Part
2
"Sir, if I may add...when I was in the boat, I
overheard the argument between Foster and Hammond which led to the challenge. I
must confess that their conduct left something to be desired. Perhaps Foster
resents my witness?"
Pellew shook his head. "There's got to be something more. Pray that
Mrs.Pellew will manage to drag it up."
"I hope so, Sir," Hornblower nodded, remembering
her keen brown eyes, so similar to the captain's, who routinely picked out rust
and frayed lines, the most distand and faded of ships' colours and the smallest
points of decay in dim light. If Lady Pellew could match her husband's powers
of acuity, then both Pellew and he were safe.
Pellew eased back in his chair. "Perhaps Susanna is right," he
pondered, "maybe Foster is jealous. Of me. But what does this have to do
with Horatio?"
Hornblower, surprised at hearing such familiarity, shifted in his seat, causing
a loud creak. Pellew was snapped out of his thoughts; he turned to face
Hornblower, whose eyebrows were well raised by the two first names.
"What do you gape at, Hornblower?" Pellew chided with a mixture of
amusement and irritation.
"S-S-Sir?"
Susanna Pellew stirred her tea, slowly, waiting for a break
in Lady Gertrude Hood's monotonous and eminently predictable accountings of her
wastrel son and his nitwit wife, with all that they had given him, to have
squandered everything, and turning then, inevitably to yet another teary
account of her dearly beloved daughter's unfortunate demise in childbirth these
past seven years. Susanna paused to ready herself for the coming remark, which
never failed…
"Like you, she was, Susanna, such a lovely creature," Gertrude looked
back from the bay windows where she had been peering to look directly at
Susanna. "Reminded me of you, my dear, have I mentioned this?" she
pursed her faded lips so as to keep them from trembling and dabbed at them with
her damask napkin.
Only each and every time I see you, dear lady, thought Susanna to herself, and
then reached over and gently clasped her wrinkled hand across the table.
"You are so kind to think so, Gertrude." She smiled softly and saw
that she had her chance. "And I am always so pleased to have an occasion
to visit with you whenever I am in Portsmouth - even under such trying
circumstances as now seem to-"
"Oh now, don't you worry your lovely head about that, my dear,"
Gertrude piped in eagerly. "Alfred's not mentioned the details to me, God
knows, but your husband, dear me, if there was ever anyone beyond reproach, it
must be Edward Pellew. Such a man, a tribute to the service, you know, not like
my Oliver, sorry to say, that philandering scoundrel - even tried to be an
actor, did I tell you that? The horror! As if the baronetcy was not enough for
him, then finally the service, and all of it a wash…disgrace to his father he
is, to say nothing of my ancestry - oh dear, I've run off again, haven't I.
Just seeing you, my dear, imagining that blossoming family of yours, that
gallant husband of yours, your good fortune in having been so blessed."
Gertude sighed.
"We are, dear, indeed we are. And from what you know of my husband, why
you can imagine his distress. His honour is at stake here, not just his
command. And the reputation of Indefatigable, and its officers. And now dear
Lieutenant Hornblower is targeted as well," said Susanna.
"Hornblower? I seem to recall that name - do I recall that name? You know,
I had to stop reading the gazette some months ago - my eyes you know - old age,
my dear, the print is just too small for them nowadays, but he was gazetted not
too long ago - a name like that, a busybody like me, why I never forget a name!
My Welsh background, you know!"
"Yes, it was him. The fire ship attack on Gibraltar - he was promoted
afterwards. Such bravery! My husband sees great things for him, and, like
Edward, he too is without any stain of dishonour -- why the very notion offends
them both utterly, you must believe me."
"Of course, my dear, of course. Go on, then."
"Someone is either trying to frame them, or possibly set a trap for
someone else," and here she paused, looking about to insure they were
alone in the Hood's tastefully furnished sitting room. They were - no servants
even, the maid having removed to go and refill the teapot. And how this gesture
excited Gertrude - intrigue! She had long since lost interest in her husband's
career, for all its glory, pomp and circumstance, as it was now utterly
boringly and filled with complacency. Her husband had long since lost interest
in sticking his neck out - except to make sure that it was still duly attached
to both torso and head, and had likewise lost interest in explaining any of the
Admiralty's goings on to her. And stories of maneuvres and battles could never
be her cup of tea - though, make no mistake about it, she was immensely proud
of dear old bewigged Alfred. But political intrigue - lo, that was something
else entirely. She took the bait. "Who, my dear child? Who is it?"
"Well, now that Captain Foster has stepped in-"
"Foster, that noisome little windbag!!! Dear me, is it he who's got the
reins of this now?" Gertrude bellowed.
"Gertrude, you shock me!" cried Susanna, her hand to her mouth.
"But, I confess, you are too, too funny! Yes, he is conducting the
investigation - taken up lodging in Edward's cabin, no less! And Edward tells
me that now he intends to hold Hornblower responsible for the espionage, as he
was the one found the steward, mortally wounded with the dispatches in his
possession. But it cannot hold up under scrutiny, for God's sake, this is all a
mockery!"
"So, then why is it happening? What is behind it, is that what you would
like me to hustle up for you, my child? Lord, how I love to call a spade a
spade!"
