An Awkward Commission (23 page)

‘You took your time getting here,’ said Charlie Taverner, but there was joy in it, not malice. ‘Pull up a barrel and park yourself.’

‘Now my old eyes might be playing tricks, Pearce,’ said Latimer, ‘but that ain’t no mid’s coat you’se ‘a wearing.’

‘It’s not, old friend, but it is mine by right, gifted to me by Farmer George himself.’

‘You’re on a ship?’ asked Michael, so far more reserved than the others.

‘I am not. I am here to get you free, and I can tell you that it has been a damned hard job to make the journey.’

The rest of the crew, four hundred men barring those on deck, were made curious by the sight of an officer sitting jawing with common seamen, all seven at the table
hugger-mugger
, gasping and occasionally laughing as he told them a tale. Enough of them braved the possibility of censure to move closer, and as each part of Pearce’s story was told, the salient point was passed around the deck. But there was one person who hung back from this, and eventually decided to go aloft and tell someone in authority of this strange apparition, which led to the arrival of a midshipman with a ‘request’ that Mr Pearce attend, immediately, upon the Officer of the Watch. Looking past him, standing, though well back, Pearce saw Cornelius Gherson.

‘I see Corny has not lost his gift for duplicity.’

‘He never will,’ said Charlie, glaring at the man.

‘Sir!’ insisted the midshipman. ‘If you cannot command the men to silence, I must.’

‘What happened in Portsmouth, John-boy,’ asked Michael, ignoring how much the midshipman was angered by his temerity in continuing to converse. ‘Why did you not come back as you said you would?’

‘A woman, Michael.’

There was a pause, with Pearce waiting for the bitter condemnation that was bound to follow, but the huge Irishman just put back his head and laughed, spluttering, ‘A woman. Holy Mother of Christ, how often have I fallen by the wayside for that sin. A woman by God, sure I hope she was a decent filly.’

He could see that the others wanted to speak, some to follow Michael and laugh, Charlie with the peaked look of a man who could not decide if he was angry or jealous, but the presence of the midshipman, plainly seething, ensured silence.

‘I will get you free lads, I promise.’

The midshipman actually growled. ‘Mr Taberly is waiting, sir.’

The name brought a strange look to Michael’s face. The laughter evaporated as quickly as it had emerged, and whatever thoughts he had were mirrored in the glum faces of the others.

‘That might no be as easy as you think, John-boy.’

Pearce half stood, picking up his hat. ‘Yes it will. I have Lord Hood on my side, as well as the law.’

‘I demand to know what you, sir, were doing on the lower deck of my ship, sitting on a barrel, talking to those men like some fishwife without permission to do so.’

‘I told you Mr Taberly, they are friends of mine. What’s
more, three of them were illegally pressed, and it is my intention to get them ashore and free.’

‘Illegally pressed,’ Taberly demanded, as though the notion itself was nonsense.

‘O’Hagan, Taverner and Dommet are their names. I will not trouble you with the actual circumstance, but I can assure you of the absolute truth of what I say.’

‘You can assure away, sir, but I can likewise assure you that those men will serve in this ship, probably until the peace.’

‘Forgive me, sir, but you are not the captain, who is the man who will make the decision.’

‘I can speak for him, Mr Pearce, and a great number of the crew, especially as we are here in Toulon and the fleet is at anchor. Seek to remove O’Hagan and there will be a riot.’

‘A riot?’ asked Pearce, totally thrown.

‘Every man aboard
Leander
expects to make a bit out of his prowess. As soon as possible we will challenge every ship in the fleet to put up a bruiser, maybe even one from the French, I hazard that few will match O’Hagan, which will line the pocket of every man who backs him, and his shipmates will.’

‘Like in Gibraltar?’

‘Exactly,’ Taberly replied, his face eager. ‘That made us a pretty penny I can tell you.’

‘It did nothing for Michael O’Hagan. I have seen how his face has altered.’

