The elder of his two dinner companions paused in the act of spearing another pickled onion. "Yes, it's Wednesday."

"It is the Eve of All Hallows," the Admiral said, somewhat mysteriously.

"Why yes, it is. You aren’t thinking of holding services … I hope." Captain Kennedy gave him a pleading look as the onion disappeared into his mouth.

"Certainly not."

The third man at the table let out an unintentionally loud sigh of relief. Embarrassed, he covered his mouth and coughed.

Archie smiled. Acting Lieutenant Thomas Patrick Sherbourne, whom he considered his protégé, obviously shared his lack of enthusiasm for organized religion. Sherbourne had a brilliant mind, and a taste for action. Unfortunately, the political state of the world did not offer many opportunities for action. Dinner with the Admiral should pacify the young officer’s hunger for adventure for awhile. He did not know how fortunate he was -- Horatio and Archie did not often share their table with a guest.

"I have a bottle of Madeira," Horatio said. "Shall we adjourn to the day room?"

There was a small but comfortably plush divan in the Admiral’s private quarters, with room for two. Sherbourne had to make do with an ordinary wooden chair.

Archie took the bottle and poured for all of them. Outside, the wind howled across the surface of the deep. "Bad weather coming," he said.

"We should be safely in port before the worst of it hits," Horatio replied. "That reminds me …."

Archie settled back, knowing Horatio’s fondness for stories.

"Do you remember the Droits de l’Homme, Archie?" The Admiral and the Captain had chosen to dispense with formalities of title, despite the presence of a junior officer. Sherbourne was a bright lad, and had not taken long to assess the nature of the relationship between these two men. The fact that he was of like inclination -- and occasionally shared Captain Kennedy's bed -- ensured his confidence.

"Yes, of course I remember," Archie said.

"I have heard that thrilling story many times, sir," Sherbourne said, pushing back a stray lock of wavy auburn hair. His self-assured tone implied that there was no great need to hear it again.

Horatio smiled. "Ah, but do you know what really happened?"

"I suppose I do, sir," Sherbourne said. "I have read the accounts … "

"Then you have not heard the whole story," Archie said, giving him a sly wink. "There were certain matters that could not be included in the official reports."

Sherbourne frowned, his curiosity now piqued. "Certain -- matters, sir?"

"Matters of an occult nature, Thomas," Horatio said solemnly.

Sherbourne’s eyes lit up with sudden realization. "Ah, of course. An appropriate tale for such a night as this," he said, smiling.

"Oh, I assure you it is a true story. And I will have your word that you will repeat it to no one." Horatio appeared to be completely serious.

"Of course, sir," Sherbourne said, still smiling.

Archie laid a hand on the young man’s arm. "He means it, Thomas. Captain Pellew required the same of us."

"Very well, you have my word." Sherbourne attempted to mimic his hosts’ sobriety, although he was sure he was about to hear a tale as tall as the mainmast of the Indefatigable, the famous frigate he knew to be the favourite posting of both the Admiral and the Captain. Pellew, now Viscount Exmouth, was a legend. He was honoured to share the company of men who had served under him, even if they were trying to bamboozle him.

"In the year of ’96, we were bereft of all allies, save Naples, Piedmont and Portugal." Horatio began.

"That was the year we took the Virginie," Archie added, as if to reinforce the irrelevance of having allies.

Horatio nodded, taking a sip of his wine. "The French then conceived of a plan to stir up rebellion in Ireland, so as to distract our forces and compel us to fight on yet another front. Especially our Navy, which, I might add, was the only successful bulwark against the French at the time. And so they dispatched General Hoche with their fleet. The Spanish were to come up from the south and join him."

"That is always a bad idea," Archie interrupted.

"What is a bad idea, sir?" Sherbourne asked.

"Relying on the Spanish fleet," Archie said.

Horatio gave him an indulgent smile. "At any rate, there were seventeen line-of-battle ships, thirteen frigates, half a dozen or more corvettes, and all that stood between this mighty host and safe harbour in Ireland was …"

"The Indefatigable," Sherbourne offered.

"Yes," Horatio said, in the proud tone a teacher would use to a student who had answered a question correctly. "The Indefatigable, and a good storm. The rest of the Channel Fleet was in Spithead, as it was winter. Bridport, you see, never expected the French to mount a winter expedition. Bridport was –"

"As dull as ditch water", Archie put in. "I believe those were Captain Pellew’s very words."

