Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead (16 page)

Sir William, whose knighthood had been granted him by the Swedish King, looked decidedly uncomfortable with all this talk of prize
money, though he did agree that harming the enemy's commerce was a valuable contribution to Britain's war.

He changed the subject as soon as it was polite to do so and turned instead to the story of Hayden's crossing and the Spanish castaways—a story that had swept around the island like a cool wind.

“And there she was,” Crawley said, a bemused half-smile upon his face, “in a ship's boat—your bride to be—dressed as a man?”

Hayden conceded that this was true.

“It seems a very seaman-like way to find a bride, does it not?” Oxford ventured.

“I could not agree more,” replied Crawley. “Why, I believe every sea officer worthy of his post should find his bride in the middle of an ocean.”

“This acquiring a wife ashore . . .” Sir William added, making a sour face, “one is all but certain to get a
landswoman
. A very poor mate for a sea officer.”

They drank a toast to Hayden's sea-bride.

The conversation turned to the trials of the British forces in these waters, and the sea officers had little good to say about the efforts of the Army—though Hayden knew this might be nothing more than the usual prejudice.

“Are you familiar with the Comte de Latendresse?” Hayden asked, to which all answered in the affirmative but no one offered more.

“The admiral asked me to sit with him while he spoke with the comte, on account of my felicity with the French language. The comte had just returned from Guadeloupe with news. Perhaps I am wrong, but this nobleman told me his family hailed from Burgundy, yet his accent would seem to indicate he came from the south. My wife's brother was of the opinion that the comte's manners were . . . how shall I say?—somewhat coarse for a Frenchman of that rank.”

Crawley glanced at Oxford. “Are you suggesting that he is not what he claims, Hayden?”

“I am merely curious as to your opinions.”

Crawley nodded to their host. “Sir William knows him best.”

Jones, as Hayden and everyone else in the Navy knew, cultivated people of high rank. As well as the King of Sweden, he boasted a friendship with the Prince of Wales and various peers of the highest order. He had dined with the King, or so claimed, and, at different times, his name had been linked with the daughters of lords, though marriages never ensued.

Sir William appeared decidedly troubled by this question. “I have always found the comte a most amiable companion. His manners are invariably perfect, in the French way, and I have known many a French nobleman. No, nothing seems the least out of place to me.” He glanced up at Hayden. “Could you be mistaken about his accent? Perhaps it would be difficult for an Englishman to distinguish?”

“I spent much of my childhood in France, Sir William, and speak the language as a native. Perhaps there is a perfectly reasonable explanation, but his accent is not Burgundian, I am quite certain.”

This seemed to disconcert Jones even more, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Crawley picked up his wineglass, then hesitated. “You would appear to be suggesting, Hayden, that it is possible the comte is not spying for the admiral.”

Hayden considered a moment. “I would not go quite so far, but I do think he bears watching. I have been debating whether I should broach this subject with the admiral . . . You know Caldwell better than I; should I speak to him of this?” he asked the others.

“Unquestionably,” Crawley replied without hesitation. “Admiral Caldwell has come to rely very heavily on the comte for intelligence. If this Frenchman is giving the admiral false information, and spying for the French instead, it would put us at a great disadvantage.” He took a sip of his wine, then turned the glass slowly, staring into the contents. “I wonder if there is not some way we could discover if the man is on our side or not.”

“We might put one of our own people in his household,” Oxford offered. “Though it would have to be someone French.”

“In England,” Hayden offered, “we could find a royalist nobleman, who would tell us if he is an imposter. But here . . .”

The others shook their heads.

Hayden considered a moment. “I have a Frenchman aboard my ship—a royalist and an excellent cook—I could ask him if he might agree to be placed in the comte's household.”

“That might answer—if he would do it—though he must realise there would be some risk.”

Jones remained unsettled but finally said, “I for one do not doubt the man, but if all of you mistrust him, then, by all means, let us endeavour to discover where his loyalties lie. We cannot have a spy giving us false information. Any number of lives might be lost as a result.”

