The shadow of the eagle

'It's a point of view, Mr Kennedy,' Drinkwater said, his voice level. 'I know you invariably do your utmost, but imagine how matters sometimes seem to others.'

'But Marlowe clearly did not act properly. He should not even have been on deck.'

'Perhaps not, but perhaps he made only an error of judgement, the consequences of which were tragic for Watson. That is not grounds for ...'

'The people may consider it grounds for ...' Kennedy baulked at enunciating the fatal word.

'Mutiny?'

'They turned against Pigot when men fell out of the rigging.'

'Things were rather different aboard the Hermione, Mr Kennedy. Pigot had been terrorizing his crew and there was no sign of the end of the war. This is an unfortunate accident.'

'You do not seem aware, sir, of the mood of the people. They were anticipating being paid off. As you point out, the war is at an end and their services will no longer be required. Watson might have even now been dandling a nipper on his knees and bussing a fat wife. Instead, he is dead and the rest of the poor devils find themselves beating out of the Channel, bound God knows where...'

'I am well aware of the mood of the men, but you are wrong about the war being over. It seems a common misapprehension aboard the ship; in fact we remain at war with the Americans. However, I quite agree with you that Watson's death is a very sad matter; as for the rest, I had intended telling them when the watch changed at eight bells. But for being overtaken by events, they would not have been kept in the dark any longer. That is a pity, but there is nothing I can do now until the morning. We shall have to bury Watson and when I have the company assembled I shall tell them all I can.'

'The ship is already alive with rumour, sir,' said Kennedy, draining his glass.

'I daresay. A ship is always alive with rumour. What do they say?'

'Some nonsense about us stopping Bonaparte from escaping, though why Boney should choose to run off into the Atlantic, I'm damned if I know. I suppose he wants to emigrate to America.' Kennedy rose, holding his glass.

'I should think that a strong possibility, Mr Kennedy.' It was almost dark in the cabin now and the pantry door opened and Drinkwater's servant entered with a lit lantern.

'Oh, I beg pardon, sir ...'

'Come in, Frampton, come in. Mr Kennedy is just leaving.'

After the surgeon had gone, Drinkwater ate the cold meat and potatoes Frampton set before him. He was far from content with Marlowe's conduct, but at a loss to know what to do about it. He had been preoccupied with considerations of greater moment than the organization of his ship and now berated himself for his folly. He ought to have known Marlowe had precious little between his ears, yet the fellow had seen a fair amount of service. Then it occurred to Drinkwater that his own naval career had been woefully deficient in one important respect; owing to a curious chain of circumstances the only patronage that might have elevated him in the sea-service had actually confined him to frigates. He must, he realized, be one of the most experienced frigate captains in the Royal Navy. The corollary of this was that he had spent no time in a line-of-battle ship. Perhaps the constraints aboard a ship carrying five or six lieutenants and employed on the tedious but regimented duty of blockade gave young officers of a certain disposition no chance to use their initiative or to learn the skills necessary to handle a ship under sail in bad weather. It seemed an odd situation, but if Marlowe, as son of a baronet, was a favoured élève of an admiral, he might never have seen true active service, or ever carried out a manoeuvre without an experienced master's mate at his elbow.

It would have been quite possible for Marlowe to have climbed the seniority list without ever hearing a gun fired in anger! Entry on a ship's books at an early age would have him a lieutenant below the proper age of twenty, with or without an examination, if Marlowe's father could pull the right strings. Drinkwater found the thought incredible, but he forgot how much older than his officers he was. And then it occurred to him that his age and appearance might intimidate those who did not know him; indeed he might intimidate those who did!

Did he intimidate Frey?

He must have some sort of reputation: it was impossible not to in the hermetic world of the Royal Navy, and God only knew what lurid tales circulated about him. Then he recalled Marlowe himself making some such reference the night Hortense came aboard, warning him against possible Russian reaction to Drinkwater's presence off Calais. Marlowe knew that much about him. The recollection brought him full circle: Marlowe's initial courtliness could have been a generous interpretation of unctuousness, and although not ingratiating, the man's hauteur in objecting to Drinkwater's proposal to acquaint the ship's company with their task, demonstrated either arrogance or a stupid narrow-mindedness. Or perhaps both, Drinkwater mused.

He had little doubt Marlowe, a man of good birth and social pretensions, was infected with an extreme consciousness of rank and position that coloured all his actions and prevented the slightest exercise of logical thought concerning what he would call his 'inferiors'. There was a growing sensibility to it in the navy, an infection clearly caught from the army, or society generally, and something which Drinkwater heartily reprehended. Men stood out clearly in rank, without the need to resort to arrogance.

Drinkwater grunted irritably. Whatever the cause of Marlowe's disagreeableness, the man was a damned lubber! In tune with this conclusion, Frampton came in to clear the table and Drinkwater leaned back in his chair, toying with the stem of his wine glass.

'There's some fine duff, sir.'

'Thank you, no, Frampton.'

'Very well, sir,' Frampton sniffed.

'Oh, damn it, Frampton, did you prepare it yourself?'

'Of course, sir.'

'Very well then, but only a small slice,' Drinkwater compromised.

Frampton vanished, then brought in a golden pudding liberally covered with treacle. 'God's bones, Frampton, would you have me burst my damned breeches, eh?'

'It'll do you no harm, sir. You should keep your nerves well covered.'

'That's a matter of opinion,' Drinkwater commented drily. He picked up fork and spoon and was about to attack the duff when another thought occurred to him. 'Frampton, would you ask the sentry to pass word for Mr Marlowe.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

'You sent for me, sir?'

Marlowe swayed in the doorway, the flickering light of the bulkhead glim playing on his features, giving them a demonic cast which somehow emphasized the fact that he was drunk.

'Pray sit down.' Drinkwater considered dismissing him, thought better of it and watched his first lieutenant unsteadily cross the cabin and slump in the seat recently vacated by Kennedy. Drinkwater laid fork and spoon down on the plate, shoved it aside and dabbed his mouth with his napkin, dropping it on the table.

'Please tell me what happened this afternoon, Mr Marlowe.'

'Happened? Why, nothing happened. A damned fool fell from aloft, that's what happened.'

'The damned fool you speak of, Drinkwater said in a measured voice, 'was an experienced topman. He had been on the ship since she commissioned, since he was a boy, in fact.'

Marlowe shrugged. 'The ship was standing into danger and carrying too much canvas.'

'What were you doing on deck? I thought it was Ashton's watch.'

'It was, but I wished Lieutenant Ashton to undertake another duty and relieved him.'

'What other duty?' Drinkwater pressed, though there was nothing very remarkable about the change of officers.

'Oh, some modifications to the watch-bill.'

Drinkwater had the fleeting impression Marlowe was lying, but the man was cunning enough, and perhaps sober enough to think up an excuse. 'We had the men in special divisions for the royal escort. In view of what you told me, I thought it best to rearrange matters.'

'So you took over the deck in order for Lieutenant Ashton to act as your clerk.'

'I took over the deck with the ship carrying too much canvas. Lieutenant Ashton was concerned about