‘Rubbish. He had light duties for a week, he gets special food, though, annoyingly, he shares that with his mess, as well as a cash reward for his efforts.’

‘It does not occur to you that he might prefer not to fight.’

‘Prefer not?’ demanded Taberly, in a shocked tone.
‘What the devil, sir, are you talking about? Seamen do not state their preferences, they do as they are bid and hope to do it well enough to avoid being punished. Or are you one of these tender-hearted fools who indulges common tars? They need the lash, man, to do their duty, if not on their backs, in their minds.’

‘I would like to see the Captain.’

Taberly sneered at him. ‘I very much doubt if the Captain would care to see you.’

‘He can see me now, or when I come aboard with an order from Lord Hood to release the named men. I would prefer it, and I am sure he would too, to offer them up without instructions.’

Taberly took a step back and put his hands on his hips, examining Pearce as though he was some freak show exhibit. ‘You really are the most extraordinary fellow, Pearce. I have never heard of you and I doubt anyone has. You have a commission a few weeks old and yet you come aboard my ship, looking as if you’ve been brawling in the gutter, bandy about the name of the Commander-in-Chief as though his sole purpose is to do your bidding, and even threaten the captain with discomfort. I think you have taken leave of your senses.’

Pearce wanted to slap him, but instead he smiled. ‘It is you who are the fool, sir, you who will face the wrath of your captain when I explain to him, as I most certainly will get an opportunity to do, that you failed to see the seriousness of my request.’

‘What I fail to see, sir, is what you are doing on this deck, which I would be obliged if you would leave.’

‘I will be back.’

‘Then you’d best come with orders, sir, for I will ensure that every officer on
Leander
knows of you, and that any attempt to return to this deck without official sanction will be declined.’

Pearce turned to go, but spun round for a parting shot. ‘You best tell the ship, sir, that if they want a boxing bout, they best find another champion. O’Hagan will not fight, for I will tell him to refuse.’

Taberly had no idea how close he came himself to being floored, when he replied with a humourless grin. ‘Refuse. Men in my division do not refuse. I do not think O’Hagan will dare, especially when the option is to fight or take a turn at the grating.’

Still seething, John Pearce returned to HMS
Victory
, to find the whole Toulon delegation still there, including a
worried-looking
Baron d’Imbert, his concerns, once voiced, weighing heavily.

‘I persuaded Admiral de Trogoff to stay on the grounds of his own personal safety, and treat with Lord Hood, but it will not surprise you to know that St Julien, in order to save his own skin, left without bothering to take with him his Republican followers. So we have near five thousand of them, officers and men, sitting in the town, and the Lord alone knows what to do with them.’

‘Did you not say there were no officers in the crowd at the Place D’Armes.’

‘I lied, Lieutenant Pearce, for fear of the effect it would have on my admiral. Now I fear for the effect it will have on yours.’ A voice summoned him to the great cabin, and d’Imbert gave Pearce a weak smile as he moved away. ‘I must go in there and propose a solution.’

Ralph Barclay had to wait a long time to see Lord Hood, which underlined to him his place in the pecking order, this driven home to him when Captain Knight played host to several captains who had been admitted, amongst them the captain of HMS
Agamemnon
. He was a man for whom Barclay had an almost visceral dislike, Horatio Nelson being the antithesis of what he considered to be a competent officer. Added to that were two facts that rankled even more: though just ahead of him on the captain’s list, Nelson had been given command of a sixty-four gun ship, while he had a small frigate. The other was more telling: Nelson was known to be esteemed by Lord Hood, which Ralph Barclay was most assuredly not. Then there was the other point which mystified him; Nelson thought of him as a friend, and treated him as such, but then the man was like that. Quite a number of his fellow captains found him to be a bit of a sycophant.

