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Authors: David Donachie

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‘They had been calling into question his qualities in a very offensive way. Said he was a burden at Calvi for seeking to do what was best done by redcoats.’

‘We were told so, were we not, Josiah?’

‘Told so, Mr Hoste?’ Pearce asked.

‘That and a lot more besides, downright insults of a most personal nature.’

‘What kind of insults?’ Nelson demanded, an interruption which irritated Pearce, though he could not say so.

‘That you lacked height, ran a filthy ship, were born out of wedlock, greedy and that no boy was safe in your company.’

‘What!’

That shouted outburst of fury produced a strange reaction, very close to a veiled smile. It was almost as if the lad was enjoying the discomfiture his words had caused. Nelson was
shaking his head, clearly upset and did not observe the look, which allowed Pearce to continue.

‘Told? You did not hear these insults delivered yourselves, is that what you are saying?’

‘No, Mr Pearce,’ Hoste responded, before realising he was causing confusion. ‘I mean to say, yes. They were related to us by a couple of hands from another ship.’

‘A swab I got hold of by the throat,’ Nisbet added, with a face screwed up to indicate the level of his recollected fury. The questioning look had him continue, his snarl designed to show resolution. ‘Thought the sod was the one making the accusations. When I got hold of him he soon told me the truth of it. That it was the bullocks. They had been goin’ round the whole town slighting
Agamemnon
and our captain.’

‘They paid the price,’ Hoste added. ‘Be a rate of time afore they insult anyone in a blue coat again.’

‘Which ship did these fellows come from?’

‘No idea, sir. We didn’t ask and they didn’t say.’

‘There were three of them, one being a lad who had never dipped his wick,’ Hoste added, with a sly grin, ‘which was put paid to by a collection. Had to be carried to his doom and came back all grins.’

‘Freckles damn near fell off,’ Nisbet said, with a chuckle. ‘There was another of the trio, a brute of a Paddy, hands like hams and a real bruiser by the look, well drunk he was, too, dancing and singing with some of the hands from the frigates, they being Irishmen likewise.’

‘Didn’t get the name of the one that related to us what these bullocks from the 65th Foot had been saying. But he told us where they rested and so off we went to teach them some manners.’

The sinking feeling in John Pearce’s gut was acute and he had to fight hard to keep his voice even. ‘A description might help.’

‘Sandy hair, comely look about him and a silvery tongue for sure.’

‘And they accompanied you?’

‘No,’ Hoste replied, ‘which seems strange now. Didn’t remark on it at the time. Never saw hide nor hair after we went looking for the bullocks.’

‘Well, gentlemen, I thank you.’ Never comfortable with blatant lies Pearce had to force himself to say the next words in a like tone. ‘I don’t feel much enlightened by what you have related to me, nor can I tell why my name is associated with what happened. But it is and I will be at a stand to find a way to correct it.’

‘Be assured, sir,’ Hoste added, ‘we will put the word about that you had no part.’

‘Thank you, Mr Hoste.’

‘Best be about your duties,’ Nelson ordered, which had them nodding and exiting his cabin, he not speaking till they were gone. ‘I cannot see what further aid I can give you, sir.’

‘Neither can I, sir, though I would request that when you set out to return to San Fiorenzo Bay I can come along as a passenger. I have a need to see Admiral Hotham.’

The name got a raised eyebrow but no request for an explanation. ‘Most certainly. It will be a matter of a day or two, but how many I will not know until I have spoken with Captain Urquhart. You may berth aboard till then, if you wish.’

‘Most kind.’

Nelson stood up. ‘Let me see you to your boat.’

‘Uncommonly civil of you, sir.’

They came out onto a busy deck, with derricks being rigged to take in stores and many a shout from below as what they had left was being shifted to make space for what was already being piled up on the quay.

‘Odd that
Semele
is not here,’ Nelson said idly, looking across the anchorage.

‘That being Captain Barclay’s ship,’ Pearce responded unnecessarily; who had what was no secret.

‘Aye. She departed Corsica two days before we did, though it was our turn to revictual ahead of her. If she’s not here she will be cruising. I daresay our C-in-C was keen to indulge Barclay, given they are close. He will be out there somewhere seeking to line his already bulging purse.’

