Выбрать главу

For Kaye, it was a scene of rare activity.  He was at a table spread with charts, with the stooping supernumerary, Kershaw, pointing with a bony finger.  Even upside down Will recognised the outer estuary of the Thames, with the Kent shore up to the North Foreland.  Oddly, he had a premonition.  Why these charts, this area?  Surely this was not a navigation lesson?

"Hah!"  said Kaye.  "At long last, Mr.  Bentley.  We are sailing in the morning, I had started to give up hope of you.  Mr.  Kershaw, you had better go."

Kershaw straightened, then bowed briefly.  As he passed Will he nodded a small greeting but did not speak.  Will's mind was in a turmoil.

"In the morning, sir?  Well sir, that is excellent.  I have the times, exact, I have a chart that shows the spot the landing's due at, and the meeting in the house.  It is three days hence, but if the weather holds '

Kaye interrupted him.  He set his soft face into hardness, made the petulant soft mouth firm.  His voice was touched with righteous anger.

"No sir!"  he said.  "It is not three days hence, but the day beyond tomorrow.  I have my own charts, here, and here.  I have intelligence received no thanks to you and the plan is set for all contingencies. You talk of rich men and corruption but you have no detail.  You talk of common smugglers as if they were a worthy prize.  I talk of black-hearted traitors who give succour to our enemy.  We will take a hundred of them, sir, and slam them back in jail where they belong.  No thanks to you."

It fell in to Will that Sam must have betrayed him, though inadvertently for sure.  The target was to be Celine's Frenchmen, there could be no doubt of it.  Kaye had got intelligence somehow, and had reneged on the East Sussex operation.  In his exhaustion, Will found it all quite dizzying.

"But sir!  Our friends are There will be important." His head was buzzing.  There was a look like triumph in Kaye's eyes.  "It is a golden chance," he ended, lamely.  "An opportunity.  I understood that you '

Kaye spoke incisively.

"I weighed it up and found it wanting, that is the fact of it," he said.  "I found it very interesting, and most unlikely to be true. Your friend has more intelligence than you and forgive me, but I feel this undeniable is more the patriot.  What we will attack is not just a case of vulgar profit, so common as to be of no account, but a form of villainy of great, of prime significance."

Will should have blazed with fury at the calculated barbs, but his senses were all blunted.

"You offend me, sir," he said, and Kaye almost laughed.  "But where is Sam?"  he added.  "Where is Mr.  Holt?  If he is still in Sussex, then '

Kaye's colour heightened instantly, he was taken with real rage, not a simulation.  He slammed his hand down on the chart-strewn table.

"Downriver, sir, to join us later, and damn your damned impertinence," he snapped.  "He said you would not want this, he made that very clear. Mr.  Holt will do his duty, you will see."

"But sir!  You will not leave him on the beach alone!  Those men are ruthless, violent, he expects a force!"

"He is downriver!  I confide that he will join us, he might even come this night!  There is no doubt about his patriotic feeling, no doubt at all!"

"Fore God, sir!"  shouted Will.  "I '

"Silence, sir!  Silence!  I will hear no more!  Have you no proper clothes on board here in your berth?  Then dress yourself immediately, dispose yourself for duty, wash and shave!  We sail on the ebb tomorrow morning and you will bear yourself with rectitude!  Now sir quit my sight!"

Outside, although the light was fading, the dockyard men and sailors were all active still.  Will breathed deeply of the river air, his limbs beneath his clothes trembling so hard he thought they would be seen.  The Biter was alongside the rigging wharf, starboard side to, and almost without a conscious intention he crossed the deck, swung legs across the bulwarks, and clambered down on to the dockside.

That Sam Holt had betrayed him he would not believe.  That he was waiting further down just made no sense.  That there might be a message was possible, that he must leave one if there was not, his plainest bounden duty.  Will strode through the yard along the riverfront until he reached the steps.  He selected the two strongest-looking water men and offered them a half a guinea extra if they could make their wherry fly.

Twenty-Eight 

It was a hanging matter, what he'd done, but Will did not expect to hang for it.  Unless he found some dire communication at Dr. Marigold's that should delay him, he hoped he would be back betimes at Deptford, where he had no fear of anything save bluster from his commanding officer.  Despite his clothes and travel-stained appearance he was recognised at the outer door and treated civilly within. Starving by now, he ate hot meat and oysters from a passing wench, and washed it down with ale.  The heat was prodigious, the noise and music like a drug, but he crossed the court before the comfort overwhelmed him. Sam's description of Annette amused him as he waited at the doorway to the inner house: like a whip.  Then her bed, mercifully, would not be a place for sleep, and sleep, oh sleep, was the only thing in the whole wide world to tempt him between the covers.  Quick message, given or received, and he would be away.

Mrs.  Putnam, when she saw him, gave a squeak much younger than her years.  She half rose from her table, and put her arms out as if she would embrace him, except there were three feet of deal between them. Her expression was between amazement and alarm.

"Mister Bentley!  But so soon, how did you know?  And those togs!  Have you then left the Navy?"

"Margery, well met.  Forgive me for the clothes, I am in haste."

"I wager that you are!  Indeed you are!"  She bustled backwards from her seat, and did come round the table.  Her face was positively roguish as she took his arm.  "Well, I declare!  She said that you would find her out, but so quick, so very quickly!"

"Annette?"  said Will.  "Has he sent a message then, already?  Where is she?"

"No, not Annette, you goose turd  snapped Margery.  "Christ, do not tell me you've forgot!"  This gave her sudden pause; she jerked his arm distractedly, then released it.  "But she's protected now," she muttered.  She raised her eyes to his.  "I'm talking of your Deb," she said.  "But what mean you?  Have you not come to search her out, to see her?"

There was a horrible excitement rising in his guts and nearly drowning him.  It was so clear, that Mistress Putnam sighed with glad relief. Unceremoniously she dragged him down the passageway, past all the doors he knew that led to tiny rooms that whores lived in, into a quarter that he did not know.  It was more opulent than the outer reaches, with fewer doors.  Before one of these she stopped, put her finger on her lips, and listened.

"Lor'!"  she whispered.  "How I wish that I could stay and watch.  But as I'm paid to stop it happening, I'd best just fade away!  Don't knock; go in and fear her senseless!"

She pushed him at the door and slipped off down the passage without looking back, but Will had to fight himself for some time before he could even touch the latch.  When he did so, and it made a small noise, he removed his hand as if it had burnt him and, unthinking, gave a rap. For a moment there was silence, save for his panting.  Oh hell, he thought, oh hell, it is Deborah within.

She was dressed as if for evening in a long pale gown, although it was too early in the normal way, and the chamber was bedazzled with the light from many candles.  Her hair was dressed up on her head and William noted that her face, though touched with powder, was underneath it almost free from bruises the first time, in fact, that he had ever seen it thus.  Before her expression burst into wild delight he took in her beauty with a swoop of recognition, the full red mouth, soft curve of cheek and neck, luxuriance of hair, and eyebrows thick and serious. Then she sprang at him, damn nearly knocked him down into the passageway, and they tangled in each other's arms.