring? I am very sorry.’ Making no effort to desist. And when she glanced quickly at him again he continued to regard her unabashed. He saw her blush, and at last he looked away and took up his glass. Then: ‘I cannot help it.’ Quietly.

  ‘Well, you must not, all the same.’

  ‘You are the loveliest girl I have ever seen in America.’

  ‘But you have only just arrived!’ Blushing deeper. ‘How can you be so discriminating when you have never met any other American girls?’

  ‘None of them could compare to you, Miss Dunne.’

  ‘Lieutenant, you are very disgraceful. And now I command you to be quiet, so that I may be comfortable.’

  ‘Then I will be quiet – for the moment.’

  Presently Miss Dunne was engaged in conversation by her other neighbour, and James by his, and the flirtation was thus postponed – but not forgotten.

  Captain Rennie was seated at the high end of the table near his host, and was engaged in lively conversation there, drinking deep, and all the cares of the commission falling from his shoulders. The lady on his right in her low-cut gown was very handsome. Her name was Mrs Quincy Burrell, and she had put him at his ease at once, smiling and drawing him out. He allowed himself to be drawn out – to a point. Beyond that point he became inventive.

  ‘And this is your first visit to Boston, Captain Rennie?’

  ‘Indeed it is, madam. And I am duly impressed. A very fine city.’

  ‘What has brought you to us, Captain Rennie? Are you here on official business?’

  ‘Nay, Mrs Burrell. We are here by a happy accident, merely calling in, you know, to pay our respects, among other things.’

  ‘Surely you cannot have come all the way from England by accident?’ Another smile.

  ‘Well well, you are quite right. The truth is very mundane, I fear. It is charts.’

  ‘Charts?’

  ‘We are an island race, and we depend on the sea for our living. From time to time it pleases Their Lordships – out of necessity – to send single ships on long cruises such as ours, to make and provide accurate charts for our fleets.’

  ‘Surely there are accurate charts of Boston, are not there?’

  ‘Certainly, madam, but we had weathered a fierce storm at sea, and was in need of repair, and since Boston was the nearest port convenient to our duty, we came here. We also required victuals, water, wood, and the like. And – happily – it has led to this very splendid occasion.’

  Mrs Burrell looked approvingly round the table, as if she herself had arranged the dinner, then:

  ‘I hear you wish to find a ship named Terces, Captain Rennie.’

  Rennie glanced at her sharply, then as sharply recovered his composure.

  ‘I have enquired about Terces in the port, ay.’ A nod. ‘We spoke in the Atlantic, you know, and she was headed to Boston. When we came in I thought to find her here.’

  ‘My husband has never heard of the Terces, among the many ships that come and go. He is a merchant in the town,’ she added.

  ‘Well well, I know Terces very littl
e myself – except for that chance encounter at sea. I made some few enquiries in the port, and then had forgotten all about her until this moment, madam.’

  A servant came discreetly into the room, looked for Captain Rennie and saw him. After a moment he came round the head of the table behind Mr Hendry’s chair, moved to Rennie’s place, and bent to his ear:

  ‘A gen’man outside has axed me to give you this message, suh.’ He handed Rennie a folded note, and slipped away before Rennie could ask him who the gentleman was.

  Rennie unfolded the note, and read:

  Using all discretion, meet me in the gardenn at the rear of the house, by the great oak, in five minutes.

  A friend

  ‘A friend?’ Only half under his breath, bemused.

  ‘Not bad news from your ship, I hope?’ Mrs Burrell.

  ‘Eh? Oh – no no.’ Tucking the note away in his coat. Mrs Burrell was being overly inquisitive. He must be on his guard, now. He must discover what was afoot. ‘How am I to slip away discreet, that is the question.’ Not aloud. He waited four minutes, politely conversing with Mrs Burrell, but scarcely noticing what she said, then drank off his glass, shifted a little in his seat, sniffed in a breath and:

  ‘You must excuse me, madam. Wine lifts the heart, but it has another effect.’

  This naval directness had the desired consequence of disconcerting Mrs Burrell, and deflecting her curiosity. Rennie rose from his place, tried to catch Lieutenant Hayter’s eye further down the table and failed, caught the eye of the servant waiting quietly by the door, and left the dining room. The servant guided him to the rear of the house, and opened a door that gave on to the twilight of the garden. Rennie saw the great oak at once, and went quickly there by the stone path.

  ‘Are you there . . . ?’ Careful to keep his voice low.

  Silence.

  Rennie ventured closer, and stood right beside the thick, furrowed trunk, under the spreading branches. The smell of slightly moist earth.

  ‘Is anybody there . . . ?’ Again quietly.

  Silence.

  Rennie now went round behind the tree, peered in the fading light – and found nothing.

  A tap on his shoulder, and he whirled, clutching in reflex for his sword – and remembered he had taken it off when he came into the house. There was nobody there, and now Rennie saw that a low branch had brushed his shoulder, not a human hand. Thoroughly disconcerted now, and in rising anger, effortfully controlling his voice:

  ‘Now then, if you are here, reveal y’self right quick! I am in no mood for hide-and-seek!’

  Silence, except for a sudden flurry of wings as a small bird escaped in alarm above him, and flitted away across the garden. Rennie sniffed in a sharp impatient breath, turned back toward the house – and Brough Mappin was standing on the path.

  ‘Captain Rennie.’ His voice low but clear. ‘Thank you for coming out to me.’ As always his appearance was flawless, from his combed hair to his buckled shoes, but tonight he wore not his customary immaculate grey, but black.

  ‘Good God. Good God.’ Utterly astonished. ‘How in the name of Christ have you appeared in Boston, Mr Mappin?’ Allowing his voice to rise for the first time. ‘And how did y’find me at this house? Hey?’

