A Divided Command (10 page)

His brother-in-law had married a much younger bride and one whose attention had wandered with handsome Cornelius Gherson sharing the household. Barclay likewise had wed a woman half his age and it seemed as if it had resulted in the same sort of consequence.

‘I am happy to say, Captain Barclay,’ Druce replied, reaching into a desk drawer, ‘that information has come in this very day.’

That was a smooth lie; Druce had been in possession of Hodgeson’s report for weeks, now in two parts: one complete, the other a filleted one that would, it was hoped, avoid future difficulties landing on the prize agent’s desk, for Emily Barclay had not been at all hard to find. Leafing through it now he read the thief taker’s words: she had been staying in London at Nerot’s Hotel and, thanks to a servant easy to suborn with drink, so had a young naval officer who went by the name of John Pearce.

According to the man who had observed their behaviour, she had been sweet on this Pearce, indeed they departed on the same day, if in separate conveyances. Too long in the tooth to fall for that ploy – Pearce was a fine-looking cove by all accounts – Hodgeson had merely enquired of a source at the Admiralty,
one of the doormen, fellows who would sell their mother for a silver coin. Did a John Pearce, lieutenant by rank, have a ship?

Indeed he had and it was berthed at Buckler’s Hard, down at the bottom of the New Forest, whither Hodgeson had gone, only to find
HMS Larcher
had set sail some days previously and, lo and behold, as the good folks of the shipyards watched it weigh, they could not fail to notice the presence of a very comely young lady on the deck who very much fitted the description Hodgeson had. No genius was required to put two and two together, so it was back to his Admiralty doorman for information as to where
Larcher
was headed.

‘Well, Mr Druce?’

‘Just refreshing my memory, Captain Barclay.’

Druce was lying again; in reality he was still wondering how much it would be wise to say, which report to read out? Was it prudent to tell this man that he was being cuckolded and that his wife was on the way to the Mediterranean with the guilty party, or should he just say where Emily Barclay had been sighted? As a naval officer Barclay would surely have no trouble in finding out about the ship on which she had sailed, but that would not tell him about the fellow Hodgeson assumed had snatched her away.

‘Have you had any communication with Mrs Barclay?’ he asked, prevaricating.

‘I had a letter on my return and one that changes nothing, despite her protestations that our union is ended. Once I have found her—’

‘Your wife may no longer, we think, be in the country.’

‘Damn it, man, where could she have gone?’

‘It occurred to my man that you would be better placed to find that out than he, given after she left Nerot’s Hotel she
travelled a goodly distance, then set sail on a naval vessel.’

That nearly had Barclay’s eyes popping out of his head, the conclusion being obvious: if she was on a King’s ship a fellow officer must have facilitated that flight.

‘She sailed from a place called Buckler’s Hard, which is—’

‘I know where it is!’

‘Quite,’ Druce replied, taking refuge by dropping his eyes to the reports. ‘Aboard an armed cutter called
HMS Larcher
.’

Barclay shook his head, a clear indication that whoever commanded her was not someone he could recall, indeed he had probably never even heard of the vessel. Caution being one of the Druce watchwords, that was when he decided to suppress the name of Pearce.

‘My man questioned the locals as to where she was bound.’ Druce surreptitiously slipped out the full report and let it drop to the floor where it was hidden by the bulk of his desk; the one he had prepared and did not mention a naval lieutenant was handed over. ‘It was felt that you would be in a better position to find that out than anyone I employed.’

Barclay’s good hand came out and he took the single sheet of paper, which he stared at for some time before speaking.

‘Armed cutters tend to be inshore vessels, Mr Druce, tasked to catch contrabandiers and protect small merchant vessels on the coastal trade from privateers, and they rarely go in deep water. This leads me to suspect that if she has been transported in one, and God would only know the whys and wherefores, then she has been taken to some port or fishing village along the south coast and dropped off, not out of the country as you suggest. That may mean, when I find which waters the
Larcher
is set to cover, sending out your man again.’

‘He is, of course, entirely at your disposal, Captain Barclay, should you need him.’

‘As for the fellow who has aided her to escape me, I will see him drummed out of the service, for I cannot believe he did it without knowing who he was dealing with.’ That brought forth a deep sigh. ‘As you will no doubt have gleaned from our previous discussion, no naval officer, however hard he tries, can go through his years of service without some people taking against him.’

