The Gathering Storm (8 page)

'Thank you, sir. It is kind in you, indeed, to bring them
yourself.'

'What? Why should not I bring them?'

'No no, in course – I did not mean – I merely meant—'

'Mr Mappin has come in the boat.' Not 'with me', Rennie
noted, as Mr Mappin now stepped into the cabin. 'I do not
know why. You had better ask him, I expect. He would not
tell me.'

'Yes, Mr Mappin, come in. Will you both sit down? May
I offer you a splash of something?'

'Sherry, if you have it.' The port admiral sat down at the
table.

'Nothing, thank you.' Mr Mappin moved to the other side
of the table and pulled out a chair.

'Tea, perhaps? Or perhaps you will like grog, Mr Mappin?'
Noting his pallor.

'Nothing at all, I thank you.' He sat down.

'As to sherry, Admiral, I can offer you only Madeira. Will
that do?'

'Madeira, then.' A nod.

'Cutton! Colley Cutton!'

'I am here, sir.' Cutton, attending.

'Bottle of Madeira wine, Cutton. Jump, jump. Now then,
Mr Mappin.' Turning to his second guest again as the steward
withdrew. 'How may I be of assistance to you?' A slight
emphasis on 'you'.

'Y'will kindly assist me, if y'please, Captain Rennie.' The
port admiral.

'I beg your pardon, Admiral.' Facing him. 'Erm ... now?'

'I will like you to open your instructions, Captain Rennie.
Break the seal and read them out.'

'Yes, sir, very good.' A compliant nod, and Rennie broke the
Admiralty seal and unfolded the document. He scanned
the opening lines, and looked up quickly.

'Ah. I – I fear that I am unable to read them.'

'Unable?'

'That is, I am unable to read them aloud.'

'What? Why not?'

'Well well, Their Lordships do not wish it, d'y'see.'

'They have sent me here to you in my launch, directly
obliged me to come, bearing your instructions, and I am to
know nothing of their content?'

'I – fear not, sir.' Briefly raising his eyebrows.

The admiral leaned forward. 'Where does it say that? Let
me see.'

'Well, sir ... you will apprehend, I am in no doubt, that
I cannot – may not – do so.' Again raising his eyebrows, and
folding the document with what he hoped was authoritative
finality.

The admiral glanced at Mr Mappin, who sat pale and
silent, then looked again at Rennie.

'Is Mr Mappin, by any chance, to be allowed to know what
is in those instructions? Hey?'

Rennie tapped the document. 'Mr Mappin ain't mentioned,
sir.'

'Not mentioned? Then what is he doing here, Captain
Rennie?'

Rennie, embarrassed: 'Mr Mappin, I hope that you will excuse
us in talking about you as if you was not in the cabin—'

'Do not apologise in my behalf, Rennie.' Admiral Hapgood
was prepared to be severe; they were aboard one of His
Majesty's ships, and here Mr Mappin was out of his depth.
'Mr Mappin has chosen to be present without invitation at
our interview, and he may think what he pleases about my
questions to you, and your answers to me. Now then—'

'Contrary to that, Admiral.' Mr Mappin, raising a finger
to his chin. 'Contrary to that, Their Lordships have asked
me specific to come here today.' He took the finger away
from his chin, tapped the pocket of his coat and drew out a
letter. 'So you see I am not uninvited, after all.'

'I beg your pardon, Mr Mappin.' The admiral, stiffly.
'Well, sir, I shall ask you direct. Are you party to what is in
Captain Rennie's instructions?'

'Ah.' The finger to his lips a moment. 'Ah. I fear that I
am unable to divulge anything of my present visit to anyone
but Captain Rennie.' The half-smile. 'I thank you for bringing
me to the ship. Good day.'

'Good
day
? Good
day
? You are impertinent, sir, to a serving
officer!'

'There is no need of your waiting for me in your boat,
Admiral.' Mildly. 'Captain Rennie will send me ashore in
one of his, I am in no doubt. Good day.'

'Damnation to that! I will not be dismissed like some
bloody little midshipman! Not by you, sir, that ain't a sea
officer, nor any kind of serving officer at all!'

