A Ship for The King (32 page)

‘My Lady.' He bent over her gloved hand, his heart thumping like that of a youth.

‘Captain Faulkner.' They stood for a moment, staring at each other, then she said, ‘It is good to see a friendly face. They have been rare things of late.' There was an edge to her voice and he offered his arm. She took it and they began walking along the beach away from Hugh-town and over the low hill that rose to the north. ‘I suspect nothing happens on this island without all knowing of it,' she said, referring to this very public demonstration of acquaintance.

‘Nor will we be unobserved from the
Phoenix
,' he said drily, as they walked on in silence. After a few moments that dragged into an awkwardness that neither wanted, yet neither could break, he said, ‘I have long wanted a moment like this and now it has come, I do not know what to say.'

‘It is sometimes best to say what is uppermost in your mind,' she offered. ‘I am wearied with palace intrigue, politics, self-perjury, deceit, insincerity, flattery, cajolery . . . God knows there is enough of it!' She broke off, stopping and forcing him to confront her. ‘You are married, are you not? And have children . . . From what I know of you, you had no reason to join the King.'

‘No. That is all true. Nor do I know really why I am here. I did not come to seek you, though I long dreamed of you, but I knew when I saw you at Court that, well, after the stupid hopes I had nurtured from the time of the voyage to Spain, I was a fool.'

‘No, I was the fool.' She paused. ‘It is true that I had no intention of encouraging you at Court; it was simply inappropriate and I was a giddy girl, but I had not intended to hurt you, and hurt you I think I did.'

He shrugged. ‘Perhaps.'

‘Is that the truth? Perhaps?'

‘I was mortified, but more by my own boorishness than your repudiation.'

‘My dear Captain, you have no idea the boorishness I encountered at Court! But I did hurt you, and when I saw you no more I thought that you had forgotten me.'

They began walking again. ‘I did my best. You are not an easy woman to forget . . .'

‘But you married.'

‘Yes, a man must, at some time or another, or else take a whore and I was not inclined to do that.'

‘Not even an orange-seller?' she joshed.

‘No. Never. Perhaps I would have done better to have done so and then I should not have left a wake of wreckage behind me.'

‘Is that what you have done?'

‘Materially, no, but emotionally, yes. My wife deserved better of me, as did my children, who are innocent.'

‘Do you have sons, or daughters, or both?'

‘I have two sons and a daughter.'

‘How lovely,' she said. ‘And your wife?'

‘A lady of Puritan inclinations and headstrong views which I much admired . . . I still do, but . . .'

‘But? Love passes, is that it?'

‘I had hoped not. To say I had not forgotten you is not quite true. You ceased to trouble me. I heard nothing of you and assumed you had risen far above me in life, as was your birthright, and when I thought of you it was with that sadness that one recalls something long gone, beyond my practical grasp.'

‘A sadness, like a dead friend?'

‘Quite so; and the dead youth that I once was.' They walked on in silence and then he asked, ‘Tell me, out of curiosity, what did you truly think of Lieutenant Christopher Faulkner of the
Prince Royal
?'

‘I thought him kind, and handsome, and interested in me, a young and almost friendless chit of a girl who was not the person he thought her to be. Rutland scared me and though I recall I put a brave face upon it, I was sorely castigated for my insolence.'

‘Insolence?'

‘That is what I was told I had been. Why did you think that I failed to speak to you for the remainder of the passage?' He remained silent, recalling those distant days. ‘You thought me haughty, did you? Did you?'

He nodded. ‘Yes, and I felt humiliated.'

‘Humiliated, why? You were a polished gentleman, a sea-officer of reputation, handsome in your crimson sash . . . Why, Captain Faulkner,' she said with a trace of her old beguiling ways, ‘I was enraptured, enamoured of you and flattered myself – before that fat oaf Rutland interfered – that you felt likewise about me.'

He gave a bitter laugh. ‘If you knew . . . if you only knew . . .'