"Dearest Gertrude, if you could find out anything, anything at all. Edward
is held captive on board Indefatigable - he is not permitted to leave. Why, you
may be our only chance of uncovering the reason for all of this," said
Susanna.
"And they've not appointed a new Captain to Impetueaux, you say?"
Gertrude recalled, as Susanna nodded. "and Foster is happily scavengering
his way through your dear Edward's quarters by now - leaving Dreadnought all to
its own -" and then she paused. Wait a minute, she thought. Had not Alfred
mentioned something about a disturbance on board Dreadnought? She recalled it
because there had been such fury in his voice as she overheard him browbeating
some unlucky mignon - the poor lad who'd had the misfortune to have been the
messenger of such a notice. What had he said, something about Foster having had
his comeuppance due him at last? Good God, that could be the key. Susanna was
staring at her intensely, those huge brown eyes so filled with hope.
"My dear, while I cannot tell you the details - twouldn't be proper, of
course, I will say this. I think there may be two birds at play here - your
Edward's ill-fated and turncoat steward, and something to do with the
Dreadnought. I think Alfred needed to get Foster off his ship for a reason - a
reason that Foster would not find to his liking if he knew it to be so."
Susanna gasped. "Could it be?" she clasped her hands together.
"Tell your dearest Edward that while this poppycock nonsense is
troublesome, it may well be for the greater good of the service, and if he can
bear to suffer it awhile longer, he may well end up assisting my Alfred in
something else entirely." She placed her napkin on the table. "I will
do my best Susanna. I will try to engage him in conversation on this - you
never know, it may work. It will probably give him an apoplectic fit to find me
so suddenly interested, or else perhaps it may actually get those smoldering
coals that are left of our marriage a bit of a boost. He is a good man, you
know, you do know that, don't you. He is just following the rules - protocol,
my dear. Alfred never met a rule he didn't like."
"Surely, my dear Gertrude, surely. And you do you remember that beloved
saying of my Mother's don't you -where there's smoke…."
"Yes, love, so it was. Indeed." Gertrude smiled at the memories.
"Your Mother, my best friend she was."
Susanna rose and went to embrace her shoulders. "I cannot thank you
enough! If you could get word of any news you obtain to me at the Mermaid, I
should be so grateful! I shall see you soon, promise!"
Two man-servants, quaking a bit under the butler's eye,
gracefully presented Lord and Lady Hood with the desert, a pudding, and
proceeded to spoon out two portions. Lord Hood nodded absently, and Lady Hood
smiled benevolently, though she privately thought such deliberations were
ridiculous without guests. It would be far simpler for someone to prepare two
portions in the kitchen, requiring one servant, and not three. But, Lord
Admiral Hood was a stickler for form even in his hours of leisure, and he had
qualms about letting his servants go soft. He said that the Navy had given him
an appreciation for routine and discipline. Sometimes, though, Gertrude
wondered if he was rather more strict with the servants than with his captains.
"Alfred--"
Lord Hood glanced up, his spoon poised in front of his mouth. "Yes, my
dear?"
Gertrude sighed softly. "Oh, Alfred, I'm much distressed."
"Good God, Gertrude," Lord Hood lay down his spoon with a clatter,
"That--our son--what has he--"
"No, no, it's not Oliver."
"For once, it's not Oliver," Lord Hood grumbled.
"I am having tea with his Margaret next Tuesday, just to remind you."
"I offer my regrets; I will not be present."
"No, of course not," Gertrude smiled. Admiral Hood was made out of
iron and oak, and his daughter-in-law of nothing more substantial than a
perfumed breeze, yet she had the courage and resolve to stand up against him.
The two never saw eye to eye, though Hood once grudgingly admitted that
"The hoyden has some brains in her box, but she flies them all at me, and
then there's none left to manage her affairs." At any rate, the two
usually conducted their interviews in anger and spite, and consequently, Hood avoided
her save in larger company.
Gertrude sighed again.
"My dear, are you trying to be winsome?" Lord Hood winked at her.
"Alfred, it's this dreadful business with that boy."
"So it is Oliver."
"No, it's--" Gertrude fished the rather unfortunate name out of her
progidious Welsh memory--"Horatio Hornblower. He's a lieutenant, I
believe."
"Aye, with Pellew and the Indy. Brave lad, crawled aboard a fireship and
steered her away from the harbor. Captain Charlie Hammond saw it with his own
eyes, and pressed the Board to confirm Hornblower's commission."
"Hammond's a good man, though a bit hot-tempered. I'm surprised that it
wasn't Foster that addressed the Board, though. Lieutenant Hornblower saved his
life."
"Yes, well, my dear," Hood chuckled, "Foster can't keep track of
everyone who pulls him out of the sauce. A brave man, but reckless."
"Would you say that he's a good captain, Alfred?"
Lord Hood paused, thinking of the business with the Dreadnought. The Impetueux
was not the only ship plagued with discontent. Many of the ships in his
squadron were filled with men who were too idle. There was the usual problem of
mutiny, but other things were festering. That spy, for instance. A man on the
Indefatigable, and not the Impetueux, but Hood had no doubts that there were at
least twenty more hidden away in the Impetueux. He regretted very much the fact
that he himself had recommended the spy for Pellew's employ. Where had that man
come from? With such a favourable reputation? Lord Hood wracked his brains for
Fiennes' provenance, but failed to remember. One of his subordinants would
know.
