A Ship of War, page 33
Henrietta looked down, her eyes closing, hiding away that little window into her heart. ‘It is not that. I have wronged you, I know. I should never have doubted you or believed the stories of these Frenchwomen—’
‘I am not a monument to virtue,’ Hayden interrupted. ‘You cannot be blamed … given the circumstances.’
‘You are being very kind …’ she raised her head and met Hayden’s gaze, her lip trembling just perceptibly. ‘I have learned something of myself by the news of your death – something I have only just realized. I could not bear to hear it twice. I am not made of such stern stuff that I can live my life in constant fear of you dying or being maimed or injured in some unspeakable manner. Lizzie told me that every time Robert goes to sea she sends her heart to war. My heart is not so made. I am not courageous … I have come to realize. I lost you once, Charles, and it was more than I could bear. I cannot suffer it again. I am so sorry.’
And with that she turned quickly and hurried back the way she had come. Elizabeth came forward a few paces to meet her and then took her off down the path into the trees, looking back only once, her face filled with distress.
Hayden watched her silent retreat knowing that there was no reasoning with another’s heart. There was no argument to be made, no case to be presented that could make a person feel things they did not feel. Either she loved him enough to marry him or she did not – he could not change that with a fine speech. Feeling suddenly unsteady, Hayden sat down upon the grass his gaze fixed on the path where the two women had gone.
‘Come back,’ he whispered. ‘Come back.’
And so he waited a protracted hour and when no one returned he rose and walked slowly to his inn, feeling all the while that his feet did not quite weigh properly upon the ground, as though gravity had all but set him free and he might float off into the sky to be carried by the winds, here and there, through the archipelago of endlessly drifting clouds.
Nineteen
The seated officers of the court martial, all of them plucked from high on the captains’ list, regarded Hayden and his gathered crew with something less than ideal detachment. Hayden awaited their judgement with a peculiar sense of inevitable resignation. Having so recently been found wanting by the woman he hoped to marry, he did not expect the captains of the court martial to be more generous. In truth, despite being a man who believed in reason, he could not escape the feeling that unseen forces conspired to undo him. Perhaps he had been prideful or had committed some other mortal sin – a memory of Madame Adair passed through his consciousness. Certainly he had spent the lives of others in this war against the French – though never at the cost of his own safety. Higher powers might not care that he put himself in harm’s way as often as he did his own men. Higher powers had their own laws and Hayden was not certain men comprehended them clearly.
Hayden had seen men beset by ill luck before. It was not even terribly uncommon. He had observed the faces of these poor souls, bewildered, injured, not knowing what to do to stem the onrush of misfortune. Wondering what they had done to be so mistreated in this life. And now it was his turn. He had lost his ship – almost lost his life – an act of compassion had led to his near financial ruin and the eventual loss of the woman he adored. And now he stood before the panel of captains to be judged for the loss of HMS Themis. Under normal circumstances this would be hardly more than a formality – he had lost his ship to superior forces after making every conceivable effort to preserve ship and crew. It had merely been bad luck … again. Given the direction his life had been progressing, he expected the panel of captains had been chosen by whomever his enemies were within the Admiralty, turning a mere formality into the ruin of his career.
And so he waited, calmly expecting the destruction of the last of his hopes to be announced. Where he would go after his military career had been blasted he did not know. He was accomplished in this single occupation and nothing more.
The presiding rear-admiral, Sir John Harland, settled spectacles upon his nose, raised a sheaf of papers to the light that streamed in the gallery windows behind him and cleared his throat.
‘It is the opinion of this court,’ he began in a soft Irish voice, a voice that did not seem representative of higher powers, ‘that Captain Charles Saunders Hayden and his officers and crew, in the loss of their ship, the thirty-two-gun frigate HMS Themis, conducted themselves at all times with enterprise and courage. The loss of the ship to superior French forces encountered in dense fog cannot in any way be attributed to lack of competence on the part of said captain and crew. The subsequent recognition by the French government of the actions of these men aboard the wrecked French ship of war, Les Droits de l’Homme, speaks very highly of their courage and coolness in the most trying circumstances. We therefore find Captain Hayden, his officers and crew innocent of any dereliction of duty in the loss of the frigate Themis.’ He lowered the papers and smiled. ‘You are all free to go.’
