Man Of War

‘My dear Sir Laughton, I am much gladdened by your arrival!’

The admiral greeted him with a ready smile and a hearty handshake. Sir Edward Codrington was tall – by several inches over Peto – almost bald, and with a noble, humane face which quite belied his reputation for pugnacity in action. Peto was at once assured of his welcome. It had been many years since they had last met, and in the navy these things mattered. Since Nelson’s day – even before – an admiral gathered his favourites about him, men he could trust to place themselves to advantage in battle, or to know what would be his will in some affair conducted beyond sight of the fleet. He, Peto, had never been one of Codrington’s men. ‘Sir Edward, I’m honoured to join your flag.’

‘Then join me too in a glass of Marsala,’ was the easy response. ‘Sit you down. You are come most carefully upon your hour.’

Peto sat as the steward poured. ‘We are come later than I had wished, Sir Edward, for we were obliged to run down into Surt before a storm as violent as any I saw here. I thought I should be blown to Alexandria.’

Codrington raised a hand to say that it was the way of things. ‘No matter. You are here now. Tomorrow I shall have my captains come aboard and I shall tell you my design.’

‘Ay-ay, Sir Edward. But if I may, there is a pressing matter. Your daughter, Miss Rebecca, is aboard my ship. She and her maid joined at Gibraltar, but since I was obliged to run south of Malta I was not able to transfer her to shore, and neither have I encountered any vessel since to which I could entrust her.’

The admiral looked as if he had not heard quite right. ‘The deucedest thing!’

‘She occupies your apartment, of course, Sir Edward. I wondered when you might have a sloop or other to take her to Malta. And when you yourself wish to transfer your flag.’ Peto omitted to mention the other women on board: that was a detail best not troubled over now. He would simply put them aboard whatever it was the admiral detached for the duty, and no one but her master need be the wiser.

The admiral still looked distant. ‘The deucedest thing indeed, for her youngest brother is midshipman with me. He stands watch as we speak. I shall send him back with you, and then, if you will, in an hour or so you may send him back in turn.’

‘Sir Edward.’

‘And Firefly will be returned tomorrow – she’s taking instructions to General Church the other side of the Morea – and then she can take Rebecca to Malta along with my despatches.’

Peto nodded. ‘And your flag, Sir Edward?’

The admiral shook his head. ‘I intend no change – not at this late hour. You’ll see my method when I have the rest of the captains aboard tomorrow.’

‘Ay-ay, sir,’ replied Peto, trying not to sound too dismayed. ‘Shall you come aboard Rupert to see Miss Rebecca before then?’

The admiral shook his head again, and with something of a look which said that he was surprised. Not many months ago Peto himself would have scorned it, but now he was discomfited by the notion that Sir Edward Codrington could reject the opportunity of seeing a daughter – especially a daughter with such evident intelligence, and pride in her father. ‘She will be vastly disappointed, Sir Edward.’

The admiral’s mouth fell open. ‘I do not doubt it, Sir Laughton. But I fear I cannot oblige her. We are about to undertake a most delicate manoeuvre at Navarin. One, indeed, which is likely to have no other outcome but a fierce exchange of shot. I cannot go calling on a daughter!’

Peto felt himself thoroughly chastened, but by no means abashed. ‘I could send her to you in my launch, Sir Edward. Midshipman Codrington might escort her.’

The admiral now looked faintly indignant. ‘My dear Captain Peto, I cannot disrupt a ship of war at such a time. And I have Admiral de Rigny to attend to.’

Peto saw perfectly well that having to deal with a French admiral was vexation enough without the distraction of petticoats. He concluded that he could not press his commander-in-chief further on the matter. Rebecca would, after all, be seeing her brother. ‘Then I must beg pardon, Sir Edward.’

‘There is no cause to do so, I assure you, Sir Laughton. My daughter is well, I trust?’

Peto smiled a shade wryly. ‘She is very well indeed, Sir Edward. I believe she was almost glad to be blown south of Malta, for she expresses a great desire to see your squadron.’

The admiral nodded. ‘She has spirit, but I am afraid I am unable to oblige her in that too, for I must have Rupert stand out well to the west. I do not wish the Turks see her before it is opportune. I shall explain my purpose tomorrow when the other captains are assembled.’