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CHAPTER 4
The hansom cab rocked
over the cobblestone streets in London as Captain Frederick Wentworth
made his way to Whitehall and the Board of the Admiralty. He
had made good time to the City after leaving his bride in the
loving and capable hands of Admiral and Mrs. Croft back in Portsmouth,
and had found lodgings to his liking very near his club. Dressed
in his full-dress uniform with his Number One hat, he sat in
perfect stillness in the cab, unwilling to touch the sides of
the vehicle, lest it somehow dirty his hard-won splendor.
Wentworth tried
not to breathe too deeply on his ride to the center of naval
power. A near half-lifetime at sea had given the mariner an appreciation
for the clean salt smell of the ocean. The countryside was different,
but agreeable too, with the pleasant fragrance of fresh cut grass
and clean air. London, like most cities, had a different aroma.
The largest city in Europe smelled like it too: mud, garbage,
trash, waste and too many animals and people. It was too hot,
except when it was too cold - and it was always too dirty.
The sounds of the
bustling metropolis were offensive to his ears as well. Cries
of human and animal, of effort and slothfulness, construction
and destruction - what were they to the sounds of the birds at
sea, as the ship slipped though the waves, the wind causing the
craft to moan and creak most agreeably? Give Frederick Wentworth
a heaving deck under his feet; or if not, then a small country
village with a comfortable house and land to work. Purgatory
was the city; and its capital London.
The cab soon pulled
to a stop before the portico of Admiralty House in the heart
of Whitehall. As Wentworth exited the cab, the driver asked,
"Should I be waiting for ye then, Gov'nor?"
Frederick was tempted
- the ride was as good as ever he had in London. "No, thank
you, my man," he said as he paid him. "I know not how
long I shall be." The driver tipped his hat, thanked him
and drove off. The officer strode confidently through the archway
to the front door, taking the salute of the Marine guard there.
Entering the relatively modest building (for a government building
in London) Frederick ascended the main staircase, passing other
officers loitering along the way. He never gave them a glance
- he was afraid to see his own hidden apprehension in their faces.
Soon he was before a secretary who acted as the gatekeeper to
the Joves sitting in judgment behind a maze of doors.
"What is your
business, sir?" the elderly man inquired, barely looking
up from his work.
"My name is
Captain Wentworth; I have an appointment," he handed his
dispatch to the man. He was not offended by the gentleman not
using his rank; it was not the first time he had been through
the petty games at the Admiralty.
The gatekeeper peered
at the document as if he had never seen the like before, studying
it carefully before pulling another paper from a pile and looked
hard at it. Finally he announced, "Yes, 'Frederick Wentworth,
Captain' - it is here. You will be called when all is ready."
He then spoke quietly to a midshipman, who turned and left the
room.
Frederick looked
into the small waiting room adjacent. Unsurprisingly it was filled
with junior and senior officers, waiting for a chance to plead
their cases to their Lordships. Employment - a ship - was all
those gentlemen desired. And for almost all, this day would end
as so many days had in the past: in bitter disappointment. Frederick
grimaced - he well knew that he had been very lucky in his career.
He seemed to be charmed, bouncing from ship to ship, from position
to position, always with greater responsibility. His promotions
came quickly (his lieutenant's examination was held at Port Royal);
though it had not seemed so at the time. He had never had to
cool his heels in an Admiralty antechamber, awaiting the Gods
of the Navy's pleasure.
This day would be
no different. "Captain Wentworth?" The secretary used
his rank - a good sign. "You are to follow this young gentleman."
Frederick followed
the midshipman to the office of the First Lord of the Admiralty.
However waiting for him was not Robert Dundas, Viscount Melville,
but his very able secretary. "Captain Wentworth? Thank you
for coming, sir," he said after dismissing the midshipman,
as if Frederick had received an invitation to a garden party.
"I hope I find you in good health?"
Frederick had no
choice but to play the game. "Perfectly sir."
"I trust the
journey from Portsmouth was not too taxing?"
"Not at all."
"And the Laconia
- preparations in order?"
"The Laconia
shall set sail for the North American Station as ordered."
"Excellent…but
we expect no less from you, sir."
There was a pause.
Why am I here, sir? Frederick inwardly raged.
As if reading his
mind, the secretary asked, "I imagine you are wondering
why we have asked you here today?"
Is the bloody
Bishop of Rome an Italian?
"It had crossed my mind, sir."
