‘Sir?’ The duty Marine, attending.
‘Pass the word for Mr Loftus, and Mr Tindall. I wish to see them both, at once. With my compliments, say to them.’ To James: ‘We must make sail, and set a course for England. Mr Mappin will have to make his own way, now, the fellow.’
And presently, as the captain and his lieutenant sat down to their business at the table in the great cabin, HM frigate Expedient, thirty-six, heeling a little as her sails filled, began her long journey homeward.
*
At six bells of the forenoon watch, Expedient heading east-nor’-east and a point east, in a steady topsail breeze. From aloft:
‘De-e-e-e-ck! Sail of ship two leagues directly astern of us, in pursuit!’
Rennie came on deck, roused from a nap by his steward. His first Lieutenant followed soon after. It was a fast brig, rapidly overhauling them. Her colours could not clearly be seen.
Rennie peered at the brig through his long glass at the tafferel, then strode forrard.
‘Mr Tindall!’
‘Sir?’ The officer of the deck, attending him.
‘We will beat to quarters, and clear for action.’
The brig was very fast indeed, and by three bells of the afternoon watch she was little more than a mile astern. Her colours, rippling in the wind, had now been identified by Lieutenant Hayter, who descended to the deck from the mainmast crosstrees by a backstay.
‘She wears the red, white and blue bars of an American merchantman, sir, and on closer examination I can say with confidence she ain’t armed.’
‘Not armed? Then why does she presume to dog us, a ship of war?’
A puff of smoke at the bow of the brig, at once carried away floating and dispersing on the wind.
BOOM
‘Not armed, Mr Hayter?’
‘I believe that was a signal gun, sir. Very likely they wish to speak.’
‘What does her master want of me, God damn him? I am going away from America.’
‘Since his brig cannot be a threat to us . . . should not we discover his purpose, sir?’
‘Hm. Hm.’ A sniff. ‘Very well, very well. – Mr Tangible!’
And Expedient came off the wind and hove to, topsails aback.
The brig soon followed suit, a boat was lowered and rowed across. A solitary seabird circled curious overhead. As the boat drew close, James focused on the figure in the stern sheets.
‘I see who it is, now, sir.’
‘Eh? Who?’
‘It is Mr Mappin.’
Brough Mappin had not been at his address in Boston when Rennie’s message to him had been delivered there. He had been away at Lexington, and had returned in the morning. Thus he had seen and known nothing of the fire. As soon as he had read the message he dashed to the port and engaged the brig to pursue Expedient. All this he vouchsafed to Rennie the moment he came aboard and was taken to the great cabin. Then:
‘I trust you have Mr den Norske safe in the ship?’
‘Nay, Mr Mappin, I have not.’
Mr Mappin now grew very pale, and his mouth set in a thin line. All of his usual composure and self-possession were gone in that moment.
‘Your damned impetuous decision to proceed independently in this venture has caused it to fail! Fail entire!’
‘Olaf Christian den Norske is dead.’ Rennie, quietly.
‘Dead!’
‘Ay. He shot one of my men, and was then instantly killed himself. For a fellow whose life was so took up with guns, he had little understanding of the price to be paid for their intemperate use, I think.’
‘Damnation to your feeble jokes, Captain Rennie! It is you that is intemperate, sir, and wretched irresponsible. You have cost—’
‘Will you care to look over the plans?’ Over him.
‘What?’
‘The draft plans for the gun. Mr Hayter in course secured them, and an example of the shot.’
‘You have the full design . . . ?’ Staring at Rennie.
‘Oh, yes. Yes, we have it.’
‘Let me see it.’
‘Yes, yes, I will like you to see everything, my dear Mappin – all in good time. But in the immediate I have some questions for you – as to why, and when, and how, concerning this “venture”, as you call it – and I will like to hear your answers.’
‘To hell with your questions! I demand that you show me the plans for the gun! I wish to see them at once!’
‘Well well, you are a peremptory and insistent fellow, Mappin, but I think we will do better altogether if you understand me in this distinction: I am in command of this ship.’
‘I demand—’
Rennie, over him, very firmly: ‘And if you wish to return in her to England, you will not dare presume otherwise. Should you so presume, by God, I will put you in irons in the orlop, and ye’ll spend the voyage in stinking darkness, with rats your only companions. Do you apprehend me, sir?’
‘Do not cross me, Rennie – I warn you.’
Rennie smiled, shook his head, and: ‘Sentry!’
‘Sir?’ At the door.
‘Kindly ask Mr Harcher to come to the great cabin with his sergeant and a party of Marines. Ask them to wait outside.’
‘Ay-ay, sir.’ Retreating.
