A Close Run Thing by David Donachie

Author:David Donachie [David Donachie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780749022488
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2018-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

It took another hired wherry to get him ashore and it entailed a much longer row than coming out from Sheerness. He was coming up two hours in the boat, huddled in his cloak to keep his best uniform clean. In some senses this was more demeaning than what had happened earlier: he should have been in his barge, being rowed by his own well-trained crew, under his trusted coxswain, able to approach the Admiralty Quay with a flourish.

Instead he came alongside at a whimper. Having helped Oliphant on to dry land, he strode off towards the C-in-C’s office, part of the so-called officer’s row, these a dozen substantial and handsome brick buildings, constructed in the reign of the first George. These housed both the administrative headquarters of the fleet as well as providing accommodation to the senior officers on station.

It was necessary to get past the ex-tars who’d managed to secure for themselves the agreeable jobs as doorkeepers. Passage for officers of his rank, with no arranged interview, was usually secured with a small bit of silver. Then came the more daunting obstacle of the civilian functionary, he who managed the business of the headquarters. He was the gatekeeper and long practised at refusal, which is what Pearce faced now. Politely requested at first, it soon became dogged.

‘Then I require you,’ Pearce insisted, ‘to inform Admiral Buckner that my next destination will be the Office of the First Lord of the Treasury. He will, no doubt, want to know why his express wishes are being thwarted by an officer whose fitness for command could be called into question.’

That got Pearce a cold and disbelieving look from a dry stick of an official, with parchment skin and hooded eyes, a fellow who’d heard threats from many more whales of senior officers than this mere sprat of a lieutenant.

Oliphant added his weight, in a deliberately even tone, which was more effective than the Pearce bluster. ‘It would be a mistake to see that as an idle threat. From Downing Street, the matter will go straight to the desk of Earl Spencer and, no doubt, given it is such a serious political problem, to the Duke of Portland as well.’

The name hit home; keep the gate he might, but this man was not going to lay down his future to keep it closed. He conceded in a sepulchral tone.

‘All I can do is to send into the admiral and inform him of your request.’

‘Then oblige me by doing so,’ Pearce insisted.

A bell summoned another ex-tar who was handed a note just penned to take to the C-in-C, with Pearce asking, ‘Where can we await his reply?’

There was the very faintest twitch of the lips; this fellow, put on the back foot, was working up to take pleasure from his response. ‘I daresay this hallway will serve as well as anywhere. Or, if you prefer, Lieutenant, you may wait in the porch.’

John Pearce’s blood had been boiling when he set of from HMS Hazard.

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