Free The Hawk by Peter Smalley Page B

in Norfolk. Was
it not possible that Sir Robert was contriving and conceiving
and conspiring against him? Might not Sir Robert probably
return quite soon, with a detachment of marines and a
warrant of apprehension?
    Rennie decided to go to Portsmouth. He would take rooms
at the Marine Hotel for a week or two. If Lieutenant Hayter
was still at Portsmouth, in his cutter, perhaps they could
meet. Perhaps James would invite him to go on board.
Rennie could give him advice, if he sought it. Only if he did;
it would not do to presume. In course, thought Rennie, he
would have to be discreet. He would not call on the Port
Admiral, nor in any other way advertise his presence. He
would not, after all, come to Portsmouth in any official
capacity. He was not commissioned. He would not wish to be
seen in any sense to be interfering in the business of the
Channel Fleet, at a time of emergency. No, he would arrive
at Portsmouth merely as a private gentleman, a private visitor
minding his own business.
    He instructed Jenny to pack his bag, and to look after
things while he was gone. To pay the boy who looked after
his horse and cleaned the stable; to pay the man who came
from the village to tend the garden, &c., &c. He would be
gone a fortnight or three weeks, a month at the outside. If –
by chance – Sir Robert Greer should call, she was to say that
Captain Rennie was away on personal business – in London.
    He departed.
    Rennie might have gone to London by the same route that
James had come to Norfolk, by sea, but he did not. He
determined to go by road. He could have hired a post-chaise,
at great expense, to take him all the way to London, and then
on to Portsmouth. Instead he went by turnpike coach. The
mail coach travelled daily to London from Norwich, with an
overnight stop at an inn at Sudbury. Rennie paid thirty
shillings for an inside seat.
    On the coach door was emblazoned the slogan The London Flyer in elaborate red and gold script on a green ground. The
bodywork of the coach was green, with flashes of gold, the
wheels were green with red spokes. The coachman wore a
great green travelling cape, and a broad green tricorne. The
six horses sported gleaming decorated harness.
    'It is all very splendid,' muttered Rennie to himself as he
prepared to board the coach in St Stephen's Street, the castle
wall behind. 'But does it reflect their efficacy of service?' He
climbed in and settled in his facing window seat, for which he
had paid an extra five shillings. He noted with approval that
the leather seats were upholstered, and that the vehicle gave
a little on its springs as each passenger ascended. 'We shall
not be rattled and bounced to death, in least.' Politely, to the
lady seating herself opposite. She made no reply, but
employed her vinaigrette, and closed her eyes. She was a
handsome woman, thought Rennie, in her bonnet and
waisted blue dress. 'However, she contrives to look ten years
younger than her years.' Not aloud.
    Towards evening, in open country between Bury and
Sudbury, near to a hamlet called Capling Street, the coach
came to a sudden sliding, shuddering halt. Rennie had been
dozing, and woke with a start.
    'What? Are we upset?'
    'Nay, sir, I think not.' An elderly gentleman. 'I believe we
are – '
    The crack of a pistol shot. The lady opposite Rennie
gasped, and looked out of the window in alarm.
Consternation among all of the passengers. And now a shout
in the road ahead.
    'Stay still now! Very still!' Echoing on the crisp evening air.
The sound of hooves, a single horse on the metal of the road.
'Make no resistance, and you will not be harmed!'
    The lady transferred her alarmed gaze from the window to
Rennie, and instinctively he felt that he must offer her his
protection.
    'Never fear, madam.' Quietly to her. She glanced again out
of the window, and then looked anxiously at Rennie, as if for
reassurance. 'Never fear . . .' He was not wearing his sword,
and now regretted it, but he was carrying two loaded