The Perils of Command (11 page)

He could not harbour any doubt that Naples would be Barclay’s first port of call. Gnawing at him as he worked was the knowledge of those last words he had exchanged with Emily. The mere arrival of her husband might fix her intention to return to him and that brought on feelings of near despair.

He was a tired man when darkness brought the work to an end and even if not in the mood to take a supper of dried ham and fruit in the wardroom he felt obliged to do so, though he welcomed the crisp white wine that had been chilled with Apennine ice. Nelson had obliged Pearce by sending Mr Hoste ashore to fetch his dunnage from the
pensione
in which it had been left so he was able to change into decent clothes.

Dick Farmiloe was present and if the first exchanges were guarded the fourth lieutenant knew Pearce to be non-judgemental regarding his part in the act of pressing men from the Liberties of the Savoy and he soon relaxed in what were convivial surroundings.

They had sailed to the Bay of Biscay and back together, a curious combination until, on their return to Toulon, Pearce had found out why; like himself, Farmiloe had been got out of the way while Hotham arranged to get Barclay off the hook. Even sharing an anchorage they had not met to talk since, this far from avoidance but due to mere circumstance.

‘I wonder, Mr Farmiloe, if you would take a turn round the deck with me?’

That raised eyebrows around the wardroom table and did not sit too comfortably with the person at which it was aimed. Yet that left Farmiloe in a bind for a refusal would require an explanation, if not now then on some future occasion, and given he had a good idea what it was about might lead to embarrassing disclosures.

At anchor and on a cool night, with Leghorn well lit on the shoreline and lanterns rigged above their heads, they had the deck to themselves and Pearce started to reminisce about that voyage to Biscay and the result. Farmiloe was not a brusque young man, far from it, but he was having nothing of what he clearly saw as a softening up.

‘I replied to the letter from London, John, if I may avoid formality.’

‘I am grateful you address me so.’

‘“Sir” seems inappropriate, given our history. As to rank, we are not that far apart in seniority and besides I am as amazed at my own elevation as yours.’

‘I daresay there are those in your wardroom not best pleased if my name is mentioned, let alone tolerating my presence.’

‘If they are they say nothing to me for I have told them I know and esteem you. Besides, they take their cue from our captain and there is no man less given to harsh judgement than Nelson.’

‘I also have to thank you for your honesty, Dick. My lawyer told me of it.’

‘What other way could I behave?’

‘Would it were enough.’

Even in the glim Pearce could see the slight surprise on Farmiloe’s face, which forced explanation regarding the necessity of having several witnesses, adding that the Pelicans were too close to him personally to carry much weight, that compounded by what would be a disinclination to believe men from the lower deck.

‘So it requires men who are not that. Digby hedged for the sake of his career but I am happy to say may now repudiate his earlier communication.’

‘But surely you have Toby Burns?’

Now it was Pearce’s turn to show surprise. ‘He wrote, if not a pack of lies, then a set of circumstances very close to it, or that is how it reads to me and I must say my lawyer felt the same.’

‘I advised him to tell the truth, John, and he assured me he would, on the good grounds that only by doing so could he save himself from condemnation.’

‘If the matter ever came before a judge, that is?’

‘He was coerced into his lies, he came close to admitting as much. That places the blame squarely on the shoulders of
Barclay. I know Toby to be weak but even he saw the sense of what I was saying.’

‘Whatever he told you he would do was not what turned up at my lawyer’s chambers. If I had the letter with me I would show you and perhaps you would see that which occurred both to myself and Henry Digby. It seemed too competently composed for someone of his age.’

‘Do you suspect someone dictated to him what he should say?’

‘A likely scenario and the mind does not have to search too far for whom that might be.’

‘Not Ralph Barclay, he was fighting with Lord Howe.’

John Pearce stopped suddenly and looked into the invisible rigging. Forced to do likewise Farmiloe was looking at him, his expression full of curiosity, waiting for his companion to speak.

‘I owe you a great deal, Dick, for I think you have just seen through a mist that I should have penetrated a long time past.’