Thus relieved for the instant, Hood remembered Gertrude's question, and hauled
his thoughts back to Captain Foster. Why had he thought of the Impetueux? Was
it because her mutiny was more striking? Good knows what those men were up to
now. But--the Dreadnought--ah, yes, the Dreadnought. Yes, there was some
rancour simmering there, too. Rumour had it that, during a long bout of
half-rations, Foster had seized two sides of beef off a plague ship, and that
these were mainly reserved for the officers. The crew might have been appeased
had they'd been served a more decent share, but the scraps that wound up on
their wooden trenchers weren't half enough to distract them from the fact that they
might be infected. Of course, the infection never struck, the plague, that is.
"To answer your question, Gertrude, the man in many ways is a fine
captain. He's brave and larger-than-life--he's quite the idol, you know,
Dreadnought Foster, and maybe he runs his crew and ship a bit hard, and heaven
help others in his grasp--he's sunk many a ship, but many a ship under
him."
"And the Dreadnought?"
"Unfortunately, the man has no patience for details." Hood wiped his
mouth clean with his napkin and turned to the butler, motioning to his empty
plate. "A second helping--" The butler nodded. Hood addressed his
wife once more, "But why are you so concerned about Foster,
Gertrude?"
"I'm not. But I wish he wasn't so venomous against poor Lieutenant
Hornblower. Hardly a way to treat someone who's saved your life."
Lord Admiral Hood leant forward, rising slightly off his seat. "Hardly a
way--Gertrude--what is that Foster up to?"
Pellew paced the quarterdeck, more restless than usual. All
this business of spies and mutiny left a sickening feeling in the pit of his
stomach. How he longed to be on some mission out to sea with the wind pushing
his beloved Indy to her next adventure. Lost in thought he didn't notice
Kennedy's approach.
"Captain Pellew, sir?" he spoke softly.
Pellew almost didn't hear him. He turned and regarded the young man. Good god,
Kennedy was as white as a ghost! "Are you well Mr. Kennedy?"
Archie gave him a half smile, trying to reassure his captain as much as
himself. "I am fine sir. But if I may, I need to ask you about Mr. Hornblower."
Pellew gave him his full attention now.
Nervously Archie fiddled with the buttons on his uniform as he spoke. "On the
day Fiennes was killed, it just doesn't add up."
Pellew's eyebrow shot in the air. "Please go on Mr. Kennedy."
"Well, I was trying to follow Horatio, you know how tall he is." Archie was
lost in his story as Pellew smiled to himself.
"And Fiennes was just nowhere to be found. We had already accompanied him to
several shops and ordered most of your list. He was really a nice fellow when
not aboard the Indy. He hated to sail."
"Was there a question you had Mr. Kennedy?" Pellew said getting a bit
impatient.
Archie caught himself and continued. "Sorry sir. Anyway, there was an incident
in front of the Lamb. Someone tried to pick Fiennes pocket. I had almost
forgotten this until yesterday when I saw Captain Foster and his two escorts.
One of them was the one I saw that day sir."
Pellew could not believe his ears. Was it possible that Foster had set this
whole thing up? Why would he go such a thing? Did he want command of the Indy?
Questions flooded his mind as he nodded his head.
"Sir?" Archie asked, worried about the silence that engulfed his captain.
"Is there any doubt in your mind, Mr. Kennedy, that it was Fosters man?"
Archie swallowed, then straightened. "No sir, it was him. As he ran from
Fiennes and Horatio, um Mr. Hornblower, he pushed me aside. I would recognize
those dark eyes anywhere. Besides he also had a scar on his face similar to
Captain Fosters."
"Thank you Mr. Kennedy. Please don't tell anyone what you have just told me.
Understood?"
"Aye, aye sir!"
Pellew regarded him once more. "Good job. You may have just saved my life,
again."
Archie saluted, leaving Pellew alone once again with his thoughts. "Now if only
the rest of the pieces of this puzzle would fall into place. I need Susanna."
No sooner had Pellew finished that silent and prayerful
utterance, when he heard the call of an approaching gig. He came quickly to the
deck just as it came alongside - dear God, here she was! Goodness, he thought,
I know I am a fair commander of frigates, perhaps, someday, a ship of the line,
but I am no genie!
She came up the ladder, slightly breathless, her face flushed with excitement.
He swept her up into his strong arms. "You're here!" he cried.
"Because YOU'RE here!" she answered with, smiling, and embraced him
again.
"No...it's...I just wished for you, just now, and then I heard the call --
for God's sake, I feel like Aladdin!"
"Well, that's one wish successfully granted, then! Shall we try for the
other two?" she asked playfully.
"Susanna," he murmured sweeping her close to him, again.
She drew back to gaze at him. "Oh, Edward, it is good to see you smile
again."
"Come,my Love," he said. "We should get below - I have
news!"
"As do I" she promised, her eyes bright.
