Authors: Peter Smalley

The Gathering Storm (3 page)

'You will need to keep a close eye upon your wife, Mr Hayter,
these next few days. I do not mean the abrasion on her head,
which will heal quickly. There are more cases of typhus in the
village, and I am concerned that your wife had such close
contact with her son when he was suffering the worst eruptions
of the disease. You yourself must also be vigilant. Any
headache, any sudden flux of the bowels, any sudden onset of
fainting weakness – and you should avoid contact with other
persons, now, even your own servants.'

'But the vicar has been here today. We were together some
little time, in the library.'

'The Reverend Constant asked me to alert him in all cases
where the disease has struck. Like myself, he wishes to do
his duty.'

'But surely he has young children of his own?'

'He has.' A sigh. 'I cannot prevent him from tending his
flock, you know. He knows what risk he takes, I assure you.'

'How many cases altogether, Doctor?'

'In Winterbourne Keep, seven. And five in the neighbouring
village.'

'Will there be more, d'y'think?' As they went out on to
the front court.

'It is entirely probable.'

'Should I send the servants away?'

'How many servants have you here? Three?'

'Aye. Tabitha, that is very elderly now, and the two young
maidservants. Oh, and the stable lad.'

'It will be better, I think, for them to stay here.' He did
not elaborate, but James was wholly aware of what he meant.
If the servants were themselves already infected, sending
them away, among other people, would do more harm than
good. As the doctor drove away:

'Perhaps we are all infected. Perhaps we are all doomed
to die.' But he did not say it loud enough for Dr Harkness
to hear.

On the morrow a letter came for James, from Portsmouth.
He did not reply. He did not even read it.

TWO

Captain William Rennie, RN, and his bride Sylvia – a handsome
naval widow he had met months since, and had been
immediately and greatly drawn to – were living for a few
weeks at Portsmouth, far from their home in Norfolk. They
had taken rooms at the Marine Hotel while Captain Rennie's
ship – HMS
Expedient
, frigate, 36 – was refitted. The ship
had lain in Ordinary most of the previous year, and had
now been recommissioned because of the worsening situation
in France.

Expedient
was at present shored up in the dry dock having
her copper examined. Rennie moved about the dockyard,
visited the port admiral's office, returned to the yard, fretted,
enquired, took the wherry over to Gosport to chivvy his
purser Mr Trent as he made his requests and purchases at
the Weevil, visited his tailor Bracewell & Hyde, and was
full of the energy of renewed command.

'Yes, yes, but what of the buttons?' he said in Mr Bracewell's
shop. 'Have Firmins sent them?'

'I am still awaiting them, I fear, sir. The—'

'What? Still? Good heaven, Bracewell.'

'Firmins are very taxed at present, sir, with many orders.
So many ships coming back into commission, so many
officers that wants new buttons, not to mention new
lace—'

'Yes yes, very well. Let me know the moment you have
the buttons to hand, will you? The full set, for my dress
coat. Do not forget.'

'I will not likely do that, sir.' Mr Bracewell, politely, tape
measure draped neatly about his neck.

'Very good. I am at the Marine Hotel.'

'I have the address in my book.' Politely, as Rennie strode
out to the clinking of the above-door bell.

Rennie had gone aboard
Expedient
as soon as he had come
to Portsmouth, and before she had been given her number
for the dry docking by the master shipwright. He had
formally read his commission on the cluttered deck,
surrounded by indifferent artificers, his standing officers,
and those few men of the ship's complement already berthed
in her. The bulk of her people had not yet been gathered,
leave alone entered in the ship's books. And now that the
ship was out of the water, her standing officers and those
few others attached were living in a hulk moored upstream
of the dockyard, until she could be refloated.

The boatswain Mr Tangible and the carpenter Mr Adgett
had followed Rennie to the dockyard gate, caught him up
there, and vehemently complained about this arrangement.

'Why cannot we live decently ashore, sir?' demanded
Mr Tangible.

'Surely a port hulk is decent enough these days?' Rennie,
knowing the answer to that.

'I am not a man to complain, not in usual, but that damned
hulk is intol'ble, sir. Rats, filth, the cook is senseless drunk,
and her people bring whores into her at all hours, and –
well – conduct themselves very licentious. It is altogether
very hard for both Mr Adgett and myself.'

'Yes?' Glancing at Mr Adgett.

'Yes, sir, as I say.' Mr Adgett, nodding.

'Well well, we must see what can be done.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'I shall say a word to the master attendant. He may know
of lodgings—'

'I could save you that trouble, sir, if you please. We have
lodged at my sister's all the while the ship was in Ordinary,
and would wish to go there now.' Mr Adgett.

'Y'didn't live aboard – at all?'