The dinner ended on this note, Jones appearing rather unhappy, and Hayden suspected it was with Charles Saunders Hayden.

As they climbed down the ship's side into their waiting boats, Jones turned to the newest member of his squadron.

“Hayden?” he said quietly. “Stay back with me a moment, if you please.”

Hayden nodded, and Jones led him aft to the transom, where they might have a private conversation. Expecting to be informed that he did not understand the local situation, having only just arrived, Hayden was prepared humbly to agree, while still asserting that he thought the comte might not be quite all he claimed.

“I know you by reputation, Hayden,” Jones began. “I have heard what you did in Corsica and along the French coast. Crawley and Oxford are excellent sea officers, and I do not mean to suggest for a moment that they are shy. They are not. But they are far more interested in lining their pockets than prosecuting Britain's war in these waters. In this, I regret to say, they have the admiral's support. He feels he has been wronged—and, I suspect, in truth, he was—and he knows he will not
keep the position he holds now for much longer. For this reason, he has decided to enrich himself to the greatest degree possible while he may. His admiral's share of all prize money is not insignificant. To this end, he has sent us on repeated cruises, ignoring the French possessions and the gains the enemy have made. I believe you understand what is at risk in this war?”

Hayden assured him that he did.

“Then we will carry the war to the enemy. Prizes we may take, but to cripple the enemy, that is our purpose. To control the seas between the islands. Make it dangerous for the French to shift troops from one island to another, which they do now with impunity whenever our armies attack an island we believe is vulnerable.”

“But will we not have orders from the admiral? If he sets us to cruise in one part of the sea . . . ?”

Jones met Hayden's eye and lowered his voice. “The Admiralty has always expected—even encouraged—me to take more initiative than most post captains would be granted. It is well known that the Prince of Wales and the King admire both my resolution and my independence. Caldwell comprehends this. Once we are at sea, and beyond communication with the admiral, it is incumbent upon me to weigh any newly acquired intelligence and make the best decisions I can, bearing always in mind the interests of King and country. Having dined with His Majesty, I feel I can claim to know his mind as well as any.”

It was as everyone who knew Jones claimed—his character was a combination of patriotism, vanity, boastfulness, gallantry, and extravagant imprudence. His gallantry and bravery, combined with a simple, unquestioning patriotism, earned him much admiration and loyalty, especially among the common seaman, but his imprudence and foolish vanity made him an object of much satirical wit among officers. It was said of him that most men who combined so many contradictory qualities would be torn asunder, but Jones was saved by an astonishing naivety—he was utterly unaware that the different parts of his character were at odds. Like a royalist and a revolutionary living under the same roof, oblivious to
the fact that their ideals placed them in opposition to each other, and therefore believing the other a most capital fellow.

“I am here, Sir William, to do my duty to King and country, but I will tell you I do not squander the lives of my men. I weigh the benefits of any action against the lives it will cost. I have always attempted to gain the greatest advantage for the least cost, in that regard.”

“I am pleased to see we are of one mind in this,” Sir William assured him.

Hayden found it difficult to hide his reaction. Jones was notorious for undertaking extremely risky actions of very dubious value. The only thing one could say in his defence was that he did not send his men into these dangers while he watched from a distance. Sir William invariably led the charge and risked all the dangers to which he subjected his crews. For this, the men forgave him much they would not otherwise.

“I dine with the admiral this very night, Hayden, and will surely receive my orders then. How soon can you put to sea?”

“Tomorrow, if need be.”

“Excellent. We shall have our ships readied with all speed. Four or five days we shall require, for the crews shall have leave to go ashore, which will slow preparations to some small degree.” Jones paused. “You will note that we have painted our ships black—any little thing that will draw our prey nearer . . .”

“I shall have our stripe painted black immediately, Sir William.”