‘Knew what? You were not married then, what was there to know? You were a King's lieutenant, for me that was a grand prospect. Whatever Cousin George aspired to, poor Katherine would have settled for a King's lieutenant if only to find bed and board.'

He stared at her puzzled. ‘But the Duke, had he no plans for you?'

‘Do you think I would have wanted to have been married off to some poxed goat that Cousin George wanted to favour. So, what was there to know about you, Christopher Faulkner?'

‘I prefer Kit; my friends call me Kit . . .'

‘Don't prevaricate, Kit. What is there that you are concealing from me?'

They had walked almost a mile from the town, and though some men were working in a field and they could see three fishing boats working among the rocks below, they were alone. He stopped and lowered his head. ‘Katherine,' he said intimately and without thinking, ‘Sir Henry Mainwaring, whom you recall as commanding the
Prince Royal
and who is presently with us . . .' He took a deep breath before ploughing on. ‘Sir Henry found me a starving boy begging on the waterfront at Bristol, without mother or father, quite alone in the world. I am nothing. I have no land beyond a house in London . . .'

‘You have ships,' she broke in almost angrily, ‘you have men to command, you now carry the future King of England, if God grant success to his arms!'

‘I come from nothing . . .'

‘But we are alike . . .'

‘How so? How so? You are a Villiers, your cousin was the most powerful man in England who influenced two Kings – not always well, I'll allow, but you cannot say for that, you are nothing. You were high-born, you inherited all that implies. Blood begot you and blood binds you, blood secures you land, a marriage . . .' He stopped, aware that he was breaking down, angry and stupid. He had never expressed such sentiments before, never given way to such self-pity or found himself so helplessly self-loathing. He pulled himself together. ‘I am so sorry . . . please forgive me, if you can.'

She smiled at him. ‘There is nothing to forgive unless it be to chide you for sounding rather like a Parliament man. You are right in part, but not entirely so; my branch of the family was poor, George's less-so, though less well-to-do than you imagine. He rose . . . well God knows how he rose. The stories about him are not pleasant and you have likely heard them. If you had not known of them before, I am sure you have heard of them since. Indeed, I thought perhaps they contributed to your repudiation of me, though heaven knows others are not so easily put off.'

‘You have been married? Your child a father?'

‘Oh yes, Kit, married, widowed by the plague, married again and then thrown over. Widowed a second time thanks to the King's folly at Edgehill, then when with child, a kept woman and, after none acknowledged my child, I became, through the charity of others, a
companion
.' She spat the word derisively. ‘Why, Captain Faulkner, were we to stand on the scales of approbation before any tribunal from here to Heaven you would outweigh me by your weight in gold!'

They stared at one another, then slowly began to laugh. ‘There!' she said. ‘Now you have an answer to your lack of proper manners and had better kiss me if you have a taste for such rotten meat.'

They stood stock still. The path had sunk a little and the low, wind-bitten hedgerow barely concealed them, but the sky overhead was full of the song of an ascending lark. He took her by the shoulders and gently bent to her mouth.

It was sunset before they had wandered back to the landing place. ‘I do not like the look of that sky, Katherine. I think it may not be possible to see you tomorrow but you must know that, if you are willing and do not find the notion distasteful, until matters are settled in the country I am willing to take you under my protection.'

She put a finger on his lips, but he shook her off. ‘I am quite prepared to speak to Lady Fanshawe . . .'

‘I am sure you are, but leave matters to me, at least for the time being. You are to come to Jersey with us, are you not?'

‘If that is what His Highness commands.'

‘That is what His Highness is advised to do,' she replied. ‘Sir Richard is his mentor. Anyway, we shall have time to talk further even if the weather turns against us tomorrow.'

‘Let me see you to your lodging.'

She shook her head. ‘No, your boat is coming in. They have been likely watching us from the deck with their telescopes.'

‘Yes, they have. I shall dream of you tonight.'

‘You are too old to play Romeo,' she said, laughing. ‘But you have made me very happy, happier than I have been for a long, long time.' She turned and left him staring after her until he heard the crunch of the boat's stem on the sand. The oarsmen's silence as they pulled him back to the
Phoenix
was eloquent of interest and, as he reached the rail, he turned and tossed a florin back into the boat.

