Sails on the Horizon: A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars (22 page)

“Yes, sir,” Withers said quickly. “I’m very sorry, sir. This way, sir.”

As soon as the man opened the gate to the pen, Penny pushed through and ran into the group calling, “Peter! Peter!” When the boy stood up she waded into the crowd and pulled him away. As she shepherded her brother back out the gate, she passed Withers and hissed, “Thou foul lecherous beast.”

Charles looked at the midshipman with renewed interest. He remembered Penny saying something about being touched. “Did you molest this woman when she protested your taking her brother?”

Withers swallowed hard. “T’were only in fun, sir.”

“Lieutenant,” Charles said to Bevan. “Put this man on report: insubordination, drunkenness, swearing, questioning orders, and attempted rape. I want him arrested and put under restraint the moment he sets foot on the
Repulse.
Send the report to Captain—”

Turning to the now-ashen Withers, he asked, “Who’s your captain?”

“Jenkins, s-sir.”

“—send your report to Captain Jenkins of the
Repulse
first thing in the morning.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Bevan responded, suppressing a grin and making a show of writing out the charges.

Returning to Withers, Charles added, “Consider yourself under arrest.”

“But sir—” Withers pleaded.

Charles found himself beginning to enjoy browbeating the smarmy midshipman. He was considering threatening to hang the poor man right there in the street when he felt Penny’s hand on his arm.

“What about all those others?” she said, nodding to the rest of the men collected by the press gang. “They’ve all been unfairly captured. Surely we can’t leave them here.”

Charles turned back to Withers.
Why not?
he thought. In for a penny, in for a pound. He smiled inwardly: in for a Penny…“Release the rest of these men you’ve pressed,” he ordered. “Anyone who hasn’t accepted the King’s guinea.” He heard Bevan clear his throat loudly, suggesting a warning that he was going too far.

“Why, sir?” Withers said, clearly aghast.

“Are you questioning me again? Because I suspect they’ve all been improperly impressed.”

The disordered rush of cold and hungry men toward the open gate nearly knocked Charles over. Several swore at the petty officer as they passed, and two actually spit on him.

Bevan took the opportunity to pull Charles aside. “Are you quite finished?” he muttered under his breath. “You’re sure you don’t want to stroll over to the city jail and empty that as well? Perhaps you’d like to have the sheriff arrested.”

Charles smiled in spite of himself. “No, you’re right. We’ve gotten what we wanted. We can go.”

While Bevan hurried Penny and her brother into the carriage, Charles left Withers in the custody of his two mates with orders that he be turned over to Captain Jenkins first thing in the morning. As he pulled himself up into the carriage, he turned to Peter, now wrapped in his sister’s arms. “Are you hurt?” he asked the boy.

“Not much,” Peter answered in a shaken voice.

Winchester snapped the reins and the carriage jerked forward. Once they were safely across the Dee bridge, Charles settled back and smiled. He had carefully neglected to mention his name or that of his ship. There would have been all hell to pay if he had done otherwise. Badgering the unfortunate petty officer, however enjoyable, was pointless, since he had probably done nothing illegal. On the other hand, ordering the release of the pressed men was highly irregular and Charles might have been severely reprimanded, even court-martialed.

“You like living dangerously, don’t you, Charlie?” Bevan observed. Winchester remained studiously silent. Penny focused all her attentions on her younger brother.

They reached the Brown house in the early hours of the morning. Charles got down and walked the girl and her brother to the door. “I’ll see that your horse and cart are returned in the morning,” he said awkwardly. He wanted to say something more but didn’t, afraid of the words that might come out.

Penny pushed Peter in through the doorway, then turned to Charles. “I don’t know how to thank thee,” she said softly.

“It’s not necessary,” Charles answered, his voice suddenly hoarse. He could feel her nearness in the dark. “It’s all right.” Steeling himself he added, “I only wanted to talk with you.”

“I know,” she said softly. “When dost thou leave for the sea?”

“In about ten days or two weeks, I think.”

Penny paused significantly. “Wilt thou call on me before thou leaves?”

“I’d like that,” Charles said. “May I see you after Ellie’s wedding?”

“Isn’t that tomorrow?”