'On the contrary, Admiral – and I am sorry to have to use
the word again – on the contrary, I serve the nation's interest
equal to you, or any officer in uniform. Do not imagine for
one instant that I am incapable of defending my own interest,
neither. Your boat is waiting. Good day.' He did not stand
to emphasise his point, or even raise his voice, but simply
sat back a little in his chair, and lifted his head to stare
languidly at the admiral.

The admiral glared at him, glared at Rennie, and:

'Well, I'm damned.'

And having thus condemned himself he banged out of the
cabin, pushing the sentry aside so vigorously that the man
dropped his musket with a clatter. Presently, the sound of
the boatswain's call; another moment, then 'Give way
together!' and the admiral was gone.

Mr Mappin listened to the retreating wash of oars dragging
through water, nodded, and pushed the letter he had
brought across the table to Rennie.

'This difficulty arose because Their Lordships would insist
upon poor Admiral Hapgood bringing your instructions
himself. I tried to demur, and dissuade them, but to no avail.
It was their feeling that your instructions were of sufficient
importance to warrant a senior officer as messenger. They
could not be persuaded that it would be demeaning to the
poor fellow.'

'You have sympathy with him? When he insulted you?'
Rennie, in surprise.

'In course, he felt that I had insulted him. He felt himself
slighted. A younger man might well have called me out.'

'Well, that would simply have been foolish.'

'Foolish?' A glance.

'Well well, a man in your position, Mr Mappin, will not
likely go about accepting absurd challenges, hey? They would
be beneath you, hm?'

'You think that? At Cambridge I shot a man in the neck,
whose own ball went wide, and he lived by pure luck. My
ball missed the principal vein by half an inch. To this day
he talks hoarse, though.'

'You have fought a duel? Good God. Forgive me for
thinking you ... another kind of man.'

Rennie took up the letter, opened it and was about to read
it; instead he frowned, turned from the table and:

'Cutton! Cutton, there!'

Presently: 'Sir?' Sidling in.

'Where the devil is our wine! You did not bring our
Madeira wine!'

'No, sir, I did not, yes. The admiral was so very fierce
that I did not like to hinterrup him, sir – for fear that he
would of ate me.'

Rennie had to bite his lip to remain severe and keep his
face straight. He cleared his throat.

'Hm. Hm. Y'may bring it now, Colley Cutton.'

When the wine had come and Rennie was busying himself
with the tray, Mr Mappin:

'Before you read the letter I gave you, Captain Rennie, I
should give you a piece of news.'

'News?' Pouring Madeira for himself, and taking a biscuit.

'Sir Robert Greer is dead.'

Rennie dropped the biscuit, and nearly spilled his wine.

'Good God. By God. He is dead.'

'It pleases you?' A tilt of the head.

'What? No.' A gulp of wine. Another. 'No, I ... I had
thought him near invincible ...' He turned and stared at the
stern gallery window.

'Perhaps it saddens you, Captain Rennie. Forgive me for
having thought otherwise.'

Rennie, turning back to his visitor: 'I am neither happy
nor sad, Mr Mappin. I am ... took aback, so to say.'
Another swallow of wine, emptying the glass. 'So he is
gone.' A deep sniffing breath, and looking more closely at
Mr Mappin:

'Why did y'tell me y'didn't know him, at first? I knew the
contrary at once, in course.'

'That was not my wish, Captain Rennie, and I regret it.'
The half-smile. 'Read the letter, if you please.' Nodding at
the letter lying on the table.

Rennie looked at him a further long moment, then took
up the letter and read:

To be delivered into the hand of

Capt W. Rennie, RN, aboard HMS
Expedient
, at
Portsmouth

You are to take into your ship, when he comes to you
at Portsmouth, Mr Henry Tonnelier, as supernumerary.
However, he may not be entered in the ship's books.
The utmost discretion is to be exercised in yr dealings
with him, & you are to accommodate him in every
particular of his wants, wishes & duties, as they may be
explained.

Hood

'And now glance over your instructions again, will you,
Captain Rennie.'

