The Gathering Storm (28 page)

'Mapple? No.' A little shake of the head.

'Come come, Soames. Mappin. Mr Brough Mappin.'

'Hm.' Another little shake of the head. 'Since Sir Robert's
unfortunate death I have been privy to none of the deliberations
of the Fund, none of its activity.'

A knock on the inner door of the office. Mr Soames turned
his head there.

'Come.'

A clerk entered, and came to Mr Soames's desk. A brief
whispered exchange, and the clerk gave Soames a document,
and retired. The squeak of the door-hinges, the click of the
latch. Soames felt for his spectacles in his coat, spread open
the document and perused it. Presently, lifting his head to
look at his visitors:

'Hm. A preliminary report of inspection, concerning your
ship, Captain Rennie. Quite why it has come to me I could
not say. But since you are here in my office, perhaps that is
why. So far as I can gather ...' tapping the document
'... your ship is in a parlous condition. I am not unfamiliar
with dockyard language, in course, but the injuries to the
fabric of the ship listed here are too great in number to allow
of immediate whole comprehension.' Glancing again at the
document. 'However ... it would appear that the quartermen
that wrote out this report have concluded that your ship
must probably be broke up.'

'Broke up!
Expedient?
Nay ...' James, in angry astonishment.

'My dear Lieutenant Hayter – it ain't my decision.' Soames,
mildly.

'I don't believe it! Broke up? The notion is absurd.' James
had stood up, ignoring Rennie's warning look, and now
advanced to the desk. 'May I see the report, Mr Soames?'
Holding out his hand.

'I notice you ain't in uniform, Mr Hayter.' Soames, again
mildly.

'Well, no ... we came from Portsmouth, and I had not
time—'

Soames, over him: 'In fact, you are not presently commissioned
– are you?'

'Well, no, but I am—'

'Not attached to HMS
Expedient
?'

'Well, not official, but I—'

'Then the report cannot possibly concern you. To speak
plain, it is not your business. Is it?'

James bit his tongue, made his back straight, took a deep
breath, and obliged himself to say:

'You are right, in course. Strictly speaking, it ain't my business.
I beg your pardon, Mr Soames.' He bowed, and resumed
his seat.

But Rennie had now stood up again, and he said to Soames:

'You deny knowing Mappin, do you, Soames?'

'I do not know him.'

'Then we need trouble you no more. Our business is with
him, and he is not here.'

'Forgive me, Captain Rennie, I had thought you said your
business was to assist Their Lordships. Since none of Their
Lordships is presently available – I am here.'

'Good day t'ye, Soames.' Rennie took up his hat and put
it on, motioned to James to join him, and strode from the
room.

In a coffee house in the Strand Rennie drank off a second
cup of tea, and:

'Well, James, we have made our attempt. We have done
our duty.'

James looked at him a moment, then leaned forward
earnestly. 'Sir, with respect – we have not. In least, I have
not. I have given no report to Mr Mappin, that charged me
with this task. I have wrote no letter, made no explication.
I have discharged nothing of my final obligation.'

'No letters was to
be
wrote, James. That was the strict
understanding, good God. Nothing to be wrote down official.
In that way no lies could be nailed, and we was lied
to from the beginning. What did they expect from us! Hey!
That we alone should save France!'

'Sir ... we should not discuss this too loud, in a public
place.'

'Yes yes, very well.' Rennie lowered his voice, and now he
too leaned forward. 'Listen now, we have done everything
that we honourably could, short of giving up our lives. So
now let Mappin seek us out, if he wishes. We will remain
at Bedford Street one further day – four and twenty hours
– and then go home.'

'Home! You mean – to Norfolk? To Dorset?'

'I do.' Turning and lifting a hand to signal for more tea.

'But, surely, sir ... you cannot neglect your ship, nor your
people, at Portsmouth ...'

