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Authors: David Donachie
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they returned to the cabin, though that induced no more than a slight flush on his dark olive cheeks. De Puy looked more unsettled. He wasn’t, by nature, a happy man; Markham knew that, just as he knew that Aramon always seemed to depress him even further. But now he was more downcast than ever, the factthat he had acquiesced in what was being demanded of him fairly obvious, given the self-satisfied air of his clerical companion.
‘The captain accepts that you possess too little space to transport his men. I have pointed out the obvious to him. That to take a hired vessel and his soldiers would leave us at the mercy of men unknown to us, men on whom we might not be able to rely to fully aid us. That, I am happy to say does not apply in the confines of a British warship.’
Markham clenched his jaw, but Germain, of a fairer complexion , blushed, a fact of which he was aware since he covered it with a fine outpouring of modesty. The Monsignor continued, with his head shaking and his voice carrying an air of slight disbelief.
‘And it has to be said, the prospect of relying on Lieutenant Markham and his men does not seem to trouble him unduly.’
Germain responded quickly. ‘I intend to sail at sunset, Monsignor, my orders demand it. I will go whether you are aboard or not.’
Markham suppressed a smile. He doubted if Germain had received any such orders, other than the general instruction from Admiral Hood to cruise off the southern French shores. He was keen to be off for two very good reasons. The first was to demonstrate his zeal, the second to be away from a gossipy shore, one that might just leak information regarding his unorthodox arrangements. That would certainly bring down on him unwelcome questions, as well as interference from his superiors. It might even lead to a strict command to desist.
‘We are ready to come aboard now,’ stated Aramon.
‘Then we are agreed,’ Germain said. ‘We will transport you to France, help you recover the property you seek, then transport you to your destination.’
The Monsignor smacked his lips in approval. De Puy nodded slowly, failing to respond to the eagerness in Germain’s look. Only Markham kept his head still. He had, in his mind, a nagging need to register his doubts, not least the obvious one that no actual reward had been mentioned. Clearly that was another fact that Germain and Aramon had discussed between themselves. And they had no intention of sharing the figure with anyone else. Then there was the thought of going ashore on a hostile coast, not to hit and run, but to head inland to a degree as yet unstated.
But that was being overborne by a twinge of excitement. He hated to be still, and though well aware that he could, if hewished, decline to serve with Germain, he knew he’d be forced to leave his men behind if he decided to stay in Corsica. And then there was the prospect of what duty he might be offered in place of this. Markham had enjoyed a degree of independence since coming out to the Mediterranean, both in Toulon and on Corsica, one to which his rank scarcely entitled him.
The notion of that freedom being curtailed, of his serving as a subordinate marine officer aboard a ship of the line, was not a happy prospect. What Germain was proposing to do might be hare-brained and even illegal. But it was movement, tinged with risk and adventure. And then, to a man who had enjoyed a degree of comfort and had lost it, there was always the prospect, once he’d wormed a figure out of his captain, of a little bit of profit.
Aramon was seen over the side with as much ceremony as had attended his arrival, this time, at Germain’s insistence, in the Syilphide ’sown cutter. The newly appointed commander did not wish either man to communicate with anyone they didn’t have to.
‘Mr Fletcher, I would ask you to shape me a course that will take us to the southwest. Once out of sight of land, we will want to box the compass for a while.’
He was aware
‘The captain accepts that you possess too little space to transport his men. I have pointed out the obvious to him. That to take a hired vessel and his soldiers would leave us at the mercy of men unknown to us, men on whom we might not be able to rely to fully aid us. That, I am happy to say does not apply in the confines of a British warship.’
Markham clenched his jaw, but Germain, of a fairer complexion , blushed, a fact of which he was aware since he covered it with a fine outpouring of modesty. The Monsignor continued, with his head shaking and his voice carrying an air of slight disbelief.
‘And it has to be said, the prospect of relying on Lieutenant Markham and his men does not seem to trouble him unduly.’
Germain responded quickly. ‘I intend to sail at sunset, Monsignor, my orders demand it. I will go whether you are aboard or not.’
Markham suppressed a smile. He doubted if Germain had received any such orders, other than the general instruction from Admiral Hood to cruise off the southern French shores. He was keen to be off for two very good reasons. The first was to demonstrate his zeal, the second to be away from a gossipy shore, one that might just leak information regarding his unorthodox arrangements. That would certainly bring down on him unwelcome questions, as well as interference from his superiors. It might even lead to a strict command to desist.
‘We are ready to come aboard now,’ stated Aramon.
‘Then we are agreed,’ Germain said. ‘We will transport you to France, help you recover the property you seek, then transport you to your destination.’
The Monsignor smacked his lips in approval. De Puy nodded slowly, failing to respond to the eagerness in Germain’s look. Only Markham kept his head still. He had, in his mind, a nagging need to register his doubts, not least the obvious one that no actual reward had been mentioned. Clearly that was another fact that Germain and Aramon had discussed between themselves. And they had no intention of sharing the figure with anyone else. Then there was the thought of going ashore on a hostile coast, not to hit and run, but to head inland to a degree as yet unstated.
But that was being overborne by a twinge of excitement. He hated to be still, and though well aware that he could, if hewished, decline to serve with Germain, he knew he’d be forced to leave his men behind if he decided to stay in Corsica. And then there was the prospect of what duty he might be offered in place of this. Markham had enjoyed a degree of independence since coming out to the Mediterranean, both in Toulon and on Corsica, one to which his rank scarcely entitled him.
The notion of that freedom being curtailed, of his serving as a subordinate marine officer aboard a ship of the line, was not a happy prospect. What Germain was proposing to do might be hare-brained and even illegal. But it was movement, tinged with risk and adventure. And then, to a man who had enjoyed a degree of comfort and had lost it, there was always the prospect, once he’d wormed a figure out of his captain, of a little bit of profit.
Aramon was seen over the side with as much ceremony as had attended his arrival, this time, at Germain’s insistence, in the Syilphide ’sown cutter. The newly appointed commander did not wish either man to communicate with anyone they didn’t have to.
‘Mr Fletcher, I would ask you to shape me a course that will take us to the southwest. Once out of sight of land, we will want to box the compass for a while.’
He was aware
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