The Price of Glory by Seth Hunter Page A

that could be used against one’s fellow officers. Or oneself.
    Naturally, when anything untoward did occur, there was a degree of collusion in their composition: a collective instinct to tell the same tale, based on the principle that they either stood—or hanged—together. Nathan did not encourage this propensity but nor was he averse to it, if it was to his own advantage. And there was the rub. He could not bring himself to examine his officers’ reports before they were submitted; nor influence them, as he knew other commanders did. He knew he might already be facing serious charges for his conduct in the Caribbean. He was accused of recklessness, of endangering his ship. And now there was this business in the mouth of Morbihan: the grounding of the
Unicorn
and the “arrest” of the Chevalier de Batz … cousin to the Comte de Puisaye, commander of the Royalist troops at Quiberon.
    Nathan put his hand to his head and massaged the ache about his temples. He had already written up a report of the incident and sent it by the
Unicorn
’s cutter to Commodore Warren—considerably sweetened, of course, by news of the taking of the two forts. But he wondered what his own officers would have to say about it in their individual reports.
    It was unlike him to be so anxious. He shook his head to dismiss the demons that lurked there and dipped the pen once more into the ink.
    Only to be saved by the clatter of feet down the ladder in the companionway and the rapping of a midshipman’s knuckle—it was odd how you always knew it was a midshipman—upon the panels of the door.
    Midshipman Lamb, to be precise, with Mr. Balfour’s respects and the news that the cutter was sighted, bearing down upon them under full sail from out of the Auray.
    â€œSo what kept you?” Nathan demanded as he scrutinised the faces of the two officers in the privacy of his cabin. “It cannot be more than four hours to Auray with the tide.”
    â€œI beg your pardon, sir, but we were detained by the enemy.” Major Howard was as laconic as ever, if a mite less dapper. His uniform was soiled and rent and he did not look to have washed or shaved for several days. Whiteley looked dead on his feet.
    Nathan gestured for them to be seated and they sank wearily into the cushions of the bench under the stern window.
    â€œBennett reported that Auray had fallen to the Chouans,” Nathan began.
    Howard nodded. “So it had, but we had not been there above an hour when we came under fire from a strong force of Republicans that had marched up from Vannes. We were under siege for two days.” He drew a hand over his unshaven jaw. “Finally, the Chouans decided to make a break to the west, towards Quiberon, and we fought our way out by the river.”
    â€œBut …” Nathan struggled to make sense of this. “What of the invasion force? Has it not advanced inland?”
    The two officers exchanged glances.
    â€œWe are informed not.”
    â€œInformed?”
    â€œBy Charette—the Chouan commander at Auray.”
    â€œBut what—” It came out as a croak, his mouth was so dry. He cleared his throat and started again. “But why have the Royalists not advanced inland? We were informed the enemy had very little force in the region.”
    Howard seemed unusually reticent. Nathan glanced at Whiteley. He wished he could have talked with him privately for there was some mystery here and Whiteley would have been less cautious about revealing it.
    â€œTell me what you know,” he instructed Howard. “At least, what you have heard. I will make no report of it unless it is necessary. But it is important I know exactly what is happening so far as the land operations are concerned.”
    â€œWell,” Howard assembled his thoughts. You could almost hear them creaking. “This came from Charette and I am not sure he is to be trusted. He has … well, he is a