"Well, this
is a bit unusual, but you were ordered here to meet with…a
member of the Committee. Do you know Sir Joseph Blaine?"
"Only by sight,
sir - we are members of the same club."
"Well, his
office is here in the Admiralty…you are to report to that
office at once. My assistant will take you there. Nothing important,
you understand, just a bit of additional duty…" At
Frederick's expression, he continued, "Nothing that affects
your overall orders, Captain: the Laconia is to
report to Bermuda."
"Yes sir,"
said a relived but confused Wentworth.
"Well,"
said the secretary dismissing him. "I wish you safe voyage.
Oh, by the way, allow me to wish you joy. Mrs. Wentworth is well,
I hope?'
"Yes sir -
thank you sir."
"Lord Melville
asked me to extend his congratulations as well. Goodbye, Captain
Wentworth."
For the first time
in his life, Frederick Wentworth was cooling his heels in some
waiting room in the Admiralty. Apparently, Sir Joseph Blaine
was occupied, which gave Frederick a chance to go over the mystery
in his head.
He had heard of
Sir Joseph and knew him to be connected with the Admiralty (exactly
how was not clear, but there were rumors); but the gentleman
was better known as one of the great naturalists of the age.
Only Sir Joseph Banks, erstwhile member of Captain Cook's epic
voyages to the Pacific Ocean, was held in higher regard in that
field. What could such a man want with him? While Frederick knew
that studying the flowers and fauna of the world held great military
importance to the Fleet (one had to gather one's food somewhere),
the Laconia was going only to Bermuda. Certainly there
was nothing new to study there - unless a new island had
been discovered? Atlantis - was it found?
At that moment the
gentleman himself finally made his appearance. "Captain
Wentworth - I must beg your pardon, sir - these meetings can
take longer than expected. Please step into my office, sir…"
Frederick rose and entered Sir Joseph's small and cramped room.
Books on every subject under the sun lined the walls and covered
the floor, along with a collection of beetles propped up on one
shelf. To Frederick's fastidious naval character, it was a descent
into chaos.
"Well, sir,"
Sir Joseph began, "thanks you for coming. You left the Laconia
in good hands, I assume?"
Frederick looked
at the man. Finally he was able to mutter, "The Laconia
shall be ready to sail, never fear." Was he trying to
anger me?
"Excellent,
sir. Mrs. Wentworth is excited about traveling to Bermuda, I
dare say. And while I don't know much about armament, those whose
judgment I trust say your choice of long twelves for the quarterdeck
is very sound, seeing your mission is to ferret out pirates and
the like."
Frederick was stunned
at Sir Joseph's intimate knowledge of his preparations. He
has just told me not to underestimate him - just what is your
position here, sir? "Thank you, Sir Joseph. May I be
so bold as to inquire as to why I have been summoned?"
"Ah, straight
to the point - you remind me of another sailor, sir. Yes…well
I must ask of you a small favor…not much, really… We
need you to transport a passenger - a naval official - along
with you on the Laconia."
Is that all? "I believe we can make the room,
sir - we are already transporting a Marine officer to Bermuda."
"Yes…Lt.
Colonel Tarleton..." Frederick kept his surprise under control.
"But this gentleman will not be going to Bermuda…no,
he is to the port of Funchal in Madeira, to rejoin Commodore
Aubrey - you know Aubrey, do you not?"
"Yes sir -
I sailed with Jack Aubrey on the Ardent during the Battle
of Camperdown in '97; he was Lt. Aubrey then whilst I was a mere
midshipman." So Lucky Jack has been given a squadron
again.
"Well, the
passenger in question is his surgeon, Dr. Maturin, a physician
of rare abilities and an outstanding naturalist. Have you met
him, sir?"
"I have had
the pleasure of shooting with him once."
"Well, Commodore
Aubrey and Dr. Maturin have just undergone the most unfortunate
tragedy. The Doctor is even now in Dorset overseeing the burial
of his wife and the Commodore's mother-in-law, victims of a terrible
carriage accident."
"Oh! I am grieved,
indeed…terrible…" said Frederick. "It would
be honor to help a shipmate. To Madeira, you said? I would be
happy to do so, once the proper orders are issued."
"Ah…there
is the difficulty. There will be no written orders."
"No orders?"
Wentworth blurted. "But I do have orders to make for Bermuda
under best sail! I cannot take a side trip to Madeira without
official blessing - shipmate or no shipmate!"