Rennie poured himself another glass of wine, taking his
time. He did not wish to appear to be acceding to Mr Mappin's
demands too eagerly or compliantly. He lifted the bottle and
raised his eyebrows to Mr Mappin.

'Will ye join me in a glass?'

'Thankee, nay.'

'You never drink wine, Mr Mappin?' As if slightly dismayed,
and disappointed.

'Well, I do. But today I am – I do not want any.'

'Ah. I would not wish you to think that we are not
hospitable in the Royal Navy.'

'No, I assure you, I had not thought that.'

'Very good.' Rennie pushed the bottle aside, took a pull
of wine, and with an exaggerated frown of concentration
took up his instructions and studied them, turning and
holding them to the light. In truth he was very interested
indeed in what they said, and in what the letter said. In these
documents, so long awaited, rested the real purpose of his
commission.

In part his instructions read:

... and having again given out as your Duty the Survey
of the French coast, among your Officers & people,
you will proceed to that coastline proximate to the port
of Brest, and carry out such observation, examination
and calculation commensurate with such Survey, until
your passenger requires you to deliver him ashore –
which undertaking will be explained to you in due
course.

Your commission will follow in all distinctions the
purpose contained in yr preliminary Instructions,
excepting the matter referred to above, which be the
underlying Cause and Reason for it.

You will treat these Instructions as entirely
Confidential in nature. They must never leave your
keeping at any time, nor will you discuss the matter
herein given as the principal purpose with anybody in
the ship, nor outside, saving the Govt representative
that will vouchsafe to you further explication, as indicated
above.

Rennie put the letter and the instructions aside, took
another pull of wine, and:

'It is a very great mystery, Mr Mappin, even now, when I
have read the letter and my instructions both. Will you
enlighten me? Who is Mr Tonnelier? His name is French,
if I'm not mistook.'

'His name is French. He is not.'

'Then who is he?'

'He will come tonight. You will meet him tonight.'

'Yes? I hope so. I will like to weigh in the forenoon
tomorrow, when the tide is favourable.'

'He will come.' A confirming nod.

'And when he has come, and
Expedient
is at last at sea and
we are heading for France, will he tell me why he is to be
put ashore there?'

'He will.'

'You cannot tell me now?'

'I think not.'

Patiently, curbing his very great exasperation: 'Mr
Mappin. Hm. I cannot understand why I am not be trusted
with—'

Over him: 'Until you are at sea, Captain Rennie, the least
said will be the safest thing.'

'Very well.' A shrug, a sigh. 'I am a simple sea officer, and
I will do as I am told.'

'Thank you.'

'I will do my duty.' Leaning forward a little. 'But if I find
that I have been hoodwinked, and muddled, and lied to
deliberate, I shall come looking for you, Mr Mappin. You
apprehend me?'

Mildly, the half-smile: 'Let me assure you—'

'Do you apprehend me, Mr Mappin?' Without raising his
voice.

Mr Mappin lifted his head, and regarded Rennie narrowly.
A moment, then a polite nod.

'I do, sir.'

The man who came into the ship shortly after nightfall,
introduced himself to the officer of the deck, Mr Souter,
and was duly brought aft, was very little like the young
Lieutenant James Hayter who had shifted his coat at the
Admiralty at Mr Mappin's request. Here was an older man,
in beautifully cut clothes, with an air of prosperous
gravitas
.
He wore a rather old-fashioned peruke, and a pair of
gold-mounted spectacles. He had a neat grey beard. He
moved with confidence and assurance past Mr Souter into
the great cabin as Captain Rennie was sitting at a late supper
with Lieutenant Makepeace. Captain Rennie rose to greet
his passenger, who:

'I am Henry Tonnelier, and you, sir, are Captain Rennie,
I believe?' His voice deliberately thin and rather hoarse, to
disguise it.

'I am, sir, I am. Welcome aboard
Expedient
.'

'Thank you.' A bow, very correct. James was feeling far
less confident than his outward manner proclaimed.

'Have you ate supper, Mr Tonnelier?'

'I have, thank you.'