For Ralph Barclay the dinner with the Hamiltons was torture; typically he never considered that they equally took little pleasure in the occasion. Also, being obsessed with his own explanations he did not once observe that his mea culpas regarding the state of his marriage were being taken with large doses of salt which had surfaced from his early admission of why he had come to Naples.

‘I have sound reasons to believe she may be here; indeed I must be open and admit that I know it to be the case.’

The name of her lover hung in the air but if it was not politic for Barclay to mention it the stricture applied equally to the Hamiltons. Waiting for them to be forthcoming with the truth, their silence forced Barclay to continue.

‘I cannot begin to explain to you the depth of regard I have for my wife. All I can hope for is that it is evident by my being here at your table and in receipt of your kindness.’

‘That, sir, is both an obligation and a pleasure,’ the Chevalier replied, his well-honed urbanity hiding a patent falsehood.

‘My information tells me that you extended the same to her. It has been made known to me that Emily has been your guest.’

‘Indeed she was, Captain,’ Emma replied. ‘It could hardly be otherwise, a woman on her own in such a place, which for all its beauty can be unsafe.’

‘That renders me doubly in your debt. I can appreciate your desire to protect her, for I would want to do that myself.’

‘My duty as an ambassador obliges me to care for the needs of my fellow countrymen and women who find themselves in distress. Your wife needed a safe place to lay her head, we provided it here.’

‘And I would go so far,’ Emma Hamilton responded, ‘to say it had been no burden. Your wife has become my friend.’

‘It pleases me that you no longer hide her residence under your roof.’

The Chevalier was quick to jump on that, though he evinced no anger. ‘Had you asked, Captain Barclay, I do assure you we would have been open on the matter. It is not in our nature to indulge in fabrications.’

The word ‘liar’ was on Barclay’s tongue but that was where it stayed. He steadied his thoughts with the notion that if he could deal with admirals like Hotham, Hood and Howe, he could also deal with William Hamilton. It was an absurd aside to conjure up at that moment a singular fact and one never before registered: they all had the same letter at the beginning of their surname.

‘Would it surprise you to know that I feared to drive you to a falsehood, sir?’

‘Your consideration overwhelms me.’

Completely missing the irony, Barclay ploughed on –
his dear wife was an innocent, led astray, but he could not absolve himself of being partly the cause – as he employed wholesale the wording provided by Gherson.

‘A life at sea scarce prepares a man for the marital chamber at all, but with one of such surpassing innocence I fear my manner had my wife see me in a light to which I do not wish to be held. I have made mistakes. All I want is an opportunity to make amends.’

‘You wish to meet with her?’

‘Yes, Lady Hamilton.’

‘Assuming that can be arranged, what will happen if your wife declines a reconciliation?’

‘Then I must sail away with a broken heart, milady.’

‘You will abide by her decision?’

‘What choice do I have?’

‘It is not within our gift to grant you that, Captain Barclay, but we can pass on the request.’

‘Most kind. Can I ask when that will be put to her?’

It was the ambassador who responded. ‘In the morning, Captain. Now I suggest you attend to your plate.’

A raised female finger had Barclay’s wine glass filled, his hostess smiling at him, with a sort of twinkle in her eye that could mean anything from dalliance to mockery, which forced him to hide a grimace of irritation behind the rim, given he would welcome neither.

Barclay took solace in the drink that was freely provided so was in a far from sober mood when he parted from the Hamiltons to find Gherson snoring atop the bed he had expected to occupy, which had him employing his one good hand to drag him off and onto the floor.

‘Damn you for sleeping when I have had to endure
abasement. I would rather be flogged round the fleet than go through such a humiliation again.’

‘I deduced we could do nothing till morning.’

‘As stated by the ambassador. Were you listening at the door?’

Wishing to say it was common sense, Gherson kept that observation to himself, only to have his employer state another fact he had come to because he thought it so obvious.

‘I have good grounds to believe she is no longer here in the palazzo.’

‘But?’