Sir Joseph said
nothing; he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands over
his slightly rotund belly. The look he gave Frederick - like
what he probably gave his collection of beetles - sent the hairs
rising on the back of the captain's head. An alarm sounded in
his mind, such as when he could sense a lee shore in the fog
- dangerous shoals ahead. In that moment Frederick knew
that his career was in the balance.
Sir Joseph blinked
- a decision was made - and he leaned forward. "Your record
shows that you have been a brave, remorseful and cautious
officer. Men I trust say that we can have confidence in your
discretion. I must entrust you with some vital and secret
information." He toyed with the papers before him. "We
cannot take much longer here - your visit to this office might
be noticed by…those who should not know. You understand
my meaning, sir?"
"I…I am
afraid that I do not." Are the rumors true?
Sir Joseph sighed.
"We have men in the service that are more than they seem.
They keep their eyes open; they report to the highest levels.
Need I say more?"
Sir Joseph was
head of British Intelligence! "No,
Sir."
"I am cautious
because…the other side is active, as well. Their men are
everywhere."
"Surely not
here, my Lord!"
Sir Joseph gave
him a rather pitying look. "Were that so. Do you recall
the fate of the Pollux?"
"Yes, sir.
She was attacked at Zambra and sunk with all hands, including
Admiral Harte. Captain Aubrey and the Surprise barely
escaped with her hide."
"That was no
accident; they were ambushed. The French knew they were to be
there. But the information of their mission was a closely guarded
secret - only a few in the Admiralty knew of it. No, Captain
Wentworth, depend upon it - Admiral Harte and the men of the
Pollux were murdered by British traitors."
Wentworth recalled
that scandal of Wray and the other gentlemen traitors in the
pay of Napoleon. "I thought those men were all discovered."
"You must understand
- you never find all the traitors. We must assume they
are here. Blast, we have tarried too long! I must meet with you
later - some place quiet; where if we are seen together it will
not raise suspicion. We are the members of the same club, are
we not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent!
You shall be my guest for supper. Will you join me tonight?"
Frederick really
had no choice. "I would be happy to, Sir Joseph."
Anne looked up from
her correspondence as Sophy Craft entered the small sitting room
of their rented quarters in Portsmouth. "Sophy, is the Admiral
not coming down for tea?"
"He is out,
dear - I am afraid he has gone to observe the fitting out of
the Laconia again. I hope he is not making a bother of
himself."
Anne smiled. "I
am certain that all of his excellent advice is tolerated in the
same good-natured spirit as it is given."
"Yes,"
Sophy chuckled. "Lt. Price seems an agreeable and accommodating
gentleman. In any case, I expect the Admiral to be back in good
time for tea. The kettle is just on the boil."
"Sophy! How
can I be a tolerable hostess if you do not let me do my duties?
I should have seen to the tea."
"Never you
mind, dear - it gives us a moment to talk."
Anne smiled again.
"More advice? My dear sister, you have already given me
such excellent guidance that I am sure I shall not remember but
half of it."
Sophy did not smile
at the jest but sat down near Anne. "My dear Anne, I know
it seems I have been filling your head with so much - forgive
me. I know you shall do well and enjoy your grand adventure,
as long as you remember this bit of counsel."
"Yes?"
Sophy paused, as
if searching for the right words. "All of Frederick's relations
are overjoyed at your union. You, my dear sister, are exactly
the kind of woman to suit Frederick, and we all know how devoted
he is to you."
Anne blushed. "Frederick
is an excellent man - I could not hope for a better husband."
"Yes."
Sophy took her hand. "I expect nothing less from my brother.
But let me tell you something I had to learn when I married Captain
Croft. On land naval officers are like any other gentleman. However,
at sea…well, they become two men at the same time - your
loving husband one moment; the stern ship's captain the next.
A husband is concerned with the welfare of his wife and family;
a captain is responsible for a King's ship and all of her crew.
If you are to sail with your husband, you must know the difference
- the times when you are his wife and the times when you are
just part of the crew. Do you understand what I am saying, dear?"
Anne thought for
a moment. "Yes, Sophy, I believe I do." She is speaking
of when the ship is in danger, from storm or foe. "I
will take care to know when I am but the lowliest cabin boy."
It was at the moment
that Admiral Croft returned, to the ladies' delight. It was unfortunate,
because Anne Wentworth was completely wrong.
