A gray, unremarkable figure, the visitor dominated his host's closet.
"You have assured me, sir," he said, "that this conversation cannot be overheard. Nonetheless, how am I to be certain that behind one of these linen-fold panels a secret stenographer does not lurk? Even the walls have ears."
"You insult my hospitality, sir, and my integrity!"
"Bombast, sir, bombast and fustian. Have done, pray. We are practical men, you and I, and must not permit false pride to stand between us and our objective.
"In the window seat, here, I think," the guest continued. Come, sir, join me. A pleasant view, indeed, of your garden-and of your daughter. It must be more pleasant still in the spring."
"I'll thank you to leave my daughter out of the discussion. She has nothing to do with this matter."
"Agreed. Now, as to the king-he is mad, as we all know, and that presents special problems of a tactical nature."
"First, the portrait, Mr…"
The visitor raised his hand in warning. "Ah-ah-ah, sir. No names at all, if you please, not even here. I have gone so far as to assent to your whim with respect to the portrait, as long as it is kept most closely indeed-but names? Not yet, not until our plans bear fruit.
"We have the names we use among ourselves, you know, and I must insist we employ them, and them only…"
"Call me Ahab, then." The host's voice was surly. He was not pleased, it seemed, at taking correction-and in his own house, at that.
"And, as you will remember, I am Saul. Now, as I was saying, about the king…"
"This brings me to my reason for requiring your presence here so soon after the recent happy occasion at which you were a principal character and I a mere hanger-on."
The speaker was Admiral Sir George Hardcastle. Without the least ceremony, the instant Royal Duke had touched at Portsmouth's Camber dock, Hoare had left Mr. Clay in temporary command so he could to make all speed to Admiralty House. His timely arrival had been celebrated by the ringing of eight bells on the old Spanish trophy in the building's front hall.
"Now," the admiral continued, "do you recall my speaking of Admiral Sir Hugh Abercrombie, KJB?"
"Of course, sir," Hoare said, thinking as he spoke that the implied question was absurd. Any officer who did not know his true master would be a zany.
"You will also recall, I trust," the admiral went on, "that you, and that brisk little floating counting-house you command, take orders from me only at Admiral Abercrombie's pleasure. He is your commander, and not I.
"Until now, you have been known to Sir Hugh only by reputation and not in person. Sir Hugh now wishes to further his knowledge of you. He requires you to present yourself to him, at the Admiralty, forthwith. Hammersmith here…"
The admiral looked to one side where his new flag lieutenant sat, looking eager. Delancey, his predecessor, had been shifted into command of the brig Niobe, 18, some weeks ago. After an interesting brush with the virgin Royal Duke, he had taken Niobe to the waters off Cadiz to watch over the remains of the combined Franco-Spanish fleet.
"… has prepared vouchers for suitable lodgings at the Golden Cross Inn near Whitehall. Thank you, Hammersmith, you may go."
Admiral Hardcastle looked away. Hoare could have sworn that he was embarrassed.
Even after his flag lieutenant had closed the door behind him-and stooped to put his ear to the keyhole, if Hoare knew his flag lieutenants-Sir George paused as if he expected Hoare to comment. Hoare had never heard of the Golden Cross Inn, so he could say nothing to the point. More important, he wondered at the implied order to leave his ship. What could have prompted it? Here, too, he would have nothing to say, but must sit and await enlightenment in Sir George's own good time.
The admiral did not keep his subordinate wondering for long.
"Sir Hugh informs me that he is most alarmed," he said, "by the disappearance, without trace, of certain documents dealing with affairs in the Baltic, with which his office has been entrusted by the Foreign Office. Unfortunately-and this must go no further than our four ears-they involve more than purely naval matters. If they were to fall into Boney's hands, he could, I am told, use them to our disadvantage in the Baltic states, including Russia. The Foreign Office would view their loss with extreme concern; news of their loss would certainly produce a storm in the Cabinet. As far as the Admiralty is concerned, trouble with St. Petersburg could deny the navy the pine boles we need so desperately for masting. At worst, we might find ourselves stretched to confront a new enemy in strange, cold, and distant waters.
"I have no notion of these documents' content, nor do I wish to have one. I have more than enough of that sort of burgoo on my plate now. The upshot, Hoare, is that Sir Hugh is eager for you to investigate the matter, and get the damned things back without anyone knowing they ever went adrift in the first place."