'James, James ... my career in the Royal Navy is at an
end. I know that full well. If Mappin and Their Lordships
will not say otherwise to my face, here in London – and I
am certain they will not – then I shall go home to Norfolk
and write my letter of resignation. Mr Leigh is at Portsmouth.
He is a sensible young officer. He can undertake all that is
required in paying off, and so forth. And then "my ship", as
you call her, will be broke up. She ain't mine any more. She
ain't even a ship. She is just a few hundred ton of timber
and ballast, lying dry and purposeless.'

James looked at Rennie, and saw resigned weariness in the
deep lines of his face and forehead, and pain in his eyes. His
thinning hair and exhausted pallor emphasised the sense of
a man near to despair.

'Sir, let us remain here in London not one day longer, but
two.'

'Nay, my mind is made up.'

'Then, will you wait two days – for my sake? So that we
may be entirely sure?'

'Sure of what, for Christ's sake? That we are defeated?
We know that certain, both of us.' Looking at James very
direct.

'I do not.' Stoutly. 'Not quite yet.'

Rennie took a breath and looked away across the coffee
house. He did not see anything of the animated groups at other
tables, the waiters threading through those tables, trays held
high, nor hear the ripple and murmur of conversation and
laughter in this convivial place. He saw only darkness, and all
of the dark things that had thronged his mind at the farm, and
made him so low he could find no way out. He held his breath
in, as if to shut the darkness out.

The serving maid brought Rennie's fresh tea. He did not
see her, and just as she leaned to place the tray on the table,
Rennie turned abruptly in his chair to say something to
James, and the tray was knocked to the floor with a crash.
The girl slipped and fell, and gave a cry as hot tea splashed
and scalded her arm.

Rennie sat a moment as if stunned, and James jumped up
from his chair, assisted the girl to her feet, and wrapped a
linen napkin round her burned arm.

Rennie fumbled for coins, dropped them on the tablecloth,
and rose from his chair. Without a word he walked away to
the door and out into the crowded Strand, leaving James to
apologise to the girl in Rennie's behalf, and follow him outside.

James caught Rennie up, and in silence – through the
bustling crowds and traffic of the Strand – they made their
way to Bedford Street. When they reached Mrs Peebles's
hotel, James suffered a brief fit of shivering, his head buzzed
thickly, and he was obliged to sit down on a hall chair. Rennie
was concerned.

'My dear James, I am a selfish villain, rushing you through
the streets when ye've been so ill. You there!' To a startled
maidservant. 'Fetch the porter.'

'Yes, sir.' The girl bobbed, and ran to the rear.

'I am all right, sir, really ...' James, attempting to stand.

'No, you ain't.' Rennie put a hand on his shoulder. 'We'll
just get you upstairs, so y'may lie down and rest. I'll send
for a doctor.'

'No, sir, no. I am not ill – just a little fatigued.'

Rennie got James upstairs with the porter's assistance, and
saw him to bed. James's pleas to be left free of further medical
advice were ignored. Rennie descended the stairs and obliged
Mrs Peebles to send for a local physician.

'Well, sir, I don't know which doctor to recommend.' Mrs
Peebles, in her little parlour. 'We has a surgeon that will
stop in for cases of over-indulgence, like ... or there is an
alt'gether grander gen'man, that will come for the higher
type of case.'

'Yes? Who is that?'

'The grander gen'man?'

'Yes yes.' Impatiently.

'Dr Robards, sir. Dr Glendower Robards. But I don't know
as he will come at once, just like that.'

'Send for him, if y'please. Say that the patient is a very
distinguished naval officer.'

Dr Robards came – tall and dignified in his black coat –
after half an hour, and was shown up to James's room. James
was most reluctant to be examined, at first. But his visitor
was so obviously at the higher side of his profession that
James soon submitted.

Dr Robards took his pulse, examined his tongue,
looked into his eyes, examined his neck and chest. He
asked questions with calm insistence, and to each reply
nodded:

'Mm-hm ... mm-hm ...'