Despite the fact that everyone believed it would be highly unlikely for them to be held responsible for the Themis’s loss, there was still a great and palpable dissipation of tension and anxiety at the admiral’s pronouncement. The Themis’s officers and young gentlemen all looked one to the other, their carriages relaxing in ways that were clearly noticeable, and not least among them in feeling this assuagement was their young captain.
The men all began to file out of the great cabin, a low murmuring heard among them, largely words of thanks. As Hayden reached the door, a lieutenant standing there stepped forward.
‘Captain Hayden?’ the young officer asked. ‘The admiral desires you attend him, if you please, sir.’
‘Certainly.’
Hayden followed the admiral’s messenger as he stepped into the human tide ebbing from the great cabin. Although the tide went to the upper deck and the spring sunlight, Hayden was ushered into the empty cabin of the captain and offered a chair. It was forty minutes before the admiral finished taking his leave of the captains of the panel and seeing to whatever legal duties the proceedings immediately demanded. Hayden rose promptly to his feet as Admiral Harland entered.
‘Hayden,’ the admiral began, ‘thank you for waiting.’
‘My pleasure, sir.’
Harland bore in his hand a package tied with blue ribbon and this the admiral proffered to Hayden. ‘From the First Secretary. I suggest you assure yourself the seal has not been broken, then read the orders immediately as I was instructed to deliver this as soon as practicable upon the completion of the court martial.’
Hayden did as instructed, the admiral wandering off a few paces and apparently taking in the view from the gallery. It occurred to Hayden that at least someone within the Admiralty had faith in the outcome – a striking contrast to his thoughts of only a few moments ago. The package bore the seal of the Admiralty, unbroken, as Hayden assumed it would be. Opening the package he found, to his very great surprise, a second letter within, sealed and addressed to Admiral Lord Howe.
Captain Hayden, the orders began:
You are hereby instructed to proceed aboard the sixty-four-gun ship Raisonnable lying at Spithead and take command of said vessel. As Raisonnable has been recently refloated from dry dock and her refitting only lately completed you are to take any or all officers you see fit from the crew of His Majesty’s frigate Themis to fill such positions as required aboard Raisonnable. You are to put to sea at first opportunity of wind and weather and proceed with all haste off Ushant bearing dispatches of great import for Admiral Lord Howe, who is cruising in this vicinity in command of the Channel Fleet. As it is possible Admiral Lord Howe might have departed this station, you are to gather any intelligence from passing vessels as might lead you to discover the admiral and his fleet at sea. As the delivery of the dispatches entrusted to your care is of the most urgent importance to the success of the present war you are instructed to press this matter forward with all energies until such time as you have succeeded or learned that Lord Howe has returned to England. Once you have fallen in with Lord Howe you are to consider yourself under his orders until he shall release you.
As a valuable convoy of French transports under escort has sailed from America for unknown French ports and as apprehending this convoy is one of the objects of Lord Howe’s cruise, any information you might acquire from ships at sea as to the position or expected arrival of this convoy should be transmitted to Lord Howe immediately upon joining his fleet.
The letter was signed by Philip Stephens, First Secretary of the Admiralty.
Hayden looked up to find Admiral Harland regarding him. ‘There is one other small matter, Hayden.’ The admiral went to a chair that was turned away from Hayden and took up a package, wrapped in paper and tied with string.
‘What is this, sir?’ Hayden asked as Harland pressed it into Hayden’s hands.
The admiral shrugged. ‘Here is a note pinned to it; perhaps that will explain.’
Hayden opened the note quickly.