‘If you get the opportunity, you may drink the health of the lady.' He was rewarded by complicit grins.

‘Aye aye, Cap'n,' one of them responded.

Shortly after Faulkner had returned to the
Phoenix
another boat came off to the ship with an anxious Mainwaring. In the cabin he told Faulkner that earlier that afternoon seven ships had been seen approaching the islands, beating up from the eastwards, and that by the time he had decided to return on board, leaving the Prince and his people in the town or accommodated at Star Castle on the island's highest point, there were eleven in sight.

‘It has to be Batten, Kit, with reinforcements. I fear more will be sent yet and that he will try and trap us here, and may well attempt an assault on us, here in the road.'

‘If he leaves it until morning, he may prove to be too late,' Faulkner said. ‘There'll be a full gale by the morning, unless I am very much mistaken.'

Mainwaring nodded. ‘I am of the same opinion.'

And so it proved; the wind rose steadily during the night and by dawn the anchorage was streaked with white water and a low, troublesome swell was rolling into the anchorage, to which the ships curtsied in response, tugging at their cables and creating deep anxiety to those responsible. St Mary's Road is not renowned for its good holding ground and the added thrust of the gale created a strong possibility of dragging, so Faulkner ordered one of the guns slung over the bow and under the cable, sending it down on a messenger to back up the anchor. To further reduce the
Phoenix
's windage, he had the topgallant yards and masts lowered, and dropped the lower yards a-portlast so that they lay across the ship's rail.

‘God help us if we drag now,' he remarked to White, having thereby immobilized the ship. White nodded. It had been a hard six hours' work. ‘Issue the men with an extra rum-ration, and tell them to stand easy.'

Fortunately the wind shifted a little north of west which, thanks to the rocks and shallows in that direction, eased the strain on the cables and, in the event and to the amazement of them all, not a single vessel dragged her anchor. How Batten's squadron fared they had no idea but, once the gale abated after it had blown for three days and four nights, there was nothing to be seen of his ships.

For two further days nothing could be seen to the eastwards, so it was assumed that Batten had fallen back upon Falmouth, perhaps even as far as Plymouth, with his ships damaged by the foul weather. It was now that Sir Richard Fanshawe, aware that the islanders had barely enough for their own subsistence, advised Prince Charles that it might prove the decisive moment for his escape to Jersey. The Prince concurred and orders were given for the re-embarkation at a Council held in the castle in the Prince's presence.

‘Sir Henry and I,' Fanshawe began, ‘are of the opinion, Your Highness, that you should embark in the
Proud Black Eagle
. We are also of the opinion, confirmed we believe by Captain Baldwin Wake of that vessel, that she is exceptionally fast.' Faulkner looked across at Wake, a young man in extravagant dress who commanded one of the other vessels keeping them company in the anchorage. ‘The enemy,' Fanshawe resumed, ‘should we meet him, will assume that you remain in the
Phoenix
and we may let him continue to do so with the judicious deception of flags and so forth. Captain Faulkner will form the chief escort with the
Phoenix
and, should we encounter the enemy, act as a decoy. The other vessels will divide themselves accordingly as best suits the occasion, with at least one vessel in support of the
Phoenix
, but the remainder attending the
Proud Black Eagle
. I have no need to remind you gentlemen of what is expected of you if the enemy appears in overwhelming force. Any questions?'

‘I am short of powder and shot,' said Faulkner. ‘I obtained a little yesterday from the garrison commander but, now that we are departing, may I have a requisition order for more?'

‘Of course, Captain. And I wish we had been able to increase our stores but all that the island can produce we have already taken.'

There were a few more details to settle but by noon Faulkner, having sent word to White to collect more powder and shot, walked down to speak with Katherine. Knocking at her lodgings, a small, mean stone fisherman's cottage almost on the foreshore, he was ushered in by the black maid. Katherine rose as he entered the room, as did Lady Fanshawe.