**********
She reclined back against the wall, carefully, Lord but these cots were a
devilish prospect to manage. Goodness! She sighed, trying to put all of these
varying pieces together, as her husband paced the floor - or rather stepped
once or twice and then repeated the maneuver - the closest thing to pacing in
such a cramped space.
"Foster's man? In the marketplace? Can it be?" she asked, her dark
corkscrew curls sloping gently over her shoulders as she shook her head.
"Kennedy gave me his word - I believe him, Susanna. Lord knows he is
devoted to Horblower - they owe each other much - but he is an honest man, I
know that. He is not saying this to protect Horatio - much as he might wish to
- I believe it to be the truth."
"Then, Foster, dear God, could he be at the heart of all this - this
-"
"I cannot say that," said Pellew. "I am not ready to say that.
Not yet. Christ knows, the man is a gloryseeker, a pompous and reckless fool on
too many occasions. But, treason? By God, treason! The man is still a captain
in his majesty's navy. Would he sell his own mother down the river for glory,
perhaps - but could he betray his country, his king? I cannot believe that. I
am not prepared to believe that. He is a patriot - dear God, I pray he is at
least still that."
Susanna regarded him intently, pride filling her heart at how sacred he beheld
his own honor. "I see. So, then, if it is not Foster - then somone or
others around him, then, and that brings to mind what I learned from Gertrude,
my love."
"Yes," he stopped his pacing and turned to her. "You saw her -
what did she say?"
"She overheard Admiral Hood to say that there had been trouble on the
Dreadnought. She thinks Hood may have needed a reason to get Foster off his
ship, so as to investigate what was going on there. You, my dear, just happened
to come along and provide him with the perfect opportunity, and the ship, to
park him on, and not the Impetueaux, I might add, however infuriating this
whole business has been for you, Edward."
He nodded. "Yes, yes. That could be it, then. A ring of spies aboard the
Dreadnought, perhaps. With Foster all unawares. Possibly...Possibly. Or is
there still something more to this lurking out there somewhere? Something else
at stake? But surely we must be getting close. Surely!"
"We must be, Edward. And you must see to it that Hood is aware of this
news from Mr. Kennedy! You must!"
"Indeed," said Edward. "I shall write it up at once. Will you
take it to him?
"Of course," she nodded. "I am sure he will take a moment for
me. If not, then Gertrude will see that he has it by this evening, at the
latest."
Pellew sat down at the small desk and wrote quickly, his hand swift and steady.
Susanna came up behind the chair and softly embraced his shoulders as he sanded
the page and set the seal. "Soon, darling, soon, and this shall all be
behind us," she whispered.
"I pray so, my dear, and that shall be another wish granted, then."
He leaned back into her embrace.
"And the last wish, then, what should you like that to be?"
"Well, I was rather hoping, my dear," he said, "that that one
could be the last wish" and he turned to face her, a wry smile creeping
over his face.
"I see," she said, playing along, with her eyebrows raised as she
stroked his hair. "and so the second wish, then, may I take it you have
something already in mind, Sir?"
"I do, Madam, indeed I do."
"And?" she prompted.
"It is, of a rather personal nature, My Lady, if I may say so..."
"Indeed, Sir?" she whispered, easing herself very gently into his
lap. "Would it surprise you to learn that those are my favourite
kind?"
Edward drew his hand softly down her cheek and smiled. "Oh, how I hoped
you would say so, my dearest."
The streets of Portsmouth loomed dark in the dead of night. Not a soul was in
sight as the wind blew cold through out. Not a soul that is except one. A lone
figure shivered in the cold. He was barely visible in the darkened alley.
Nervously he shifted his weight from foot to foot. At first glance he could
easily have been taken for a tramp or thief. But upon closer inspection, his
cloak revealed a naval uniform.
Suddenly out of the black appeared another dark figure. Was it man or beast?
The figure in the dark almost looked like the devil himself. With his gray
cloak wrapped around him, he slowly made his way to the alley and the waiting
man.
"Are you alone?" the gray cloaked man hissed.
"Do you see anyone standing here next to me!" the alley man spat back.
The gray cloaked fellow opened his robe revealing a package.
"Here," he grunted and shoved the object at the alley man. "Obey these last
instructions and all will be well."
The alley man protested," What do you mean all will be well! Will I get my ship
back? Will Pellew be cleared of the charges! Answer me damn it!"
The cloaked man only sneered. "Just do as you are told and you won't die.
Unless you want to die. Then I will be happy to oblige."
"No," the alley man whispered. "Get out of my face before I change my mind."
The cloaked figure slowly disappeared in the night, leaving Captain Foster
colder now than he had ever been in his life.
"Captain Foster," Lord Hood faced his wife, waving
at a servant to take away the second serving of pudding, "has a
leak."
"A leak, Alfred?"
"A leak," Lord Hood intoned gravely.
"I take it you mean Foster, and the Dreadnought."
Lord Hood shook his head, collecting all of the facts--if one could call them
that, though some of them were demned slippery--for an explanation. The affair
was complicated, self-contradictory, and largely still-unlearnt, and it had
apparently been years in the planning. Foster, with his usual bravado, had
jumped into many a fray--this time, unwittingly, into a large, nefarious plot.