I have been informed, Hayden, that you lost your coat in the recent wreck and were forced to wear that of a French captain. That will never do. I send you coats to replace those lost.
Philip Stephens
At the admiral’s insistence he laid the package on a table and opened it, revealing the full dress coat of a junior post captain, and beneath that an undress coat for the same rank.
‘From Mr Stephens,’ Hayden said, confused. ‘But it is a post captain’s coat …’
‘May I be the first to offer compliments, Captain Hayden. I believe it is an honour richly deserved.’
‘I-I have lost my ship,’ Hayden said, hardly able to believe what he looked at, ‘and they grant me my post?’
‘God and the Admiralty work in mysterious ways.’ The admiral appeared to hide a smile. ‘Given the formality of the recently concluded proceedings, I believe you should wear the full dress.’
Feeling terribly self-conscious, as though there had been some mistake, he pulled off his threadbare frock coat and shrugged the new one onto his shoulders.
‘It is a passable fit, I should say,’ the admiral observed. ‘Nothing even a poor tailor could not put to rights. Would you care for a glass of port, Captain?’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Port was poured, a toast drunk, Hayden not even tasting the liquid, his mind raced so. When the port had seared its way down to Hayden’s nether reaches, the admiral stood. ‘I know I should not keep you, Captain, as much as I should like to. I have put my barge at your disposal to take you wherever it is you need to go.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Good luck to you, Captain Hayden.’
Of an instant Hayden was upon the ladder, his ancient coat and undress captain’s coat poorly bundled into paper and tucked beneath an arm. He hastened up into the sunlight, where all the persons who had been in attendance at the court martial were awaiting boats to carry them ashore, the captains of the panel taking precedence over all others.
‘Mr Wickham,’ Hayden said, as the midshipman approached him, grinning broadly.
‘Sir?’
‘Gather all of our officers and warrant officers together this instant. We have been given a ship and will proceed to sea …’ Hayden looked up at the telltale on the masthead. ‘This very day, if it is possible.’
One of the many reasons Hayden believed Wickham would be a sea officer of great skill one day was that he knew instinctively when questions were required and when they were not. A quick touch of the hat, he spun on the ball of his foot and was calling out the names of the Themis men as he crossed the deck. As he was collecting Hayden’s officers the lieutenant, who had earlier led Hayden to his meeting with Harland, approached.
‘Captain Hayden? I am to carry you to your ship, sir,’ he informed Hayden. ‘My compliments on making your post, sir.’
‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’
In fewer than ten minutes Hayden, his officers, warrant officers and midshipmen were making their way across the anchorage of Spithead, all of them grinning foolishly.
‘If I am informed correctly about the readiness of our new ship for sea, every man will have four hours to have their trunks collected and returned to the ship,’ Hayden informed his crew. ‘Any servant or trunk that is not aboard at that time will be left behind. We have a fair wind to St Helens and I do not intend to waste it.’ Hayden twisted around to find a flag, assuring himself that the small wind was still fair. ‘We will muster in my cabin as soon as we are in the Channel.’
‘If you please, Captain,’ Barthe said meekly. ‘What ship have you been given?’
‘Raisonnable.’
‘The sixty-four?’
‘The very ship, Mr Barthe.’
‘Did you not serve in her before?’
‘As a lieutenant.’
Barthe shook his head, glancing at Hawthorne, as pleased as if he had been promoted himself.
‘If I may, sir,’ Hawthorne interrupted, ‘it would appear you have donned some other man’s coat by accident …’
‘It is my coat, Mr Hawthorne, recently sent to me by a friend within the Admiralty.’
Hawthorne turned to the others in the launch and said, ‘Three cheers for Post Captain Hayden.’
And the men huzzaed with a will, their cheers echoing across the anchorage, and so pleased was Hayden that his cheeks coloured like a boy’s.