‘I have orders for Naples,’ piped Nelson, in that voice which Ralph Barclay described to others, including his wife, as girlish. ‘They are being drawn up as we speak. I must impress upon the Court of the Two Sicilies that a failure to support the Toulon enterprise will do them harm in the long run.’

Naples! Him! Ralph Barclay thought, looking down at Nelson. Hood must be mad! Surely he should send someone
of stature, not to mention height, instead of this pint-sized poltroon!

‘How interesting, Captain Nelson. You will be able to exercise your diplomatic skills.’

Nelson laughed, or as Barclay would later describe it, giggled, totally missing the sarcastic tone. ‘I am damned short on those, I can assure you. But I am informed that the representative at Naples is a competent fellow.’

‘Hamilton.’

‘You know him?’

‘I know of him, who does not? He tied himself to that trollop who sat for Romney, the one with the auburn hair, Emma something or other. Only God knows how many men she lay on her back for before she snared the old fool. Imagine, a relative of the Duke of Hamilton, a childhood friend of the King, in his sixties, and he goes and marries a whore.’

A servant topped up Barclay’s glass, but Nelson declined. ‘I was not aware of this, I must say.’

‘I am surprised, sir. Where have you been?’

‘Norfolk,’ Nelson replied, in a hurt tone. ‘Five years of unemployment, which I know is an experience we share.’

Ralph Barclay actually growled, though not at Nelson. Those five years on half-pay, lying to tradesmen, fobbing off his creditors, denying things to his sisters they saw as essential, were not something of which he cared to be reminded. At least they had ended happily with marriage and a ship.

‘Well, let’s hope that old Sir William has not lost his marbles completely.’ Ralph Barclay waited for the response to his jest, but none came, which led him to conclude that amongst the other things Nelson did not know was that Sir William Hamilton was a noted collector of Roman antiquities. ‘I am sure you will enjoy a visit to Naples,
Nelson. I have heard the ladies are very willing in that neck of the woods. Captain Augustus Hervey apparently sired several bastards in those parts in the late fifties.’

‘I shan’t linger,’ Nelson replied seriously, equally quick to miss the salacious look which had taken hold of the face of his companion. ‘Once my mission is accomplished, I shall be straight back here. Why would I not when there is going to be some fighting?’

‘Captain Barclay.’ Turning, he saw the C-in-C’s letter writer. ‘Lord Hood will see you now.’

‘Good luck in Naples, Nelson. Don’t get up to any mischief. Remember, every man is a bachelor east of Gibraltar.’

Nelson blushed at that, and added a slightly forced smile, it being something he had said, too loud and drunk with it, at a dinner in Lisbon.

‘Captain Barclay,’ demanded Lord Hood, in a voice that lacked any welcome. ‘What is it you wish to see me about on a day when I have hardly a second to spare?’

‘I wish to give you my report on the action of HMS
Brilliant
.’

Ralph Barclay took a chance to nod to the others in the cabin, admirals Hotham, Parker and Rear Admiral Goodall.

‘Surely you mean the loss?’ said Hood.

‘We have her back now, sir,’ Barclay said, placing the despatch on the table, ‘and most of her repairs are completed. I have taken the liberty of raiding the French storehouses so I can confidently say that she is, in all respect bar one, ready for service.’

‘Bar one?’

‘I lost hands in the battle, sir, which leaves me short.’

Hood, busy reading the despatch, just grunted.

‘I hear it was a hot action, Barclay,’ said Hotham. ‘And damned difficult odds.’

‘Damned hot, sir, and I so very nearly got clear, but the wind was dead foul.’

It was Parker’s turn to speak. ‘I have to say, Captain, that questions have been raised about the probity of this encounter.’

The response had been rehearsed a hundred times in the last few days of captivity, so came out smoothly. ‘Sir, I saw it as my duty to ensure that the French did not weigh, to sow in their minds the notion that this very fleet was close enough to bring them to an action should they do so. When you read my report you will see that I had the necessary signals flying to convey that message.’

