The shadow of the eagle

But Marlowe was not to be so easily pacified. Doing as he was bid, he placed the glasses on the table. 'Look here, sir ...'

But Drinkwater's fuse had burned through. His voice was suddenly harsh as he turned on the young first lieutenant. 'No sir! Do you look here, and listen too. We are on active service, very active service if I ain't mistaken.' Marlowe seemed about to speak, thought better of it and sat in silent resentment. Drinkwater caught Birkbeck's eye and the older man shrugged his shoulders with an almost imperceptible movement, continuing to fill a stained clay pipe.

'Now then, gentlemen, pay attention: what I have to tell you is of the utmost importance. It is a secret of state and I am imparting it to you both because if anything should happen to me, then I am jointly charging you two gentlemen to prosecute this matter to its extremity with the utmost vigour.'

Drinkwater had Marlowe's attention in full now. Birkbeck knew enough of Drinkwater's past to wear an expression of concern. Drinkwater felt he owed Birkbeck more than a mere explanation; as for Marlowe, it would do him no harm to be made aware of the proper preoccupations of experienced sea-officers.

'I am sorry Mr Birkbeck that we have been diverted to this task and I know well that you were promised a dockyard appointment when this commission was over. Well, the promise still stands, it's just that the commission has been extended.' Drinkwater smiled. 'I'm sorry, but there it is ...'

Birkbeck expelled his breath in a long sigh. Nodding, he said, 'I know sir: a sense of humour is a necessary portion of a sea-officer's character.'

'Just so, Mr Birkbeck,' and Drinkwater smiled his curiously attractive, lopsided grin. 'More wine?'

He waited for them to recharge their glasses. 'We are bound to the Azores gentlemen, to trap Napoleon Bonaparte ...'

'We are what?' exclaimed an incredulous Marlowe.

'So it was a woman!'

Mr Marlowe could scarce contain himself, puffed up as he was with a great state secret and half a bottle of blackstrap. Birkbeck gave him a rueful glance as the two officers paced the quarterdeck whence the master had suggested they go to take the air and discuss the matters that now preoccupied the first lieutenant and sailing master of the frigate Andromeda.

'May I presume to plead my grey hair and offer you a word of advice, Mr Marlowe,' Birkbeck offered. 'Of course, I would quite understand if you resented my interfering, but we must, perforce, work in amity.'

'No, no, please Birkbeck ...'

'Well, Captain Drinkwater is not quite the uninfluential tarpaulin you might mistake him for ...'

'I knew he had fought a Russian ship, but I have to confess I had not heard of him in the Channel Fleet.'

'Perhaps because he has seen extensive foreign and special service. Did you know, for instance, that Nelson sent him from the Med, round Africa and into the Red Sea. He brought a French national frigate home, she was bought into our service and he subsequently commanded her. The captain also served under Nelson and commanded a bomb at Copenhagen. Oh, yes...' Birkbeck nodded. 'I see you are surprised. Talk to Mr Frey, he was in the Arctic on special service with Captain Drinkwater in the sloop Melusine and I believe Frey was captured with the captain just before Trafalgar. I understand Drinkwater was aboard the French flagship ...'

'As a prisoner?' asked Marlowe, clearly reassessing his commander.

'Yes, so I understand. Later Drinkwater made up for this and battered a Russian seventy-four to pieces in the Pacific'

'In the Pacific? I had heard mention of the action, but assumed it to have been in the Baltic'

'That, if I may say so, is the danger of assumptions.' Birkbeck smiled at Marlowe. 'Anyway, I first met him aboard this ship last autumn when he took Andromeda over from Captain Pardoe: not that Pardoe was aboard very often; he spent most of his time in the House of Commons and left the ship to the first luff...'

'Who was killed, I believe,' interrupted Marlowe.

'Yes. We had trouble with some of the men — it's a long story'

'I gathered they were mutineers,' Marlowe said flatly.

'Ah, you've heard that, have you?' Birkbeck looked at the young officer beside him. 'Now I understand why you made that remark about incitement.'

'Well, the temper of the men is a matter I should properly concern myself with.' Marlowe invoked the superior standing of a commissioned officer, as opposed to the responsibilities of the warranted sailing master.

'Indeed it is, Mr Marlowe. But you might also properly concern yourself with the temper of your commanding officer. I fear you may have fallen victim to a misapprehension in misjudging Captain Drinkwater. Consider his late achievement. Last autumn, as soon as he came aboard this ship, which had been kept on guard duties and as a convoy on the coast where her captain could be called to the House of Commons if the government wished for his vote, we went a-chasing Yankee privateers in the Norwegian fiords. We took a big Danish cruiser, the Odin. It was scuttlebutt then that Drinkwater had some influence at the Admiralty and was wrapped up in secret goin's on. You heard what he said about that woman who came aboard the other night and that she was mixed up in some such business. I've no doubt the matter we are presently engaged upon is exactly as he told us.'

'I had no idea,' mused Marlowe for a moment, then added, 'So, you consider we might see some action?'

Birkbeck shrugged. 'Who knows? Captain Drinkwater seems to think so. Perhaps just by cruising off the Azores we will prevent all this happening, but if Boney escapes, God help Canada.'

'We are playing for very high stakes ...'

'Indeed we are.'

'But she's an old ship and lacks powder and shot...'

'What d'you think we can do about that?'

'I, er, I don't know. Put into Plymouth?'

'It's a possibility ...'

'But?'

'Not one he'll consider.'

'Why not?'

'It would delay us too much; we'd be subject to the usual dockyard prevarications, difficulties with the commissioner, warping in alongside the powder hulk, half the watch running ... No, no, Drinkwater will avoid that trap.'

'Well Gibraltar's too far out of our way' said Marlowe with a kind of pettish finality, 'so what will Our Father do?'

'Can't you guess?' Birkbeck grinned at the young man.

Irritated, Marlowe snapped, 'No I damn well can't!'

Birkbeck was offended by Marlowe's change of tone. 'Then you'll have to wait and see!' he replied, and left the first lieutenant staring after him as he made his way below.

Lieutenant Hyde of the marines sat in the wardroom reading a novel. It was said to have been written 'by a lady', but, despite this, it rather appealed to him. He was an easy-going man whose lithe body conveyed the impression of youth and agility. In fact he was past thirty-five and conspicuously idle. But whereas military officers were frequently inert, Lieutenant Hyde was fortunate to be able to persuade his subordinates into doing their own duty and a good bit of his own. Moreover, this was accomplished with an enthusiasm that bespoke a keenly active and intelligent commanding officer.

The secret of Hyde's success was very simple; he possessed a sergeant of unusual ability and energy. Sergeant McCann was something of an enigma, even between decks on a British man-of-war which was said to be a refuge for all the world's bad-hats. Sergeant McCann was as unlike any other sergeant in the sea-service as it was possible to be; he was cultured. In fact the novel Lieutenant Hyde was reading was rightfully Sergeant McCann's; moreover the sergeant was diligent, so diligent that it was unnecessary for Lieutenant Hyde to check up on him, and he was well acquainted with the duties required of both a sergeant and an officer. This was because Sergeant McCann had once held a commission of his own.