The Gathering Storm (34 page)

A frown. 'D'y'mean – the Board?' Meaning, the Board of
Customs.

'Nay, nay.' Shaking his head.

Rennie, striding from the rail: 'I will vouch for Mr Mappin,
I will vouch for him.' Pointing at the brig. 'That is the ship
we must pursue, without the loss of a moment. A British
naval officer is certainly confined somewhere aboard her.
Well? Well?'

Commander Hunt glanced again at Rennie's warrant, and
then at Rennie. A breath, then a brisk nod.

'We will pursue her. D'y'wish to return to
Puffin
first?'

'No no, I will remain aboard your cutter. You are armed,
Puffin
ain't.'

'Very good.' To his second officer: 'Mr Tulkinghorn! Hands
to make sail!'

Within moments
Peregrine
heeled into the wind, leaving
Puffin
's boat bobbing on the swell, and the chase began.

Peregrine
was a fast, weatherly vessel, and soon overhauled
the French brig. A further warning shot was fired, but to
Rennie's surprise – and Commander Hunt's – the brig made
no attempt to come off the wind and heave to, indeed gave
no sign that the shot had even been heard.

'Give her another gun,' Commander Hunt ordered his
gunner. 'Aim close, so he cannot fail to see the shot strike
the sea.'

The gun was fired, and the roundshot sent up a fountain
of spray just ahead of the brig. Now something
happened that astonished both Rennie and Commander
Hunt. The brig swung to larboard off the wind, and revealed
a line of four previously concealed gunports, and four squat
guns run out.

'By God! By God, he has got carronades concealed
aboard!' Commander Hunt, outraged and dismayed.

As soon as he had said the words, orange flashes lit the
gunports, and a moment after came the concussive sound
of the guns:

THUD THUD THUD-THUD

Twelve-pound roundshot whirred past the cutter,
uncomfortably close, and spray shot up immediately aft
of her.

'What are your guns, Commander?' Rennie. 'Four-pounders,
ain't they?'

'Aye, a mere twenty-pound weight of iron broadside.
His broadside is near fifty pound.'

'Then we must run straight at him, and board him.'

'Eh?'

'Sheer bloody aggression is the only tactic that will answer
today, Commander.'

'But I cannot nearly match him, Captain Rennie. This is
plain damn' foolishness.'

'Plain damn' death, if we don't attack! You wish to die
directly, Commander?'

'Nay, I don't!' Stoutly.

'Then be guided by the will to live! The will to prevail!'

Commander Hunt stared at Rennie a long moment, then:

'Mr Tulkinghorn! We will go straight at the brig as they
reload! Prepare to board! Cutlasses and pistols for every man!
And grappling irons forrard!'

The two vessels closed, and at the last moment the brig
came about, presenting her starboard side to
Peregrine
.
Another four gunports, and what Rennie suspected were the
same four carronades, worked on pivoting transverse
carriages. Carronades, by contrast with long great guns,
were a fraction of the weight, and thus much more easily
fought – loaded, run out and fired – by much smaller
guncrews. This time the aim of those crews was better.

THUD-THUD-THUD THUD

Two of the four twelve-pound roundshot struck
Peregrine
,
and struck heavy. Her bowsprit was smashed and her
forestay snapped by the first. The second whirred lethally
the length of the deck, struck and severely wounded her
mast, broke the tiller and killed the helmsman. An eighteen-inch
splinter pierced Commander Hunt's chest, and he fell
dying. Rennie was knocked off his feet by the shock wave
of a third ball that did not hit anything, but droned
away astern. He was otherwise unhurt. He got up on his
legs, his ears ringing, and found himself effectively in
command.

Mr Tulkinghorn, Commander Hunt's second-in-command,
was dazed, and his face speckled with blood, but he was still
on his feet. Before he or Rennie could issue any commands,
the cutter's momentum brought her to a direct collision with
the brig, which she struck amidships.
Peregrine
shuddered
right through her, yawed and swung, and her whole length
collided with the brig's starboard side in a grinding, rending
crash. Rennie found his voice.

'Grappling irons fore and aft!' Bellowed. 'We will board
her, lads! Mr Tulkinghorn forrard, and I will lead aft! This
is a fight to the death, lads! Show no mercy to these damned
blackguards, that have fired on an English ship in English
waters! Cut them down! Cut them down!'