"Wentworth,
as I live and breathe! Wentworth! Over here, man! You must meet
this fellow, Fitz!"
Frederick looked
about his London club, surprised that anyone he knew would be
there. The way Sir Joseph was speaking, there might be French
agents behind every shadow. He saw at a nearby table two
Army officers, one a sandy-haired man, the other…
"Brandon! By
God, it's good to see you!" He immediately walked over to
them.
"Richard, allow
me to introduce to you Captain Frederick Wentworth of the Royal
Navy. This is the gentleman who pulled my bacon out of the fire
in the Year __! Wentworth, this is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam."
"Pleased to
meet you, Colonel," said Wentworth as they shook hands.
"But I already
know of you, sir. Are you not of the Laconia?" Frederick
Wentworth was not as famous a frigate captain as Thomas Cochrane,
Horatio Hornblower or Jack Aubrey, but few did not know of the
feats of HMS Laconia.
"Guilty, sir."
"Wentworth,
can you not join us for supper?" asked Brandon.
Frederick became
defensive, but labored not to give any sign. "I am afraid
not, Brandon. I have an engagement already. But I shall join
you for a glass or two before he shows."
"Capital! Allow
me," Brandon poured a glass of wine. "Perhaps your
friend may join us?"
"Uh…no,
old man…navy business, you see..."
"Do not be
troubled, Captain," urged Fitzwilliam. "Besides, I
believe I should wish you joy. My cousin's sister is acquainted
with Mrs. Wentworth."
"Yes, yes…of
course! You finally married, you old sea dog!" cried Brandon.
"But it was very recent, was it not?"
"A little over
a fortnight, yes. Who is your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam?"
"Mrs. Bingley.
She knew Anne Elliot from school."
Brandon started.
"Anne Elliot - the daughter of Sir Walter Elliot of Kellynch
Hall?" At Wentworth's nod Brandon laughed. "After all
these years - why, you are more dedicated to matters of the heart
than I!" His face then fell. "But I am sorry we could
not join you. If we had but known…"
"No chance
of that, Brandon. We were in a bit of rush. The Laconia
sails in a week."
"So soon -
why, you are still on your honeymoon!"
"'Tis neither
here nor there - we are to the North American Station in Bermuda
and Mrs. Wentworth sails with us."
Brandon laughed
again. "Do I hear right? The famous Captain Wentworth sails
with a woman on board? The Laconia becomes a 'hen frigate?'
Ha, ha! Miss Elliot that was must be an extraordinary lady!"
At first Wentworth
was embarrassed that his words were once again thrown back into
his face. Will I never live that blasted statement down?
But he shrugged it off and broke into a wide grin. "That
she is, Brandon."
Fitzwilliam lifted
his glass. "To all our extraordinary ladies!"
Brandon raised his
glass. "Yes - to Marianne."
Frederick: "To
Anne."
Fitzwilliam: "And
mine - Lady Matlock. A boy must be good to his mother. Drink!"
The three drained their glasses.
"Brandon,"
said Wentworth, "I hardly recognized you in uniform. Are
you to the Continent?"
"Yes, as is
Colonel Fitzwilliam."
"Then I have
a toast." They refilled their glasses. "To the British
Army - thank God I'm not in it!"
"We wouldn't
want a lanky fellow like you, Wentworth!" cried Brandon.
They drank to their continued laughter.
The three spent
the next few minutes in pleasurable recollections. Brandon told
at length the story of how Wentworth, leading a cutting-out expedition
against the French, had also freed some British prisoners, their
number including Brandon, that were being held awaiting transport.
The feat had helped Commander Wentworth rise to post-captain
rank and gained him a life-long friend in Christopher Brandon.
Frederick turned
and spied Sir Joseph. "Forgive me, gentlemen, there is my
appointment. Brandon, Colonel Fitzwilliam, good luck and good
hunting on the Continent, and the devil to Bonaparte! Farewell!"
The captain took leave of his companions and went to greet Sir
Joseph across the room.
"Well met,
sir," said the older gentleman as they shook hands cordially.
"Have you been waiting long?"
"No sir - I've
been enjoying the fellowship of an old comrade and his friend."
Sir Joseph eyed
them. "Who are they? The younger man looks familiar."
"They are Colonel
Brandon and Colonel Fitzwilliam. I can vouch for them, sir. "
"Ah, yes…Matlock's
boy, isn't it? I thought I knew him. And Colonel Brandon's been
a member for years. Yes, well…shall we find our table? I
took the liberty of reserving a private room."
