Guns to the Far East (2 page)

“Yes, dear, I believe so,” his wife answered. “The officers have returned to their places.” No better positioned to view the proceedings than he and considerably shorter in height, Lady Hazard had glimpsed a naval cocked hat between the rows of tricornes and she spoke reassuringly, anxious to prevent any more expression of indignation on the part of her husband. His temper, never equable, had become more easily provoked with advancing years and, disgusted with the arrangement of the stands, he had several times given vent to his displeasure in terms better suited to the quarterdeck than to his present surroundings. Like herself, of course, she thought sadly, he was bitterly disappointed that their son Phillip, who had greatly distinguished himself in the late war, could not be present today to receive the Cross he had been awarded from the Queen's hands. But Phillip, ever eager to be at sea, had sailed from Spithead on 26th November with his old Commander, Henry Keppel—newly promoted Commodore of the China Squadron—in the fine sailing frigate
Raleigh
and … She felt the Admiral's bony fingers tightening about her arm. The Duke of Cambridge had moved from the Queen's side to quieten his restive mount and, for a moment, their view was unrestricted.

“That's young Alexander Dunn of the Eleventh Hussars,” the Admiral told her, gesturing towards a tall young officer in the famous “Cherry Pickers'” uniform, fur-trimmed pelisse swinging from his left shoulder, who was now facing the Queen. “Won his Cross for riding back, after the Light Brigade charge at Balaclava, to save the lives of a sergeant and one of his private soldiers, who were cut off and under attack by the Cossacks. They say he accounted for at least three Russians singlehanded.”

“He's a handsome young man,” Lady Hazard observed.

Her husband chuckled. “Indeed he is—and quite a lively one, from what I've heard. Father was Receiver-General of Upper Canada and the boy was brought up there. Considers himself a Canadian and sold out, a couple of years ago—so what he's doing in uniform I don't know. Special permission, probably.” He lowered his voice. “It's said he took his Commanding Officer's wife back to Canada with him but I don't know if that's true … certainly Douglas hasn't divorced her, has he?”

“I don't know, dear. But if—”

“Wonder what Cardigan thinks of it,” the Admiral mused, his temper restored. “Dunn's a man after his own heart, I'd imagine—and now a V.C. Her Majesty didn't say much to him, did she? Must have been told, I suppose, and … damme, here's HRH back again on that infernal great horse! Now we shan't see any more of 'em.”

“There aren't very many more to come now, George,” his wife pointed out. “It's taking much less time than I had expected it would.”

The ceremony had, in fact, taken only ten minutes. As the last man to be decorated—an officer of the Rifle Brigade—took his place in line with the other 61, the Guards' band struck up “See the Conquering Hero Comes” and, led by the cavalry and the Horse Artillery, the troops on parade passed in review between the Royal party and the newly decorated officers and men. Finally the whole force drew up in line, presented arms, and gave three rousing cheers for Her Majesty, which the Queen acknowledged graciously. To the skirling of the Highlanders' pipes, playing “Auld Lang Syne,” the Royal cortège reformed and left the Park, and the main stand swiftly emptied as the families and friends of the new Victoria Cross holders hastened across the intervening space to offer their congratulations.

“Pity in a way, that young Phillip couldn't be here,” the Admiral said regretfully. “It would have been a proud moment for both of us actually to be present when he received his Cross. But there it is … he's off to China, to what looks deuced like another war and, if it does come to that, I don't doubt he'll acquit himself well.” His wife shivered involuntarily and he looked down at her anxiously. “Haven't caught a chill, have you, Augusta?”

She shook her head. “No. It's just that the thought of another war, so soon after the last one, and Phillip likely to be involved in it, is … well, I'm worried, I suppose.”

“Wars offer a splendid chance of advancement to an ambitious young officer, m'dear,” Admiral Hazard reminded her. “The only chance, really. And Phillip's ambitious … couldn't wait to go, could he? A couple of months' shore leave, after the
Huntress
paid off, and then Keppel had only to crook a finger and Phillip was on his way to Portsmouth to join him. It's what I'd have done myself at his age, of course but, for all that, I wish he'd waited a little longer. If he had, Their Lordships would have given him another command of his own—with his record and a Victoria Cross, they couldn't decently have refused. But with the
Raleigh
going down like that, it'll be in the lap of the gods, I suppose—both for Phillip and Keppel. I wish the boy would write, though, and tell us what's happening.”