Captain Urquhart was unhappy to see Pearce again, but not enough to refuse to answer the question posed, even if he did so with ill-grace.

No, he had not seen any sign of HMS
Semele
.

‘Lady Hamilton, it is an almost unmeasurable pleasure to meet with you.’

‘How very gracious, Captain Barclay.’

Had the woman addressed known of the thoughts coursing through his mind she would not have smiled at such a greeting. He was thinking of how he could relate to others that he had actually encountered this Jezebel. His listeners would be avid to hear of it, to be told if the signs of her known debaucheries were plain to the eye or hidden from view. And was her husband the old booby he was supposed to be, hoodwinked into marrying a woman whose reputation was so tainted that he had apparently forfeited the good opinion of society and his childhood friend King George?

‘No words can do justice to your beauty, milady, which is famed throughout the land.’

Two deep lines appeared at either side of the top of Emma Hamilton’s nose, which told Ralph Barclay he had overcooked his compliments; her beauty might be what he had said, but it was not that for which she was best known
and in terms of bloom it was past its peak. That said she was too experienced to let on.

‘It is always a pleasure to have officers of our country’s wooden walls as a guest, sir, though too infrequent as my husband will tell you. And sir, I beg you to resume your seat.’

Manners had Barclay wait until she had herself taken a chair. The point made by his wife was taken up by the ambassador. ‘I cannot seem to persuade your seniors of the dangers under which Naples labours.’

‘While I admit to ignorance.’

‘Really?’ came the surprised response. ‘The monarchy hereabouts is shaky, Captain Barclay. There is a deal of republican sentiment—’

‘Harshly dealt with, I trust,’ Barclay interrupted, which earned him a frown.

‘I have made representations to Lord Hood on more than one occasion that the sight of a British ship of the line in the Bay of Naples would do much to temper the more fervent elements seduced by the scoundrels of Paris.’

‘And he declined to respond?’

‘From what I have been told he could not do so, his responsibilities elsewhere being so great. But Captain Nelson—’

Now it was his wife who interrupted to say, ‘Our good friend Captain Nelson,’ though it was received with a graceful nod from her husband.

‘Quite. He has written to us many times to say that he reminds Lord Hood of the need, though of course that must now be aimed at his successor.’

Pigs might fly, Ralph Barclay thought; Hotham would not listen to Nelson, quite the reverse.

‘This city,’ Hamilton continued, ‘is also across the main shipping routes from the Levant to the Atlantic and it is much pestered by piracy. That, I have suggested, would be solved by a pair of frigates and I need hardly point out to you, Captain Barclay, that such a service in such an area against such people could prove to be very profitable.’

‘I fear that Admiral Hotham can no more oblige you than Lord Hood. The task at hand is to beat the French fleet, sir, and he would say nothing may distract from that. Believe me when I assure you, I know his mind.’

‘No doubt he feels he must compete with Lord Howe for the affection of the nation.’

Said with a wry tone it was Barclay’s turn to be offended. Even if he was far from a partisan of Black Dick Howe – in fact the very reverse was true – he felt the need to defend him against what was a scurrilous opinion.

‘Whom I was privileged to serve under on the Glorious First, Sir William!’

‘Were you, by damn.’

‘Perhaps,’ Emma Hamilton interjected, ‘you will relate to us the events of that over dinner for it is bound to be an enthralling tale. Now, enough of this talk of ships and battles, sir, you are fresh from home, I believe, and you will thus be aware of the talk of the
ton
. We’re in receipt of news out here but gossip, the true story of what is happening, does not often come this way.’

Ralph Barclay was only misled by that for a moment; he soon realised what he suspected to be the truth. Emma Hamilton was uncomfortable in conversation of which she was not the centre.

‘Then I will make for a poor fountain of news. I rarely mix
with the people who engage in tittle-tattle, milady.’

It was incumbent on the ambassador and his wife to be good hosts and they were, but without what Barclay called tittle-tattle it soon became a struggle as the subjects on which they could converse began to dry up. Despite what their visitor thought, Emma Hamilton let the men talk; she was too occupied in assessing the man before her and for the life of her she could not fathom how a striking and sweet-natured creature like Emily could have ever become involved with him.