A discreet knock allowed Druce to look away from a man he expected made enemies easily, that followed by the door being opened, to reveal one of the agency’s liveried servants. He announced that Captain Barclay’s man had completed his examination and was waiting outside.

Druce picked up the nearly empty claret bottle. ‘Do you wish to cast an eye over them here, Captain?’

‘No, I will examine them later. Right now I must get to the Admiralty and find out the name of the scoundrel who commands this
HMS Larcher
.’

‘And then?’

‘I must get back to my ship, since my leave of absence is not unlimited. I will write to you with what I find out and you can set your hound on her trail again.’

Druce was thinking that having settled one problem, Barclay’s departure would now deal with another: he was anxious to get Gherson out of his offices and away; as long as he was in the building, who knew what could happen and his brother-in-law did sometimes just drop in. One thing Edward Druce did know, he was damned if he would knowingly be a party to murder.

Pearce was obliged to go aboard
HMS Leander
in search of Henry Digby and was thus presented, close up, with the kind of activities that took place on a man-o’-war when the captain was lax about allowing women aboard. It was not just noisy whores and paid-for fornication: there were lute players, magic tricksters and jugglers skilful enough to ply their skill under low deck beams, as well as barking traders who were so established that several mess tables were set up as stalls selling everything from trinkets to monkeys, the whole ensemble setting up a cacophony of noise exaggerated by the confines of the available space.

The marines on duty, he found, seemed tasked only to make secure the parts of the ship where no stranger was allowed to go – the various cabins, naturally, the powder, bread and private storerooms. But that still left plenty of places where they could extract some coin from a man that sought privacy for his carnal activities; the marines off duty were, Pearce assumed, as likely to be found indulging themselves
in pleasure as the ship’s crew. Judging by the raucous singing, there was drink available, too, and in quantity, which no doubt led to endless problems with discipline.

Having found his man he was immediately aware of the reserve with which he was greeted and that was off-putting. Here was a fellow with whom he had sailed into dangerous waters, indeed with whom he had faced a risk to his very life; Digby had also taken the time and trouble, and with patience, to fill many a gap in his subordinate’s nautical knowledge, a kindness over and above his responsibilities.

Pearce thought Henry Digby a thoroughly decent fellow, if blinkered in an Anglo-Saxon sort of way; strong in his Anglican faith, an upholder of the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Act of Settlement and proudly conscientious in his morals; no doubt the latter, the case of he and Emily Barclay, was the cause of his cold manner. So instead of engaging him in the subject on which he had come, Pearce entered into an opinion of the entertainments through which he had just progressed.

‘Seems like the Feast of Saturnalia on the main deck.’

‘The premier is a man fond of the cat,’ Digby lamented, his detachment lessened by a subject that probably affected the very same tenets by which he was no doubt judging his visitor. ‘He is of the opinion that the crew must be allowed their pleasure, then if they step over the mark, which as you know any tar is bound to do in drink, he has them up at the grating and I cannot but believe it is for his pleasure.’

Digby dropped his head slightly so that Pearce could not see his eyes, which gave the impression that he was ashamed of what he was saying.

‘We are also burdened with a commander who does not
interfere, a fellow of stunning indolence, more interested in butterflies than his duties. He’s ashore right now with his nets and his servant, running around the Tuscan hills seeking to augment his collection. This ship, in his absence, is run entirely by Lieutenant Taberly.’

‘I know what he is like,’ Pearce replied, which got him a look of enquiry. ‘Don’t you recall, my Pelicans served aboard
Leander
before we sailed for Biscay? They told me about Taberly.’

‘Well, today he too is ashore, so I can invite you into the wardroom without the risk of upsetting him. It’s one of our premier’s strictures, no one to be a guest in his domain lacking his personal permission.’

‘Actually, I wish to speak to you on a private matter, so if the wardroom is occupied …’

Digby frowned, giving his visitor the clear impression that he knew what was about to be discussed, but he did not demur. ‘If you want, we can talk in my cabin, though one of us will have to sit on the twenty-four pounder that has a greater claim to the space than I.’

To get to Digby’s cabin meant traversing the wardroom and that required introductions, every face examined by Pearce as his name was mentioned to see if it registered. One or two of the occupants did pull on their mouths – having been at home when Pearce got his elevation they would have been part of the general buzz of disapproval at his promotion – but no one said anything and courtesies complete they went into the cramped space of Digby’s home, a somewhat noxious one behind a canvas screen, given it was too close to the quarter gallery that acted as the wardroom latrine.