‘A bluff, Barclay,’ said Hotham in a rather forced manner.

‘Precisely that, sir. I feared that if they got out on a wind they could head in any direction.’

‘And if they had?’ demanded Parker.

‘It was my intention to shadow them, sir, then communicate the course to the cutter I left on station.’

‘Very proper,’ said Hotham, throwing a glance at Hood, who was still digesting the report on the action.

The possibility of censure existed, it always did in King George’s Navy, regardless of what one did, but he looked to Hotham for support. Hood, he knew, had little time for him; they had clashed in London before
Brilliant
weighed, and it had been obvious that he still saw him in the light of his past connections. Barclay had been a protégé of the late Admiral Sir George Brydges Rodney, a man he considered a genius, while Hood reviled his one-time superior as a fount of misplaced greed and outright corruption.

The problem for Ralph Barclay was in the ‘late’. Admiral Rodney was dead, and nothing so blighted an officer’s career
as being attached to a senior who was a corpse, for he could do nothing to advance his followers from the grave, and that was the source of elevation. Without interest in the world a man was nothing, regardless of which profession he chose to follow and in the Navy it was especially paramount. He and Hotham, though it had not been stated openly, had come to an understanding in Lisbon. He had done the admiral a favour, without asking for anything in return as a sign of his attachment. So for Ralph Barclay, Hotham, hopefully, had replaced the late, lamented Rodney.

‘Hands, Barclay,’ said Hood finally. ‘I seem to recall having a discussion on that topic before.’

‘Yes, sir, at the Admiralty.’

‘Ah yes. You implied I was a liar.’

‘I doubt that, sir,’ Hotham insisted, shock on his carefully barbered face. ‘Captain Barclay is not that sort of officer.’

Hood looked from one to the other, and smiled to himself as he dropped his eyes back to the papers in front of him, the letters from William Pitt, the main thrust of which was the tenuous nature of his government’s power. No one knew better than Samuel Hood the skeins of interest and how they operated, and by speaking as he had, Hotham had just told him that he was prepared to act as Barclay’s protector. That complicated matters, for in the private correspondence that had come with Pearce it had been made plain that his Second-in-Command had powerful friends in Parliament, like the Whig Duke of Portland, who led a faction inclined to support the war against France. These were people that Pitt was trying to seduce into joining his government and the addition of such support was no light matter, for that bloc of votes, in effect splitting and emasculating the Whig opposition, would make his position as the King’s First Minister unassailable.

Concomitant to that, although not stated in writing, was
the obvious fact that Sir William Hotham, because of that connection, was a man to be handled with care. To upset him, to have him writing home to his friends in complaint, which might give them cause to rebuff Pitt, was to risk the future of the government he supported, as well as his own position as C-in-C in the Mediterranean.

‘But the discussion was about hands, was it not?’ Hood insisted.

‘I was very short on my complement, sir,’ Ralph Barclay replied.

‘So short that you indulged in a little illegal impressment?’

‘Sir?’

‘We had an officer come out from England, a Lieutenant Pearce—’

‘Surely he is not truly of that rank, sir?’

‘Please do not interrupt me, Captain.’ Barclay nodded an apology, his mind spinning as to where this conversation was leading. ‘As I said, Pearce. He is a lieutenant, made so at the insistence of the King himself.’

This was a time for Ralph Barclay to stay silent. To express his thoughts to a room full of admirals, that the King must indeed be mad, was professional suicide.

‘And for outstanding bravery, Captain Barclay. Now this man says you pressed him and others illegally.’

‘There is no truth in that, sir.’

‘So Pearce is a liar?’

‘I did press men before we weighed, but I took them to be seamen. If this Pearce, whom I scarcely can recall, says he is not of that profession, then all I can say is that it did not appear to be the case to those I sent out hunting.’

‘You did not go yourself?’

‘No!’ The negative response was out before he thought it through, and he suspected it to be a mistake. But withdrawal was impossible.

