The Patriot's Fate (23 page)

Mr Dudley, the purser, and marine lieutenant Adshead had given up their cabins in the gunroom to the Monroe family. Dudley had lost more than his accommodation; the fat and spoilt gunroom tabby had transferred her allegiances to Sarah, the magistrate’s daughter. She provided a far more accommodating lap than the bony old purser, and the two had been almost inseparable from the start.
 

On the first evening following the storm both of the older Monroes had been invited to dine with the captain in his quarters on the deck above, and Sarah was sitting quite contentedly stroking the cat at the gunroom table when King came in from the second dog watch.

“Have you eaten?” King asked, as he handed his watchcoat to a steward and took a seat opposite her.

“Yes, and very well, thank you,” the girl smiled.

King stared for a moment at the plate of stewed beef that had been placed before him before helping himself to a biscuit from the pewter bowl. “I expect there would have been better fare with the captain,” he said, still looking at his food.

“I have spent four days and nights in a small boat with my parents,” the girl said deliberately. “Doubtless they will find much to discuss with Sir Richard, though I am just a little tired of their company at present, and really found that beef to be quite pleasant.”

“Do you live at home?” King was absent-mindedly tapping his biscuit as he stirred the stew with his spoon. She shook her head.
 

“No, with my brother and his wife in Sussex. I had come back for a visit just before the troubles erupted in May, and it was considered prudent for me to stay, rather than risk travelling home alone.”

King glanced at her surreptitiously between mouthfuls. She was young, certainly no more than twenty-five, with a pleasant, clear complexion, attractive eyes and a compelling, lively personality. It seemed strange that one so blessed should be lodging with a sibling – usually the role of a widow or an old maid. “Is Ireland not to your taste?” he asked.

“Oh no, Ireland is very much to my taste.” She leant back in her chair and began to stroke the cat’s head. “It is indeed the most beautiful of countries. But I am afraid I cannot condone the way it is ruled and, in particular, my father’s method in that respect.”

“I see,” King had heard a little of the overbearing manner in which land owners and law enforcers were rumoured to assert their powers. “That must make things rather difficult.”
 

“It has been the hardest six months I can remember,” she said. “Each one of us has been frightened for our lives on a number of occasions, though I must confess the uprising was suppressed for a long time, and had to be expected. The final adventure was that dreadful boat trip; we were so grateful that you pulled us from the sea as you did. And that is all of us, Mr King; my parents included, though I predict that you may not hear as much from their own mouths.”

“They do come across a mite resentful,” he gave a wry grin. “But then I suppose it must be difficult, leaving most of your possessions behind,”
 

“Yes, and then the small amount that we had taken was lost as well.”

“Indeed.”

“It was father’s own fault,” her voice was surprisingly cold. “Dungloe, where we live, could have been an absolute heaven. But for forty years he has bullied and intimidated his way about the place, making it hell for all, and himself the most unpopular person in the county. I was somewhat aware when growing up; the only friends I could make were the sons or daughters of other landowners, and the townspeople’s resentment was unmistakeable. My brother left first and it was only when I became twenty-one, and stayed with him in England, that I was able to take a more dispassionate view. As soon as I did I had no wish to ever go back, and had been putting off visiting my parents for years.”

“England is hardly a fair country,” King said. “There is injustice and iniquity a plenty.”

“But more in Ireland.” Her eyes were a deep brown, and it was a little sad to see them quite so serious. “Much more, in fact; I could not stand to live there a moment longer, and will not return while the system remains.”

“Well, I’d chance that the events of this year will see it altered.”

“Absolutely: there will be revolution, that is certain. And it will happen with or without the help of the French.”
 

“Revolution?” King’s eyebrows rose in alarm.

“Oh, only in the strictest sense.” She smiled suddenly. “Change is a better word, I suppose. But you are right, the old order must go. There is talk in London of Ireland being adopted into the Union, a true United Kingdom: all the British Isles under one common rule. I think it would be for the best, though there are those who do not, and are willing to fight to prevent it.” She sighed. “And more yet willing to fight for other reasons. It seems that whatever the aim, it cannot be achieved without killing. Yet, as I have said, Ireland is such a beautiful place.”

King was sorry to hear one as young and naturally vivacious speak in such a way. The woman was clearly no fool, and totally sincere in what she said, although he found it hard to accept that his countrymen could have behaved so very badly in a country so close to their own shores.

“And you will return to Sussex, when this is over?”

“I fully intend to, though I gather that the time might be a while in coming. We are heading back for Arranmore are we not?”

“We are.”

“What do you think we shall find there?”

King shook his head. “That is difficult to say. The ship you saw may well be the first of many; an invasion force perhaps. If others, possibly the fleet that we have been sent to find, have been successful in joining them, they will probably be established by now. Lord Cornwallis is many miles to the south, but eventually he will hear of it, and must bring the invaders to battle. In which case…” he hesitated.

“In which case it would not be a healthy spot to land a family of civilians. Especially those who are already deeply unpopular with the local population.”

“That is so.”

She gave a dry smile. “I cannot help but think it unhealthy for us, even if the French have not been reinforced. With the rising in May, many of the townsfolk started to regard father with open hostility. It was as if they suddenly realised the power they held. Two of his barns have been burnt down this summer, one just the week before last, when it was full. There have been many other instances of sabotage and hardly a tree is left that has not been robbed of its branches for pike shafts. As soon as news of the French landing came, he ran; that will not have gone unnoticed: father will be marked, but then I would have given very little for his chances of seeing Christmas should he have chosen to stay.”

