The shadow of the eagle

Hyde chuckled, then added soberly, 'Well at least you ain't dead, like poor McCann. I still don't understand why he ran out of cover like that. It was so unlike McCann, who was always so strict and disciplined in everything he did.' No one offered an opinion and Hyde yawned and stretched. A full belly always makes me sleepy,' he observed, yawning.

'Most things make you sleepy,' Ashton jibed.

'Aren't you supposed to be on deck, Josiah?' Marlowe asked.

'When I have changed into undress garb,' Ashton mumbled, sighing and half rising.

'You have a sleep too,' Frey said, emerging from his cabin in the plain coat of working rig, 'I'll tend the deck.'

'Damned lick-spittle,' Ashton said.

'Don't be so bloody offensive, Ashton,' Hyde called from his cabin, and Marlowe looked pointedly at the third lieutenant.

'Hyde's right, Josiah ...'

'Oh, damn the lot of you,' Ashton said, and getting up he retired to his cabin, slamming the door so that the whole flimsy bulkhead shook and Hyde reappeared in the doorway of his hutch.

'You know,' he remarked conversationally to Marlowe, 'when I first met him, I rather liked him. It's remarkable how a sea-passage can change things, ain't it?' 'Yes,' replied Marlowe, 'it is.'

'It was a moonlit night when we engaged the Sybille, d'you remember?'[12]

'I was in the gun-deck, sir,' Frey replied. 'It is invariably near dark there ...'

Drinkwater chuckled; 'I'm sorry, I had forgot. I sometimes think I have been too long upon a quarterdeck. In fact,' he said with a sigh, 'I fear I am fit for precious little else.'

So bright was the moonlight that it cast the shadow of the ship on the heaving black sea beyond them and the undulating movement of the water made the shadow run ahead of Andromeda, adding an illusory component to the frigate's apparent speed as she ran to the north and east, bound for the chops of the Channel. Above their heads the ensign cracked in the wind which lumped the sea up on the starboard quarter, and Andromeda scended with alternating rushes forward on the advancing crests, and a slowing as she fell back into the following crests.

The two officers stood for a moment at the windward hance and watched the sea.

'Tis beautiful though,' Drinkwater observed wistfully.

'You are thinking you will not long be able to stand here and admire it.' Frey made it a statement, not a question and Drinkwater took their conjoint thoughts forward.

'Could you paint such a scene?'

'I could try. I should like to attempt it in oils.'

'I commissioned Nick Pocock to paint the moonlit action with the Sybille. The canvas hung in my miserable office in the Admiralty. If you could do it, I should like a painting of Andromeda coming home ...'

'At the end of it all,' said Frey.

'D'you think so?' asked Drinkwater. 'While I certainly hope so, I doubt Napoleon will sit on his Tuscan rock and sulk for ever.'

'I suppose we must put our trust in God, then,' Frey said wryly.

'I have to confess, I do not believe in God,' said Drinkwater, staring astern where a faint phosphorescence in the sea drew the line of the wake on the vastness of the ocean. 'But I believe in Providence,' he added, 'by which I mean that power that argues for order and harmony in the universe and which, I am certain, guides and chastises us.'

He turned to the younger man by his side whose face was a pale oval in the gloom of the night and sighed. 'You only have to look at the stars,' he said, and both officers glanced up at the mighty arch of the cloudless sky. The myriad stars sparkled brilliantly in the depths of the heavens; several they knew by name, especially those by which they had traced their path across the Atlantic, but there were many, many more beyond their knowledge. The light, following breeze ruffled their hair as they stared upwards, then abruptly Drinkwater turned and began to walk forward, along the lengh of Andromeda's quarterdeck. The planking gleamed faintly in the starlight.

'Have you noticed,' Drinkwater remarked as they fell into step beside each other, 'there is always a little light to see by.'

'Yes,' agreed his companion.

After a pause, Drinkwater asked, 'Who is the midshipman of the watch?'

'Paine.'

'Pass word for him, will you.'

Paine reported to the two officers, apprehensive in the darkness. 'Mr Paine,' said Drinkwater, 'I wished to say how well you acquitted yourself in the action.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Now cut along.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

'Well,' Drinkwater yawned and stretched as the midshipman ran off, 'it's time I turned in.' He gave a final glance at the binnacle and the illuminated compass card within. 'You have the ship, sir,' he said formally, adding 'Keep her heading for home, Mr Frey.'

And even in the gloom, Frey saw Drinkwater smiling to himself as he finally went below.

CHAPTER 20 A Laying of Keels

June 1814

The wedding party emerged from St James's in Piccadilly and turned west, bound for Lothian's Hotel and the wedding breakfast. It was a perfect summer's day and Drinkwater felt the sun hot on his back after the cool of the church. He creaked in the heavy blue cloth and gilt lace of full-dress and his sword tapped his thigh as he walked. His left sleeve was pinned across his breast and within it his arm was still bound in a splint while the bone knitted, but beyond a dull ache, he hardly noticed it. Drinkwater cast a look sideways at Elizabeth and marvelled at how beautiful she looked, handsomer now, he thought gallantly, than in the bloom of youth when he had first laid eyes upon her gathering apples in her apron. She felt his glance and turned her head, her wide mouth smiling affectionately.

Thinking of her protestations that she was unacquainted with either the bride or groom when Drinkwater had written from Chatham that she should come up to town and meet him at their London house, he asked, 'Are you glad to be here, Bess?'

'I am glad that you are here,' she said, 'and almost in one piece.'

He drew her closer and lowered his voice, 'And I am glad you brought Catriona.'

James Quilhampton's widow walked behind them on the arm of Lieutenant Frey, who looked, to Drinkwater's surprise, as sunny as the morning.

'Do you think we shall hear more wedding bells?' he began, when Elizabeth silenced him with a sharp elbow in his ribs.

'You shout, sir,' she teased, her voice low. 'You are not upon your quarterdeck now.'

Drinkwater smiled ruefully. No, he was not, nor likely to be again...

'I should have liked you to have brought your surgeon, so that I might thank him for saving your arm.' Elizabeth had been uncharacteristically angry when she had learned of her husband's wound, remonstrating with him that he had doubtless exposed himself unnecessarily, just as the war was over and she might reasonably expect to have him home permanently. Drinkwater had not argued; in essence she was quite right