'Yes, we are late tonight, I fear.' Turning. 'My first lieutenant,
Mr Makepeace.'

Tom Makepeace, already on his legs: 'Your servant, sir.' A
bow, slightly unsteady.

'Your servant.' Another bow, and James began to feel
himself slightly ridiculous, but kept this entirely within.

Lieutenant Makepeace was flown with wine. He was about
to resume his seat when something about the newcomer
struck him, and:

'Have not we met before, Mr Tonnelier?'

'Nay, I think not.' James sat down in the chair pulled out
for him by Colley Cutton.

'Well, if you say so.' Lieutenant Makepeace now sat down,
then: 'But I could've sworn to the contrary, you know.'
Dragging in his chair. 'You are not a lawyer, are ye, Mr
Tonnelier?'

'I am not.' Politely. 'My business is silk. The silk trade.'

'Silk. Ah. No no, in course I am wrong – I am wrong,
often – and I ... I have got you muddled with one of the
lawyer fellows that dealt with my father's estate. Thomas
Weddle Makepeace.'

'I know nothing of the law, I assure you.'

'A glass of wine with you, Mr Tonnelier.' Captain Rennie
pushed the decanter. James allowed Cutton to fill his glass.

'Your health, sir.' Captain Rennie.

'Your health.' James swallowed wine, and was about to
open his mouth to speak, when Lieutenant Makepeace
broke in:

'Not to confuse the names, you know. That was my father's
name, not the lawyer fellow's. His name I cannot recall.'

'No?' James, again very polite.

'No, but it was something like – like Barber, I think it
was. Or Penrose – was it?'

'Mr Makepeace.' Captain Rennie.

'Sir?'

'Mr Tonnelier has no very great curiosity about your late
father's estate, I think. Nor have I.'

'Very good, sir.' And Lieutenant Makepeace fell silent.

James bit his tongue, suppressed a terrible desire to guffaw,
determinedly sucked down the remainder of his wine, and:

'We sail on the morrow, Captain Rennie?'

'We do, Mr Tonnelier. An hour after first light, as the tide
aids us then.'

'Yes, the tide. I see.'

Lieutenant Makepeace felt that he had been silent sufficiently
long. Swivelling his head:

'Forgive me, Mr Tonnelier, but are you interested in
surveying work?'

'Surveying?'

'In ships, you know. We are going to France to carry out
a comprehensive duty of survey. I thought perhaps—'

'I am a silk merchant, Mr Makepeace, as I have said.'

'Yes, in course, you did say that. Forgive my inattentive
stupidity. Silk. Exact.'

'Another glass, sir?' Rennie pushed the decanter toward
James, and glared at Lieutenant Makepeace, who failed to
notice, and continued:

'Yes, do forgive me, and all that, Mr Tonnelier, but I do
not quite follow what exactly it is that you—'

'Mr Makepeace!' Captain Rennie.

'Sir?'

'Kindly go on deck and relieve Mr Souter.'

'Relieve Mr Souter? But it ain't—'

'Do as you are told.' A freezing grimace of a smile. 'If you
please.'

'Very good, sir. As you wish.' Lieutenant Makepeace rose,
put down his napkin, nearly knocked over his wine, and
pushed in his chair with a heavy scrape. 'Good night, sir.
Good night, Mr Tonnelier.' And with careful dignity, walking
very deliberate, he left the cabin.

'I am very sorry indeed that you was subjected to
such infamous behaviour in one of His Majesty's ships,
Mr Tonnelier.'

'Really, there is no need of an apology, Captain Rennie.'

'Mr Makepeace was grossly impertinent and intruding in
his questions.'

'I am sure he meant no harm. I was quite at my ease.'

'I had thought to ask him to supper, and introduce you ...'
Rennie paused, frowned, and:

'Excuse me a moment. Cutton! Colley Cutton!'

'Sir?' Sidling from the second quarter gallery, where he
kept his kettle, tray, &c.

'Y'may go forrard to the fo'c's'le and smoke, if you wish.
I will not need you again tonight.'

'Thank you, sir.' And he sidled across the cabin and left
by the door.

