Since one of his maternal uncles was an Admiral and an Earl-. 'My stature may be negligible, sir, but my standing is not.' Mr. Clay's interest had sufficed to overcome any reservations the examining board might have had about his lack of stature, so he eventually found himself a Lieutenant. But since his commissioning, Mr. Clay had never seen action. Most of his service had been in auxiliary vessels or, naturally enough, in cutters, brigs, and others of the smallest men-o'-war.
He had been seconded to Royal Duke a year ago. He knew her crew and her mission from main truck to keelson, for the late Captain Oglethorpe, as he faded out of life, had lately relied more heavily upon him every day. In these last months, Mr. Clay said frankly, he had commanded the yacht in all but name.
'And to tell you the truth, sir,' he said, 'I am happy to be relieved of full responsibility for both the vessel and her business. A person with my limited experience in the world of statecraft has no business meddling in the sorts of affair that come aboard us here.'
Of these affairs, there were four important ones at present, Clay explained. The first was the dissection and improvement, for similar use against the French, of the clockwork timers whose provenance Hoare himself had just run down in the course of a previous Herculean labor for Admiral Hardcastle. The second was the plugging of an information leak that had appeared among the clerical staff in Portsmouth. The third was an inquiry into a sharp reduction in morale and hence in productivity among certain mateys in the Navy Yard. The fourth involved breaking the cipher that Hoare had encountered during his inquiry last spring. Clay had sensibly delegated the day-today pursuit of each mission to a different individual.
'If I may, sir,' he said, 'I propose that we summon each in turn to tell us about his task. Or hers in one case, for Taylor is responsible for the cipher.'
'Very good,' Hoare said. 'Let us begin with Taylor, then. Will you pass the word for her?'
Taylor still wore her spectacles but had pushed them to the top of her head. Hoare thought they made her look like a highly premature grandmother.
'Be seated, if you please, Taylor,' Hoare whispered. Clay's face took on a surprised look, as if he was none too sure that Royal Duke's Captain was wise to address a hand with 'please,' let alone inviting her to be seated in his presence.
'Tell me,' Hoare asked, 'what progress have you made in deciphering the set of messages… that originated with the affair of the infernal machines last spring?'
'Almost none, sir,' she admitted. For her impressive size her voice was quiet, her accent ladylike. A gentlewoman in reduced circumstances, perhaps?
'I am convinced that the key to them is a passage in some text carried by both sender and recipient. The Bible is the most common key, as you must know, being the most widely distributed text. But I have tried both the King James and Douai versions without success.'
Not only ladylike: prim. A bluestocking, then, disguised as a sailor.
'But why are you using English translations of the Bible when the messages are almost certainly in French?' Hoare asked.
'In French, sir?'
'Yes. You knew that, surely. In the covering letter I enclosed with the messages, I informed the Admiralty that at least two of the men using the cipher spoke French and that one left a French Bible next to his worksheets.'
'That information never reached me, sir,' came the quiet voice.
'I can corroborate that, sir,' Clay said. 'I received the material and inspected it before handing it on to Taylor. There was no covering letter, just the messages.'
So, Hoare thought, someone had slipped up, either at the Admiralty or in Portsmouth. Was it by carelessness, he wondered, or intention? Could this have to do with the information leakage problem? Whichever and whoever it was, the omission had kept Royal Duke's cryptographer from deciphering the messages. The delay might have serious consequences, for while the writer himself might have been put out of the way, his unknown master remained at liberty. Furthermore, the prospect of still more French agents lying doggo in his working network was disconcerting.
'Is there a French Bible aboard?' Hoare asked.
'I'm sure there is, sir,' Taylor said. 'If you'll give me leave, I'll ask McVitty to find it and begin forthwith.'
'Do so, Taylor. But who is McVitty?'
'Our librarian, sir,' Clay interjected. 'The short, square woman with spectacles.'
'Good heavens,' Hoare said. 'Thank you, Mr. Clay. Carry on, Taylor. And look first in Kings.'
'Aye aye, sir. I remember-Jehu and Ahab. Second Kings, chapter nine, verse twenty. Thank you, sir.
'But, sir, I must point out that there are surely as many editions of the Bible in French as there are of our own King James version. Would it be possible to obtain the particular volume to which you just referred?'
'We shall try to get it for you.'
Taylor's legs were not to be seen beneath her sailor's wide breeches, Hoare thought, but yes, her stockings were surely blue.
'Shall we go on to review the timers, sir?' Clay asked.
Before Hoare could assent, a knock came on the cabin door. Hoare gave Clay a meaningful look, intended as an instruction to call, 'Come!' but it took the other a full second to realize what was being asked of him. When Clay finally spoke the magic word, the sentry Yeovil appeared.
'Mr. 'Ancock here says as how there's a signal from Admiralty House, sir,' he said, looking squarely between his two officers.
'Very good,' Hoare whispered. 'And, Yeovil, if I whistle like this'-he uttered a gentle chirruping noise- 'it means for you to come straight in.'
While he had the man's attention, he went through several other signals and had him repeat them.
'I want you to teach those signals of mine to your messmates tonight,' he said.
'Aye aye, sir,' said Yeovil. 'An' Mr. 'ancock? He was actin' like the message was urgent.'
'My God. I was carried away. Have him bring it, please.'
'Hancock's our pigeon fancier,' Mr. Clay murmured. 'And one of our signalmen, since we have no young gentlemen in our complement.'
'Sir, Admiralty House signals for you to report to the Port Admiral forthwith,' Hancock said. Hoare found him hard to understand, for he had few teeth remaining, and those rotten. His breath was horrible.
Hoare thanked Hancock but took up his hat and fled the confinement of his new cabin as swiftly as he could, Clay trotting behind him.
'Never let that man into my quarters again, Clay,' Hoare said. 'Have my gig manned, if you please.' Clay thundered the order.
Hoare had saluted his command's nonexistent quarterdeck and was about to swing down into the gig when an exciting thought came to him.
'Tomorrow, Mr. Clay, be so kind as to send two men to the man Guilford at the small boat dock in the Inner Camber. Have them inform Mr. Hackins of the Swallowed Anchor… that I shall now be living aboard Royal Duke regularly. I shall settle my account with him on my return.' (Breath.) 'They are to pack up the gear in my rooms and bring around my pinnace-er-Neglectful. I shall attach her to Royal Duke as tender.'
That had been a three-breath sentence for Hoare-too long for comfort.
'Aye aye, sir,' Clay said, and doffed his hat in salute as Hoare dropped over the side into the gig.
That will be enough to make all stare, Hoare said to himself as the gig's crew rowed him awkwardly ashore. Surely Royal Duke would be the first Admiralty yacht to have her own tender. Yet he knew that, even with the continuity provided by Neglectful, he would miss the peaceful, monotonous life he had lived at the Swallowed Anchor. What, he asked himself, was he to do about his ward, the tubular little Jenny Jaggery? He had promised her father, Janus, that he would care for the creature, yet she would hardly belong in Royal Duke. He must take counsel with Eleanor Graves the next time he saw her. Perhaps she, like the dauntless partridge she was, would take the child under her wing into her personal pear tree.
'I didn't expect to see you again so soon, Hoare,' the Admiral said. This was, Hoare thought, the very first time Sir George had failed to chide him as a laggard.