Raisonnable lay to her anchor among ships refitting or having but recently made port. She appeared much as Hayden remembered her – and he let his eye run over her rigging, wondering if she really could be ready to sail that very day. No more than a handful of men were engaged aloft and that, Hayden hoped, was a good sign. Every second gunport was opened to air the ship and he could see a bosun and his crew employing a burton tackle to set up the mizzen shrouds.
In very short order they were piped aboard the sixty-four-gun ship Raisonnable. Three lieutenants met them as they came over the rail, the most senior introducing himself.
‘Geoffrey Bowen, sir. I was Captain Lord Cranstoun’s third lieutenant. May I introduce Robert Stanton Milton-Bell, sir, and James Huxley. We are all honoured to sail with you, sir.’
‘Thank you, Mr Bowen.’ Hayden quickly introduced his own officers and enquired into the readiness of the ship for sea.
‘She has been both provisioned and watered, Captain Hayden. Shot and powder were put aboard last night and completed this morning. She has had a major refit, sir, and has new masts and yards, the better part of a new upper deck, her bottom is newly coppered, and she has been painted from taffrail to beakhead.’
Indeed the ship fairly glowed from the dockyard’s recent ministrations. Hayden took the briefest moment to let his eyes run over his new command. There were six carronades on the quarterdeck, replacing the original nine-pounders, four of which remained in the after positions. All of the quarterdeck guns had been repositioned so that the guns beneath the quarter-ladders were shifted aft – something Hayden had once had the temerity to suggest to his captain, whereupon he was informed that when he actually knew something he would be allowed to make recommendations to his commanding officer. The guns beneath the quarter-ladders could not be worked without removing the ladders, which made climbing to the poop difficult – indeed older officers found it all but impossible. There were nine-pounders on the quarterdeck still.
‘I have all the paperwork ready for you, Captain,’ Bowen informed him, ‘and will put myself at your disposal at any time to tour the ship. And if you please, sir, I have been given to understand that you are short of midshipmen. There are four likely looking young gentlemen standing by, sir. None of them have any experience but two of them are brothers to Mr Huxley and myself and the other two from good families. I can give them all excellent characters, sir, from being personally acquainted with them for some years and I believe they would learn their business passably well. I should never presume upon you in such a manner, sir, but given that the Port Captain told me we would sail upon the tide I thought you might not mind.’
‘Under the circumstances, Mr Bowen, I should say you have shown excellent judgement. I shall speak to your young gentlemen as soon as you can get them aboard. For now, I will read my commission, and then tour the ship.’ Hayden turned to his crew gathered at the rail. ‘Mr Barthe, you will see to the masts, sails and rig. Search out the bosun and put to rights anything that does not meet your approval. When you have completed that we shall both go down to the hold and find how she is stowed.’
The next few hours saw a flurry of activity aboard. Ship and crew were inspected, stores lists, muster lists, etc. were not ignored, for Hayden did not want to discover at sea that he lacked anything essential to the execution of his orders. Permission came from the Port Captain for Hayden to get under way, which he did a scant five hours after first setting foot aboard. It helped greatly that he had served aboard Raisonnable before for she was largely unaltered.
‘You will find her fast and able, Mr Barthe,’ Hayden told his sailing master as the ship gathered way and began to slip across the surface of the anchorage. They stood upon the poop, which gave Hayden a great sense of height compared to the quarterdeck of the Themis. ‘Almost a large frigate, but with a deck of twenty-four-pounders in addition to the eighteens.’
‘The Advent class was one of Mr Slade’s best,’ the sailing master agreed, patting the broad taffrail with a flat hand. ‘If this wind bends around but a little it will carry us out into the Channel, sir.’
‘For which I would be most thankful.’
The wind, which seldom heeded the wishes of sailors, did ‘bend around’ and bore them into the Channel before the day’s light had faded. Hayden ordered their course shaped for Ushant, and called all of his officers below, leaving a midshipman briefly in command.
As his belongings from the recaptured Themis had yet to be delivered to him, and there had been no time to procure any furniture of his own, Hayden collected everyone in the wardroom and bid them sit at the long table. He kept his voice low so that his words would not reach beyond the little enclosure.