‘I have been promised that she will be asked to attend a meeting with me, possibly on the morrow, which implies wherever she is cannot be far off.’

‘Will she agree, sir?’

‘It makes no odds, man, don’t you see? If she is accommodated elsewhere someone must be sent to request she return and that, I hazard, is no task for a servant. I would not be surprised if Jezebel herself must carry the proposal. I can’t see the ambassador stooping to such an errand, he’s too much the nabob.’

Still slightly befuddled with sleep Gherson, as he got up from his knees to stand upright, was uncommonly slow to pick up the drift.

‘All we need to do is follow her.’ The clerk was not fooled by the ‘we’; Barclay meant him. ‘With no idea at what hour she might set off we must be outside waiting for her.’

‘You do not anticipate success, surely, sir? Past efforts point to a refusal to even meet with you.’

Barclay started pacing, a habit when he was both angry and thinking. The wine affected his balance and occasionally
he needed to grab a chair or a more solid piece of furniture.

‘You have the right of it, of course. I have no mind to pin my hopes on my wife believing I am contrite, for nothing I heard tonight leads me to suspect that will be the case. The Hamiltons, God rot them, should be promising me her return as a matter of duty. Even the one-time whore knows the rights a husband has over his wife. But they are her partisans and for all I know they extend the same to Pearce. If they do arrange what has been suggested it will be mere window dressing. No more lazing about and snoring your head off, Gherson. You must be out of the palazzo at cock’s crow, as soon as whoever holds the keys undoes the locks. And for the love of God make sure you are not spotted.’

John Pearce had encountered trouble getting to sleep even though he was extremely tired from the day’s labours, the time he took marked by the regular ringing of the bells. It was ever thus when the object of castigation was his own being. How could he have been so blind as not to see that Hotham had as much of a need to coerce Toby Burns as Ralph Barclay?

If he had no idea how it had been done he was sure of the act. As Dick Farmiloe had suggested, his response to the lawyer’s letter from London, seeking details of where he had been the night the Pelicans were pressed, would probably have been dictated to Burns, a creature so malleable as to be without a spine.

The admiral would not stoop to that himself, of course; his creature Toomey stood as the most likely culprit. And the same fellow had played a major role in the sending of HMS
Flirt
to the Gulf of Ambracia: indeed the more he gnawed on
it and recalled the Irishman’s involvement, he had to reckon him as the progenitor of the whole shameful scheme, for in Pearce’s reckoning it was beyond the wit of his employer.

If there was a positive to be taken from the whole conspiracy it was that Sir William Hotham greatly feared him, so much so that he was prepared to countenance sending Pearce himself, Henry Digby and the Pelicans into a situation in which they might all conveniently perish.

When he drifted away, he was locked in a mental argument with his father, who had always abhorred that man should be hanged for a crime instead of redeemed. His son had agreed with him, but not now; some people were so evil that the rope was the only remedy to their actions and a trio of swinging bodies meant he fell into deep slumber with a smile.

The naval day began before that of any household and being at anchor made no odds. If the guns could stay housed, the decks still required to be swabbed while the ship’s ’tween decks were cleaned from end to end, the heads scrubbed out and the straw in the manger changed. In a hot climate the shore parties started early too, so after a hurried breakfast Pearce had the need of overseeing the loading of stores to take his mind off his concerns.

Accustomed to a willing and efficient crew himself –
Flirt
was manned by the very same fellows who had set out with him from Buckler’s Hard – he could yet appreciate the same qualities in the Agamemnons, quite unaware that they felt he was more of a hindrance than a help.

‘If the wind stays in the east, my men will have dinner at sea, Mr Pearce,’ Nelson opined as he passed his volunteer. ‘And having had only one night for the liberty of Leghorn, I
cannot see they will be entirely grateful for your efforts.’

Even if he knew that his contribution meant little in the scheme of things Pearce answered with grim humour. ‘Given their previous exploits, that makes me content.’

