Part III (cont)
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Letter from Lt Kennedy, HMS 'Renown' to the Conte di Cesare, London.
3rd October, 1800
Guido,
I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to you - there hasn't really been time for correspondence recently, and even this will have to be more of a note to assure you that we're still breathing than anything else. A few questions though, from your last letter (and by the way, I hope things have improved since you wrote it). Who or what the hell is the Coalition? What are you talking about with this Act of Union and how will it affect the Commons anyway? In effect, my friend, what in the blazes is going on over there? And why is Pitt so intent on fighting the King, when from what I heard, he was the one who fought to prevent a Regency in the first place? Maybe you're not allowed to tell me any of this, but at this precise moment, I would cheerfully give a month's pay for a newspaper, so that I could see for myself.
As for us, as you've probably read by now, we have finally seen action! Life is good, we're all officially heroes, Buckland seems to have grown a temporary spine, and we can do no wrong in our Captain's eyes.
If I wrote you details, you wouldn't understand a word, so I'll spare you. It wasn't Copenhagen, no great victory, but it was something. It was better, and it was real, and it's got us out of the rut. It means we're all constantly occupied now, preparing for the next time - the crew have something to look forward to, and new belief in themselves. It makes gun practice more of a challenge than a mundane chore, and we have at last some signs of enthusiasm to work with. Perhaps it is /that/, more than anything, which has made the differences in Capt. Sawyer - it never occurred to me before that perhaps the atmosphere aboard was not caused by him so much as it was affecting him. Whatever it is that has brought about the change in his demeanour, it is certainly for the better, and I begin to think that we have finally earnt a few shreds of his respect, if nothing else.
The one note of sorrow is that we lost our 2nd Lt, Mr Hughes. He was a calm and sensible man, and though I cannot imagine that he would have risen much further up the ranks other than by virtue of his years, he will be missed, the more so now that things have improved so much, and he would have benefited from these changes as much as we do. I cannot say that I miss him as a friend, for he was not a man who inspired, or indeed seemed to wish, for intimacy, but I shall miss him as I would any fellow officer.
We will not have a chance to replace him for some time. The Captain's orders are to stay here for the next six months at least, though I believe we are due to return to Plymouth at the end of that period. If all goes well, we may be given shore leave then, though it may not be possible. It depends on how long the duration of our stay in port may be, and how soon this new officer is sent to us.
It was good to be in battle again, to realise that this last year has not been wasted, and that the efforts I have been forced to make to keep myself occupied have gone as much as any repeated engagements to make me more settled in my decisions at such times. And I'm not sure, but I /think/ I may have seen Horatio smile at one point, so I am convinced that he was discovering the same sense of freedom as I was. It is strange how routine, when broken, can prove to be an asset rather than the hindrance you considered it at the time.
Tell Hal that fighting works, too.
As ever
Archie.
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Letter from the Conte di Cesare, Whitehall, London to Lt. Kennedy, HMS Renown
1 December, 1800
Archie,
Thank you for your oh-so-detailed letter! Yes, that was sarcasm. So, you'll write for hours when things go badly, and scribble me a note when things go well, eh? Should I be offended, or pleased - let me consider.
On the whole, I shall go with pleased.
I read the details in the 'Chronicle' - and you would be proud of me, as I only had to look up five words and understood the whole report after three hours of re-reading. The /un/official report was of course a tremendous help - aha! You weren't expecting that, were you? Have you forgotten what I do and who it is that I work for? Apparently so.
I would give anything to see the expression on your face at this moment.
Hal's one enquiry has been as to whether you won, and whether you and Horatio had all your limbs intact. On my reply in the affirmative, he went out hellbound on making the Prince of Wales drink your healths at Carlton House. From his somewhat incoherent report on his return, I concluded that he succeeded, and from the reports of my men as to that circle's actions on that night, I can tell you that he more than succeeded. You have become the cause of a legendary debauch, though I believe the purpose behind it was forgotten sometime during the second day.
I think the Prince now believes that you two are captaining the ship. I will not try to disabuse him of that at any time in the future.