“Is he aware?” King wondered just how far a man might fool himself.

“Oh yes, he knows and is frightened, though you might not guess so from his manner. We were heading for my aunt in Galway; she is married to a farmer there, but father did not intend to remain for long. He wants to quit the country entirely, and frankly I think it would be best for him if he did.”

“Probably best for Ireland as well.”

They both laughed, and King finished up the last of his stew. “Will you take coffee?” he asked. “The gunroom has a store and it is hardly used.”

“Thank you no, I will retire shortly, but may take a turn on deck first, if I can persuade this foolish cat to move.” The animal made a complaining noise as Sarah raised her briefly in the air, before settling once more against the girl’s breast. “I am sorry if I have depressed you with my talk,” she said rising from her chair. “I know I am one to get carried away: my brother is always telling me of it. Not a suitable manner for a lady, he says.”

“Not suitable?”

She stopped on the way to the gunroom door. “Yes, you should hear him on the subject,” she said. “Women are purely for decorative purposes apparently, and not expected to carry thoughts, let alone give any clue as to what they may be.”

King considered this as she left the room. There were two women in his life; his fiancée, Juliana and Manning’s wife, Kate. Both were very ready to hold opinions, and extremely keen and able to voice them. He supposed he must just be especially fortunate.

* * *

Chilton and Fraiser had been given the red cutter and a crew of eight. There were no marines; a detachment could have been taken but both felt the extra men would only have got in the way. Besides, if they were to run into the French it would need more than half a dozen bootnecks to fight their way free.
 

Scylla
had reached the coast off Arranmore Island at twilight – the ideal time – and was lying hove to several miles off shore. On arrival she would have been hardly visible to even the sharpest lookout and should now be totally concealed. The moon was due to rise in three hours; they had that time to send the small boat in and inspect the area. A fleet at anchor would be obvious, and if the French had been and gone after recently landing an army, that should also be relatively easy to spot. In both cases Chilton would simply turn about and head back for
Scylla
, if necessary waiting for the moon to make her easier to find. Then Banks would be left with the decision of whether to stay and keep watch over the enemy, or make haste, either to find Warren’s squadron, or head south and raise the alarm. The other worrying option was if the army had already departed; they could be many miles away by now, possibly even bearing down on an unsuspecting Cornwallis. The only means to establish that would be to land, although such an operation could not be staged tonight. He had already decided that a proper landing party must be readied, to be well supported by the ship, and with their full contingent of marines.
 

But before any of that could happen Fraiser had to concentrate on getting the small boat around the numerous islands and inlets, while Chilton made notes of the military and naval forces
Scylla
would have to overcome. It would not be an easy task, and the chances of being captured by the French were extremely high, but then all in the small boat had volunteered for the duty. An undertaking such as this was what attracted the officers to volunteer for the Navy in the first place, whereas most of the men would have originally been pressed into service. But then all were already an integral part of
Scylla
and her crew, and positively relished the excitement of a clandestine mission. Besides, on that particular evening there were none of them with anything better to do.
 

* * *

Banks was waiting for them on the quarterdeck. The sea was quite still and only a gentle breeze hummed through her lines as
Scylla
drifted aimlessly in the quiet night. At every bell or so the officer of the watch would bring her back to the wind and regain the position she had been holding when the boat departed, although it was more a gesture of goodwill than anything else. The sky was still clear and as soon as the moon rose it should be a simple task for both vessels to spot the other and rendezvous.
 

Quite what he would do with the news they brought was a problem Banks had yet to solve. To send word of a landing might be regarded as completely futile, and would mean taking the only available warship away from the enemy. They may even sail while he was gone, and go wherever they wished untracked. But to stay and attempt to blockade what probably constituted a vastly superior force was also a dangerous course. For all his pride and love for her,
Scylla
remained a thirty-eight gun frigate. She might account for one, maybe two ships of a similar size, but could do nothing to stop a determined enemy of ten or more. The captain was also bitterly aware that whatever decision he came to would later be judged with all the luxury of hindsight. Few would allow for the dilemma he now faced, or give credit for taking the initiative that had already put him off Arranmore Island in the first place.

The bell rang again and King, who had the watch, ordered the helm over. The ship’s sails filled and
Scylla
was just starting to pick up speed when a figure appeared at the top of the quarterdeck steps. It was the young Monroe girl. She was wearing a dress, presumably borrowed from one of the other women, and carrying the gunroom’s cat. Banks stiffened. He ought to have remembered; she had appeared on deck at roughly this time yesterday evening: clearly either the girl, or the cat, or both were creatures of habit. He had managed to avoid them both then, and supposed he would have to do so now, although it was damned inconvenient, as he really wished to be present when Chilton and Fraiser returned.

Damned inconvenient: what was he thinking of? Was he the captain of the ship, or some little strumpet he had fished from the sea? He might find the opposite sex difficult to deal with, but that need not mean it was he who should necessarily leave. Why, he might have her struck below, if the thought appealed. Confine her to the gunroom, or even have her placed in irons. He found he was smiling quietly to himself, knowing that he could no more have given such an order than personally carry it out, and when the girl broke off from a brief conversation with King and approached, the expression unaccountably remained.