  Mr Mappin raised a finger to his lips, glancing toward the house. ‘Pray speak soft. I have bribed the servant to say nothing, but his loyalties do not lie with me. We must be quiet, and quick. I have much to tell you in a very short time, and then you must return to your dinner, else be missed.’ Coming forward as he spoke, taking Rennie’s arm with another glance toward the house, and guiding him deeper into the garden.

  At table Lieutenant Hayter had resumed his flirtation with Miss Dunne, and was wholly absorbed in this delight when Captain Rennie returned. Again Rennie tried to catch James’s eye, and again failed.

  ‘We had almost given you up, Captain Rennie,’ said Mrs Burrell.

  ‘I must apologise, madam, and . . .’ turning to his host ‘. . . to you, sir.’ Briefly resuming his seat. ‘But I fear that I must go away at once to the wharf, and return to my ship.’

  ‘Return to your ship?’ Mr Hendry, dismayed. ‘But the night is young. I had hoped you and the lieutenant would dance, later, and—’

  ‘Dance?’ Rennie, over him.

  ‘Why, yes. I have engaged musicians, and—’

  ‘You are very kind, sir, most generous kind, but a difficulty has arose that requires my immediate attention, and I want Lieutenant Hayter with me.’ Glancing down the table toward James.

  ‘The difficulty is with your ship?’

  A little sigh, and again getting to his feet. ‘It is a question of men riotous in drink, fighting and rebellious, that must be dealt with immediate. I cannot say anything more at present, forgive me. I should be very much obliged to you, Mr Hendry, if you will allow us your carriage to take us to the wharf.’

  ‘Why, yes, certainly.’ He called a servant, gave instructions, and presently Captain Rennie – and a very reluctant Lieutenant Hayter – departed Oak House, to the consternation of their host, and the general disappointment of his other guests, not least Miss Dunne.

  In the carriage, as they proceeded in darkness down to the wharf, James:

  ‘I rather think Mr Hendry had expected us to sleep at his house, sir.’ Settling back into his seat with a sigh, and adjusting his scabbard. ‘With respect, could not this drunken fighting – or whatever it was – could not it have been dealt with on the morr—’

  ‘There has been no drunken fighting.’ Over him. ‘Mappin is here.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Ay, Mappin.’ And briefly he explained the circumstances of his meeting with Mr Mappin in the garden, then continued:

  ‘He heard of the fierce action at the fjord in Norway, and thought Expedient was lost. He then took ship for Boston himself, thinking to discover Terces here, and her passenger.’

  ‘Olaf Christian den Norske.’ All irritation with his captain gone.

  ‘Just so. And in course when he came to Boston Terces was not here – as we ourselves discovered. However, he made further enquiries, and learned that a ship similar to Terces in every particular – exactly similar – had briefly visited. People could not remember very much more about her, except that she dropped anchor in the harbour one day, and was gone two days after. This ship was called Mermaid. Her master – Captain White. She neither unloaded any cargo, nor took any in. She put a passenger ashore. Mappin is certain Captain White was Broadman, and his passenger den Norske.’

  ‘What is Mappin’s interest in Mr den Norske, sir? Did he describe it to you? Why have we been obliged to pursue this man clear across the Atlantic? How—’

  Rennie held up a hand, and:

  ‘I know you have a great many questions, James – as had I, indeed. Let me proceed, and all will become clear.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, sir.’

  But before Rennie could continue the carriage turned down into the area of the wharf, the wheels rattling over the cobblestones. The two sea officers descended, lifting their swords clear of the fold-down step.

  ‘I will tell you all of the rest when we are in the boat, James. Then as soon as we are aboard ship we must make our plans.’

  ‘Plans . . . ?’ As they crossed the wharf to the stone steps under the light of a single high lamp.

  ‘Ay, Mappin wishes us . . . Good God, where is the boat?’

  They stared down the steps. Lapping black water glistened uneasily in the near darkness. The iron mooring ring lay free of rope.

  ‘Did you instruct Huff to wait, sir?’

  ‘In course I did! You heard me do so, when we came ashore. Christ’s blood, where is he, the villain!’

  ‘Evidently the coxswain mistook your meaning, sir.’

  They searched along the length of the wharf, but Expedient’s boat was not there. Several other boats lay tethered at the northern end.

  ‘We will borrow a boat,’ decided Rennie, descending the steps.
<
br />   ‘Who is to row us, sir?’

  ‘Good God, James, we are not merely sea officers, we are right seamen, ain’t we, that have not forgot how to ship an oar?’

  ‘In course you are right, sir. I will row, while you steer.’

  ‘Damnation to that. We will both row.’

  And they went down the steps together and into the smallest of the three boats tethered there. Presently they cast off, and began rowing out into the harbour.

  ‘Handsomely, now . . . hhh . . . handsomely, James . . . hhh . . . let us rowdry.’

  ‘Ay-ay, sir.’

  To conserve his breath and his energy Rennie did not speak again until they came to Expedient half a glass after, and James did not press him. They found the missing launch tethered to a stunsail boom, secured their borrowed boat, and came up the side ladder into the ship. James was all for admonishing the coxswain and boat’s crew for disobeying orders and returning to the ship, but Rennie:

  ‘Nay, that will keep until morning. I must tell you everything that Mappin has told to me, and then we can decide upon a stratagem.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  In the great cabin, over fresh-brewed tea, Rennie repeated everything Mr Mappin had revealed to him.

  ‘According to his intelligence, Olaf Christian den Norske is a designer of guns. Perhaps the most gifted and far-seeing in a generation. Reputedly – nay, certainly – he has drawn up the plans for an entirely new kind of cannon, that can be used either in ships as a great gun, or ashore as a field weapon.’