We are not able to give you much information as to what is taking place here, but the Act is still to come into effect here next January. There is, however, a little brightness in our lives as a result. On my finally complaining as to the paperwork, Pitt sent me help. Unexpected and rather odd help, but help nonetheless. He sent me his ward, Lady Elizabeth Buchanan, who has been (I suspect) sending him close to insanity with her requests for independence. His solution? To ask her to work for us.
So far, she has ordered our reports into a system, makes all the copies for the various departments, deals with the Admiralty's paperwork to stop me from strangling them during the day, and drives Hal insane. These are all good things. Oh - and she has also sorted out our household arrangements, finding us servants we can trust (or rather a cook and a sort of manservant for Hal that we can trust) and two maids who come in during the day to clean. At least, I think that's what they do. I have given orders that no-one is to even /think/ of entering my room, my study, or the library. I am, after all, perfectly capable of lighting a fire and dusting on my own behalf.
So life is easier, if perhaps a little sadder. Pitt is not succeeding in his attempts to bring the Catholics in, and I fear that the King will remain immune to compromise.
Write soon. Now that there is news to be had, I would be happier to receive it from you, even in your dreadful scrawl, than to read yet another report.
I doubt that I shall hear from you before Christmas, or that I will have the chance to write again before then, so I send you my greetings now.
Guido.
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Letter from Hal Trevelyan (enclosed in the same package)
Archie,
I am going to /kill/ that bloody woman Pitt sent us! She organises us to within an inch of our lives, she's ugly as hell, got a temper like a sodding Fury, and she makes me work! Lady E is a damn nuisance and nothing more, and I really can't see why G tolerates her for more than three seconds. When I pointed out that she wasn't even attractive, he just gave me a look as though I were a dead fish, said 'No, Hal, she's unfashionable, and if you can't look beyond what people should be wearing to tell the difference, you should seriously rethink your position as a judge of beauty.' Then he grinned at me, told me not to revise my opinion too much, because he wants her unseduced, still talking to us, and keeping on working here, and walked off!
It seems as if he doesn't give a damn as to whether I like her or not - I thought I was supposed to be his second-in-command and have a say in things?
Well, at least she hired a cook and Guido'll eat the food. Better than his efforts, my efforts and the cookshop down the street. Infinitely better. We can tell what we're eating.
Congratulations on your victory. I got Prinny to drink your health - well, I thought a word in his ear wouldn't hurt, even if all words seem to whistle straight out of the other side of his head - which he did with his usual aplomb.
We're saving the reports. And I'm glad fighting works too - but aren't they about the same thing? Fighting, hitting someone, same in effect? Or is that just me? Probably just me.
Christmas wishes, you lucky sod. Come and spend some of that ill-gotten prize money with us when you're in Plymouth.
Yours, as ever,
Hal
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Letter from Hal Trevelyan to Archie Kennedy (unsent)
26th February, 1801
Archie,
Don't know where you are, don't know if you'll get this, but have to write. Pitt resigned, Archie, and the bastards just nodded, and told Addington to get himself a party. They wouldn't go, brave hearts, Pitt's party wouldn't go under anyone else, Canning roaring to the Commons exactly what he thought and Wilberforce just walking out and leaving 'em to it. I'm not leaving him. Don't care who we work for, I'm not leaving him. He's the Premier, and they're too damn stupid to see what they've lost.
God, what have they done? Addington'll bring them peace for the price of Europe, and they'll let him. They'll bloody let him, the gutless wonders.
Jesus, man, I'm sitting in a club listening to the bastards toast Prinny, while Nelson shouts for money and Pitt vanishes to Walmer, and Guido's out gathering the last of the information Pitt wants to keep from Addington, and I do /nothing/, God forgive me, /nothing/, because that is my blasted job.
Oh Christ, Kennedy, they let him go. They didn't say one word to stop him, all because of how some people choose to kneel in church, they let the best leader they've ever had walk out.
One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
My God, what have we become? What is to become of all that we have worked for?
Hal.
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