Charles had to stop and think what day it was. “Yes, tomorrow morning in Chester,” he said finally. “Won’t you be there?”

“No. We are not to attend ceremonies presided over by priests, only Quaker ones.”

“It’s just the parson,” Charles said. “It’ll be a very small wedding.”

“I don’t know,” she said in the darkness. “I’ll think on it. I have caused scandal enough by being called on by a military man.”

“Then I’ll stop here on my way home.”

“I will look for thee,” she said, and slipped inside the doorway.

THE WEDDING PROCESSION
to Chester was a joyous affair, with a radiant Ellie and a happily smiling Winchester in the carriage, hurriedly decked with wildflowers and ivy, driven by Attwater. Charles, John, and Bevan rode on horseback alongside. Across the Dee bridge and up the cobblestone street to the church, the couple was greeted with rude jeers and good-natured cheers by many of the passers-by. Inside, Charles was surprised to see Penny and her brother sitting in a pew near the back. On seeing him, she patted a space beside her, and he went there and sat down.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.

“No one did,” Penny answered with an impish smile. “Not even me until this morning.”

The ceremony was simple and brief. When the parson closed his Bible and said, “You may kiss the bride,” Charles noticed Penny take a handkerchief from her sleeve and dab her eyes. As soon as she decently could, Ellie rushed over and embraced her friend. “I’m so happy you came,” she gushed, looking significantly from Penny to Charles and back again.

The procession went from the registry to a tavern down the street for the traditional wedding breakfast, where toasts were made and wedding cake eaten. It soon became increasingly obvious that Stephen and Ellie Winchester, unable to take their eyes and hands off each other, were anxious to be away. And as soon as they could politely do so, the newlyweds departed for home. In an aside to Charles, Daniel Bevan offered even money they didn’t make it past the inn at Waverton.

Charles stood next to Penny in the street as the carriage pulled away. Peter stood beside Penny’s cart, watching the two with a certain curiosity. John and Bevan had mounted their horses and were following the carriage. “Peter,” Penny said, “wilt thou watch the cart for a moment longer?” She slipped her hand through Charles’s arm and said, “May we walk a little?” They started slowly up the street—he in his best naval uniform, gold epaulette, and shining sword, and she in her plain brown Quaker dress and bonnet. Several passers-by stopped and stared.

“I was harsh to thee before,” Penny said quietly. “I was trying not to pain thee.”

“I know,” Charles said. “Your father explained it to me. I don’t think I understood before. I’m not sure I really do now.”

“My father told me what thou said to him about…we two.”

Charles stopped and faced her, still holding her arm. “I meant every word,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about that now,” she said, a gentle firmness in her voice, “but I would like thee to show me thy new house and lands, if thou still wishes to.”

“I’d like that,” Charles managed to say, his heart full. They arranged that Penny would call on the new Mrs. Eleanor Winchester at her husband’s home outside Tattenall two days hence. Charles would meet her there in the morning and take her to see his properties. They walked a little further together until they became uncomfortable with people gawking at them and started back.

All the next morning Charles spent with the workmen at his manor house, trying to urge them along in the impossible hope that they might be finished before Penny arrived. Around noon, he noticed a uniformed courier riding up the drive on horseback.

“Good day,” Charles said, his heart sinking, as the courier dismounted. “Orders already?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, unstrapping the leather bag behind his saddle. “I have three, for Commander Edgemont and Lieutenants Bevan and Winchester.”

“I’ll sign for them,” Charles said. “I’m Edgemont.”

As the courier extracted the canvas envelopes, he said, “Have you heard the news, sir?”

“What news?”

“Spithead, the fleet anchorage at Portsmouth, the whole Channel fleet’s mutinied. Sixteen ships of the line in all.”

“The whole fleet?” Charles said in dismay. “My God, the Admiralty must be in an uproar.”

“Yes, sir,” the courier said, pocketing the receipt. His eyes darted left and right. “Begging your pardon, but if you ask me it’s no surprise. It’s not right the way some of the men are treated—years at sea, no shore leave, lousy food, beaten and cheated on board. I’ve spent my years before the mast in His Majesty’s service, I know. I’m only surprised it hasn’t happened before now. Anyway, everybody’s orders are being pushed forward.”