And with a roaring yell he leapt up on
Peregrine
's rail,
and clambered into the brig, followed by bellowing men
made dangerous by the rage that follows terror.
Peregrine
's
crew outnumbered the brig's crew two to one, and they
were better armed and better trained. Although fighting
was briefly fierce, resistance soon ceased, and the
Frenchmen laid down their small-arms to preserve their
lives.

He had been wrong about the carronades, Rennie noted.
There were in fact eight all told, four a side, cleverly
concealed beneath false decking and hatchways amidships.
As he made this inspection he found to his surprise that
Mr Mappin was by his side, a sea pistol in his hand.

'Good God, Mappin, I did not know you had come with
us in the assault.'

'In course I came. I should have felt a damn' fool else,
or a poltroon.'

'But I did not expect you to take part, when you
was ill.'

'Pish pish. As soon as the action began all sickness
vanished. Pure self-preservation set in, and what better
way to preserve one's life than by fighting for it, hey?'

'That is well said, Mr Mappin. I am in your debt, sir.'

When Rennie had formally accepted the French master's
sword in surrender, he took a small party of Excise men
below, leaving Mr Tulkinghorn in charge on deck. Mr
Mappin came below with him.

'You think they are still alive, Captain Rennie?' Quietly,
as they went down the ladder.

'I most fervently hope so. It will be a bitter end to this
day if they are not.'

'Indeed.'

Rennie and Mappin both called James's name repeatedly
as the search was conducted, and at last, as they came to
the breadroom aft, Rennie heard what he thought was a
muffled thud from within. The breadroom door was
wrenched open, and Rennie had one of the Excise men tap
the rear bulkhead with his musket butt. Hollow.

'Prise it off with your bayonet.'

The bulkhead was prised open, splintering as it came,
and as soon as it was removed Mr Félix leapt out of the
cramped space and fired a pistol point-blank, shooting dead
the man with the bayonet. Rennie raised his own pistol at
once, then lowered it.

Félix advanced, holding a young woman in a torn shift
in front of him, an arm round her throat. She stared in
terror at Rennie and the party of Excise men. M. Félix
had brought a second pistol from his coat, and now held
it at the young woman's head.

'You will allow me to go free, or I will kill her.'

Behind M. Félix Rennie could see James Hayter, bound
and gagged in a crouched position. Only his eyes, frantic
and desperate, gave him animation.

Rennie stood back a little, the rest of the small party
behind him with Mr Mappin.

'I will not impede you,' he said to M. Félix. 'If you wish
to go on deck, you may do so.'

'You will go on ahead of us, monsieur, and warn them
on deck to let me go free.'

'May I not release Lieutenant Hayter?'

'You may not. You will do exactly as I tell you. Walk to
the ladder, and go up. Tell them on deck to stand well
clear, and let me go free. And remember – I have only to
pull the trigger, and Madame Maigre will die.' Jerking his
arm tighter round her neck so that she flinched and shut
her eyes.

'Very well.' Rennie pushed his way to the ladder past
the Excise men, nodded to Mr Mappin, and went on deck.
Presently he called down:

'Come up! It is quite safe!'

Waiting on deck, with the rest of the Excise crew
standing well back, Rennie saw first Mr Mappin emerge,
then the small party of men, now deprived of their weapons.
A cautious M. Félix followed, holding the young woman
as tightly as before, the pistol at her head. He began issuing
instructions at once.

'Stand very still! Nobody will move until I say so! A
single movement from anyone will cause her instant death!'

Utter silence on deck, broken only by the uneasy creaking
of the two ships together as they rode a passing wave.

'That is good, very good. Now, you English will hoist
out the boat, and go into it.' Pointing at the boat in the
waist.

Silence. Uneasy glances between members of the Excise
crew.

'Do as I say! Or I will scatter her brains!' The pistol.

Mr Tulkinghorn, in a low, anxious tone, to Rennie:

'What shall we do?'

'Stand fast, Mr Tulkinghorn.' Rennie, equally low.
Raising his voice: 'Now then, monsieur, why not be a
reasonable man?'

'Do not provoke me!' The pistol.

'We are many, you know, and you are but one man alone.'

'Release my people! Release them at once!'

'Stand fast, Mr Tulkinghorn.' Rennie, again very low.
Louder: 'No, monsieur, I don't think you understand me.'
And he walked deliberately aft toward M. Félix.

'Stop! Stop, or I will shoot her!' Pushing the muzzle of
the pistol against his prisoner's temple.

'Nay, you will not, I think. If you did, you would in
course be cut to pieces at once. We do not want more
bloodshed, neither of us.'

'Stop!'