Lady Hazard, her attention concentrated on leading him through the surging crowd, scarcely took in what he was saying. Pausing at last so that her husband might regain his breath, she said quietly but with conviction, “I fancy Phillip had other reasons for wanting to go back to sea, George—other reasons than ambition and the desire for advancement, I mean.”

“
Other
reasons? Nonsense, m'dear—what other reasons could he possibly have had?”

“Personal ones. I think it was a shock to him when Graham married Catriona.”

“But good Gad!” The Admiral's heavy white brows rose in an astonished curve. “You're not suggesting that
Phillip
wanted to marry her, are you?”

His wife inclined her head. “I believe he did, yes. You see—”

“She's a charming girl,” the Admiral conceded. “But for all that,—you're wrong, Augusta. Phillip knows perfectly well that any officer in Her Majesty's Navy who marries before he's reached post-rank is a fool. Why—”

“That was probably why he hesitated,” Lady Hazard put in. She added, with a hint of reproach in her gentle voice, “You drummed it into him often enough, George.”

“Of course I did—damme, it's the truth, isn't it? And if I did drum it into him, it was for his own good.”

“Perhaps. Look, I think the crowd is thinning a little now— shall we go on?”

The old Admiral nodded. But, as they continued on their way to the Park gates, he returned to the subject of his elder son's marriage. “
I
thought it was a good match for both of them—and they seemed happy, 'pon my soul they did! It was high time Graham married … you said that yourself, Augusta. He needs the settling influence of a wife and he's fortunate in his choice of one.”

“Yes, indeed, dear,” Lady Hazard agreed.

“Well, then?” the Admiral challenged. “You are surely not suggesting that it was Phillip whom Catriona wanted, are you?”

His wife denied it. “Oh, no, nothing of the kind. But, if you remember, it was Phillip who brought her to the house initially, not Graham. I thought then that it was his intention to ask for her hand.”

“But he didn't, did he?” the Admiral countered unanswerably. “In any case, it's worked out for the best for both boys, m'dear. Graham knew he couldn't make a career in the Service—Their Lordships may have restored his commission but they have long memories, they'd never have given him a command in peacetime. And what sort of future is it for a Lieutenant on half-pay these days, especially one with a black mark against his name?” He sighed. “I'm glad he did what he did, deuced glad … and proud of him! Because—if you'll pardon the expression, m'dear—it took guts. For an ex-officer to volunteer to serve on the lower deck when his country's at war is … damme, it's more than admirable.”

“I am sure that it was for your sake that he did so,” Lady Hazard said. “He wanted so desperately to win back your regard, you know. After his court martial, he—”

“Yes, yes,” the Admiral agreed testily. “I was hard on the boy, I admit. But as I said, it's all worked out for the best, has it not?”

Perhaps it had, his wife thought. For a moment, tears filled her eyes as she remembered how, for years after their elder son's dismissal from the Navy, his father had refused sternly to see or communicate with or even to acknowledge him. She—and Phillip—had kept in touch, of course, but they had been compelled to do so secretly, like conspirators, keeping Graham's infrequent letters from the Admiral's knowledge, never so much as mentioning his name in the old man's hearing. And for Graham himself they had been cruel and bitter years, lost years, during which he had wandered the world, sometimes as mate but more often as a seaman in the merchant service, earning a precarious livelihood on long voyages to India and Australia, with no family to welcome him when he returned to a British port. But … Lady Hazard touched her handkerchief to her eyes, surreptitiously wiping away her tears.

The war with Russia had offered Graham his chance of redemption and he had seized upon it tenaciously and with courage. His commission had been restored to him—on merit, Phillip had told her proudly, and thanks to the personal intervention of the British Commander-in-Chief in the Black Sea, Admiral Sir Edmund Lyons, now the first Baron Lyons. So far as his father was concerned, all was now forgiven and forgotten. On his return from the Crimea, Graham had been welcomed back to the family circle and now, possessed of a charming and attractive wife, he had gone back to the merchant service, this time as the Commander of a fine Indiaman, owned by Mr Mark Pendleton, the wealthy and kindly East India Company Director, whose young daughters Catriona had companioned during a visit to the theatre of war.