“Thank you,” Charles said. The courier remounted, then tipped his hat and rode away. Mutiny was a desperate act, almost always punished by death. There had been a number of mutinies in individual ships over the years, but the whole Channel fleet? The Admiralty would have to take notice, and in Charles’s opinion reform was long overdue. He hoped that something would come of it other than a mass of senseless hangings.

He sorted through the envelopes, pocketed two, and broke the seal on the third, which was addressed to “Charles Edgemont, Esq., hereby appointed Commander, H. M. Frigate
Louisa.
” The first sentence was all he needed read: “Sir, You are hereby requested and required to report on board H.M. Frigate
Louisa,
presently moored at the Plymouth yards, not later than May
1
,
1797
.”

Charles read the entire page through several times as if there might be some secret escape clause hidden in it, such as, “if convenient,” or “conditions in your personal life permitting.” The bald fact confronting him was that he had to be on the coach to Plymouth in two days’ time, and he didn’t know when he would return, if ever. He was ready, even eager to go to sea in every respect except one, and now there would be very little time to fix that. He thought about Penny’s willingness to see his new house and lands. That would be a “step,” she’d once said. And that meant that she must have softened her objections to his being in the military. He breathed a sigh. He wanted badly to come to some kind of agreement with her about their future before he left. Maybe it was still possible. He had one chance left, he decided. He would ask her to be his wife. She could say yes or no, but at least he would have asked. He worked late into the evening after supper laboriously writing out exactly what he wanted to say to her, and how, practicing and memorizing it.

THEY HAD AGREED
to meet at the Winchesters’ home after she had sufficient time to visit with Ellie. Charles guessed that ten in the morning would be about the right time for him to appear, but through anxiety and impatience he arrived in his carriage at nine-fifteen. He saw Penny’s mare and cart standing in the street in front. Charles knocked on the door, which was almost immediately opened by a maid.

“Oh, Captain Edgemont,” the maid said in an exasperated voice, “I am afraid Mr. and Mrs. Winchester have not yet come down.” Charles had the impression from the tone of her voice that Stephen and Ellie had been confined upstairs pretty much since the moment they returned from their wedding two days before. “You are welcome to wait if you like, sir, but I don’t think they’ll be down anytime soon,” she said. “Miss Brown’s also just now arrived. I’m sorry, but I can’t hold out much hope.”

“I won’t bother them, then,” Charles said. “I’ll just speak with Miss Brown, if I may.” He entered to find Penny sitting stiffly in a stuffed chair in the parlor. He thought she looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the maid said, turning to Penny, “but I don’t think they’ll be available for some time, not even if the house caught on fire.”

Charles grinned at Penny. “Would you like to begin our tour?”

“Yes, please,” she answered, rising and starting toward the door. As she passed the maid she said, “Please tell Eleanor Winchester that I am sorry she was…engaged, and that I hope to visit again when she is free.”

“That will be tomorrow,” Charles offered.

Once they were in the street, Penny said, “Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?”

“I’ve received my orders,” Charles said seriously. “Bevan, Winchester, and I have to catch the coach to Plymouth tomorrow.”

“So soon? I thought thou had longer.” A flicker of concern crossed her face.

“Tomorrow,” Charles repeated.

“Well, at least we have today,” she said, brightening. “I am prepared to see thy lands, and I have brought us something to eat.” She leaned into the back of her cart and came up with a blanket and a covered wicker basket that she put into the carriage. Charles unhitched Penny’s mare and led her into Winchester’s stable. They then set off in his carriage at a leisurely pace, Charles at the reins and Penny beside him.

As they drove along the narrow lanes between the fields, pastures, and hedgerows, he tried to explain what he knew of the traditional arrangements between the tenant farmers and the landowner, how the rents were apportioned and collected. She seemed very interested in these arrangements, and for many of her questions Charles had no answer. “You’ll have to ask John about that,” he repeated frequently. “He’s to manage the place.” In time, as the horse plodded along, she began to appreciate that it was a huge expanse of land including a great many small farms, woods, and pastures. “How much dost thou own?” she asked.