And Rennie did stop. He opened his mouth to speak.

But before he could say anything else, one of the Excise
men snatched up his musket, and fired at M. Félix. The
ball struck him in the left eye. He gave a cry and fell, dragging
his prisoner with him, and as he fell his pistol
discharged. A thin
crack
. A puff of smoke. Blood poured
in a red stream over the deck. It did not come from M. Félix,
whose wound bled little. It came from his hapless prisoner,
shot in the temple. Her lifeless body fell from his grasp
and lolled on the planking, her red-soaked hair clinging
to her head and neck.

Rennie ran to her, saw that he could not aid her, and
kicked the pistol from M. Félix's hand. In a fury he turned
on the Excise man who had fired.

'Who ordered you to shoot! You have killed her, damn
you blood!'

He ran at the man, snatched the musket from him, and
flung it in a violent tumbling arc away over the side.

'I'll see that you are court-martialled and hanged, you
bloody wretch!'

Mr Mappin now moved to Rennie's side, took his arm,
and:

'Nay, nay, what's done is done. The man acted impetuous
– but we have achieved our aim.'

'Achieved our aim! Achieved it! The poor woman is
dead, for Christ's sake!'

Earnestly, drawing him aside: 'And that is a very great
pity. But Lieutenant Hayter is alive, our enemy is dead,
and our work is done.'

Rennie looked at him, took in the sense of what was
being said – and anger died in his breast. He sighed, and
sniffed in a breath. As always after a fierce and bloody
action, weariness and melancholy began to descend on him.
Another glance at Mappin, and he nodded once, stepped
away, and began to issue orders. The bodies were removed
from the deck, and presently Rennie went below. He
released Lieutenant Hayter from his bindings, and helped
him up the ladder. As they came on deck, James:

'Where is Juliette?'

'My dear friend – she is gone.'

'Gone? You mean, he has escaped with her?'

'Nay.' A breath. 'She is dead.'

'Dead ... ?'

'A shot was fired, and she was killed. I am very sorry.'

James stared at him a long moment, and said nothing.
Then he turned and walked aft to the tafferel, and stood
looking away at the riding sea. He heard the wash of the
sea under the counter, and the rinsing slap of waves against
the rudder, simple sounds he had heard a thousand times,
sounds that in usual he would scarcely notice at all. Yet
now they seemed to take on a significance so desolate and
implacable and bleak it was as if they spoke directly to
him, and he could not ignore their meaning.

Rennie looked at James standing there alone, and made
to follow him and comfort him, and then did not. To
himself:

'He is better left alone, just at present.'

One glass after, Captain Rennie set the brig free of the
half-crippled
Peregrine
, having obliged the brig's crew to
tip the carronades over the side. He then jury-rigged and
sailed the limping cutter north to rendezvous with the
Puffin
, went back aboard her, and took
Peregrine
in tow.

*

At Dover, when they came ashore, Brough Mappin
returned at once to London to make his report, and
Rennie took rooms at a small waterfront hotel in order
that Lieutenant Hayter might rest and recover from his
ordeal. But James was both too agitated and too cast down
to rest.

'I had not thought to ask you this before, but how did
you discover us, sir? You had intelligence about the brig?'
Turning from the window.

'Nay, I did not. I came direct to the coast – very much
against Mappin's advice. And yet he came with me all the
way, he does not lack courage, the fellow.'

'So – so it was luck, then?'

'Well, as you know, I don't believe in luck, James.
Guesswork, perhaps. I will allow it was guesswork, inspired
by my profound desire to see you safe and sound again in
England.'

'Yes – well. I thank you for that, sir. But I ... I think
you have wasted your time on me.'

'Eh?'

'I don't mean ... I don't mean that I ain't in your debt.
I do thank you for what you did, with all my heart.'

'We are shipmates, James.' Simply. 'I could never have
looked at myself in my glass again, had I not strained every
sinew to save you. I don't think I would call that a waste
of time.'

James shook his hand warmly, nodded, tried to say something
more, and was prevented by a rise of tears. Presently
he regained his composure enough to say:

'I am a selfish blackguard to've said what I did. Forgive
me.' And then he fell silent, and was lost in his thoughts,
working his hands together as he sat on the corner of the
bed in the little room.

'Will ye not lie down, my dear friend, and rest?' Rennie,
presently. He did not like to leave him alone, now. He did
not feel easy about it.

'I do not think I shall ever rest again.'

'You are overwrought, in course. It is natural, after what
has happened. But in time—'