Hood smiled to himself again. ‘Perhaps we should bring you face to face with the fellow, and see who is telling the truth?’

‘With respect, sir,’ said Hotham, ‘this is hardly a subject for a fleet with the defence of Toulon to deal with.’

Hood looked at Hotham with something less than affability – they did not get on – but his mind was registering the fact that his second-in-command would not only protect Barclay, but might go to some lengths to do so, just to establish his own position. If he could receive private correspondence so could Hotham. It made him wonder at what bargain they had struck, but since he would never know he gave up speculating. All he knew was that politics would insist that he accede to whatever Hotham demanded, if the man was prepared to push Barclay’s case; he was not about to jeopardise the government of which he was a part for a brand new lieutenant, who was also the son of a man who abhorred everything that he held sacred.

He passed Barclay’s despatch to his junior, feeling a bit like Pontius Pilate. ‘Then we must think of another way to resolve it, Admiral Hotham. I would welcome any suggestions you have.’

‘These orders are, I assume, from Admiral Hood?’ The secretary shrugged, in a way that angered John Pearce. ‘I wish to question them.’

That got a lazily raised eyebrow. ‘Question them?’

‘I had the impression that we both spoke English. What is it about that which I just said you find confusing?’

The tone of mockery was unwelcome, that was obvious from the response. The secretary was clearly used to respect, hardly surprising given his lofty office – the C-in-C’s man of business and fleet prize agent. A hand was held out, into which Pearce placed the folded paper, to be opened and read.

‘These orders come from Admiral Hotham.’

‘Hotham?’

‘Allow that I can recognise the hand of his letter writer, as well as the admiral’s signature.’

‘Why would Admiral Hotham be giving orders to me?’

‘I have no idea. All I do know is you are being given a commission, and I have rarely known that to bring anything to a fellow of your rank other than joy.’

‘I don’t want a commission.’

The secretary sat back, exhaling air in the manner of a person who had too much to do, and no time to be bothered with this intrusion. ‘You have the right to refuse, of course, but if you wish to do so, the place to make that known is aboard HMS
Britannia
, not here.’

‘I wish to see Lord Hood.’

‘Lord Hood is busy.’

‘Ask him!’

He could not help but feel he was the witness to a performance. An under-secretary was summoned – the same fellow who had lent Pearce his coat – who went into the main cabin, only to emerge after a few seconds to whisper in his superior’s ear.

‘Admiral Lord Hood is busy seeing to the defence of Toulon. He has no time to see you, Lieutenant Pearce.’

‘If I wait?’

The secretary enjoyed his riposte, which came with a thin-lipped smile. ‘If you decide to do so, I should fetch your shaving kit.’

At least he got to see a naval officer aboard
Britannia
, not Hotham but his Flag Lieutenant, a good-looking fellow eager to explain to a less than enamoured caller the thinking of his admiral.

‘Your complaint against Captain Barclay requires
investigation, but you will readily appreciate that this moment is hardly the time to undertake such a thing. The task given to HMS
Weazel
is neither hazardous nor likely to be of much duration, and her own lieutenant has, like so many other fleet officers, been ordered ashore, leaving Captain Benton unsupported. Since you had no employment, and none of the skills necessary to likewise work on the defences, the admiral felt that you would be better employed cruising than kicking your heels aboard ship.’

Reiterating that he did not want a commission brought forth a concerned look from the man he was addressing, a fellow of his own age with the air of a practised diplomat. Now he looked worried.

‘Lieutenant Pearce, if I may speak to you man to man, and outside my duties as Admiral Hotham’s Flag Lieutenant?’ He paused, waiting for a frowning Pearce to nod. ‘I am aware of your case against Captain Barclay, but I am also conscious, as I suspect you are not, that you will require the goodwill of the senior officers on the station to bring it to any sort of conclusion. He is a post captain, and while it may be true that what he did was questionable…’