Confronted at an Admiralty interview, conducted with much discretion, Foster
had confessed to some of the irregularities of his ship's accounts--stores
received from suspicious sources, a few men here and there hired in distant
ports without past histories--his explanation was that he did what he had to do
in a pinch. He appeared to be relieved to be airing the affair. Yet, Lord Hood
suspected that Foster was withholding information. He did not mention this to
the two other admirals present at the meeting, hoping that he could clear the
matter up without compromising Foster publically.
"Basically, Gertrude, Foster's had a run of bad luck. He's ordered to
attack the French ship Mareschal, who is cruising a few miles off the coast,
alone. Nobody knows about this, nobody knows that the Dreadnought is
approaching. How could they? She hasn't put into port in nearly twelve
months--we've been stocking her off-shore, in a specific spot, to avoid
attracting attention. An idea of Lord Keith's, and, so far, it has worked.
Dreadnought, thus concealed, has managed to surprise and capture a few French
ship. Yet, she's within sight of the Mareschal, and there's company waiting for
her. Chance? The same thing happens two months later. Blast my foul luck,
Foster says, and restocks the Dreadnought, and takes her out for another spin,
and again, foul luck for him. His quarry, the presumed idle and lonely 74-gun
Victoire, is flanked by her friends."
This gives us cause for concern, but of course, it takes months for news to reach
us. So, we send a frigate down with alternate orders, expecting that Foster has
been blown to bits by now, for it's patently obvious that he has a leak, but we
find that, no, he's been successful, and there's two sweet French prizes, a
supply ship and a frigate, nearing an English port, and he's apparently plugged
up the leak, if it existed.
Alas, neither French prize ever reaches port--they disappear. This causes some
consternation. And then, another one of his Majesty's ships runs into foul
luck. Captain Willis meets a bad end, surprised by two french 74s. And then,
another, Captain Blake. So, it's obvious that our information is no longer
trustworthy, and we dissolve the scheme.
Meanwhile, Captain Foster is sailing quite well, despite the loss of his prize
crews, over a hundred and fifty men for the two prizes and an additional third,
a frigate, Puissance. Not to mention his losses from the exchanges, though
these numbers are rather low. He has taken a few men, but very few. At the same
time, however, his stores have been depleted more than one would expect. I
follow my suspicions, and order a reckoning of his crew, and we find that--with
much wriggling about, you know what I mean, Gertrude, a few men who should
have, by all accounts, gone down with the French prizes they reportedly boarded
as prize crews. To find them safe and sound on the Dreadnought's deck was
rather puzzling.
Naturally, this is rather unusual, and Foster, pressed for an explanation, said
that the accounts weren't all cleared up due to the urgency of the matter, some
men went on the prizes that weren't accounted for, and vice versa.
We press him for reports, and he begs for a day, to write them up--he had
sketched the details, and he showed us these brief entries, but he hasn't had
the time to write them up, not since his chase and successful capture of the
French frigate, the Puissance. She arrives in Portsmouth, two days later, with
her prize crew and some French prisoners--not many, for their losses were
great, and we examine her, and all is well. The crew is returned to the
Dreadnought.
And then, it becomes clear that there are more men than accounted for. Not many
more, but a few. Foster claims that he didn't have time to keep better track,
they were all horribly fatigued and distracted, etc, etc."
Gertrude leant forward, her eyes gleaming. "Oh, this is most interesting.
Do you know where they came from, Alfred?"
Lord Hood shook his head. "And there are discrepancies with the supply
accounts, too. Small things, but puzzling. It may all be coincidence, yet, and
certainly, the Admiralty has been satisfied with Foster's explanations, and
yes, it is hard to keep clear books when shot and blood and limbs are flying
about--pray, excuse me, Gertrude--"
"Of course, Alfred."
"But I am not satisfied, and that's why I have discreetly taken Foster off
his ship. For the time being."
Night was falling aboard the Indy and all seemed well. But
Pellew had a feeling, a bad feeling. He couldn't explain it but something was
not quite right. With dinner over he made his way to the quarterdeck and some
peace and quiet. Slowly he paced behind the helm. Back and forth, his mind
engaged the whole time. This whole business with Foster and Fiennes weighed
heavy on his mind. Over and over he tried to relive all the time he spent with
Fiennes. Going back there was never a moment or incident that would lead him to
believe Fiennes was a spy. Which lead him to think those papers were planted on
the man before he was killed. That was the only explanation. Pellew refused to
believe his steward, ever how much he disliked him, was a spy.
And now this business with Foster going after Hornblower didn't quite fit. It
was as if he was doing it to throw him off track. Maybe that was it. Someone
was getting to close to the truth so Foster had to make a distraction. "Quite a
story." Pellew thought to himself. But who would believe such a thing? Foster
being such a decorated and brave Captain. Suddenly his thoughts were
interrupted by shouting from the foc'sle. "Boats to starboard!"
Men raced on deck from everywhere. Pellew strained in the darkness to see the
foc'sle and what was going on. Foster materialized by his side. "What is this
Captain Pellew?"
Pellew only half acknowledged his presence. "You know as much as I."
