Free Hoare and the Portsmouth Atrocities by Wilder Perkins Page A

affair.”
    â€œWhat do you make of that letter?” Hoare asked.
    Obviously distressed, Mr. Watt shrugged. “I really do not know what to make of it, sir,” he said. “If we knew who ‘he’ was … but the letter gives us no clue.”
    As a matter of fact, Hoare said to himself, the letter from wife to husband seemed to imply that “he”—whoever he was—was Mrs. Hay’s lover, and known by the captain to be such. Here was an unwanted complication, and a doubly cryptic one at that.
    â€œAnd the letter from the ‘uneducated woman,’ Mr. Watt?”
    â€œIt appeared to be a threatening letter, sir. She appeared to want money for revealing something to the captain, or perhaps for not revealing it to someone else. I do not know which was the case, if either.”
    â€œWell, then, Mr. Watt…” Hoare sighed. “Tell Mr. Gladden and me, in your own words, about the events of Friday night.”
    â€œI came aft at seven bells, gentlemen, to deliver some dispatches which I had decoded for the captain. There was no guard at the cabin door, so I knocked twice and entered.”
    â€œNo guard, Mr. Watt? Was it not Captain Hay’s standing order to have guards at his door and the spirits locker?”
    â€œYes, sir. But the Marine contingent was new-joined and may have been a bit confused, I think.”
    â€œUnheard of,” Gladden said. “Never, never does one leave those posts unmanned.”
    â€œVery good, Mr. Watt,” Hoare whispered. “Carry on with your story, if you please.”
    â€œI stepped directly into a sticky, slippery mess.” Mr. Watt’s voice trembled. “I found Captain Hay just outside the quarter-gallery. He was lying on his face in a trail of blood, as though he had been struck down near his cabin door. The blood flowed from a wound under his right shoulder blade.
    â€œI knelt down beside him, sir, to see if there was anything I could do. I heard him say something about ‘the lobsters,’ and then he choked. And…”
    The clerk gulped but recovered himself.
    â€œHe coughed up his life’s blood, sir, right across my knees, and … gave up the ghost then and there.”
    â€œâ€˜The lobsters’?” Hoare whispered. “Are you sure that’s what you heard Captain Hay say?”
    â€œThat is what I understood him to say, sir. Of course, he was not speaking clearly, and I … I was a bit upset. I ran out the cabin door, shouting for help, and reported to Mr. McHale on the quarterdeck.
    â€œThen, sir, I am ashamed to say I swooned and knew no more until I came to my senses as a result of being trampled by members of the crew. I am a peaceful man, sir, and the sight of blood disturbs me greatly. And it has ruined my second-best pair of breeches, which I can ill afford.”
    â€œAll things considered, Mr. Watt,” said Hoare, “you acquitted yourself creditably. You did your duty when it had to be done, and no captain could ask for more.”
    He dismissed Mr. Watt now, with a request to find the midshipman who was supposed to be serving as messenger boy. Watt had no trouble finding him, for he opened the cabin door into the ear of a towheaded imp in a round jacket. Taking the child by the injured ear, Watt hauled him into the cabin, stood him up, and introduced him to the two officers as Mr. Prickett.
    â€œYou are to follow these gentlemen’s orders, you young monster, and on the run. D’ye understand, then?” He shook the ear as if shaking his words into it to make sure they were absorbed.
    â€œYes, Mr. Watt, yes! Don’t whang me so!” Mr. Prickett bleated, and began to snivel. He could not have been in uniform long, for when he wiped his nose on his sleeve it caught on the row of buttons placed there precisely to prevent his doing so. He began to weep in very earnest. He looked to be about eight.
    â€œBe kind to