As predicted by Ralph Barclay, it was Emma Hamilton who set out in the early morning to go to his wife. Gherson, having been outside since the palazzo servants rose to prepare for the day, was not one to run to keep up with her. He had found a fellow willing to rent him a donkey, an arrangement that had taken a long time to conclude, given mutual incomprehension, but the flash of a few coins sealed the bargain and that allowed him to proceed at a trot and keep his quarry in sight.

Cresting the final rise he observed the coach pulled up outside a two-storey dwelling practically on the actual beach of a deep bay. Being silhouetted against the skyline he was quick to dismount and find a bush with which to tether the animal, and was back on the ridge in time to see the person who had come out to greet the ambassador’s wife.

‘O’Hagan,’ he hissed under his breath.

This only served to remind him of how dry his mouth was, added to how the tang of stale wine made what he could taste bitter. The Irishman helped Emma Hamilton to descend and the pair went into the building, leaving Gherson to wonder if there was any purpose in his remaining.

If Emily Barclay agreed to meet her husband she would return in the coach; if her hostess came out alone then she would have declined and so informing his employer of her whereabouts became paramount. Next they would need to get a party ashore to effect the proposed abduction, which
led to the thought that it would be unwise for Barclay to carry out such an act himself, he being too obvious in what could be construed as a crime.

This was not England and he had no idea what the laws were in this part of the world. Certainly the Hamiltons would see it as such and no doubt bend their efforts to prevent him getting her aboard
Semele
– for once there, Barclay would be in control – by, if necessary, calling on the local gendarmerie.

Back astride his donkey that thought was at the top of his ruminations; whom could the captain entrust to lead the men necessary to effect what needed to be done – someone who could overcome any objections from a crew who did not know Emily Barclay from Eve? He and Devenow were the only options and the so-called servant was a dolt, though with O’Hagan present his fists would come in handy.

Was O’Hagan alone? Gherson doubted John Pearce was there; even if he despised the man he knew him to be a person who would do nothing to avoid Ralph Barclay. Quite the opposite: he would do his utmost to seek him out as he had before to challenge him to defend himself.

Gherson then recalled his captain was a one-winged bird. Pearce was such a sanctimonious sod he would probably decline to take advantage of a man so afflicted. Such thoughts were idle speculation; Barclay had evinced a certainty that Pearce was elsewhere.

A shoreline dotted with fishing boats and tiny moles was also home to the kind of rough taverns that served such folk. With a tongue now akin to leather, Gherson felt the need to stop and seek a flagon of wine and, being unbreakfasted, some bread and olives too, as well as to time in which he could think and plan.

He could not believe Emily Barclay would agree to return to the marital fold, while her spouse was fooling himself to think that abduction was a solution. Barclay could not seem to accept that if she had become embroiled with John Pearce – and everything about that pointed to her having been intimate with him – the problems Barclay had now would not disappear but increase.

She had been a witness at the gimcrack court martial. The law said she could not testify against him but would that still her tongue? If he could confine her on board ship that could not last forever. Gherson could imagine any number of places where she could freely gossip, because logic dictated that at some time she would be back in England and, if he was at sea, granted a large degree of liberty.

As usual Ralph Barclay was seeing only that which lay before him, a fine attribute in a naval officer, perhaps, though Gherson was uncertain if even that were true. He was failing to extrapolate to where matters would proceed and the very least of that would be even more strenuous efforts by John Pearce to bring his employer to justice in order to win her back.

Given Emily Barclay had aided such efforts in the past, as an unwilling returnee she would continue to do so in the future and Gherson could see no way to prevent that. It had always been his opinion that Ralph Barclay should put the problems of his ill-advised union behind him and expend his energies concentrating on his career, yet he had done the very opposite.

How much good capital in high places had the fool expended just to get out of the Mediterranean? What damage had he done in his relationship with Hotham? How much
more was he prepared to endure to avoid losing face?

‘End it now, and for ever, would be best,’ he said out loud, almost as if rehearsing words that would be required in the future. ‘An accident, of course, and what a tragedy in one so young and pretty.’