'I must correct him of that habit of sidling.' Rennie, half
to himself, and turning back to his guest: 'Yes, I wished
Mr Makepeace to see that you were a perfectly ordinary sort
of supernumerary passenger. Had I known he would very
nearly recognise you, James, as I did ...'

'What!' His mouth open.

'Aye, James, aye. You did not think for a moment, did ye,
that I would not see through this damned hocus pocus of a
disguise, hey?'

'Good God ...' Thoroughly bemused, dropping all
pretence, and pulling off the peruke.

'Mr Mappin is too fond of deceit. Ye should be wary of
the fellow. But that is by the by, now. If we are to keep you
in the ship as Mr Tonnelier, and get you safe across to France,
we must continue to play along with that sphere of His
Majesty's service, and maintain your disguise.'

'I – I am very sorry to have inflicted this nonsense upon
you, sir, but Mr Mappin was most insistent. He – he
recruited me, you know, when he heard that I was seeking
employment, and before I knew what I had done, I had
agreed to everything he asked. In course, you are entitled
to an explication, and—'

Rennie held up a hand, shook his head, and mildly: 'Good
heaven, my dear James, don't apologise, and there is no
need for ye to explain your motive to me, neither. We are
both caught up in his "nonsense", as ye call it, and must
do our best. In least we are serving together again, hey?
We had better examine your scheme, while we have this
opportunity.'

James, still disconcerted: 'You mean, the—'

'Well well, we must have a plausible reason for your passage
to France.' Equably. 'To give out among the people in the
ship, and indeed my junior officers. I will like you to keep
private in your quarters, but you cannot be wholly invisible
in the ship.'

'Yes, sir, very well. It is the silk trade, just as I told Tom
Makepeace. I go to France to consult with colleagues in the
trade about the supply of silks and stuffs from the great silk
industry at Lyons and elsewhere. There has been a serious
disruption of supply of all cloths and fabrics coming from
France since the events of '89, as you may imagine.'

'Indeed? Yes, well, I expect so.' Nodding. He cleared his
throat, and toyed with his glass. 'However, there remains
the question, James: why does Mr Tonnelier go to France
in one of His Majesty's fighting ships? You follow?'

'It is all quite straightforward. I am acting in my capacity
as representative of the London guilds of silk merchants, the
British silk trade. France is our principal supplier. France is
in difficulty. I go to examine that difficulty at first hand, in
the interests of trade, of commerce. To discover what may
be required to resolve it. What could be more expeditious
than my passage in a fast frigate. In the
Expedient
frigate,
hey?'

'Indeed, hm-hm. Most expeditious, James. But are you to
go ashore at Brest itself? To be candid, I don't know how
kindly one of His Majesty's frigates may be received there,
if I sailed direct into their harbour. We are not at war, but
Brest I understand is heavily defended. The commanders of
those batteries may take it into their heads to see a British
warship as an invader, given the dark trouble in which France
finds herself. I have heard from fellow officers – Captain
Langton, as an instance – that of late the French forces, both
the army and the navy, are not close-governed from Paris.
There are factions at work. I will not like to risk my ship to
factional bombardment, James.'

'You need have no fear of that, sir. I will not go ashore at
Brest. I will like you to put me ashore on the nearby coast,
at night. Have you charts to hand?'

'Indeed.' Rennie rose and went to his desk, from a wide
drawer of which he produced several charts. Selecting one
he brought it to the table and spread it out with leaden
weights at each corner. Pointing:

'Here is Ushant to the west, and here is the Passage du
Four and the Black Rocks. To the east of that Le Conquet,
the Pointe de St Mathieu, and Bertheaume Bay ... and Brest
beyond.'

'Mm-hm ...' James leaned over the chart, peering at it
in the light of the deckhead lantern. Rennie brought a
candle-holder.

'Now then, where would you like me to put you ashore?
The bay, perhaps?'

'No, sir.' His finger traced the intricate outlines of the
shore. 'Here it is. The Pointe de Malaise.'

'There? But good God, James, that is a very wild and
rocky place, very remote.'

'Exact.'