‘I am not a monument to virtue,’ Hayden interrupted. ‘You cannot be blamed … given the circumstances.’
‘You are being very kind …’ she raised her head and met Hayden’s gaze, her lip trembling just perceptibly. ‘I have learned something of myself by the news of your death – something I have only just realized. I could not bear to hear it twice. I am not made of such stern stuff that I can live my life in constant fear of you dying or being maimed or injured in some unspeakable manner. Lizzie told me that every time Robert goes to sea she sends her heart to war. My heart is not so made. I am not courageous … I have come to realize. I lost you once, Charles, and it was more than I could bear. I cannot suffer it again. I am so sorry.’
And with that she turned quickly and hurried back the way she had come. Elizabeth came forward a few paces to meet her and then took her off down the path into the trees, looking back only once, her face filled with distress.
Hayden watched her silent retreat knowing that there was no reasoning with another’s heart. There was no argument to be made, no case to be presented that could make a person feel things they did not feel. Either she loved him enough to marry him or she did not – he could not change that with a fine speech. Feeling suddenly unsteady, Hayden sat down upon the grass his gaze fixed on the path where the two women had gone.
‘Come back,’ he whispered. ‘Come back.’
And so he waited a protracted hour and when no one returned he rose and walked slowly to his inn, feeling all the while that his feet did not quite weigh properly upon the ground, as though gravity had all but set him free and he might float off into the sky to be carried by the winds, here and there, through the archipelago of endlessly drifting clouds.
Nineteen
The seated officers of the court martial, all of them plucked from high on the captains’ list, regarded Hayden and his gathered crew with something less than ideal detachment. Hayden awaited their judgement with a peculiar sense of inevitable resignation. Having so recently been found wanting by the woman he hoped to marry, he did not expect the captains of the court martial to be more generous. In truth, despite being a man who believed in reason, he could not escape the feeling that unseen forces conspired to undo him. Perhaps he had been prideful or had committed some other mortal sin – a memory of Madame Adair passed through his consciousness. Certainly he had spent the lives of others in this war against the French – though never at the cost of his own safety. Higher powers might not care that he put himself in harm’s way as often as he did his own men. Higher powers had their own laws and Hayden was not certain men comprehended them clearly.
Hayden had seen men beset by ill luck before. It was not even terribly uncommon. He had observed the faces of these poor souls, bewildered, injured, not knowing what to do to stem the onrush of misfortune. Wondering what they had done to be so mistreated in this life. And now it was his turn. He had lost his ship – almost lost his life – an act of compassion had led to his near financial ruin and the eventual loss of the woman he adored. And now he stood before the panel of captains to be judged for the loss of HMS Themis. Under normal circumstances this would be hardly more than a formality – he had lost his ship to superior forces after making every conceivable effort to preserve ship and crew. It had merely been bad luck … again. Given the direction his life had been progressing, he expected the panel of captains had been chosen by whomever his enemies were within the Admiralty, turning a mere formality into the ruin of his career.
And so he waited, calmly expecting the destruction of the last of his hopes to be announced. Where he would go after his military career had been blasted he did not know. He was accomplished in this single occupation and nothing more.
The presiding rear-admiral, Sir John Harland, settled spectacles upon his nose, raised a sheaf of papers to the light that streamed in the gallery windows behind him and cleared his throat.
‘It is the opinion of this court,’ he began in a soft Irish voice, a voice that did not seem representative of higher powers, ‘that Captain Charles Saunders Hayden and his officers and crew, in the loss of their ship, the thirty-two-gun frigate HMS Themis, conducted themselves at all times with enterprise and courage. The loss of the ship to superior French forces encountered in dense fog cannot in any way be attributed to lack of competence on the part of said captain and crew. The subsequent recognition by the French government of the actions of these men aboard the wrecked French ship of war, Les Droits de l’Homme, speaks very highly of their courage and coolness in the most trying circumstances. We therefore find Captain Hayden, his officers and crew innocent of any dereliction of duty in the loss of the frigate Themis.’ He lowered the papers and smiled. ‘You are all free to go.’