This would be another Herculean task, Hoare thought. He would find himself in "strange, cold, and distant waters," indeed, with no charts. There was no point in voicing his concern, however: duty was duty.
"The Admiralty," Sir George went on, "inquires why you have not yet reported to Admiral Sir Hugh Abercrombie in Whitehall for instruction, as ordered in their signal of such-and-such date.
"Now, my office has no record of having received such a signal. Somewhere between Sir Hugh's hand and mine, it went adrift. I have so informed Sir Hugh in words that absolve you, at least of any blame in the matter. You can hardly, after all, be justly charged with lacking diligence in executing an order which you never received. Besides, in all fairness, I can hardly extinguish so soon the promising career you have so recently rekindled.
"By the by, sir, you will note that in relieving you of blame for the mishap, that blame will necessarily be placed somewhere else. Since one can hardly expect that Whitehall will shoulder it, it will almost certainly arrive on this desk to squeak and gibber at me like Mr. Shakespeare's sheeted dead."
Admiral Hardcastle swatted the desk as if the blame had already arrived, a-squeaking, and he wished to put it to rest physically.
"I am truly sorry, sir," Hoare said, "to have been responsible in any way, even indirectly, for placing you in this situation. How may I make recompense?"
"You cannot. I made the mess. Like a good servant, I must clean it up.
"Today is Wednesday. I shall have Patterson post-date your receipt' of this belated order by"-he withdrew the Hunter watch from his waistcoat-"thirty hours. After all, it is already a week overdue, so one more day will not ruin any of us.
"In presenting yourself at Sir Hugh's Admiralty office," he said, "do not use the main door. Those people there will delight in misdirecting you; you would be lucky to escape with your virtue intact. Go around the building, to Minching Lane, and up the alley leading to the rear of the building. Use the privy entrance.
"Hammersmith will provide you with a pass which you will show the man at the privy gate. He'll see that you reach Sir Hugh's private offices.
"Repeat what I just said."
Hoare did so.
"From that point, Hoare, your future is in Sir Hugh's hands, not mine at all.
"Sir Hugh is not as accommodating an officer as I, so you can expect something of an inquisition. However, he knows quite well that you are necessarily a man of few words. I have suggested to him that you present him with a written narrative of the Moreau affair and the matter of the Duke of Cumberland and the Nine Stones Circle. He will have read of them before, of course, through the reports I have already forwarded to him, but he is heavily burdened with paperwork, and a new statement will refresh his memory so he can interrogate you more usefully. He may be inclined to mercy in your case; sometimes he is.
"Now fill me a glass of that port, if you'd be so kind, and have one yourself before you go."
"Thank you, sir," Hoare whispered, "but if I remember correctly, the Admiralty coach is scheduled to depart in fifteen minutes' time.
…"
"What the deuce have you to do with the Admiralty coach, pray?
"If I am to reach London with all dispatch, sir, the coach is the fastest means of doing so. Perhaps you would direct your clerk to book me a place…"
"I hardly see," the admiral said in a testy voice, "how, small though she is, you expect to fit Royal Duke into the Admiralty coach. You are to take her to Greenwich."
The startled Hoare could hardly believe the implication of what he had just heard. A month or two before, when he had read himself in-or rather, had Mr. Clay read him in-on the yacht's quarterdeck, Sir George himself had warned him that by Admiralty order, he was never, never to take her to sea, lest she be snapped up by some wandering Frenchman and give up all the secrets she bore. It had only been by the strongest persuasion that, before the Nine Stones affair culminated, he had persuaded Sir George to stretch the point and let her loose-but only within sight and sound of tidewater. Whether their lordships in Whitehall had taken official note of this warranted disobedience he did not know and had no wish to know.
"In convoy, then, sir?" That was how Royal Duke had been brought 'round to Portsmouth: not only in convoy, in fact, but in the hands of a borrowed crew. Most of her own people had then known less about seamanship than they did of the binomial theorem, or of burglary.
"Or not," Sir George said. "It makes no difference. Get her there, and without further ado."
Relenting, he added, "Whatever mission they have awaiting you, it must be one of high urgency. In the hands of the wrong people, those papers must be no less than infernal machines. Now, Hoare, if you have no more asinine remarks to make, I have much to do and little time in which to do it. Have that drop you just refused, and be off with you."
They had their parting drop. "Good. Now, be off. Good luck-you'll need it."
Then, with, "And convey my respectful duty to Sir Hugh," Sir George returned to his mound of papers.