Out of the dimness, Pellew gasped in horror. "We're being boarded!"
Foster too witnessed the men that were now pouring over the sides, invading the
Indy.
"All hands to stations! Fend off those men!" Pellew shouted.
Swords clashed together as the crew fought the new threat.
"Who in God's name is boarding us!" Pellew barked. Foster stood stunned next to
him. "It can't be," he whispered in recognition.
Pellew peered through the mob of men, that's when he noticed the uniforms. They
had on English naval uniforms. Pellew whirled on Foster in anger, grabbing him
by the collar. "What have you done! Those are your men aren't they!"
Foster babbled," It wasn't suppose to happen like this."
Pellew shoved him aside, disgusted at the sight of him. "Well no mutinous dogs
are going to take over my ship!" he growled as he pulled his sword out to
defend the approaching mob.
They seemed to be everywhere, as the quarterdeck was swamped. Pellew fought off
one after another. Suddenly Horatio was at his side. Pellew almost mistook him
for one of the others. "Good to see you sir!" he said in between swings of his
own sword.
Pellew thrust his weapon through the man in front of him. "Report Hornblower!"
Taking a defensive position next to his captain Horatio quickly spilled out the
grim details. "Foc'sle is entirely over run by these mutineers sir. Midships is
the main battle. Kennedy is there now holding his ground."
Pellew watched as Horatio took out the last of the scoundrels on his
quarterdeck, at least for the moment. "Well Hornblower, now that we have the
helm again, get back to Mr. Kennedy."
"Aye sir."
Pellew rested on his sword, trying to catch his breath. It had been some time
since his last hand to hand battle. A noise from behind caught him off guard as
he turned to see a man lunging at him. Pellew watched helplessly as the man's
sword was about to tear into his side. That's when Foster reappeared. With one
swing he cut the man in half. Pellew stared in horror as the man withered in
agony.
Looking back at Foster, Pellew sighed," Thank you."
Foster stood next to the man, seemingly frozen in place. "He was one of my
midshipmen," he said simply.
Pellew looked up from the bloody mess and thought he saw a tear in Foster's
eye.
Horatio raced back to the main mast, where he had left
Archie. Fighting his way through, he suddenly caught glimpse of him. "No!" he
screamed as he watched Archie fall to the deck. Like a madman he hacked
mercilessly through the crowd, trying to reach his friend. Finally he spotted
Styles, who was creating his own bloodbath. "Styles! Over here!" Quickly the
two men were at Archie's side. Styles pulled Mathews and Oldroyd out of the
mess and over to Horatio. Kneeling next to his fallen comrade, Horatio gently
shook him. Blood seemed to poor out from everywhere. "God Archie, why did you
have to try and be a hero." Without thinking he scooped him up and headed for
the quarterdeck. "Styles! This is a lost cause, fall back to the helm!"
"Aye sir," Styles called after him. They made their way to the railing. But to
Horatio's shock, the quarterdeck had fallen.
Pellew and Foster stood in the corner, fighting for their lives. Attack after
attack swept over them. But they had managed to hold them off when suddenly
they stopped. A lone figure stepped out from the men holding their swords all
drenched in blood, the crew of the Indy's blood. The figure held up his hands,
signally for his men to hold. Foster instantly knew him. Knew him from a cold
night in Portsmouth. In fact the figure still wore the gray cloak, only now it
was stained with blood.
"Collins. I should have known better!" Foster spat. The cloaked figure smiled
ruefully at him. "Ah my dear Captain Foster. Good to see you again sir. But if
you please, I must ask for your surrender."
Pellew growled," You will have no surrender from me, you cowardly b@stard!"
Collins only laughed as Foster took a step toward him. "Very well, we
surrender."
Pellew grabbed Foster by the shoulder. "What are you doing!"
Foster looked him in the eye as he spoke. "Edward, this is no time to die. To
continue fighting will mean the death of every man aboard." He lowered his
voice as he finished speaking. "That also includes Hornblower."
Pellew released him and only nodded.
Collins quickly snatched up the captains' swords. "Now if you please Captain
Pellew, order your men to stand down."
Pellew did as he was told. "Who is this dog?" he asked Foster.
With hatred in his voice Foster replied," Anthony Collins, my first officer."
Lady Hood, suddenly noticing that she could not see her
husband very well in the deepening gloom, beckoned a servant to her side. The
dinner service had already been cleared away, without Lord or Lady Hood's ever
realising it, counter to usual custom. After dessert, the servants would bear away
the platters, and Lord Hood would retire to his study, and Lady Hood to her
dressing room. This night, however, two hours past desert, Lord and Lady Hood
still sat at the table, sifting the affair of the Dreadnought. The servants,
made uneasy by this irregularity, stood congregated at one end of the dining
room, exchanging questioning glances.
"More candles, Thompson."
Thompson thus dispatched, Gertrude turned to Alfred. "So, who's in command
of the Dreadnought now?"
Lord Hood instantly purpled. "Blast it, confound me--a thousand pardons,
Gertrude--I have not the head I once had--"
"Calm down, Alfred," Gertrude murmured.
"I left his first lieutenant, Anthony Collins, in command."
"And is he cause for such temper?"