‘I think I best say at the outset, John, that if you have come to seek my approval I cannot grant it.’

‘Approval for what?’

That caused Digby to hesitate for a split second, his discomfort obvious. ‘I met Mrs Barclay on the quayside yesterday.’

‘I am aware of that.’

‘And much as I have regard for her as a person—’

Pearce interrupted. ‘Does that regard include me?’

‘I have no idea of how you came to be conjoined, John, so I cannot speculate on who is to blame.’

‘Blame?’

‘You can hardly see the situation as regular.’

‘How I see the situation, Henry, is my affair and that of the lady with whom I am, as you put it, conjoined. While your disapproval of it does not surprise me, it would be best that you know such an attitude will have no bearings on what I will do in the future. So it is thus best a subject that we do not discuss.’

‘If we are not to discuss that I am at a loss to know why you have come a’visiting?’

Pearce produced a wry smile. ‘I am not allowed to call upon an old friend?’

Was it the word ‘friend’ that made Digby’s expression change? Pearce had no idea and was sorry to think it might be, for they had become, if not as close as he and his Pelicans, familiar enough for such an appellation to seem appropriate. As if to underline that such intimacy was in doubt, Digby’s hesitant reply lacked any reassurance.

‘Of course.’

‘As it so happens I have come to see you on another
matter entirely. I have been challenged to a duel and I lack anyone to second for me.’ Digby’s head moved and his lips too, but no words emerged. ‘I have come to ask you to be that person.’

‘It is against the law.’

‘That will not stop it taking place,’ Pearce insisted, which received a gloomy nod; there was a spot outside every town in England, Hampstead Heath being the London favourite, where duels took place on a daily basis. ‘Perhaps it would be best if I told you the circumstances.’

Which he did, aware as he spoke that what he was saying did not put him in a very good light. Digby, he was sure, was filtering the words through the prism of his own standards and that meant an intuition that no such thing could ever occur with him; for a man, especially a naval officer, to so lose control as to strike another officer, regardless of the nature of his service, was close to an abomination. There was also the point that he had been in Gibraltar when Lipton was shot and had been kept in ignorance of what was taking place.

‘I plead that I was defending another.’

‘Who does not, to my way of thinking, sound worthy of your interference.’

‘I will not defend Captain McGann, Henry, but I will say that if you knew him you might understand.’

In saying that Pearce was wondering if that was true: the short and drunken captain had practically had his nose buried in the ample bosom of Major Lipton’s wife and had ignored all attempts that he should desist. Perhaps, in similar circumstances, Pearce would have belted him too.

‘Anyway, there you have it, so can I ask you to act for me?’

‘If I do, John, I must tell you I do so unwillingly.’

‘If I had a choice I would accept that, but I do not, so I am obliged to press you.’

‘There is another caveat. I cannot do so without I have permission from Mr Taberly.’

‘And will that be forthcoming?’

‘I cannot say, he’s such a contrary fellow that he could go either way.’

‘Can I give you the details, in case his reaction is positive? The name of Lipton’s second and where he is to be found.’

Digby’s head was on his chest, Pearce thinking he was seeking another reason to refuse, but he lifted it eventually and looked his visitor right in the eye, without much in the way of affection.

‘There are writing materials in the wardroom.’

‘No need,’ Pearce replied, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘I took the liberty of noting them down before I set off.’

Taking it from him, Digby spoke softly. ‘On the subject of Mrs Barclay, John—’

‘It is one we best not discuss. I am in enough hot water as it is.’

He so much wanted to say to Digby that Emily’s name was no longer Barclay as far as he was concerned; she had reverted in their relationship to her maiden name of Raynesford. It was, he decided, unwise to point this out; it would only fan the flames of Digby’s disapproval.

The offer that he be shown off the ship was declined and Pearce made his farewells, with a hesitant comment from Digby, given he had never done anything of this sort before, that if Taberly agreed he would need to establish certain facts
in the forthcoming encounter: weapons, timing and how the fee for the attendant medical man was to be shared out. He would send a boat to tell of what was happening.

Making his way across the main deck Pearce ran into another lieutenant coming aboard, who literally stopped him with a stare, so full was it of enquiry. There was also the fact that he practically blocked the way to the entry port.