'We did
go
aboard her regular, sir.' Mr Tangible.

'By the by, where is the gunner? Where is Mr Storey?'

'He is presently ashore, sir.' Mr Adgett, nodding.

'Ashore? Where?'

'I believe he has took a room at the Pewter Inn, sir.'

'The Pewter! Good God.'

The Pewter Inn at the point was one of the most notorious
dens in Portsmouth.

'It is under new management, sir.' Mr Tangible, hastily.
'The prev'ous landlord was took by the Revenue. The
Pewter is altogether more respectable now, sir.'

'What you are saying to me is that none of you lived
aboard
Expedient
, when ye've been paid to do so by the
Board all these months, as her warranted standing officers.
Hey?'

'Not – at night, sir. Only at certain other times.' Mr
Tangible.

'During the day.' Mr Adgett. 'As I say, sir, we thought
it prudent to be present when the assigned artificers was
aboard, but we—'

'Christ's blood, gentlemen.' Rennie, very severe. 'The
artificers are paid by the commissioner to move from ship
to ship as required by tendered reports of inspection. Their
place is not in a particular ship, but in any ship in need of
running repair. Your place, as required by the Navy Board,
is in your ship, at all times. Pray do not interrupt me, Mr
Adgett.' Holding up a hand. 'Y'will both of ye kindly attend
to your responsibilities now by remaining in the hulk, until
Expedient
is refloated. You will then live in the ship. I will
find Mr Storey at the point, and say so to him. Should any
of you wish to go out of
Expedient
for
any reason
, you will
seek my express permission. Do I make myself plain?'

The two standing officers straightened their backs.

'Yes, sir.'

'Very well. Good day.' Turning abruptly on his heel and
marching out through the gates.

There was a note waiting for Rennie when he returned
to the Marine Hotel from a fruitless trip to the point to
find his gunner. Would Captain Rennie attend upon the
port admiral at his earliest convenience?

Rennie went to the port admiral's office. Admiral
Hapgood greeted him with the bleak grimace that in that
officer was the warmest attempt at welcome he was capable
of making. His beetling brow and forbidding features did
not disguise a gentler, pleasanter man. They reflected
exactly his character and attitudes. He was known widely
and sardonically in the service as 'Happy' Hapgood.

'Captain Rennie.'

'Good morning, sir.'

'Do you know the whereabouts, sir, of Captain Hayter?'

'James Hayter? I have been expecting him to get into
touch with me, you know, but he—'

'Why has not he done so?'

'I – I could not say, sir, for certain. I know that he
accepted his commission in the
Eglantine
, 22, and that
he was due to come here to Portsmouth to make her ready
for the sea. However, I have been so caught up with my
own commission that—'

'In little, y'don't know where he may be found?'

'Well, sir – I imagine that if he ain't here, he—'

'Imagine? It ain't my purpose to imagine, since I am not
a fanciful man. Is he at home?'

Rennie had endured a difficult morning, and had to curb
his tongue now. He replied, having taken a steadying breath:

'I do not know, sir. I expect so.'

'He don't reply to letters sent to him at home. Why not?'

'I do not know that neither, sir.' Politely, a slight lifting
of the eyebrows.

'Ye've heard nothing from him then, yourself?'

'I have not, sir, no. My wife and I have come direct
from Norfolk. I am hard at work refitting my own ship,
and have had no time for anything else since we came to
Portsmouth.'

'Captain Hayter was your first, was not he, in previous
commissions?'

'He was, sir.'

'You know him well?'

'Aye, very well.'

'Then y'may go and find him, Captain Rennie.'

'Eh?'

'Go to Dorsetshire, without the loss of a moment, and
bring him here, the fellow.'

A booming thud rattled the windows. The noon gun.
Rennie glanced at the windows, took a moment to consider
his best response, and:

'Sir – Admiral Hapgood. I cannot in all conscience, I
think, ignore the wishes of Their Lordships and abandon
my duty at Portsmouth.'

'You refuse, sir?' A beetling glare.

'It ain't my wish nor intention, sir, to refuse a direct
order, but you must understand that—'

'Must? Must?'

'I mean that I hope you will understand me, sir, when I
remind you—'

'Y'may remind me of nothing, Rennie. Your first may
undertake your duties while you are gone. That is quite
usual in refitting ships, I believe.'

'With respect, sir, my first ain't here.'

'Not here? Why not? Who is he?' Rapped out.

'Lieutenant Makepeace, sir. He is on his way to us, and
should be—'

'Who is your second, then? He will do.'

'Lieutenant Merriman Leigh, sir. He is not here, neither.
Nor is my third, Mr Souter.'

'
None
of your officers is at Portsmouth?'