"Not directly, no, but he's put to mind that I've muddled the tale
completely. Some Admiral I am!"
"Alfred--"
Lord Hood cast his eyes up to the ceiling. "What did I say Foster's prizes
were? A ship of the line, and then a supply ship, and another frigate,
Puissance?"
"I do believe that the first was rather a frigate," Gertrude replied,
fanning herself with some satisfaction.
"Well, she ain't. There's my muddle. Foster captured a ship of the
line--stroke of good luck there, and her name was, oh, wait, let me
see--L'Égalité...I think. Or Fraternité--something off one of their
dxmned--pardon, Gertrude--mottos."
"So, a larger ship, and not a frigate, hmm?"
Thumping the table with his fist, Lord Hood rose out of his chair.
"This is where Anthony Collins comes in. Foster appoints him acting-captain
of this ship, L'Égalité, and then she disappears. Our spies hear nothing. And
then, eight months later, another French ship is captured, Impetueux, an easy
task, for she is under-manned at the time and they made a few blunders, and
then at least four score of English prisoners are found in her hold, including
Collins."
"So, the Impetueux must have shot down his other ship, and picked him up
from the wreckage."
"No, Gertrude, there is no other ship. I am certain that L'Égalité and the
Impetueux are the same."
"Indeed," she breathed.
"The prisonners all have the same story, their ship was captured by a
boarding party, and then the French locked them up ashore and then returned
them to the ship. We kept them on the Impetueux, with Collins as first
lieutenant--no, second, someone else was senior, but then there were those
stirrings of mutiny, and Foster, perhaps fearing for his old lieutenant,
requested Collins's transfer. And there it is."
"So Anthony Collins is on the Dreadnought now--"
A few muffled booms rang out. Lady Hood gasped, Lord Hood leapt out of his
chair with surprisingly youthful agility, and over to the window, Lady Hood
trailing after him. The view of the harbour was, unfortunately, blocked.
"They're firing, blast it!" Lord Hood, snarled, whipping his hand out
at the mass of servants edging towards the window, "A horse, a carriage,
my cloak, you dogs!" The servants scattered, tripping over themselves in
their haste. "Handsomely, you lubbers," Lord Hood roared, dashing
after them, "They're firing at my ships!"
Gertrude, picking up her skirts, trotted after him to the main entrance, and
commanded a second carriage, to take her to the Mermaid.
-------------------
Susanna Pellew grabbed her cloak and dashed out of the Mermaid. There was a
crowd collecting, moving towards the harbour with the jocular manner of
sightseers.
"We'll blast them Frogs through and through!--Watch 'em scurry back to
their pond--What sport--What's all that noise--this ain't nothing to the
Massacre of Amboyna, I was there--"
"Please," Susanna cried, elbowing her way through the thicket of
people, "what's happening?"
At that, she was offered a variety of conflicting opinions, the French, the
Spanish, those blxxdy Colonists--muttering a stream of thanks and pardons, she
put her head down and thrust her way through until she saw the sea glistening
with spurts of flame. As she approached the harbour, the yelling and the gun
and cannon-fire grew to a deafening pitch; she redoubled her efforts, set her
jaw, and with a vicious burst, forced her way to the water's side, onto one of
the docks. Out in the mouth of the harbour, where the ships of the fleet were
anchored, Susanna noticed that most of them were congretating, firing at one
ship in particular which seemed to be sailing away. The watermen and women
below were chattering excitedly in a tight knit of boats and punts. Susanna
yelled at the closest one.
"They're firing at a French ship, Ma'am," the waterman replied,
pointing a gnarled hand towards the scene of the tempest. "She tried to
edge in, but they caught wind of her, see how she slinks away--so they'll be
sinking her--Curse her! Cripple her!"
Susanna peered closer, and her blood ran cold. Without a second's hesitation,
she gathered up her skirts and cloak with one hand, and with the other, grabbed
onto the side of the dock to guide her leap into a boat directly beside. The
nearer oarsman whipped about, startled.
"Hey, Ma'am--what's this--"
Susanna withdrew her purse and flung it at him. "They're firing at my
husband, Captain Pellew, d'you hear? Row or I'll throttle you! Row!"
The hapless oarsman gawked at her.
"ROW? Are ye' mad? Into that bloody bus'ness? Y've got a death wish, you
'ave, Miss, and I'm not 'avin' none of it!"
"Of course you'll have it, you're a boatman, this is a boat, this is YOUR
boat, you bloody idiot, and this is obviously what you do for a living, now GET
ON with it!"
"I runs a respec'able bus'ness I does, M'um, and it don't involve sailin'
right smack into a bleedin' bloodbath….not fer me usual price, not no way an
not no how!"
"So it's money, then, is it, fine! Name your price, you blackguard!"
Susanna screamed. "Can you do that and row at the same time, or are the
two activities not simultaneously performable with a brain allotment such as
yours? Hmmm?"
"Now 'old on there, 'old on, there's no need to be gettin' all personal
like, M'um, I'll take ya, I'll take -"
"LADY PELLEW!" a loud voice boomed out over the fray. "For God's
sake Madam, what on Earth do you think you're doing?"