Mappin, deathly pale and furious: ‘Have you the smallest understanding of what will happen to you if I—’
‘Be quiet, sir!’ A quarterdeck bellow.
Mr Mappin, in spite of himself, was shocked into silence.
‘Now then, now that we understand each other, we may begin.’ Rennie smiled at him, and indicated a chair: ‘Pray sit down.’
A moment, then Mr Mappin did as he was told, and sat down. Presently the boat returned to the brig, the brig turned away toward Boston, and Expedient resumed her course – east-nor’-east and a point east – for home. And Mr Mappin began to answer the questions put to him.
In the hour and more that followed in the great cabin, over tea, Rennie learned that his instincts about Olaf Christian den Norske had been largely correct. The young man had invented a remarkable weapon of war – as yet untested, but with the potential to influence the outcome of entire battles – and had then attempted to attract bids for it. The governments of his region could not match his price. It was remarked of him that he was both charming, and arrogant – arrogant to the point of ruthlessness. He did not really care who purchased his design, so long as his genius was recognised, and his fortune assured.
The British government, through ‘diplomatic channels’, had made an approach – and had been summarily rebuffed. The matter was then dropped. However, it was clear to a small number of far-sighted men in England that the design for this gun must be obtained, by all or any means. Mr Mappin was given that task.
Rennie listened carefully to all of Mr Mappin’s replies, but now he interrupted:
‘Why did you offer me money, Mr Mappin? I am not a spy, nor am I seized by the desire to manufacture guns. I am a sea officer, serving the king.’
‘My sincere apologies, Captain Rennie. It was a mistake. My mistake.’ He drank tea, put down the cup, and: ‘I had prevailed upon Their Lordships – Lord Hood – to allow me to offer you money, and he had agreed, because he had given you unqualified assurance that you would not be ordered into perilous waters so soon after your ordeal in France, and thus he felt in all conscience that you ought be compensated. However, he did not wish his name associated with the offer direct . . . and he quickly came to regret the notion. And so did I, indeed. I had no right to offer a serving sea officer what amounted to a squalid bribe, and therefore the offer was withdrawn, and formal instruction issued by Their Lordships, as Lord Hood would have preferred, I know, from the beginning.’ He drank off the last of his tea, and gave a little sigh. ‘I am in no doubt that I have made other errors in the course of this affair. Perhaps I have been overly . . . overly secretive in my dealings with you, Captain Rennie, and with others, in causing them to be overly secretive in turn. That is one of the perils
of my calling, I fear.’ A breath, a brief smile, and: ‘I hope and trust that you will receive your proper reward in due course, when the Prime Minister, and Their Lordships, learn what you have achieved.’
‘I do not care about rewards.’ Stiffly.
‘Come, Captain Rennie, do not naval men rejoice in prizes, in time of war?’
‘That is entirely different. It is wholly unlike.’
‘Ah. Then again – my apologies.’ A little bow.
‘In course, I should not object if my officers was favoured, and my people, that have suffered very grave this commission. As for myself . . .’
‘Hm. Well, you are the best judge of that, sir. I cannot influence you, as to that.’
‘Nay, ye cannot.’
Three weeks later, on a day of grey skies and rain showers, Expedient tacked safely under the Isle of Wight, headed north round the Foreland, and signalled her request for a mooring number as she arrived at Spithead. This was granted, and presently Mr Brough Mappin went ashore with the folded plans for the late Olaf Christian den Norske’s gun, and the strongbox.
Captain Rennie waited for the boat to return, and then went ashore himself, carrying a full written account of the commission, and Mr Mappin’s letter of unstinting praise and commendation. Lieutenant Hayter went with his captain in the boat. As they stepped ashore at the Hard, in a brief respite between showers, Rennie sniffed in a breath, and:
‘That is England under our legs, James.’
‘Ay.’ James shook his hat free of droplets, and glanced about. A sudden dazzle of sunlight, and the carrying cries of gulls.
‘Do you go to Dorset?’
‘I – I don’t know.’ Shading his eyes, thinking of that last letter to Catherine.
‘I should go to Dorset, if I was you, my dear friend.’ His hand at James’s elbow.
‘You think so?’ Looking at him.
‘Without the loss of a moment. And I release you, accordingly.’
‘You are very kind, sir.’ A moment, a deep deciding breath, and he put on his hat. ‘Then I will go.’
‘I am glad. Good luck, and Godspeed.’
The two sea officers shook hands, and went their separate ways across the wide shallow incline.
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Copyright © Peter Smalley 2010
Peter Smalley has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
First published in the United Kingdom in 2010 by Century
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The Pursuit Page 33