"After you,
sir." The two retired to a back room.
Fitzwilliam turned
to Brandon. "I say, isn't that Sir Joseph Blaine? Isn't
he in the Admiralty?"
Brandon nodded silently
and Fitzwilliam began to look for the supper. He hardly remarked
how quiet Brandon had suddenly become. It was nothing unusual
- Brandon always was a moody sort.
Brandon appreciated
the peace; his thoughts were in a whirl. He thought he knew Wentworth
well. He now had his doubts. He could think of no reason for
Captain Wentworth to be meeting privately with Sir Joseph Blaine,
naturalist, obscure member of the Admiralty and supposed head
of British Intelligence.
To Frederick's chagrin,
Sir Joseph refused to speak of anything other than his beetle
collection until their dinner was served. After the servant left
the room, the older man remarked, "I have known him for
years - perfectly reliable."
And you have
researched him very thoroughly, I have no doubt! "That is good to know,"
returned Frederick between bites - as a sailor he had learned
to let nothing spoil his appetite.
Sir Joseph then
dug into his own meal, trying Frederick's patience further. It
finally occurred to the sailor that the government official was
testing him. Well, let him try - I shall not be found wanting!
Finally Sir Joseph
renewed the conversation he had begun in his office. "You
recall we were speaking of the Pollux?"
"Yes; you said
they were betrayed."
"Indeed - you
might say Admiral Harte was assassinated." Frederick said
nothing at this - From what I knew of Harte, half the Fleet
might have had a part in that! "But the Admiral was
not the only target."
Wentworth digested
both his meal and that statement. "Captain Aubrey is a man
of rare talent; surely the French would like him out of the way."
"Yes, I am
sure you are right on that score; but I trust that Captain Aubrey
is not the only man to cause great consternation in Paris,"
he said as he raised his glass to Frederick.
"Thank you,
sir."
"It is I who
should thank you for your service to the crown, sir. Howbeit,
it was not the good captain that was the intended recipient of
French revenge. As I said before, we…employ men who…do
far more than it seems. Dr. Maturin is one of those men."
"I see. And
the enemy knows of this?"
"They suspect,
but Paris does not know for sure. The traitors, for reasons I
cannot go into, had stronger reason to suppose Dr. Maturin as
being a most effective…help to the kingdom. Do not worry
- the failure to take or sink the Surprise led to the
downfall of those men." What he failed to say was that the
traitors met their fate at Dr. Marurin's hand. "But we cannot
take any chances with such a man as Dr. Maturin. Should the French
know he is being transported to a certain place at a certain
time, they would surely try to intercept him - with overpowering
force."
A vision ran through
Frederick's mind - the Laconia flying before the wind, trying
to outrun a squadron of French vessels, each with the weather
gage, and Anne watching in horror - which chilled him to
the bone. Can I take such a chance with Anne on board?
"Sir, you know
that Mrs. Wentworth is to sail with us."
"Captain Wentworth,
it is vital to the nation that Dr. Maturin rejoins the Fleet."
Frederick looked
at his plate, the phrase "Subject to the Demands of the
Service" running through his head. He had lived most
of his life according to that credo. He gave a low sigh. "Very
well, Sir Joseph. I will have Mrs. Wentworth take the packet
to Bermuda."
"No! My dear
sir, you must not make any changes to your intentions - none
at all!"
Frederick looked
at Sir Joseph disbelievingly. "Sir, are you suggesting…my
wife? Sir, you said the danger is great!"
"The danger
would be great - if we gave any notice to the enemy. That
is why there shall be no orders, no changes - nothing to alert
the French or their agents. As far as the world knows Captain
Wentworth, famous for claiming never to have a woman aboard his
ship, shall sail for Bermuda with his lovely bride - as planned."
Wentworth winced as the older man continued, "This shall
keep you safe, sir. Dr. Maturin shall come aboard only at the
last moment. You shall not inform your crew of the change in
destination until you are safely at sea. Sealed orders will be
sent to Bermuda in the packet ship, confirming your 'side trip'
to Madeira. Ten days, a fortnight at the most and you shall be
on your way to your new posting having done good service to your
King."
"Sir Joseph…I
cannot say that I wholly like this plan."
"But you will
do it."
There really was
no choice. "Yes, sir."
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