Susanna wheeled around, very nearly upsetting the poor little skiff.
"Admiral Hood!" She blanched.
"Get back on that dock this instant! Holy Mother of God, this is no place
for you, Madam!" Hood bellowed, trying nervously to make his way to the
forefront and get seated in his own gig.
"They are firing on Indefatigable, Sir! Surely you can see that! My
husband is on board, you know it the same as me! He could be injured, my God he
could be - " She looked across her in the boat. Her pathetic little commander
was frozen in place, dumbstruck in the sight of the Admiral's gig coming
alongside him. For God's sake, thought Susanna, what IS it with some of the men
in this world? A blazingly simple task, get me from here to there, the urgency
and the rationale for it plain as the noses on all their faces and yet they
stare at me like I'm an apparition! That does it, she thought, and just as the
Admiral's boat collided into hers, and with one graceful sidestep maneuver she
retrieved her reticule and hoisted her skirts and jumped aboard the Admiral's
gig, and took her place beside Lord Hood, sidling up beside him as if it was
the most natural place for her to be. The Admiral's crew gaped at her, their
oars at a standstill, not knowing what to make of this unexpected cargo.
"My Lady you cannot be serious!" cried Hood. "This is
preposterous! You are a woman! They are exchanging gunfire out there! I mean to
put a stop to it but I'll not see you endangered!"
"Well, you are stuck with me, Sir, and there's an end to it. You are not
endangering me, I am endangering myself. My husband is on that ship and that is
where I need to be. Now are these men of yours going to get the business ends
of those oars into the water where they belong or not, Sir?"
Hood's mind was awhirl. Dear God!! What on earth had possessed her? Was she
mad? This was no stroll through the park, this was, unbelievably, smack in the
middle of Portsmouth harbour, a battle!!! He managed to suppress his
gentlemanly concerns and allowed the Admiral inside him to assume command. He
needed to get to the bottom of this mess and needed to do it now. He would get
himself on board the closest frigate, sort it from there and have Sir Edward's
firebrand of a wife sent back to shore, muzzled if need be! "Pull!"
he shouted, "Lively now, men, "Pull!"
And Susanna nodded her head. Finally, they were getting somewhere!
"You must be seated, my Lady," he said. "And for God's sake,
pull your cloak over your head. If any of these Captains see me casting about
with a woman on board, by God, I'll have to resign my post, I will." He
shook his head. "And keep your head down, those aren't blanks they're
firing, I'll have you know!"
"I am aware of that, my Lord," muttered Susanna, and very nearly
thought of offering his Lordship the pistol she carried in her reticule - just
in case. She wasn't just a fine horsewoman, God knew she could race the pants
off Sir Edward on a regular basis when he was at home, and did so, to her
inexhaustible glee and his good natured sportsmanship - riding is not my forte,
Madam, you must forgive me that, he had told her only on in their courtship.
No, she was a fine shot as well, she was. Even though she traveled with her own
carriage and coachman, she was known to traipse through the west hundred of their
estate quite often alone, with just her faithful steed and her beloved
retriever for companionship. Sir Edward didn't approve so much as he had
resigned himself to the fact that some things were inevitable when it came to
his indomitable wife. At least she could defend herself if need be.
She noticed that they were pulling for one of the ships that had engaged the
Indy - they were nearly well enough behind it now to be seen by them - the
Admiral's ensign proclaiming them to the crew on board. While part of her was
pleased to be behind the line of fire, so to speak, this was the wrong ship,
was it not?
"What are you doing, my Lord?" she cried, "this is not
Indefatigable!"
"The Indefatigable is trying to pull away - we'll never reach her before
she's well out of harbour or sunk - er - sorry, M'am. We'll get on board the
Arethusa and find out why in God's name we have been firing on our OWN
ship!"
Horatio had heard Pellew's voice call out the order to
surrender, but he couldn't believe his ears. Styles echoed these same thoughts.
"Did he say to surrender sir?"
Horatio blinked, not wanting to believe it. Before he could answer, they were
spotted. The mutineers were upon them. With sword in hand, Horatio and his men
continued the fight. But the odds and men were against them. They couldn't stay
on deck. "Styles, we have to get below!"
"Aye sir," Styles answered and herded Oldroyd in that direction. Just as they
made their way below, the sound of cannon fire erupted above them. "Are we
under fire?"
Mathews shook his head grimly. "Must be the fleet. Figured out bout the mutiny
by now."
Horatio agreed as he led them through the maze of rooms. "Well what would you
think if gunfire came from a ship at dark and then started to sail away?"
Styles still carried the unconscious body of Archie Kennedy. "Can we rest a
minute sir?" he asked worn out from the extra weight on his shoulders.
"We're almost there Styles," Horatio answered, as he opened a door to the hold.
"This is the best place I can think of for now."
Mathews helped Styles place Archie in a comfortable position. Horatio knelt
next to his friend and tended to his wounds. Slowly he peeled off his blood
soaked jacket.
Shall I fetch Hepplewhite, Sir" asked Matthews, panting
for breath.
"If you can find him, yes!" Hornblower stripped off Archie's coat.
The blood seemed to be everywhere. Frantically, he searched for the wound.
"My God, Archie!"