Horatio repressed a chuckle. "Yes," he said. "Only hours before the French sailed, news reached the Captain that French troops had been embarked. He knew what that meant -- thousands of soldiers to support an Irish rebellion. The success of this scheme would have been disastrous to our interests. Of the other ships that were with the Indy, the Amazon was on patrol, and the Revolutionnaire had been sent in search of Admiral Colpoys – whom, as we know, was not to be found. Alone and without the benefit of approval from his superiors, Captain Pellew headed into the Brest approaches to inflict what damage he could by night."

Archie took up the story as Horatio finished his wine. "By clever use of signal rockets, the French were thrown into confusion, not knowing who was signaling whom, and the command ship carrying General Hoche lost touch with the rest of the fleet. Some few of those ships managed to eventually straggle into Bantry Bay, but soon left in despair as they found themselves no longer a fleet but a …"

"A shambles," Sherbourne supplied. "And not a single French soldier set foot on Irish soil."

Horatio nodded. "Precisely. Had Captain Pellew not engineered the scattering of the fleet, no doubt the entire force would have been landed, as neither Calpoys nor Bridport even sighted a French ship, much less brought one to battle."

"Would you care for another, Thomas?" Archie held out the bottle, and poured when Sherbourne offered his glass. "Horatio?"

"Yes, thank you. We have a good bit more to tell, don't we? For it was after all that that our story takes place, when the French ship-of-the-line Droits de l'Homme, otherwise known as the Rights of Man, came into view one evening, just as darkness was falling."

"She was rated a 74, but carrying 80," Archie added, "and could have easily sunk the Indy or the Amazon, which had by then returned, with one broadside from her 36-pounders."

Sherbourne nodded in appreciation of the immensity of the peril that Pellew faced. He had so far not heard anything he had not heard before.

"Captain Pellew went after the prey like a wolf stalking a plodding ox, and manoeuvered so that the French could not bring their main gundecks to bear," Horatio said.

"And then there was the storm." Archie paused, as all three men listened to the winds roaring like a portent outside. "Have you ever weathered a gale, Thomas?"

"Of sufficient force to sink a frigate, only once, when I was a mid. I thought we would all die that night." Sherbourne gulped the remains of the Madeira, as if to ward off a chill that was still with him.

"So did we," Horatio said. "It was said that some among the crew prayed to Neptune. Not we, of course."

"I had forgotten most of my Latin. Otherwise …" Archie muttered.

"As I was saying," Horatio went on, eyeing Archie, "the Indy was on one bow of the Frenchman, the Amazon on the other, with the French in desperation assaying to run in and board. I needn't tell you that would have been decisive, as neither we nor the Amazon had the men to contend with such a force. The storm continued to rise, such that several of the main deck guns broke the ropes of their breeching-tackle, and others drew the ring-bolts out of the ship's side. But of course --"

"Captain Pellew had thought of that and had sufficient spare rope on hand," Sherbourne finished.

"You know the story well," Archie said. "Part of the story, I mean."

"But what more is there, that hasn't been told time and again?" Sherbourne asked.

"Patience is a virtue, Thomas," Archie smiled enigmatically. "We were just coming to that."

"Yes," Horatio said. "Shortly after midnight, the French had fired all her round-shot, and began firing shell. Our men were up to their waists in water, nearing exhaustion, and fearful that the storm would soon take us down if the enemy could not. It was then that the drumming began."

"Drumming?" Sherbourne looked blank.

"Such a drumming as I have not heard before or since," Horatio said. "Though we were ready to drop with fatigue, we worked on through the night to the beat of the drum, giving and taking round after round. It strengthened our will, and helped to set our minds on the task at hand. We fought them for close to twelve hours, and we did not lose one man."

"And then, in the early hours of morning, the drumming ceased. And just as it stopped, the clouds parted," Archie said, making a motion with his hands, "and the moon lit up the coastline."

"Dead ahead to the northeast," Horatio continued. "Lieutenant Bell on the forecastle brought the news to the Captain, and he ordered the sailing-master to put the ship across the wind. The gale was so fierce by then that we could scarce hear his orders, or pass them along."

"Round we swung into the wind," Archie said, his voice a low whisper. "Hung in stays for one terrifying moment, then as the topsails filled on the other tack, we sped away."

