Lieutenant Beresford has been playing a game to get to Ireland, which has lowered him much in my opinion. He is grave and enterprising, but, like the rest of the aristocracy, he thinks he has, from that circumstance, a right to promotion, in prejudice of men of better service and superior merit; which I will never submit to.
Having refused the Prince of Wales, Duke of Clarence, Duke of Kent, and Duke of Cumberland, you will not be surprised that I repeat the impossibility of departing from my principle, which would let in such an inundation upon me as would tend to complete the ruin of the Navy.
Yours very sincerely
‘To the Duchess of Kingston, Madam,
Your Grace is largely correct in the character of Captain Hallows of the Frolic; he has zeal and conduct, and were it not for a certain independence and want of willing submission to his superiors that may be cured by the passage of time, as well as certain blemishes of a family nature, I should, exclusive of the interest your Grace has taken in his fortunes, be very glad to do justice to his merit, were I not precluded from doing so by the incredible number of meritorious commanders senior to him, upon half pay, who have prior claims to any of the very few ships that offer.
I beg leave to assure your Grace that I shall be happy in an occasion to mark the respect with which I have the honour to be, Madam,
Your most obedient, humble servant
So much for the letters. Who is upon the list?’
‘Captains Saul, Cunningham, Aubrey and Small. Lieutenants Roche, Hampole. . .’
‘I shall have time for the first three.
‘Yes, my Lord.’
Jack heard the stentorian laughter as the First Lord and his old shipmate Cunningham parted with a gun-?room joke, and he hoped he might find St Vincent in a good mood.
Lord St Vincent, deep in his attempts to reform the dockyards, hamstrung by politics, politicians, and his party’s uncertain majority in the House, was not much given to good moods however, and he looked up with an unwelcoming, cold and piercing eye. ‘Captain Aubrey, I saw you here last week. I have very little time. General Aubrey has written forty letters to me and other members of the Board and he has been told that it is not in
contemplation to promote you for the action with the Cacafuego.’
‘I have come here for another purpose, my Lord. To drop my claim to post rank in the hope of another sloop. My prize-?agent has failed; two neutral owners have won their appeal against me; and I must have a ship.’
Lord St Vincent’s hearing was not good, and in this innermost shrine of the Navy Jack had lowered his voice; the old gentleman did not quite catch his meaning. ‘Must! What is this must?’ he cried. ‘Do commanders walk into the Admiralty nowadays and state that they must be given a ship? If you must be given a ship, sir, what the devil do you mean by parading Arundel with a cockade the size of a cabbage in your hat, at the head of Mr Babbington’s supporters, knocking honest freeholders about with a bludgeon? if I had been there, sir, I should have committed you for a brawl, disorderly conduct, and we should have none of this talk of must. God damn your impudence, sir.’
‘My Lord, I have expressed myself badly. With respect, my Lord, by that unhappy word I meant, that Jackson’s failure puts me in the obligation of soliciting your Lordship for a command, sinking my other claim. He has ruined me.’
‘Jackson? Yes. However,’ said St Vincent coldly, ‘if your own imprudence has lost you the fortune your command allowed you to win, you must not expect the Admiralty to feel responsible for finding you another. A fool and his money are soon parted, and in the end it is just as well. As for the neutrals, you know perfectly well, or you ought to know perfectly well, that it is a professional risk: you touch ‘em at your peril, and you must make proper provision against an appeal. But what do you do in the event? You fling your money about - ducks and drakes - you talk about marriage, although you know, or ought to know, that it is death to a sea-?officer’s career, at least until he is made post - you lead drunken parties at a Tory by-?election - you come here and say you must have a ship. And meanwhile your friends pepper us with letters to say that you must be made post. That was the very word the Duke of Kent thought fit to use, put up to it by Lady Keith. It was not an action that entitled you to post rank. What is all this talk about “giving up your claim”? There is no claim.’
‘The Cacafuego was a thirty-?two gun xebec-?frigate, my Lord.’
‘She was a privateer, sir.’
‘Only by a damned lawyer’s quibble,’ said Jack, his voice rising.
‘What the fucking hell is this language to me, sir? Do you know who you are talking to, sir? Do you know where you are?’
‘I beg your pardon, my Lord.’
‘You took a privateer commanded by God knows who, with a well-?manned King’s sloop at the loss of three men, and you come here prating about your claim to post rank.’
‘And eight wounded. If an action is to be rated according to the casualty-?list, my Lord, I beg leave to remind you that your flagship at the Battle of St Vincent had one killed and five wounded.’
‘Do you presume to stand there and compare a great fleet action with a -,
‘With a what, sir?’ cried Jack, a red veil appearing in his eye.
The angry voices stopped abruptly. A door opened and closed, and the people in the corridor saw Captain Aubrey stride past, hurry down the stairs and vanish into the courtyard.
‘May 3. I did beg him not to speak of all this: yet it is known throughout the countryside. He knows nothing about women except as objects of desire (oh quite honourable desire at times): no sisters, a mother who died when he was very young, and has no conception of the power and diabolical energy of a Mrs W. She certainly wrung her information out of Sophia with her customary lack of scruple, and has spread it abroad with malignant excitement and busyness - the same indecent busyness that she displayed in whirling the girls off to Bath. This transparent blackmail of her health: playing on Sophia’s tender heart and sense of duty - what easier? All
