Adams,’ he said, ‘should you like a cup of coffee before we begin Lord Barmouth’s letter and the report?’
‘Oh yes, sir, if you please. The berth drinks tea, which is no sort of a compensation for such a night.’
The letter was simplicity itself: Captain Aubrey presented his compliments and begged to enclose his report of the previous night’s events and the damages caused thereby; and it ended with a request that Captain Aubrey might have the honour of waiting on his Lordship as soon as might be convenient. ‘And please have that taken up directly by our most respectable-looking midshipman.’
Adams pondered, shook his head, and then observed, ‘Well, I have heard Mr. Wells described as a pretty boy.’
‘Poor little chap. Well, when you have written the report fair, let Mr. Harding know, with my compliments, that I should like Mr. Wells to be washed twice: he is to put on his number one uniform, a round hat and dirk. And perhaps Mr. Harding would send . . . would send some reliable man to see him there and back.’ Bonden’s name had been in his throat and the checking of it caused an oddly searing pain: so many shipmates gone, but never a one to touch him for true worth.
Harding’s choice, a grave quartermaster, brought Mr. Wells back, and Mr. Wells brought Captain Aubrey word that the Commander-in-Chief would receive him at half-past five o’clock.
Jack was there with naval punctuality, and with naval punctuality Lord Barmouth turned his secretary out of the room: yet no sooner had Jack walked in than one of the two doors behind the Admiral’s desk opened and his wife appeared. ‘Why, Cousin Jack, my dear,’
she cried, ‘how delightful to see you again so soon! Though I fear you had a very horrid time of it, with that blackguardly great merchantman – Barmouth,’ she said in an aside, laying her hand on her husband’s arm, ‘the Keiths will be charmed, and Queenie asks may she bring Mr. Wright? Cousin Jack, you will come, will you not? I know how sailors detest a late dinner, but I promise you shall be fed at a reasonably Christian hour. And you must tell us every last detail – Queenie was terribly concerned to hear how poor Surprise had suffered.’ Isobel Barmouth was and always had been a spirited creature, not to be put down easily nor yet made to leave the room. But she was by no means a fool and it was clear to her that obstinacy at this point might do Jack more harm than anything Barmouth could inflict on her. The Admiral was a brave and capable sailor; he had had a remarkable career; and as her guardians had pointed out he was an excellent match. But for all his courage and his admitted virtues, she knew that he was capable of a shabby thing.
When the door had closed behind her, Barmouth sat down to Jack’s report: he said, ‘I have given orders to all the few cruisers I have at sea to watch out very carefully for any vessel remotely resembling the ship that crossed your bows: judging by the shocking amount of damage you received’ -tapping the long, detailed list in Jack’s report – ‘she should be pretty recognizable. Even a liner must have suffered terribly from such an impact, and from what I gather she was not much more than a fair-sized Baltic merchantman. However, that is another matter: what I am really concerned about is the present condition of Surprise: I wonder you can keep her afloat.’
‘We are very fast to the mole, my Lord; and we keep the pumps going watch and watch.’
‘Yes, yes: I dare say: but what worries me is this. Having fulfilled – and very handsomely fulfilled – Lord Keith’s orders, you now revert to your former status: a hydrogra-phical vessel – I think a hired hydrographical vessel intended by the appropriate department for the survey of Magellan’s Strait and the southern coasts of Chile. You are completely detached from my command in the Mediterranean; and although I should like to – what shall I say? – to virtually rebuild your ship, if only in recognition of your most spirited
capture of that damned galley, I cannot wrong my men-of-war who are waiting for urgent repairs, by giving a hydrogra-pher precedence. A man-of-war must come first.’
‘Very well, my Lord,’ said Jack. ‘But may I at least beg for a somewhat less exposed berth?’
‘It may be possible,’ said the Admiral. ‘I shall have a word with Hancock about it. But now,’
he went on, rising, ‘I must say good-bye until dinner-time.’