She was prepared to acknowledge that questions of the same nature circled around her marriage but a mere look satisfied those. Even with his greater years her husband was a man of the world, urbane and witty, well read and still studious. And he was yet handsome, tall and slim. He kept a good figure by his activities, overseeing digs in search of ancient artefacts as well as regular swims, while his mind was kept alert through the complexities of his mission to the Kingdom of Naples.

Ralph Barclay looked coarse and was, as her husband had said, that very thing. His face was red from being at sea, but under that it had a saturnine quality that went with the stiff and dark hair, peppered with a touch of grey. And he was bad at eye contact, which laid a suspicion of a manner less than entirely honest. Certainly Barclay was being polite, but since he was not looking at her Emma could see the effort he put into appearing polished.

If he sought not to reveal his thoughts, Barclay failed under such an acute examination. He was a man who found it hard not to show his true opinions on his features, despite rapid attempts at disguise. Mention of Lord Hood clouded
his face as did the frequent mention her husband made of Horatio Nelson. Hotham got equal approbation and his praise of the man bordered on outright sycophancy.

Hints from Emily Barclay told of a conjugal tyrant and his hostess was sure she could observe he would lack gentility. She also opined that he had courted and married his young wife not from any deep love but because it made him appear good; in short Emily was like a medal to be worn to demonstrate prowess. She finally decided he was both a trimmer and a self-serving climber long before a servant appeared to announce that his clerk was at the door.

‘The sun is dipping, Captain Barclay,’ the Chevalier said. ‘You will wish to prepare for dinner and so must we, while I dare say you would want to converse with your man in private.’

‘I would indeed, sir.’

‘Then we will go about our occasions and a servant will call you in an hour or so.’

The two men raised themselves as Emma Hamilton stood, aiming a smile at Barclay and wondering if he noted the lack of depth within it. The couple were inside and parted from their guest before she spoke again.

‘You were right, Husband. I cannot say I like your Captain Barclay.’

‘Quite apart from the fact, my dear, that he is decidedly not
my
Captain Barclay, I rather fear dinner, which was going to be trying anyway, might be much worse than that.’

‘His clerk?’

‘Can only have come here because he has information to impart. Mrs Barclay has hardly been a discreet presence
in Naples and being seen with you would make her doubly remarked upon.’

The Chevalier was correct. Gherson had the very news that his employer wanted, but in receipt of it he was far from content. As usual he took his ire out on the nearest target, for Gherson had the smell of wine on his breath and it took no great leap of imagination to suppose that had been the least of his indulgences. Having vented his spleen he finally came round to the true culprits of his anger: the Hamiltons.

‘Give me a plain-speaking sailor every time, Gherson, to these hair-splitters who call themselves diplomats. And his wife, well, falsifiers would be a better tag!’

Kettles, pots and black bottoms came to Gherson’s mind but only as a somewhat slimy smile. He was in a state of utter bliss, his belly full and having spent the afternoon with a pair of truly athletic whores, beautiful women and fully Latin in every way.

‘Well, if they think I am going to be their guest they can kiss my arse.’

‘Do not be hasty, sir.’

‘Hasty,’ Barclay growled, and not in a soft way, with his clerk putting a finger at his lips and casting an eye towards the closed door. ‘I’ve half a mind to slap Hamilton’s cheek, and as for his trollop of a wife she is fit for a pigsty not a palazzo.’

Gherson was wondering, for what had to be the hundredth time, how the man he worked for could be so stupid. It was also the case that explaining to him what he should do was far from easy, given his irascible nature and dislike of being counselled, which he took as being condescended to.

‘What if the Hamiltons know why you are here?’

‘How could they?’

‘Would it be beyond the bounds of possibility that your wife might have told them?’

‘I dislike your tone, Gherson.’

‘I merely wish you to consider that if she has, they have set out to protect her. There is no doubt, given what I have been told, that she is here in this very place or was until news of your arrival was brought to her. It is common knowledge in Naples that she is their guest. I observed Lady Hamilton—’

‘She is no damn lady!’

‘I beg you to be calm, circumspect and quiet, sir.’

That got Gherson a ‘damn you’ look, which he ignored, being too accustomed to pay it heed.