"Though not to safety," Horatio finished.

"Indeed not." Archie refilled his glass. "As morning came, we could see clearly where we were. In the Bay of Audierne, with Penmarck Point ahead, surrounded by the calamitous Penmarck Rocks."

"From the frying pan into the fire, as they say." Horatio held out his own glass, and paused for a moment, remembering. "I was standing next to Captain Pellew when he turned to give orders to the helmsman. The helmsman of the Indefatigable was tall, clean-shaven, with close-cropped brown hair. But at the wheel we saw a small man, nearly a head shorter than the Captain. A man with long flaxen hair and an unconventional beard."

"Then the apparition -- for he was an apparition and no mortal man -- pressed an object into the Captain's palm, telling him it held his luck," Archie said. "We all looked to see what it was that he held, and when we raised our eyes again -- "

"May I guess?" Sherbourne looked at him, his eyes merry. "The strange helmsman had disappeared."

"That is, in fact, what had happened," Horatio said softly.

"That was a grand story for a night such as this," Sherbourne said, grinning. "I shan't sleep a wink."

"I assure you, Thomas, we are quite serious." Archie gave his arm a little squeeze for emphasis.

Sherbourne knew his Captain well enough to know when he wasn't jesting. "I do believe you mean it," he said, a bit mystified. "But surely you cannot believe you really saw some sort of … ghostly manifestation. It goes against all reason!"

"There is no other explanation," Horatio said. "We all heard the drum."

"The pounding of the waves, or the roar of the guns," Sherbourne said with a shrug.

"But we saw the helmsman," Archie said pointedly.

"With all due respect, sir," Sherbourne said, "in the heat of battle, with lightning flashing and the sting of salt in your eyes …"

"Ever the skeptic," Archie sighed. "He remains unconvinced, Horatio."

"But sir, wouldn't you be, if you had heard the tale as I have?"

"You do have a point, Thomas. If we had not been there ourselves, and had simply heard the story from the Captain, I suppose I would still have doubted. Horatio is another matter. If Edward Pellew said that the sun stood still in the heavens from two bells to eight, he would duly note it in his logbook."

Horatio sniffed. "Really, Archie, that was tasteless."

Archie made an unsuccessful attempt to look abashed. "But for doubting Thomas, we do have … other evidence."

"Come with me," Horatio said, settling his glass on the table. He stretched a bit and led the way into his sleeping cabin. As Sherbourne watched inquisitively, he brought out his sea chest, opened it, and took out a little wooden box.

He set the box on the small table beside the bed. Archie opened it reverently, and removed the leather bag that lay inside. His fingers deftly unfastened the knotted silk cord that held the bag shut. From it, he withdrew an item wrapped in brown paper.

"Allow me to guess again," Sherbourne said, this time with no hint of derision in his voice. "The … object that the apparition, or whatever he was, gave to Captain Pellew?"

"Yes," Horatio said. "And which he passed to me upon his retirement. Unwrap it, Thomas, and see with your own eyes."

Sherbourne carefully folded back the paper. Within was a small portrait of a woman, her neck swathed in a high lace collar. Reddish ringlets adorned with pearls framed her forehead, and atop her head, a golden jewel-encrusted crown. His eyes widened slightly. "Queen Elizabeth. This is … quite old."

"Turn it over," Horatio instructed.

On the back, Sherbourne found a name, engraved in an antique style. He let out a long breath. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet his Captain's. "Do you really think … it was him?"

"Captain Pellew did, and he is not a man given to superstition. I believe it also," Archie said.

"I shan't sleep a wink," Sherbourne said. "This time I really mean it."

Outside, the storm wailed and the waves crashed against the ship. "Then perhaps you'd better stay here, where you will be safe." Horatio returned the precious object to the chest, and put out the lantern.

In the dark, as two hands covered his own, Thomas Sherbourne smiled. And trembled a little.

**************************

Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away,     
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?) 
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,    
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. 
Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder lie the ships,    
Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe, 
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin'     
He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.   
Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas,     
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?),  
Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease,     
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. 
"Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,     
Strike et when your powder's runnin' low; 
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven,  
An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago."   
Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come,     
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?), 
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum,     
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.  
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,     
Call him when ye sail to meet the foe; 
Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin',     
They shall find him, ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago.
                  -- (Sir Francis Drake's Drum by Sir Henry Newbolt)