Jack arrived, neat and trim: in good time, of course, but time not quite so good as the Keiths. He was very kindly greeted by Queenie and Isobel Barmouth, yet with the brutality of childhood acquaintance he broke away from them and strode over to Lord Keith, whom he thanked very heartily indeed for his intervention with the prize-court functionaries. ‘Nay, nay, never speak of it, my dear Aubrey: no, no – these gentlemen are very well known to me – I am acquaint with their little ways – and they are aware that they must not practise upon me or my friends. But Aubrey, I must beg your pardon for keeping Ringle away from you: she would have been wonderfully useful in pursuing that vile great Hamburger or whatever she was that so cruelly stove in your beak and bows. I was looking at Surprise this morning, and I wondered that you ever managed to bring her in.’
‘We were blessed with a following wind and sea, my Lord; and with a mere handkerchief spread on the fore topsail yard we just had steerage-way: but it was nip and tuck.”
‘I am sure it was,’ said Keith, shaking his head. ‘I am sure it was.’ He considered for a while, sipping his glass of Plymouth gin, and then said, ‘But I must tell you what an excellent young man you have in William Reade. He handled his schooner admirably, and he did everything I asked. But I am afraid you must have missed him sadly when you had to make the mole, and when you hoped to identify the villain.’
‘We did, sir: but what really grieves me is that I find that as the commander of a privately-owned tender, and being absent, he scarcely shares in the prize at all; and with the Navy being laid up again now that Boney is taken, or put into ordinary or just left to rot, he is very unlikely to get another ship in the near future, if indeed at all, and an ordinary lieutenant’s share would have been uncommon useful. Peace is no doubt a very good thing, but. . .’
At this point Lady Barmouth greeted two late arrivals, Colonel and Mrs. Roche; and introductions were barely over before she was told that dinner was served.
This was not a formal party, arranged some time earlier, and there were not enough women to go round. Jack found himself sitting on Isobel’s left, opposite Lord Keith, while his other neighbour was Colonel Roche, obviously a newcomer. ‘I believe, sir,’ said Jack to him, after a few inconsequential exchanges, ‘that you were at Waterloo?’
‘I was indeed, sir,’ replied the soldier, ‘and a very moving experience I found it.’
‘Was you able to see much? In the few fleet actions I have known, apart from the Nile, I could make out precious little, because of the smoke; and afterwards most people gave quite different accounts.’
‘I had the honour of being one of the Duke’s aides-decamp, and he nearly always took up a position from which he – and of course we underlings – could see a great stretch of country. As you know, I am sure, the whole engagement took several days, which I think is not usual with fights at sea, but the one I remember best was the eighteenth – the eighteenth of June, the culmination.’
‘I should take it very kindly if you would give me a blow-by-blow account.’
Roche looked at him attentively, saw that he was in earnest, very much in earnest, and went on, ‘Well, during the night there had been very, very heavy rain – communications had always been extremely difficult on both sides, with messengers being shot or captured or merely losing their way – but we did know that the Prussians had been very severely handled at Ligny, losing about twelve thousand men and most of their guns, that Blucher himself had had his horse shot under him and had been ridden over in the cavalry-charge. Many of us thought that the Prussians could not soon recover from such a blow; and that even if they did, Gneisenau, who would replace the injured Blucher and who was no friend of ours, could not be expected to bring them to battle. During the night a message came saying that Blucher was coming with two or possibly four corps: it pleased some people, but most of us did not believe it. I think the Duke did: anyhow, he decided to accept battle, occupying Mont Saint-Jean, Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte with about sixty-eight thousand men and a hundred and fifty-six guns as against Napoleon’s seventy-four thousand and two hundred and forty-six guns. The French cavalry regiments were much hampered by the rain-soaked ground, the artillery even more so, and it was not until after eleven in the morning that the enemy, drawn up in three lines on the opposite slope, about three-quarters of a mile away, sent a division to attack Hougoumont. They were beaten back: but now the real battle began, with eighty French guns drawing up to batter La Haye Sainte, the centre, to weaken the forces stationed there before the more serious attack, and …”