‘As soon as she heard your name she whispered in her husband’s ear. He then took you off on a diversion to those churches. Why? To give Lady Hamilton time to get your wife out of the ambassadorial residence and away to somewhere else.’

‘But where?’ Barclay wailed, throwing his arms wide to indicate either the density of Naples or the size of Italy.

‘That has to be established, but until it is you must play a long game.’ Barclay threw himself into a chair with a look of near despair. ‘It is the only way, sir.’

‘I cannot dine with them.’

‘On the contrary, sir, you must.’ Seeing the objection rising in a breath-filling chest Gherson was quick to continue. ‘You need to convince them that your sole object is to talk with your wife and seek to persuade her of the falsity of her position.’

‘Falsity you call it. Cuckoldry, I say. Sitting with your
so-called Lady Hamilton I would be bound to wonder who offends most in that area, she or Emily?’

‘If I could advise you of the tone to adopt?’

The cheeks blew out to be followed by a long exhale. ‘Go on.’

‘You must admit to past errors and be open as to why you are in Naples.’

‘What!’

‘Captain, keep your voice down, I beg you. You must create in their mind a genuine desire for reconciliation as well as a sense of your contrition for past mistakes.’ Seeing another explosion coming, Gherson had to speak quickly to cut it off. ‘They have Mrs Barclay’s side of the story, not yours. But if you can counter that by being reasonable then …’

‘I do not like this.’

‘You will like it more, sir, than if, by belligerence, you underline to them what they may have been told about you. Better to imply you have been misunderstood. Play the man wounded as much by his own actions as hers. You have been at sea since you were a mere child, a life that ill prepared you for marriage to such a gentle creature.’

‘She is far from that, Gherson. Little did I know I wed a vixen.’

‘I agree. Messalina would be shamed in her company.’

‘Who in the name of the Lord is Messalina?’

God these tars were so ignorant. ‘A Roman empress, much given to wickedness.’ A fulsome nod was the response to that. ‘You must say that you seek to make amends, to act in the future with more consideration.’

‘So she can deceive me again?’

‘So they will produce her, and if not, time will be granted
to us. First ask to meet with her, to be given a chance to make your case and, it is hoped, amends. To that they might agree and while they are considering I will seek the required information.’

‘While taking your pleasures in the process?’

‘I know it will try your justified anger, but it forms a wise way to proceed, for if you accuse the ambassador of what he has plainly become engaged in he will only defend Mrs Barclay’s right to choose for herself where she resides and who she lives with.’

‘Exactly? What about Pearce? If she is here they likely know of him too.’

‘I would reckon the less said about that swine the better.’

Gherson, who hated Pearce as much as his employer but for different reasons, wondered why Barclay smiled then. Even more curious was that it had that quality of a man trying to convey to his clerk that he did not know everything.

‘If there is something pertaining to Pearce which impinges on what I’m suggesting, sir, it would be best I know.’

‘No, Gherson. Suffice to say he may no longer be a factor in this. By the way, where’s Devenow?’

‘Back aboard ship, sir. I feared to leave him loose in Naples.’

‘Wise, very wise.’

 

John Pearce was toiling like a navvy, in his shirt sleeves, helping
Agamemnon
to get in her stores, exhorting the men on the derricks to haul away in a manner that got him black looks, even darker when he tugged personally on a rope. His offer was taken as a kindness by the ship’s officers, for they were under pressure to load and get back to sea. As Nelson
had insisted when they took dinner together, there was scant profit to be found sitting in a harbour.

It was the very opposite of kindness: with HMS
Semele
at sea he had to get back to Naples and he reckoned there was no point in that lest he had a direct command from Hotham that Barclay should return to the fleet and at no time while under his command should he accommodate his wife on board. The notion of making an immediate return journey had been considered and put aside. Barclay commanded a ship of the line and a crew numbered in the hundreds who would do his bidding, even in ignorance of his true purpose.

If he was engaged in skulduggery, and that was his way of behaving, then he and the Pelicans lacked the means to stop him. The order he wanted would tell Barclay that whatever schemes he was engaged in would not remain hidden and he was prepared to accuse Hotham of conspiracy on his own quarterdeck to get what he needed.

BOOK: The Perils of Command
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