Read Online Devil to Pay by Parkinson C. Northcote - Free Book Online Page B

before reporting to Rear-Admiral Hewett. The Port Admiral was not at his office but the prince’s letter of recommendation was opened without ceremony by his flag lieutenant, a brusque young man called Fothergill.
    â€œCaptain D’Auvergne speaks highly of you,” he commented, handing the letter back. “I wonder why he did not retain you on his staff.”
    â€œThere was some bad feeling, sir, in the army as a result of our landing in France.”
    â€œI see. What was your last seagoing appointment before you went on this mission?”
    â€œI was fourth in the
Artemis,
sir.”
    â€œIn the
Artemis?
Under Captain Fletcher?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œI see. I remember now. . . . Well, I think your best plan is to apply at the Admiralty in the usual way. Your vacancy in the
Grafton
had been filled and there is no other appointment presently available on this station.”
    Without much hope of success, Delancey set off for London by coach. He had been to the Admiralty before and found his way without difficulty to the waiting room on the right of the approach to the main staircase. On the second day after he had sent his name in he had a brief interview with an elderly clerk who promised rather wearily to let him know of any opportunity that might offer. What was most depressing about this visit was the sight of the other applicants. The country was at war, ships were being commissioned each week and officers appointed every day. Those still haunting the Admiralty were the misfits, the drunkards, the blind, halt and lame, and he could have wept to know he was one of them. Back in Portsmouth he found an attic room in Ropewalk Lane. The house belonged to a shipwright called Finch whose wife kept the place clean and whose small boy, Ned, brought him his hot water for shaving. Portsmouth was the place for a half-pay lieutenant, almost the only place where he would not have to explain who he was and what he was doing.
    After a few days in the dockyard town Delancey fell in with Harris of the
Warspite
who asked him into the George, where captains again glanced suspiciously at the two lieutenants who had no business to be there.
    â€œWell?” asked Harris, “How did you fare with the secret mission? Was I right about it, hey?”
    â€œYou were quite right, sir, It had ‘failure’ written on it from the outset. I am lucky to be alive.”
    â€œOr were you careful, hey? I heard something about you t’other day. What was it? Some army captain called you out and you refused the challenge. Don’t blame you! I should’ve done the same.”
    â€œIt wasn’t like that, Mr Harris. I
did
fight one of them and wounded him but I’ll confess that I wasn’t prepared to fight them all.”
    â€œYou should have laid them all out with a capstan bar. Waiter!”
    For weeks to come Delancey’s mind was continually on his career. After another year ashore he would not be a seaman. But his luck might change. There might be a battle with heavy losses and empty berths. He might still be promoted. But, somehow, just then, it seemed unlikely. He was a commissioned officer in wartime but without prospects of any kind. To the story that he had almost been guilty of mutiny was now added a story—not entirely false—that he had since been found wanting in courage. When news came of Lord Howe’s victory his hopes revived for some weeks but such vacancies as were caused by this battle were filled by the promotion of juniors rather than by seeking ashore for officers whose merits had so far been overlooked. The mere length of time Delancey had been on the beach would evidently tell against him.
    In other circumstances Delancey would have been tempted to give up his naval career and return to Guernsey. That door was closed, however, by the presence there of the 42nd Regiment. He resolved to wait for his luck to turn and was encouraged in this resolve by a