Despite the fact that everyone believed it would be highly unlikely for them to be held responsible for the Themis’s loss, there was still a great and palpable dissipation of tension and anxiety at the admiral’s pronouncement. The Themis’s officers and young gentlemen all looked one to the other, their carriages relaxing in ways that were clearly noticeable, and not least among them in feeling this assuagement was their young captain.
The men all began to file out of the great cabin, a low murmuring heard among them, largely words of thanks. As Hayden reached the door, a lieutenant standing there stepped forward.
‘Captain Hayden?’ the young officer asked. ‘The admiral desires you attend him, if you please, sir.’
‘Certainly.’
Hayden followed the admiral’s messenger as he stepped into the human tide ebbing from the great cabin. Although the tide went to the upper deck and the spring sunlight, Hayden was ushered into the empty cabin of the captain and offered a chair. It was forty minutes before the admiral finished taking his leave of the captains of the panel and seeing to whatever legal duties the proceedings immediately demanded. Hayden rose promptly to his feet as Admiral Harland entered.
‘Hayden,’ the admiral began, ‘thank you for waiting.’
‘My pleasure, sir.’
Harland bore in his hand a package tied with blue ribbon and this the admiral proffered to Hayden. ‘From the First Secretary. I suggest you assure yourself the seal has not been broken, then read the orders immediately as I was instructed to deliver this as soon as practicable upon the completion of the court martial.’
Hayden did as instructed, the admiral wandering off a few paces and apparently taking in the view from the gallery. It occurred to Hayden that at least someone within the Admiralty had faith in the outcome – a striking contrast to his thoughts of only a few moments ago. The package bore the seal of the Admiralty, unbroken, as Hayden assumed it would be. Opening the package he found, to his very great surprise, a second letter within, sealed and addressed to Admiral Lord Howe.
Captain Hayden, the orders began:
You are hereby instructed to proceed aboard the sixty-four-gun ship Raisonnable lying at Spithead and take command of said vessel. As Raisonnable has been recently refloated from dry dock and her refitting only lately completed you are to take any or all officers you see fit from the crew of His Majesty’s frigate Themis to fill such positions as required aboard Raisonnable. You are to put to sea at first opportunity of wind and weather and proceed with all haste off Ushant bearing dispatches of great import for Admiral Lord Howe, who is cruising in this vicinity in command of the Channel Fleet. As it is possible Admiral Lord Howe might have departed this station, you are to gather any intelligence from passing vessels as might lead you to discover the admiral and his fleet at sea. As the delivery of the dispatches entrusted to your care is of the most urgent importance to the success of the present war you are instructed to press this matter forward with all energies until such time as you have succeeded or learned that Lord Howe has returned to England. Once you have fallen in with Lord Howe you are to consider yourself under his orders until he shall release you.
As a valuable convoy of French transports under escort has sailed from America for unknown French ports and as apprehending this convoy is one of the objects of Lord Howe’s cruise, any information you might acquire from ships at sea as to the position or expected arrival of this convoy should be transmitted to Lord Howe immediately upon joining his fleet.
The letter was signed by Philip Stephens, First Secretary of the Admiralty.
Hayden looked up to find Admiral Harland regarding him. ‘There is one other small matter, Hayden.’ The admiral went to a chair that was turned away from Hayden and took up a package, wrapped in paper and tied with string.
‘What is this, sir?’ Hayden asked as Harland pressed it into Hayden’s hands.
The admiral shrugged. ‘Here is a note pinned to it; perhaps that will explain.’
Hayden opened the note quickly.
I have been informed, Hayden, that you lost your coat in the recent wreck and were forced to wear that of a French captain. That will never do. I send you coats to replace those lost.