‘Pearce,’ came the response. ‘Commander of
HMS Larcher
.’

‘Taberly, Premier, and what is
Larcher
, pray?’

‘Armed cutter and part of the fleet, here to revictual.’

‘How singular,’ Taberly replied, with something close to a sneer. ‘Must be the only vessel of its kind on station – a tiddler, indeed. And what are you doing aboard my ship?’

‘Visiting Lieutenant Digby, who I previously served under.’

‘That Biscay affair.’ Pearce nodded; it had been Digby’s only command so the connection was not difficult. ‘Given our Digby ideas above his station. Having been in authority once he finds it hard to act the subordinate.’

‘As would anyone.’

‘So your business was purely personal?’

The nodded lie was easy, but it produced a frown. The premier of the seventy-four seemed an unnaturally inquisitive cove, unwilling by that expression to merely accept that Pearce was renewing an old acquaintance. Best he find out from Digby what it was about!

The lack of any response caused Taberly to rub his chin, in his case a very prominent one. He was of average height and without that feature he possessed a face that could be described as unremarkable: brown eyes, rather dull, and
a button nose. But that jaw he was fingering hinted at a natural belligerence and that was supported by the tone of his voice, which seemed to imply that the man before him had overstepped some invisible mark.

‘I like to know what my officers are about, Mr Pearce.’

‘Very commendable.’

The face came a fraction closer. ‘Not looking to shift, then?’

‘He did not tell me so, sir, and I would hardly pass that on if he did.’

Taberly was being nosy and, in effect, John Pearce was telling him to mind his own business. But he made sure to sound polite, for he needed this man to approve what he was about to be asked.

‘Pearce? Name rings a bell – now, why would that be?’

‘I daresay Lieutenant Digby will be only too happy to tell you. Now, sir, if I may, I have duties to perform aboard my own vessel.’

‘Very well,’ Taberly replied, standing marginally to one side. ‘But I will add, that if you are in the habit of visiting
Leander
, I would take it as a courtesy that you enquire of me first if it is suitable.’

There was no need for that, which made it easy for John Pearce, who had a low opinion of the name in any case, to decide he did not like this Taberly at all, especially since he was obliged to manoeuvre his way round a man who was not going to entirely get out of his path. Yet still he raised his hat a fraction, given there was no point in letting the premier know how he felt.

Henry Digby came aboard at sunset with the required information instead of doing as he said he would, sending
a note. Given he knew the Pelicans almost as well as Pearce, that led to the kind of greeting always exchanged when old shipmates met, albeit with all the courtesies due to the difference in rank. Then Digby was taken into the cabin and invited, on a hot night, to divest himself of his coat.

‘Lord, John, this is tighter than
Faron
, and the accommodation there was snug enough.’

‘Can I offer you some wine, Henry? My cook fetched aboard some very decent stuff.’

‘Then he is a better man than any of our wardroom stewards. What they have bought in Leghorn is undrinkable. Mind, Taberly controls the purse strings, so I suspect it is he who is too mean to pay out for anything good. The man is indifferent to food and drink and thinks what the navy provides is enough.’

A certain amount of lip-smacking appreciation followed that, as Digby tasted the local Tuscan wine, a very heady and full-of-flavour red that went by the charming name, he was told, of Chianti.

‘Speaking of Taberly?’

Pearce asked this in a near whisper, thus frustrating any of his crew close enough to hear the primary exchanges. Knowing as much about eavesdropping tars as his confrère, Digby likewise spoke softly.

‘John, not only does he give permission, he asked if he could be present as a witness. I said yes.’

‘I can see no reason to object.’

Digby suddenly appeared embarrassed and hissed, ‘He also asked if you were likely to win, which tells me that he will be trying to wager with Lipton’s supporters as to the outcome. Taberly does so love a bet.’

‘That seems to me somewhat ghoulish.’

‘Nevertheless, I would take it as practically a condition.’

‘Allow me to impose one of my own, I would not want him running a book on my demise.’

‘I will pass that back to him.’

‘And the rest?’

‘There are some old ducal hunting grounds out to the north-east of Leghorn, in the Tuscan hills. Lipton’s man Walcott has named a glade off the road to Pisa, hard by a post house, where we will not be disturbed, and I have arranged for a hack to take us there before sunrise tomorrow. The bullocks have found a medical cove and will take him along with them.’