As her husband had said, Lady Hazard reflected, it had all worked out for the best, for all three of them. Catriona was obviously happy, Graham ecstatically so and Phillip … She bit back a sigh, wishing for perhaps the thousandth time that a letter might come from him soon. They had heard nothing since the terse Admiralty message stating that the
Raleigh
had been sunk off Macao, without loss of life. But now, with war clouds looming in China and rumours of trouble in India, she was anxious—they both were—for news. Letters took weeks, even by the overland route, and the newspaper reports, based on brief accounts transmitted by telegraph, told very little. What they did tell—with two married daughters in India and two sons and a daughter-in-law on their way to the Far East— was frankly alarming but … Augusta Hazard came of a naval family and had married into one and, if she had learnt nothing else over the years, she had learnt to hide her feelings behind the appearance of optimism.

“Let's pause for a minute to get our breath, George dear,” she suggested, sensing, from the weight he was putting on her arm, that her husband was again tiring. The Admiral halted gratefully, letting the crowd surge past them, as he mopped his heated brow.

“Never get a cab in all this rush, anyway,” he said, gesturing with a gnarled hand in the direction of Kensington Road where, it was evident, from the number of people waving vainly from the pavements, hansom cabs were at a premium. “Have to walk, I suppose.”

“Yes, I expect we shall,” his wife agreed, without rancour. “But it's a lovely day. If we walk slowly and stay in the Park, dear, it won't be too bad. How are you feeling?”

“Me? Never felt better in me life,” the Admiral assured her. He drew himself up to his full, impressive height, as if to prove his words, but Lady Hazard—whilst careful not to dispute them—led the way to a park bench which had just been vacated and seated herself firmly on its hard wooden boards. Since the attack of pneumonia that had brought him to death's door two years ago, the Admiral's health was another cause for anxiety. But, as a devoted wife, this concern was the one which, above all others, she went to great pains to conceal from him … although it was not always easy. Three hours' standing in the packed and airless spectators' gallery this morning had, she was uneasily aware, taken its toll of him. But at least they were in no hurry; they could linger here for a while, until the crowds thinned and then make their way, at a leisurely pace, to their house in Kensington Gore.

Quite a number of private carriages were passing them, leaving the Park nose to tail and, as she watched the slowmoving procession, Augusta Hazard found herself wishing that their limited means, coupled with the expense of bringing up a family and marrying off their two elder daughters, had not compelled them to give up the unpretentious equipage they had once owned. She had derived much pleasure from ownership of the carriage, had enjoyed the afternoon drives, the visits to her friends in the country when her husband was at sea and, in their palmier days, it had not seemed so great an extravagance as it did now.

Not that they had ever been rich, of course. Contrary to the advice he had so assiduously drummed into his son, the Admiral himself had not waited to attain post-rank before taking a wife. He had married
her
when still a lieutenant—in command of his own sloop-of-war, it was true—and, promoted to a post-captaincy during the latter part of the Napoleonic war, had spent almost ten years on half pay when it ended, before being given another command. That had been the fate of all too many of the promising young sea officers of the Nelson era, alas … even Phillip's much-lauded Chief, Admiral Lyons, had been driven to abandon the Navy for the Diplomatic Service for this reason, and his exile had lasted over twenty years before Their Lordships had again found need for him. Augusta Hazard stifled a sigh. As her husband had said, a little while ago, wars offered the only real chance of advancement for ambitious young officers; when no enemy threatened the British coast or the sea-lanes of Empire, ships were laid up and the crews who manned them paid off and left to eke out a living as best they might on shore, whilst a parsimonious government conveniently forgot their existence. Yet no one wanted war, least of all the Queen and her ministers: the campaign in the Crimea had been a disaster which had cost nearly twenty thousand British lives, while those in Burma and Persia had also been costly and had achieved little. If there was now to be war with China and if the threat of a sepoy mutiny in India were not averted, then …