Philip Stephens
At the admiral’s insistence he laid the package on a table and opened it, revealing the full dress coat of a junior post captain, and beneath that an undress coat for the same rank.
‘From Mr Stephens,’ Hayden said, confused. ‘But it is a post captain’s coat …’
‘May I be the first to offer compliments, Captain Hayden. I believe it is an honour richly deserved.’
‘I-I have lost my ship,’ Hayden said, hardly able to believe what he looked at, ‘and they grant me my post?’
‘God and the Admiralty work in mysterious ways.’ The admiral appeared to hide a smile. ‘Given the formality of the recently concluded proceedings, I believe you should wear the full dress.’
Feeling terribly self-conscious, as though there had been some mistake, he pulled off his threadbare frock coat and shrugged the new one onto his shoulders.
‘It is a passable fit, I should say,’ the admiral observed. ‘Nothing even a poor tailor could not put to rights. Would you care for a glass of port, Captain?’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Port was poured, a toast drunk, Hayden not even tasting the liquid, his mind raced so. When the port had seared its way down to Hayden’s nether reaches, the admiral stood. ‘I know I should not keep you, Captain, as much as I should like to. I have put my barge at your disposal to take you wherever it is you need to go.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Good luck to you, Captain Hayden.’
Of an instant Hayden was upon the ladder, his ancient coat and undress captain’s coat poorly bundled into paper and tucked beneath an arm. He hastened up into the sunlight, where all the persons who had been in attendance at the court martial were awaiting boats to carry them ashore, the captains of the panel taking precedence over all others.
‘Mr Wickham,’ Hayden said, as the midshipman approached him, grinning broadly.
‘Sir?’
‘Gather all of our officers and warrant officers together this instant. We have been given a ship and will proceed to sea …’ Hayden looked up at the telltale on the masthead. ‘This very day, if it is possible.’
One of the many reasons Hayden believed Wickham would be a sea officer of great skill one day was that he knew instinctively when questions were required and when they were not. A quick touch of the hat, he spun on the ball of his foot and was calling out the names of the Themis men as he crossed the deck. As he was collecting Hayden’s officers the lieutenant, who had earlier led Hayden to his meeting with Harland, approached.
‘Captain Hayden? I am to carry you to your ship, sir,’ he informed Hayden. ‘My compliments on making your post, sir.’
‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’
In fewer than ten minutes Hayden, his officers, warrant officers and midshipmen were making their way across the anchorage of Spithead, all of them grinning foolishly.
‘If I am informed correctly about the readiness of our new ship for sea, every man will have four hours to have their trunks collected and returned to the ship,’ Hayden informed his crew. ‘Any servant or trunk that is not aboard at that time will be left behind. We have a fair wind to St Helens and I do not intend to waste it.’ Hayden twisted around to find a flag, assuring himself that the small wind was still fair. ‘We will muster in my cabin as soon as we are in the Channel.’
‘If you please, Captain,’ Barthe said meekly. ‘What ship have you been given?’
‘Raisonnable.’
‘The sixty-four?’
‘The very ship, Mr Barthe.’
‘Did you not serve in her before?’
‘As a lieutenant.’
Barthe shook his head, glancing at Hawthorne, as pleased as if he had been promoted himself.
‘If I may, sir,’ Hawthorne interrupted, ‘it would appear you have donned some other man’s coat by accident …’
‘It is my coat, Mr Hawthorne, recently sent to me by a friend within the Admiralty.’
Hawthorne turned to the others in the launch and said, ‘Three cheers for Post Captain Hayden.’
And the men huzzaed with a will, their cheers echoing across the anchorage, and so pleased was Hayden that his cheeks coloured like a boy’s.
Raisonnable lay to her anchor among ships refitting or having but recently made port. She appeared much as Hayden remembered her – and he let his eye run over her rigging, wondering if she really could be ready to sail that very day. No more than a handful of men were engaged aloft and that, Hayden hoped, was a good sign. Every second gunport was opened to air the ship and he could see a bosun and his crew employing a burton tackle to set up the mizzen shrouds.