Rennie straightened, stood holding the candle a moment,
peering at James, then:

'James, I am obliged to ask you, now – even if you find
y'self unwilling to answer – what is the real enterprise on
which you and Mappin are engaged? I take it the silk is
dishwater?'

'Sir, it ain't that I don't want to answer – but the truth is,
I do not yet know myself. All I do know is that I must go
ashore at that place, or as near to it as you may land me.
Can we get a boat inshore there, through the rocky shoals,
and these damned little islands?'

Rennie made a face, tugged an ear, sniffed. 'We could
attempt it – here – or here.' Pointing. 'But there is such variation
of depth, I will always be apprehensive how close in I
may navigate.'

'Yes, twenty-five fathom here, and only three or four just
here.' James, also pointing. 'Which means troubled water close
inshore. Hazardous for a boat's crew, with all these rocks. I
do understand your reluctance, sir. But I fear I must insist.'

'Very well, James.' Nodding, another sniff. In spite of his
earlier assertion of equanimity, Rennie was not happy – but
he would do his duty. He was not altogether sure that James
was deliberately keeping him in the dark, but he strongly
suspected it.

'I am to remain ashore until the twentieth of June, or at
the latest the twenty-first. Will you be able to return and
take me off then, sir?' James, looking up from the chart.

'At the same place?'

'Aye, the Pointe de Malaise.'

'The twentieth is a fortnight from today. I will proceed
with my survey, and then make my best endeavour to take
you off on that date, James, or the day following. It may
depend on the weather, in course. You will be able to stand
by a few nights until the weather lifts, if it is poor at first?'

'None of us can predict the weather in those waters, sir.
Naturally, I will stand by if need be.'

They discussed the arrangement in detail, a system of
signals by lamp, &c., and came to accord.

Later, when James had settled in his hanging cot in the coach
– provided for him as sleeping quarters by Rennie – and
Captain Rennie had retired to his own sleeping cabin, both
men lay awake, listening to the creaking of cables and the
liquid whisperings of the sea, the element that had shaped
their lives and made them the men they were.

James thought of Catherine, and tried to imagine lying at
her side. Thinking of her made him think of his lost son, and
this was so painful to him that he turned on his back and thrust
all thinking, all meanderings of the mind, all imagining and
wondering and doubting away into the darkness, and made of
his head an empty pasture.

Rennie thought first of James and his appearance in the
ship in that absurd disguise, and of his surprise and pleasure
in discovering his erstwhile lieutenant again at his side, however
peculiar and vexing and unlikely the circumstances. Then he
thought of Sylvia, his beloved wife, of their leave-taking at
the Marine Hotel, her determination not to allow herself tears,
and her failure, and his heart was suffused with feeling. How
had she come to love him? How had she made of a balding,
ageing sea officer, never a handsome fellow, an object of love,
and desire?

'I do not know ...' Sighed. 'And I do not care. Just so
long as it is so ... my dearest darling.'

*

James, in the guise of Mr Tonnelier, and on the advice of
Captain Rennie, did not move about the ship, but remained
in the coach. It became clear to James that the presence of
a guest was an awkwardness for Rennie, not simply because
the fiction of Mr Tonnelier must be maintained, but because
of his guest's constant presence. Rennie had made available
his quarter gallery for the comfort of his guest, but James
soon understood that his frequent traversing of the canvas
squares of the great cabin, to and from the privy, had begun
to discommode the captain – so to say – and he took to using
a chamberpot in the coach. Then again they were obliged
to share their meals. Rennie, like many post captains, often
preferred to eat his supper alone, but now he felt himself
obliged, in order to maintain a show of his courtesy to
Mr Tonnelier, to sit at table conversing with him. When
they were entirely alone they could converse quietly and
easily as friends, but that was not always possible. The steward
Colley Cutton could not always be dismissed; other members
of the ship's company sometimes needed to come to the great
cabin on urgent business; various intrusions into the
great cabin could occur at any time in the life of a ship at
sea. They could never be entirely at their ease, and all this
put a strain on things. James was relieved to think that the
voyage would not after all last very long.