"You're in luck, Captain Hoare," declared Hammersmith, when Hoare paused at his desk outside the admiral's sanctum to watch a clerk sand the last of the documents Hoare was to carry with him.
"Why?"
"Berrier at the Golden Cross sets the finest table in London. He don't usually receive anyone below commodore, or vice minister. Or baronet."
"A cut beyond my pocket, then," Hoare whispered. He had managed to preserve as capital the windfall of prize money he had gotten in September of '81. Nonetheless, he had just undertaken matrimony, and he had seen too many naval families fall into debt and disgrace. He had no intention of following that path. He judged that his bride was a woman of some property, but he felt unaccountably ill at ease at the notion of living off a woman. It would make him feel like a ponce.
"Perhaps," he now asked Hammersmith, "you could suggest a less exalted lodging?" He understood that the flag secretary was a London man.
"Oh, you needn't worry as to that," the other said with a smile. Was the smile just a trifle superior? "You're under Admiralty orders, so the Admiralty foots the bill. Hence the voucher he had Patterson attach to your papers. If I know anything about Berrier, he'll tremble to serve anyone who even mentions old Abercrombie's name. If you think the gentleman you just left is a merciless man, just you wait till you come up against Sir Hugh."
Perhaps Hammersmith's smile was not so much superior as knowing-knowing, like the expressions of Eleanor's servants the other morning. That recollection reminded him. As soon as he was back aboard Royal Duke and had gotten her underway, he would have Hancock send word to Eleanor in Weymouth about the Golden Cross Inn. He was sure he remembered that the yacht's foul-smelling pigeon handler still had a Weymouth bird.
He bade a polite farewell to the man in any case.
"Sir! Sir!"
At the familiar voice, Hoare stopped and turned. As he had thought, it belonged to Lemuel Rabbett, the Admiralty clerk who had come so near to having his head lopped off at the Nine Stones Circle while in Hoare's service. Hoare was genuinely delighted to see the little man; he had grown significantly in confidence if not in stature during their association, and Hoare had found that one always loves the one he has helped at no cost to himself. Liking the thought, he tucked it into the little commonplace book he kept in a corner of his mind.
"Why, Rabbett!" he whispered. "So you are back in the… saddle?"
"Back in the hutch, rather, sir," Rabbett replied. "May I make so bold as to wish you happy?" He reached out a tentative hand, and Hoare gripped it firmly.
"Thank you, Rabbett. I hope the same for you, in due course."
"Sir… sir, I knew you would be calling on Sir George today, so I brought with me a little memento for yourself and your good lady" Shyly, Rabbett reached into his fob pocket and produced a small object, which he offered in the palm of his hand.
"From my mother and myself," he said.
Hoare must take it, or else hurt the other's feelings. He looked down to inspect it closely. About the size of his thumb to the first joint, it was a carving in mellow ivory in the shape of a crouching rabbit. Its long ears fused near their tips, forming a hole through which a loop of plum-colored braided silk was inserted.
Hoare thought he had seen a similar object in the collection of a former captain who had spent some time attempting to break into the reclusive islands of Japan. He could not remember what they were called-something that had to do with fishing, if he remembered. It was a thing of beauty.
"But this is precious, Rabbett," he whispered. "You must not give it away."
"My mother and I wish you and Mrs. Hoare to have it, sir," the clerk said in a firm voice. "While I may not be fit to go to sea with you, you will at least have one rabbit with you. Please, sir."
"Then thank you, Rabbett, with all my heart." Again, Hoare turned to leave.
"One more thing, sir. In October, when Mr. Thoday and I were serving you, you asked me if, when I returned to this office, I would investigate the source of some leaks of secret information. You said they had to occur somewhere between Royal Duke, this office, and Whitehall."
"I remember," Hoare said.
"Well sir, I have made my investigation. I can assure you- and I know whereof I speak, sir-that the leaks have not emanated from here. Of that, you may have my absolute, confident assurance."
"Which I accept, Rabbett. Thank you again, and thrive until we meet once more."
He escaped at last. The tide was on the turn; if he stepped lively, Royal Duke could just catch the up-Channel flood. Rabbett's replica was welcome; his news was not. If the clerk was correct-and Hoare respected his competence in the field-the leaks had to be coming from the Admiralty, or from his own command. Neither was a palatable dish. It was a good thing, perhaps, that he was taking Royal Duke to London.