In very short order they were piped aboard the sixty-four-gun ship Raisonnable. Three lieutenants met them as they came over the rail, the most senior introducing himself.
‘Geoffrey Bowen, sir. I was Captain Lord Cranstoun’s third lieutenant. May I introduce Robert Stanton Milton-Bell, sir, and James Huxley. We are all honoured to sail with you, sir.’
‘Thank you, Mr Bowen.’ Hayden quickly introduced his own officers and enquired into the readiness of the ship for sea.
‘She has been both provisioned and watered, Captain Hayden. Shot and powder were put aboard last night and completed this morning. She has had a major refit, sir, and has new masts and yards, the better part of a new upper deck, her bottom is newly coppered, and she has been painted from taffrail to beakhead.’
Indeed the ship fairly glowed from the dockyard’s recent ministrations. Hayden took the briefest moment to let his eyes run over his new command. There were six carronades on the quarterdeck, replacing the original nine-pounders, four of which remained in the after positions. All of the quarterdeck guns had been repositioned so that the guns beneath the quarter-ladders were shifted aft – something Hayden had once had the temerity to suggest to his captain, whereupon he was informed that when he actually knew something he would be allowed to make recommendations to his commanding officer. The guns beneath the quarter-ladders could not be worked without removing the ladders, which made climbing to the poop difficult – indeed older officers found it all but impossible. There were nine-pounders on the quarterdeck still.
‘I have all the paperwork ready for you, Captain,’ Bowen informed him, ‘and will put myself at your disposal at any time to tour the ship. And if you please, sir, I have been given to understand that you are short of midshipmen. There are four likely looking young gentlemen standing by, sir. None of them have any experience but two of them are brothers to Mr Huxley and myself and the other two from good families. I can give them all excellent characters, sir, from being personally acquainted with them for some years and I believe they would learn their business passably well. I should never presume upon you in such a manner, sir, but given that the Port Captain told me we would sail upon the tide I thought you might not mind.’
‘Under the circumstances, Mr Bowen, I should say you have shown excellent judgement. I shall speak to your young gentlemen as soon as you can get them aboard. For now, I will read my commission, and then tour the ship.’ Hayden turned to his crew gathered at the rail. ‘Mr Barthe, you will see to the masts, sails and rig. Search out the bosun and put to rights anything that does not meet your approval. When you have completed that we shall both go down to the hold and find how she is stowed.’
The next few hours saw a flurry of activity aboard. Ship and crew were inspected, stores lists, muster lists, etc. were not ignored, for Hayden did not want to discover at sea that he lacked anything essential to the execution of his orders. Permission came from the Port Captain for Hayden to get under way, which he did a scant five hours after first setting foot aboard. It helped greatly that he had served aboard Raisonnable before for she was largely unaltered.
‘You will find her fast and able, Mr Barthe,’ Hayden told his sailing master as the ship gathered way and began to slip across the surface of the anchorage. They stood upon the poop, which gave Hayden a great sense of height compared to the quarterdeck of the Themis. ‘Almost a large frigate, but with a deck of twenty-four-pounders in addition to the eighteens.’
‘The Advent class was one of Mr Slade’s best,’ the sailing master agreed, patting the broad taffrail with a flat hand. ‘If this wind bends around but a little it will carry us out into the Channel, sir.’
‘For which I would be most thankful.’
The wind, which seldom heeded the wishes of sailors, did ‘bend around’ and bore them into the Channel before the day’s light had faded. Hayden ordered their course shaped for Ushant, and called all of his officers below, leaving a midshipman briefly in command.
As his belongings from the recaptured Themis had yet to be delivered to him, and there had been no time to procure any furniture of his own, Hayden collected everyone in the wardroom and bid them sit at the long table. He kept his voice low so that his words would not reach beyond the little enclosure.