'No, sir. They—'

'Your standing officers are present, I hope? Are they?'

'Yes, sir.' Confidently.

In addition to Mr Tangible, Mr Adgett and Mr Trent,
and the elusive gunner Mr Storey, the ship's newly appointed
cook, Allway Swallow, had appeared with his dunnage and
gone aboard the hulk only yesterday.

'Then they may reasonably undertake the work, governed
by your master.' A nod, a grimace.

Expedient
's sailing master, Mr Loftus, had yet to join the
ship. Rennie said so to Admiral Hapgood, who:

'
Expedient
is damned odd for a commissioned ship,
Captain Rennie. I have yet to receive your final instructions
from Whitehall. Your officers are not here. Everything
about her is wanting in purpose and compliance. Are your
people assembled, and placed on her books?'

'Not quite yet, sir.'

'Then she ain't ready for sea, won't be for some little
while, and will not be greatly disadvantaged by your absence.
Y'will go to Dorset, remind Captain Hayter of
his
duty,
and bring him forthwith to Portsmouth.'

'Very good, sir. May I have that wrote out?'

'Wrote out? Ain't it plain?'

'Oh, indeed it is, sir. But I will like to have something
in writing to show to James Hayter. If you please.'

'Very well, very well.' Lifting his voice: 'Pell! Pell, there!'

And when his clerk had come he dictated the letter.
Presently Rennie returned to the hotel, and his wife helped
him to pack a valise. As a naval wife she was used to absence;
however:

'Why don't the admiral send a letter, William?' Folding
a shirt.

'He has sent letters. James has not replied.'

'Then why don't he send a paid messenger?' Handing
him his small shaving glass.

'My darling Sylvia, I do not wish to go away from you,
but go I must.'

'How long will you be gone?'

'A few days at most.'

'I shall miss you.' Kissing his cheek.

'And I you.' Fondly turning.

A twilight hush had fallen across the paved forecourt at
Birch Cottage as Captain Rennie drove down from the road
in his hired gig. The trees surrounding the house had
become shadows, and those shadows were now fading into
darkness. The first stars stood in the clear pale sky above
the chimneys, and the air was chill. The hush became
melancholy silence, broken only by the horse's hooves.
Rennie drew up, and sat quiet a moment before descending.
The sweet pink-pink of a last blackbird echoed across the
front of the house, and the grey outline of the roof absorbed
the sound. A breath of blossom floated. Rennie shivered.

He could not see a light in the house, and for a minute
or two he wondered if he had not come to the wrong
address. He had hired the gig at Blandford in the afternoon,
driven south to Winterbourne, and enquired in the
village for Birch Cottage. He had been given directions by
a boy, and – thought Rennie – strange looks. He had told
himself that very probably all visitors were treated with
suspicion in these remote rural districts, and had put the
strange looks from his mind.

'Should I knock?' Murmured to himself. 'If it is the wrong
house perhaps they will take it ill ...'

Then his sea officer's sense of purpose asserted itself,
he stepped down and strode to the door, and lifted the
knocker. As he was about to let it fall the door was
opened, Rennie stepped back in surprise, and a fan of light
spilled out.

'Who is it? Is that you, Dr Harkness?' A woman's voice,
young and untutored.

'No, it ain't.' Rennie stepped into the light and removed
his hat so that his face might be plainly seen.

'Oh. Sir.' The maidservant, startled, lifting a candle-holder.

'I am Captain Rennie, come from Portsmouth to see
Captain Hayter. May I come in?'

'The house is quarantined, sir. I fear that—'

'Who is it, Mary?' A man's voice, James Hayter's voice.

'James?'

And now James came forward into the glow of the light.

'Good heaven, sir. It is you, I thought I heard your voice.'
He stepped past the girl. 'I will just take the light, Mary.
Return to the kitchen.' Standing now in the doorway: 'I
fear I must turn you away, sir. We are quarantined here.'

'I see.' Rennie thought that his friend looked gaunt and
thin in the candlelight, and older than his years. 'Is it fever?
You have had fever in the house?'

'Yes. Yes. Fever.' A single nod.

'I am very sorry, my dear James. Had I known in course
I should not have come.' Looking into his face. 'Is
Catherine—'

'Catherine is – she is recovered, a little. A bad bout, you
know, but she will come back from it.'

'I am very sorry. Had I known—'

'You could not know, sir.'

'And your boy Rondo?'

'We have lost him.'

'Christ Jesu ...'

'He died very quick, very sudden, when we had
thought ...'

'My dear James. You poor fellow. I deeply regret intruding
on your grief—'

'No, sir, do not apologise. I can guess why you have
come. I have not replied to the letters, and you have come
as an emissary of Their Lordships.'

'Well, not quite. The port admiral.'