Then, at the end of the examination, a further nod:

'Mm-hm. A tropick disease, malaria I should think. A
recent recurrence.'

'Yes, but I am quite recovered.'

'Are ye?' A quizzical look.

'Oh, indeed.'

'No, y'are not. Y'must lie abed two days, in least. Three,
for preference. My preference. Light diet. No excitements
of any kind. No
London
life, d'y'take my meaning?'

'I – I don't know that I do, Doctor.'

'No wine, no excursions, no ... companions.'

'Good heaven, I am a married man.'
'As most of us are, sir. But we are also men of the world.
No London life. Y'apprehend?'

'Your meaning is quite clear to me.'

'Very good, Lieutenant.' Closing up his instrument case.

Downstairs Dr Robards said to Captain Rennie:

'I came at once because I was told he was a very distinguished
sea officer. Is your friend very distinguished?'

'He has the very highest connections.' Rennie, knowing
that he sounded pompous, but feeling it was necessary.

'Ah, has he?'

'His father is Sir Charles Hayter of Melton House, in
Dorset.'

'Ah. I fear I do not know the name. And you are ... ?'
Politely.

'I do beg your pardon, Doctor. We was not properly
introduced when you came in. I am Captain William
Rennie, RN.'

A frown of recall. 'Captain Rennie ... of HMS
Expedient
?'

'The same. Have we met before?'

'No no, but now I do recollect ...'

'Recollect, Dr Robards?'

'The late Sir Robert Greer was my patient. He mentioned
your name more than once, Captain Rennie. You were
evidently much in his thoughts – toward the end.'

'Good God.'

On the second afternoon of Lieutenant Hayter's period of
enforced rest, Mr Mappin came to Bedford Street. Captain
Rennie, having agreed to delay his departure to Norfolk,
had gone out to 'clear his head', unable to bear his gloomy
thoughts in the confined space of Mrs Peebles's hotel any
longer, and James was dozing in bed upstairs.

Mr Mappin came quietly into the bedroom, and sat down
beside the bed in the only chair, his back to the window.
Downstairs he had given a coin to the porter.

'Do not announce me. I will go up and find him.'

'Sir, the gen'man ain't well – he should not be disturbed.'

A second coin.

'Very well, sir, you knows best. I shall not interfere. Second
door on the left.'

Now he sat beside the bed patiently, studying the face of
the young man. He did not shake him awake. He had no
wish to startle or discommode him. Presently James stirred,
and opened his eyes.

'Good afternoon, Mr Hayter.'

'Who is it ... ?' Blinking, peering at the figure silhouetted
against the light from the window.

'Brough Mappin.'

James struggled with the covers, and sat up. Blinked again.

'Mr Mappin – you have come.'

'As you see.'

'We sought you at the Admiralty, but they—'

Over him: 'Yes, I know. I have been out of town, else
I should have come sooner. I was sorry to hear you had
been ill.'

'I am all right. It was just a brief return—'

'Of malaria, yes.' Again over him. 'Not a thing to be trifled
with. Y'are right to lie abed until it is over and done.'

'Who – who told you I had malaria?'

'I keep my ear to the ground, Lieutenant. Naturally, I will
always like to know how my associates go on.'

'Yes, well ... you will not like to hear what I have to tell
you, Mr Mappin.'

'There is no need to tell me anything.' A brief shake of
the head, and he brought a small silver snuffbox from his
pocket, and took a pinch. Seeing James's glance:

'You notice this snuffbox, hey? Yes, it belonged to Sir
Robert. He made me a gift of it.'

'I think I must inform you, Mr Mappin, that the very grave
task you commissioned me to undertake ... has been a hopeless
failure.'

'Yes, yes ...' Mildly, putting the snuffbox away in his coat,
and dabbing his nose with his kerchief. 'I have known all
about it for some little time.'

'You have ... ?'