Hayden went down into his boat and Childers steered back to their own frigate. Time would certainly show him what he had fallen into, but he was of the impression that he had fallen in with a brave, perhaps even gallant, fool and two prize hunters. The war against France was not the primary concern of any of these men, he suspected. Jones was chasing reputation, while Crawley and Oxford sought wealth. Hayden did not want to tip the balance in either of these directions. It was his desire to prosecute the war against their enemies in a prudent but forceful manner.

As his boat passed astern of
Phaeton
, Crawley appeared at the rail and
waved Hayden near. “Might you have a moment, Hayden?” he enquired as the boat drew near.

“Certainly,” Hayden replied.

“Please, Captain, come aboard.”

Childers brought their boat smartly alongside—a difficult thing to manage when a boat had lost all way and was so near. Hayden went up the side and was invited down into Crawley's cabin, which was fitted out almost as splendidly as a house ashore.

“Do you take tea?” Crawley asked.

“With delight,” Hayden lied. He much preferred coffee, but tea seemed to be growing in popularity with some segments of society, though Hayden did not imagine it would ever become universal—the cost was simply prohibitive. From what Crawley had been saying over dinner, he could, no doubt, afford it.

“What did you think of the Swedish King's good knight?”

“He comes much as described, I should say,” Hayden offered, tactfully.

“I do not mean to traduce the character of Sir William, for God knows I esteem, even love him, but he will lead you into the most harrowing dangers for little or no gain. Oxford and I have often been able to balance Sir William's desire to fly into peril at every opportunity, but if you will support him, Hayden—well, I know you are a man of good judgement, which poor Sir William lacks, if I may say it. You will quickly see what he is about, I have no doubt.”

“Does Admiral Caldwell not give him specific orders?”

“Mmm. You must realise that Sir William has a . . . how shall I put this? An inflated idea of his intimacy with the King and of the Admiralty's opinion of him as well. As a result, he feels orders are for lesser men and are not binding upon him.”

“Lacking judgement in all things,” Hayden said.

“I fear so. To be perfectly candid, if left to his own devices, he would kill us all in a few short weeks. Jones, of course, would remain unharmed, as his person is apparently proof against cannon balls. As you
are new to the Barbados station, I thought it incumbent upon me to warn you—the man would take on a first rate with a pistol. He has neither judgement nor fear, nor even the common animal trait of self-preservation. Oxford and I attempt to dissuade him of his most absurd plans, and support those that might yield some benefit without the massacre of our crews. You are a very steady officer, Hayden, and I do hope we can count on your support in this endeavour. Jones requires very little encouragement to pursue the most ruinous exploits.”

“I shall attempt to use whatever small influence I might have to pursue those ends which might see this war made shorter, if notably less glorious.”

“And in this Oxford and I are your brothers. Jones, God love him, is rather like a great gun. He requires others to aim him at the enemy, otherwise he would be spending shot to subdue the ocean.”

Tea, which Hayden thought of as particularly thin, bitter coffee, arrived and the conversation turned to other matters. Crawley was a good seaman and knew the local waters intimately. He promised to send his sailing master over to speak with Mr Barthe to be certain his charts displayed all the most recently discovered reefs and rocks—a very great kindness, in Hayden's opinion.

As Hayden rose to leave, Crawley addressed him again. “Please, Hayden, do not misunderstand me. I esteem Sir William greatly. I have never met a braver man, and I have known many a courageous soul. With but a little aid from those around him, he is a great weapon against our enemies. Let us wield him wisely.”

As Hayden returned to his boat and the short row to his ship, he felt more than a little bemused. Jones had warned him about Oxford's and Crawley's predilection to choose profit over duty, then Crawley had warned him to be wary of Sir William's desire for glory while disregarding common sense. He now had only to have Oxford come to his ship and warn him about the shortcomings of both Crawley and Jones and the circle would be complete. He was not, however, expecting that
to happen. Hayden guessed that Crawley and Oxford were much of one mind with regards to both the matter of Sir William and how best to prosecute the war against the French.