'I apologise unreservedly, sir, if any damage has been caused…'
'No, no,' Shaw waved aside the suggestion that anything more than his sense of propriety had sustained injury.
'And I apologize at the inconvenience of the hour, it is intolerable of me…'
'Please sit down, Captain. Will you join us for dinner? Arabella will be delighted to see you; she sure enjoyed your company yesterday.'
'Thank you, no, sir,' Drinkwater said, remaining standing. He longed to see Arabella again, for all the pain and remorse it would cause him. 'My official affairs are, alas, more pressing. Perhaps I may wait upon Mistress Shaw at a later date, but for the nonce I must perforce ask you to convey my felicitations to her. My presence is, er, a matter of some delicacy ...' Drinkwater shot a glance at Shaw's negro valet.
Shaw dismissed the man. 'Come, sir, you have time to sit and take a glass.'
'Obliged, sir.' Drinkwater was not loathe to comply. Shaw poured from a handy bottle on a side-table. They mutually toasted each other's health. 'The point is', Drinkwater went on, leaning forward in his chair to give his words both urgency and confidentiality, 'this affair of deserters is a damnable nuisance. I must make every effort to regain 'em, for my Service, my reputation and general appearances, not to mention pour discourager les autres,' he said in his poor French, 'but I wish to do nothin' which might provoke a suspension of negotiations, Vansittart was most tellin' upon this point. It seems, from your discussions with him last night, there are men in Washington seekin' some new impropriety on our part, like Humphries' cavalier behaviour towards the Chesapeake, to make a casus belium…'
'That is surely true, Captain. They are mostly from New England, hawks we have styled them, perhaps foolishly, for a hawk has a greater appeal than a dove, I allow. But I don't follow why…'
'I know where the men are, Mr Shaw…'
'You do?' Shaw's eyebrows rose with astonishment. 'Where?'
'Aboard the United States sloop-of-war Stingray.'
'The hell they are!'
'I feel sure thay have been given asylum by Captain Stewart…'
'Have you sent word to Charles? Asked for them back?'
'Mr Shaw, you saw Captain Stewart's attitude to British interests last night. I am not insensible to the fact that he may be personally justified in all his resentments, but I am convinced he would refuse me the return of my men as a matter of principle. Why, I think he would delight in it.'
'He certainly has a thirst for glory.'
And took against me personally, I believe.'
Shaw nodded. 'I fear so, Captain. Then you want me to approach him, to persuade him to relinquish your deserters?'
'Yes, if you would. It would be the simplest answer.'
Shaw sighed and rubbed his chin. 'What would you do with them? You would have to punish them, would you not?'
'Aye, sir, but I am not an inhumane man. Whatever I decided I would not carry out in American waters and properly I can do nothing until they have been court-martialed.'
'I don't follow ... would you act improperly?'
'I could deem them guilty of a lesser crime and hence a lesser punishment...'
'And simply flog 'em? Pardon me, but the forces of Great Britain have a certain reputation for brutality. I too lived before the Revolution, Captain.'
'I believe General Washington ordered corporal punishment for breaking ranks and deserting, Mr Shaw. It is a not uncommon, if regrettable thing in war.'
'But my country is not at war and I want no part in precipitating any such misery on another...'
'I admire your sensibilities, Mr Shaw, but my country is at war.' Drinkwater mastered his exasperation. Shaw, it seemed, wanted to be all things to all men. He thought of Thurston, the idealist without responsibility. Now this wealthy man could keep his conscience clean by stepping round the problem. I am of the middling sort, he thought ironically, the sort that thrust the affairs of the world along day by day. 'I can only give you my word of honour that I will be lenient…'
'Be more specific, sir. To what extent will your leniency diminish your sentence of retribution?'
'I will order them no more than a dozen lashes.'
'Good God, sir, a dozen?'
'How many do you give your slaves, Mr Shaw?' Drinkwater was stung to riposte, regretting the turn the conversation had taken.
'That is an entirely different matter,' Shaw snapped. Then, struck by a thought and measuring the English officer, he added, 'Hell! Don't get any ideas about making up your crew from my plantation.'
Drinkwater attempted to defuse the atmosphere with a grin. 'I could promise them a nominal freedom aboard a man-o'-war,' he remarked drily, 'but I would not, you have my word,' he added hurriedly, seeing the colour rising in Shaw's face.
Shaw blew out his cheeks. 'Damn me, sir, this is a pretty kettle o'fish.'
Drinkwater seized this moment of weakness. 'I want only to avoid a collision, Mr Shaw. If you cannot be advocate perhaps you could merely ask; let Stewart know I am aware he is harbouring my men. The burden of conscience will then be upon him, will it not?'
'That is true ...'
Drinkwater rose, 'I have kept you from your table, sir, and I am sorry for it. Perhaps you might consider consulting Mistress Shaw, in any event please present my compliments; she struck me as a woman of good sense. It is my experience that most women know their own minds, and what is best for their menfolk too.'
Shaw rose and held out his hand. Both men smiled the complicit understanding of male confraternity.
'Perhaps I will, Captain, perhaps I will,' Shaw said smiling.
And partially satisfied, Drinkwater walked down towards the boat upon the lush, shadowed and terraced lawn. There existed stronger and more instantaneous bonds than those of chauvinism, bonds whose strength and extent were mysteries but whose existence was undeniable.
CHAPTER 10
The Parthian Shot
They lay in this limbo of uncertainty for eight days, one, it seemed to those disposed to seek signs amid the random circumstances of life, for every deserter. The fall of the year came slowly, barely yet touching these low latitudes, so the very air enervated them and the pastoral beauty of the scene was slowly soured by idleness and a lack of communication with the shore.
The Patricians, unpatrician-like, still pulled their miserable guard round themselves, while the Stingrays regularly ferried their commander ashore. It was clear to Drinkwater that although Shaw might have spoken to Stewart about the advantages accruing to an honest, open, apple-pie handover of the British deserters, the appeal had fallen on deaf ears. Since they now caught no more than an occasional glimpse of their men, Drinkwater knew that Stewart was guarding his prizes closer still.
To keep the pot boiling Drinkwater dispatched Frey in the launch for a three-day expedition along the Virginia and Maryland shores and Stewart had, perforce, to send a shadowing boat. As for Arabella, Drinkwater saw her three or four times as she rode out. Once they exchanged greetings, she with a wave, he with a doffing of his hat, but on the other occasions, distance prevented these formalities.
The lack of hospitality on Shaw's part discouraged Drinkwater and, when he sent an invitation to Shaw and his daughter-in-law to dine as his guests aboard Patrician (Lieutenant Gordon's questing boat-party having disturbed a covey of game birds), it was declined on the grounds of Mr Shaw's absence.