'Oh, yes. Yes, the intelligence came to us through Lady
Sybil Cranham. The royal party was retook by the National
Guard, after ye'd brought them off at the Pointe de Malaise.
That is old news.'

'Ah. Oh.' A breath, sitting up straight. 'I had wished in
course to come at once to London, the moment we landed
at Portsmouth, but I was took ill on the journey, and—'

'Yes, yes ...' Holding up a hand, closing his eyes briefly.
'Don't distress y'self, Lieutenant. I know all about it.'

'I am very sorry indeed that we were not able, in spite of
our best attempts, to save Their Royal Highnesses.'

'No. Well. You could not have saved the king and
queen, even had you brought the party out of France, you
know.'

'Not saved them ... ?' James stared at his visitor.

'Nay, y'couldn't. You see, the king and queen were took
at Varennes.'

'Varennes? Where is that? D'y'mean, they had escaped
again, when—'

'Varennes is north-east of Paris on the road to Montmédy,
near the Luxembourg frontier, where there are large Austrian
forces. Alas, King Louis was recognised en route, and the
National Guard summoned.'

'But – how could they have come there, Mr Mappin, when
they were captured on the Breton coast?'

'They never were at the Breton coast, Lieutenant. Never
anywhere near.'

'Eh ... ?'

'The party you and Captain Rennie so gallantly attempted
to rescue was a troupe of Parisian theatricals, cleverly
disguised.'

James stared at him in mute disbelief.

'In short, they were decoys, sent to that far coastline deliberately
to put the National Guard off the scent, while the
real royal party made ready to flee to the queen's brother,
across the border to the east. Count Axel von Fersen – an
intimate of the queen – had arranged that flight. Lady Sybil
Cranham, among others, arranged the flight to the coast,
and we did the rest.'

'We ... ?'

'You and I, Lieutenant, and Captain Rennie – and others.'

James stared at him, and saw Mr Mappin's silhouette
dissolve into a blur, attended by a thick, bilious buzzing.
He fell back against the pillow, his face waxy and damp
with sweat. Mr Mappin stood up at once and poured a glass
of water from the jug on the cabinet. He bent over James,
carefully and gently lifted his head, and brought the water
to his lips.

'My dear fellow, I do beg your pardon. The truth was too
much for you, when you have been through so very great
an ordeal. Here, drink a little more.'

When James had recovered his colour and his composure,
Mr Mappin said to him:

'Never think you have failed, Lieutenant Hayter. You and
Rennie acquitted yourselves admirable well. The fact that
the overall design was a failure was not your doing.'

'We have lost above half our people killed and wounded ...
and our ship is to be condemned.'

'I know. It is very regrettable. But never forget – you
acquitted yourselves flawless and brave. That is the
thing to grasp, and hold on to. You are not to blame for
Varennes. Hm?'

'Flawless, and brave?' Drinking off the water remaining
in the glass.

'Indeed.'

'In course ...' Musingly, half to himself. '... neither
Captain Rennie nor I could've had any real notion of the
depth of duplicity we faced.

'Necessary duplicity – will not you agree?' Taking the glass
from him, and returning it to the cabinet.

'Mr Mappin.'

'I am here.'

'I will like you to leave me alone, now.'

'In course, in course. You've had a shock, and you are
tired.'

'Nay, not because I am shocked, nor tired neither. Because
I cannot bear your company a single further moment.'

'Ah. Very well.'

'This ain't the end of it, though. When I am on my legs,
we will meet again.'

'I hope so, Lieutenant.'

'Face to face on open ground, with pistols. God
damn
your
blood!'

*

The following morning Captain Rennie was summoned to
the Admiralty, where he was interviewed
in camera
, in the
nearly empty boardroom. It was not a comfortable interview.
Beside himself there were present the First Naval Lord,
Admiral Hood, the First Secretary, Sir Philip Stephens, and
a clerk, who took minutes. Rennie was permitted to say very
little in his defence, in fact very little at all. The First Naval
Lord made clear his own view: