An Awkward Commission (5 page)

‘My dear lady,’ he said quietly to himself. ‘I suspect society is just as fickle as you. They will have forgotten the
Valmy
in a week or two.’

Pearce stripped off and lowered himself gratefully into the bath, but he did not linger, for to do so only produced ruminations on his predicament, none of which was comfortable. As soon as he was clean he was out and dried and into the clean clothing he found in the trunk. Then, taking the fine headed notepaper from the desk drawer and sharpening a quill, he dipped his pen and began to write. The hotel had provided wax and its own seal, which he used to secure the letters. He had to wait awhile, until his boots were returned, which obliged him to ignore the knocking on the door and wait till Didcot left them. As soon as the porter was gone he had them on, and went down the stairs and out through the lobby like a man with much on his mind.

Pearce arranged the delivery of his letters by a post boy for a penny, the addresses of the Admiralty and Downing Street being almost next door to each other, both also destinations that would not pay for the carriage. Taking a seat in the tavern from which he had engaged the boy, he ate a filling pie washed down with a very pleasant tankard of porter for a tenth of the price he would have paid at Nerot’s, ruminating
as he did so on what his missives would achieve. He had no faith that the letter to the secretary at the Admiralty would produce anything, and pinned what little hope he had on that he had sent to William Pitt, requesting an interview.

An hour later he turned up at the front door of His Majesty’s First Lord of the Treasury, and was shown into an anteroom to wait, offered a glass of wine which he declined, something he came to regret as one hour stretched to two, then three and more, so that it was nearing ten-of-the-clock before he was ushered into Pitt’s presence. Slim, pale, and still looking absurdly young for his office, William Pitt sat at a large table which seemed to fill most of a spacious room. With him was a solid, well-fed looking and florid fellow, and on the table the papers they had been going through, as well as several empty claret bottles, which they appeared to have consumed while doing so.

‘Lieutenant Pearce, if I’m not mistaken.’

He’s drunk, thought Pearce, looking at the bottles and catching the slur in the voice.

‘Allow me to name to you a fellow countryman of yours, Henry Dundas.’

‘Laddie,’ Dundas said, using a diminutive, and in a deep, Scottish-accented voice, that was very reminiscent of his father. ‘I knew old Adam well, sir, having crossed swords with him, verbally of course, many times. I commiserate with you in your loss and damn, as I am sure you do, the villains who did such a thing.’

Dundas too had had a drink, it was in the high colour of his cheeks, but he seemed less affected by it than Pitt. ‘We shall have to be about our business, Will, we are due in the hoose at this very moment.’

‘Then we will need a couple to help us through, Harry, so pull the bell for more. Will you join us in a glass, young Pearce?’

‘No thank you, sir. If time is pressing, so is my business.’

‘Which is?’

‘I believe when we last met I alluded to the fact that I was illegally pressed into the Navy.’

‘Did you? I do not recall.’

‘Along with several other unfortunates. Indeed, I hope one day to the see the captain involved, one Ralph Barclay, in court for the offence.’

Dundas cut in, speaking from the side of the great fireplace, in the act of tugging on the bell pull. ‘I would’na pin too much faith in a satisfactory outcome of something like that, laddie. We are at war, or did ye no ken?’

‘Careful, Harry,’ Pitt cut in, with a lopsided smile, ‘your “laddie” is a proven fighter.’

Pearce replied to Dundas. ‘And we, sir, I believe, have laws that war does not suspend.’

‘One or two of which, I ken, you and your late father were wont to break, to the point of both prison and flight. Sedition, was it not, scurrilous writings saying that what happened to King Louis should have been repeated in the case of our Geordie?’

The smile that accompanied those words had an undertone of menace, as Pearce recalled his father’s opinion of Henry Dundas, which was not a high or flattering one. Called the ‘Uncrowned King of Scotland’, he was the leader of a large group of Scottish MPs, a staunch supporter of Pitt and his government, and so skilled in jobbery and corruption that his name was wont to induce apoplexy in those who opposed him, which included a goodly number of fellow-Tories. Pearce also knew the pamphlet to which Dundas was referring had called for the peaceful removal of the King, an abolition of the monarchy, having been written long before King Louis’ execution. Adam Pearce would never have proposed decapitation for any human being, even a tyrant, but there
was no point in saying so, for if time was pressing, there was no time to debate the rights and wrongs of Republicanism.

‘Be that as it may, Mr Dundas, I have several companions still illegally forced to serve in the Navy. Admiral Lord Howe promised to release them and has not done so. I tried to get him to act in Bath, but I failed to even get to see him.’

‘An indolent fellow,’ said Pitt, reaching for a half-full bottle and filling his glass. ‘Only the insistence of the King secured his appointment. But then, the King did the same for you when he demanded your promotion, did he not? So we must not complain.’

A servant entered and placed two bottles on the table, this while Pitt emptied into his mouth what he had just poured. The corks had been removed then replaced so that they were proud of the neck.

‘I need your assistance to get them released, Mr Pitt.’

‘That’s coming it a wee bit high is it not, laddie, importuning the King’s Furst Minister for such a paltry purpose?’

‘It may be paltry to you, Mr Dundas, but to me it is important.’

The shrug that he received in response was eloquent enough; what was important to Pearce was not important to men such as these. ‘We must go, Will, or Fox will start debating the West Indian situation without us. Much hangs on it.’

Pearce spoke to Pitt in desperation, for he suspected that if he failed in this interview he would struggle to get another. What he said was impulsive, but it was the only thing he could think of. ‘Sir, at the King’s levee you promised me if you could ever be of service to me, I was to call upon you. I do so now.’

It was Dundas who replied, leaving Pearce to wonder who held the power in the room. ‘It is beyond our office to interfere in the business of the Navy, laddie. Lord Chatham and the sea officers of the Board of Admiralty would, quite
rightly, tell us to poke our noses elsewhere, and the serving sailors would be a damn sight less polite.’

‘Then give me the means to free them myself.’

‘How can I do that?’ slurred Pitt.

‘I have a lieutenant’s commission. Get me a place on a vessel going to the Mediterranean, for that is where these companions of mine are headed.’

‘Will!’

‘Quite,’ the First Lord of the Treasury replied, nodding to Dundas and hauling himself slowly to his feet to stand, swaying ever so slightly. ‘If I made such a promise, then I shall redeem it, for I would not have it said that I am not a man of my word. Leave a letter with one of my secretaries, tell me what you need and where you are to be found, and I will see what I can do.’

‘A letter from you demanding their release would carry much weight.’

The tone of Pitt’s voice had a harder edge than hitherto. ‘I seem to recall I am obliged to you for one favour, Mr Pearce, not two.’

‘Be so good as to be off, Pearce,’ insisted Dundas, ‘for if we dinna attend the hoose those damned Whigs might try to force a vote.’

Pearce bit his tongue then, holding back the desire to know how two men as inebriated as these could possibly engage in debate. Had he seen them enter the chamber later, each with a bottle in hand and their arms around each other for mutual support, he would have wondered even more. But then, a look at both the government and the opposition benches, and the sound of the raucous and uncontrolled cheers and jeers which greeted their arrival, would have established that the two men, as far as being drunk was concerned, were in good company.

His first call, the following morning, was to the Admiralty, where he faced, for the first time in his life, the creatures who guarded access to the building, the uniformed doormen. Unbeknown to this visitor they were notorious throughout the Navy, well-remunerated fellows who could barely be brought to civility by the arrival of an admiral, were generally indifferent to Post Captains – hardly surprising given they were better paid – so that their attitude to lieutenants was nothing short of rude.

‘Can’t do any oath swearing today, they be holding their levee,’ insisted one, a gnarled-faced gnome who smelt strongly of stale beer and tobacco. ‘Come back tomorrow.’

‘I was not aware they held such a thing.’

‘I daresay there be a rate of things you don’t know, young fellow, which ain’t much use when you’se at sea. Happens one day every week, and if’n you ain’t got a written invite, you can’t pass through this door.’

There were two things of which John Pearce, looking at this pair, was sure: that no amount of pleading would help, and that he lacked the only other thing – money – which might get him inside. So he mentioned that which he had posted yesterday.

‘You sent in a letter, you say?’

‘I did,’ Pearce replied, ‘to the First Secretary.’

‘Why, I suspect he is a’reading it now, young sir, and
wondering what he did to deserve your condescension.’

The other doorman wheezed out a laugh, proving to Pearce the thought which had already occurred: that he was being toyed with. ‘All I want to know is if it has been received and read.’

‘Have you any notion of waiting for a reply?’

‘I do not have time to wait.’

Nor, thought Pearce, do I want to part with a sixpence to read it.

‘Hear that, Alfred? Our young pup has no time to wait. I reckon the Frenchies would be quaking in their boots to know this lad’s a’coming to do battle wi’ them.’

The other fellow was looking over his shoulder at the busy Whitehall traffic. ‘Well, he best be off to his fight, for we’ve got no time to indulge him. I suggest that you move along, for I see Captain Orde approaching, who is on the list of invites, an’ we has no mind to keep him waiting for the likes of you.’

It was only curiosity that kept Pearce there until this officer was greeted and passed inside, that and a feeling of certainty that he would witness what he did, the passing of coin from this Captain Orde to the two now utterly obsequious, forelock-tugging doormen, which only served to underline his need for money. His next call was to see about getting some.

‘Mr Davidson will see you now, Lieutenant.’

Pearce rose from the chair which he had occupied this last half hour and followed the fellow who had summoned him into a large office, leaving behind him an impressive bustle of activity, of the kind that convinced him that he was about to deal with a serious man of business, for he had been listed in the newspapers as the agent handling the prize fund due from the capture of the
Valmy
. The first thing that
struck him about Davidson’s appearance was his apparent youthfulness; such an enterprise as the one he had observed surely should have someone of more age and gravity at its head. Yet the smile was disarming, the welcome genuine on a young, attractive face, but the news the prize agent had to impart, once he had identified himself and where he came from, was far from encouraging, all hinging on the fact that the French 74 had been taken through the efforts of two vessels, with two commanders.

‘I represent Captain Marchand of HMS
Centurion
, while your superior officer, Mr Colbourne, is represented by the company of Ommaney & Druce. It is they who have questioned the distribution, which has a share allotted to Mr Colbourne as being that of a lieutenant, instead of as a captain.’

Pearce knew all about that dispute, and the way he had referred to Marchand by his post rank, while calling Colbourne a mere Mister was revealing; Davidson was far from being a non-partisan representative.

‘He was captain of the
Griffin
,’ Pearce insisted.

‘Master and Commander at a stretch, though an armed cutter does not carry the rank, Mr Pearce, but not made post and on the captain’s list. You must understand, to acknowledge that Lieutenant Colbourne, as he was at the time of the capture, shares in a captain’s rank and entitlements would cost Captain Marchand several thousand pounds. At present, since Captain Marchand was under Admiralty orders he has three-eights of the total, with no commanding admiral to satisfy. Were he to accede to Mr Colbourne’s demands, half of that would be forfeit, and the complications of dealing with the senior officer who wrote out orders for HMS
Griffin
would just add another layer of difficulty.’

Pearce knew that whatever the arguments, they had no
effect on him except delay. His share would be fixed whatever the outcome of the dispute. ‘How long before it is decided?’

‘A piece of rope is a fair guide,’ Davidson replied, with an almost embarrassed shrug. ‘Lawyers do not rush in these matters. I have known such cases take years to resolve.’

‘I need money now.’

Seeing the enquiring look, he decided not to mention Nerot’s Hotel, which had provided him with a good night’s sleep, and that morning with a sturdy breakfast. But he had no trouble thinking of a reason that would make sense to the man on the other side of the desk, even if it was a stretching of the truth.

‘I have expectations of a place and I need to buy the necessities an officer requires for sea service. Everything I owned went down with the ship.’

‘You were a midshipman, my clerk informed me.’ Davidson smiled as Pearce nodded, with a clear air of sympathy. ‘I fear a mid’s cut will scarce suffice to provide for the whole of your needs, sir.’

‘It will go some way to offsetting the costs,’ Pearce replied, without certainty, for he had no real idea of what he needed to go to sea, only that he might require money to pay for his commission and, more pressingly, his hotel.

‘I have advanced money to those members of the
Centurion
’s crew who have requested it, but I am obliged to do so at a discount which reflects the burden I have to carry in advancing sums for which I have no sure date for redemption.’

‘Offset, no doubt, by the interest you will earn.’

Davidson was quite sharp then. ‘You will have seen, while waiting, that I carry substantial overheads which must be met somehow.’

‘How much would I be due in those circumstances?’

Davidson reached behind him for a large and weighty
ledger, thumped it onto the table, and smiled at Pearce before opening it. Running his finger down a column of figures his brow furrowed. He went to another and did the same until he eventually stopped.

‘Pearce, you say?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m afraid I have you listed as a landsman, Mr Pearce, scarcely credible given the uniform you are wearing.’

The reply carried all the tension Pearce felt. ‘Captain Colbourne rated me a midshipman.’

‘Not apparently in the last muster book he sent in, from which I take my figures. Do you have anything in writing to that effect?’

‘No.’

‘And it is to be assumed that the last books went down with the ship?’ As Pearce nodded, he tapped the ledger. ‘Then, unless you can produce some proof I cannot do other than take from this. Mr Colbourne can, of course, change it, with the consent of the other party.’ Seeing the look of Pearce’s face he added, ‘I can write to him asking for clarification.’

Pearce was thinking hard, sure that the last submission of
Griffin
’s muster book had been after his elevation, because Colbourne had been adamant he would not get any pay for a rank that officially carried none. In fact, it only mattered in the issue of prize money. Their relationship had been far from good, in truth at times it had been downright hostile. Had the man merely not bothered, or had he humbugged him, as he had done more than once before?

‘Would it be possible to draw what am I owed and still seek the rest once my rank has been established?’

Davidson nodded again. ‘It is not a sum to excite, I must say, but we are dealing with the crews of two vessels, and I must say your
Griffin
was heavily manned for her size.’

‘A figure, if you please, sir?’

Davidson shuffled some papers in a drawer, finally producing a sheaf to be studied.

‘The whole prize is valued at just over twenty-three thousand pounds, and a landsman’s share comes in at just above twenty guineas. I could advance you the sum of sixteen pounds with safety.’

‘Can I ask what Captain Marchand will receive?’

Davidson had the good grace to look slightly uncomfortable. He was a man unaccustomed to having in his office those on the lowest rung of the prize fund ladder, the common seamen, and was therefore unused to trying to explain a system so manifestly unfair.

‘It is a sum you can calculate for yourself, Lieutenant. Should his case be found to be correct, and given he was sailing under Admiralty orders with no commanding officer to share his good fortune, he will receive over eight thousand pounds, less of course, his legal fees and my commissions. If Mr Colbourne is successful in his suit that will be halved.’

‘I have heard sailors curse the system of distribution of prize money. Now I know them to be right in their condemnation.’

‘There are many sailors, sir, but only one captain.’

‘Have any of the
Griffins
applied for advance payment?’

Davidson looked down at the ledger to check. ‘Not a one, and nor has Mr Colbourne applied on their behalf.’

Hardly surprising, Pearce thought. The poor sods are trapped on another ship, and I doubt Colbourne cares two hoots about them.

‘What you offer is not enough to meet my needs.’

‘Then, sir,’ Davidson replied gravely, ‘you must act as do other naval officers and pledge your pay as credit. Those who supply the Navy are accustomed to accept such sureties in lieu of settlement.’ Davidson actually laughed then, not very much, but enough. ‘Damn me, sir, without that sort of credit
we would scarce have a man able to serve. Even admirals are accustomed to pawning their plate or borrowing in order to take up their duties.’

The money was paid out by a clerk, and it was a ruminative John Pearce, mentally composing a stiff letter to his previous commander on the subject of his rank, who walked back to the hotel, there to find a letter waiting for him bearing an impressive Royal Treasury seal and franked as government post. It was clear, as it was handed over, that he was not the only one to be astounded; the hotel clerk who gave it to him had learnt how to grovel somewhat to a man who clearly had the ear of those in power. He waited till he was alone in his room to read it.

Lieutenant Pearce,

I am, on reflection, conscious of the commitment I made to you at Windsor and with that in mind I have made representations to my brother regarding your needs, unfortunately to no avail. You will understand that, at present, as the First Lord of the Admiralty, Lord Chatham is inundated with requests for employment from extremely deserving officers with exemplary service records, submissions he is often obliged to decline for lack of an available place. To ask him to elevate your claim above theirs would be grossly unfair.

Having read the letter you left with my secretary I am unsure of your purpose. Is your primary concern the release of those companions you claim were, like you, illegally pressed into the Navy and now on route to serve in the Mediterranean? Or is it that you seek employment for yourself?

Recalling what he had penned the night before, Pearce was sure that he had made plain what he sought, both verbally and in writing. He had, as a backstop, asked for a place if that would provide the only avenue open to him to help his friends.

While I cannot comment on the merits of your case, I can
 
see that the proper place to make representations on their behalf would be to Lord Hood, the Commander-in-Chief on that station, who, as the senior naval member serving on the Board of Admiralty, might also be in a position to adjudicate on your assertions of improper behaviour on the part of an officer presently serving under his command. It would also be the case, that should you seek an opening, Lord Hood, as a serving C-in-C on active service, would be in a better position to offer you employment than even my own brother.

With that in mind, and in the hope that it will satisfy you, I have arranged for you to take passage on the packet carrying official despatches for Lord Hood, which sails, weather permitting, from Portsmouth every seven days. There is also private correspondence of a confidential nature, which you must undertake to carry, along with a recommendation from me regarding the granting to you of a place suitable to your abilities, which I can say with some confidence should have the desired effect. If Lord Hood can oblige me, given that he is a stout supporter of my government, owing as he does his position as a serving member on the Board of Admiralty to me, he will undoubtedly do so.

If you agree, please send the enclosed, pre-franked note by return, the information in which I will pass on to the First Secretary at the Admiralty, who can then have drawn up the requisite official instructions. Should you accept the offer contained herein, I consider, as I am sure you do, that my obligation to you is satisfied in all respects.

William Pitt had signed it with a flourish, affixing his official seal and a ribbon inside as well. The blank letter mentioned was indeed enclosed, that too government franked, and thus free to both sender and recipient.

Re-reading the letter, John Pearce was more conscious of the problems such an offer could create rather than the
opportunities. To take passage on that packet was to take a journey into the unknown; he had no real idea how close what was proposed would take him to those he was committed to get free, nor how the man in charge would respond. Hood could tell him to go to the devil in very much the same way as had Admiral Graves. What would he do then? And what about the request that he be found employment, a course fraught with peril? He might be a lieutenant – or would be once he had sworn the requisite oaths and paid his fee – but he had little knowledge of how to undertake the duties that went with the rank. The notion that he might be reluctantly forced to follow that course brought home to him another fact; as he had pointed out to Davidson, he lacked the means to equip himself with the clothing and equipment necessary to even look the part, and look the part he must if he was to have the slightest chance of achieving his aim.