‘You have removed the splinter?’
‘I have.’ A nod. ‘And I have drained the abscess. However, the toxin has passed into his blood. I will not know for at least a further day whether or no I have acted in time. We must hope that I have.’
‘I have faith in you, Thomas. I am quite certain he will recover.’
‘Thankee, James. I must return to the sick bay.’ He took up his medical bag and left the cabin. ‘I will come back later.’
From Rennie’s sleeping quarters now came a hoarse call:
‘James .?’
James went in there. Rennie lay against a pillow in his hanging cot, his head heavily cocooned in bandages.
‘I do not .believe in .Milson’s infernal machine .but it must be brought safe to England ’
‘Indeed.’
‘We must do it again, James ’
‘Do it?’
‘Well well you must take the oath again ’ Pointing to the shelf. ‘Bible ’
‘Will not Lieutenant Latimer take command?’
‘He ain’t fit for it. Too young .and he has lost an arm.’
And so James again became acting captain of HM frigate Expedient, south east of Sardinia, far from home.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
The day following his reappointment as acting captain, James was inspecting the ship by divisions at seven bells of the forenoon watch when the lookout in the main topgallant crosstrees hailed the deck and called down that he had sighted a ship astern.
James removed his coat, took up a glass from the binnacle rack and jumped into the mainmast shrouds, climbed rapidly hand over hand into the maintop, then up into the crosstrees, to see the ship for himself.
‘What d’y’make of her?’ To the lookout, who made room for him.
‘She is a small ship, sir, two leagues astern. Maybe a topsail schooner, but I cannot yet tell. Nor can I see her colours.’
James raised his glass and focused, and found the ship. She was a mass of canvas and was perhaps six miles astern, but appeared to be gaining on Expedient.
‘She has bent every stitch in her lockers what is your name?’ Lowering his glass a moment.
‘John Crabtree, sir, rated ordinary.’
‘Aye, John ’ Lifting his glass again. ‘ she is certainly wearing all of her clothes, this morning. Perhaps she means to join us for dinner, hey?’
The lookout raised his own glass, and peered, then:
‘I think I can see her colours now, sir. She is a British ship!’
‘Aye, by God, so she is.’
‘And I believe she is a topsail schooner.’
‘Nay I think she is a fast cutter.’ James, peering. ‘Only a cutter could wear so many damned petticoats and not trip over herself and fall down in the sea.’
The lookout peered again, and nodded. ‘Aye, sir she is a cutter. I had thought with so much canvas bent she must be two masted fore and main but she is single masted, just as you say.’
‘Does she pursue us, I wonder ? Or is she a fast packet boat from Malta, bound for Gib, or Portsmouth, with an urgent despatch?’
He lowered the glass, and closed the drawers with a click. ‘We shall discover which, soon enough.’
He tucked the glass into his waist, nodded to the lookout, clapped on to a back stay and slid straight down to the deck.
In ten minutes he had completed his inspection by divisions, and went to the binnacle for the noon sighting and declaration. Where he was met by Dr. Wing.
‘I must speak to you, sir.’ Quietly, his mouth set in a line and his eyes stern.
James took his elbow and they went aft on the quarterdeck.
‘The captain is very ill. The poison troubles his heart, and he ain’t breathing well.’
‘What can we do, Thomas?’
‘Very little. I have bled him, but I fear it has not aided him. I will stay by his side, and keep vigilant watch but I do not know what the outcome may be.’
‘Is it as bad as that ?’ Peering at the doctor in consternation.
‘I fear so.’ A breath. ‘I thought it my duty to tell you, James.’
‘You did right, Thomas. Thankee. I will come as soon as I can as soon as we have declared.’
‘Very good.’ Turning toward the companionway ladder.
‘And Thomas ?’
The doctor paused and looked back. ‘Yes, I know. I must not say a word to anyone else.’
‘Exact.’
When the cutter was close astern of Expedient, at six bells of the afternoon watch, James decided to heave to and speak. He was unable to consult Captain Rennie or inform him of his decision, because Rennie had grown worse, and lay feverish and barely conscious in his hanging cot, his face glistening with sweat and his breathing shallow, with Dr. Wing at his side.
Now the cutter saw that Expedient had put her topsails aback and was lowering a boat, and she too hove to and waited for James to approach in the boat Rennie’s gig. James was wearing his borrowed undress coat and hat. The traditional query echoed over the intervening water:
‘Boat, there! Who are you?’
And James allowed his duty midshipman to reply:
‘Expedient!’
Meaning that the captain of the ship was aboard. Moments afterward he was climbing the side ladder.
A sturdy dark haired man of thirty who wore no uniform, not even a plain frock coat, and no hat appeared to be the cutter’s commander.
‘You are a sea officer, RN?’ James asked him as he came up into the cutter. The commander then introduced himself formally. He was Lieutenant Talbot Nuthall RN, and his vessel was the despatch cutter Tallyho, out of Falmouth, on the return leg from Valetta. James introduced himself in turn.
‘You carry urgent despatches, Captain Nuthall?’ James asked him, using the courtesy rank.
‘I do urgent despatches from Malta to the Admiralty. I hope to be in Falmouth in a week.’
‘I wonder if you will do me a service, sir?’
‘Certainly, Captain Hayter, if I am able.’
‘Will you carry an urgent despatch for me.’ Briefly James explained that Captain Rennie was gravely ill, and that he had taken his place as Expedient’s acting commander. He made no mention of Milson to Lieutenant Nuthall, and no mention of Expedient’s duty to bring him safe to England. Nor did he say a single word to him about the content of the despatch a concise but detailed account of their experiences in Naples, Expedient’s flight from the city, Rennie’s illness, the presence on board of Milson and his diagrams, and the belief that in spite of their many difficulties, their assigned task would soon be accomplished in full.
‘Have you wrote the despatch, Captain Hayter?’
‘In the past hour.’ He handed Nuthall a sealed packet. ‘Will you see it is put on the first available mail coach to London, the moment you go ashore at Falmouth?’
‘I go to London by coach directly we make landfall. Your despatch will go with me, together with those from Malta. Will you join me in a glass of something, before we part company ?’
‘You are very good, Captain Nuthall, but I will not detain you. I must return to Expedient forthwith.’
‘Then I will say farewell, sir. I hope that Captain Rennie will soon be hale again, and that your return voyage may be free of incident.’
‘Thankee, Captain Nuthall, and Godspeed.’
Tallyho was already getting under way as Rennie was rowed back in the gig to Expedient. Soon the cutter’s tall mast and great spread of canvas were a diminishing blob on the vastness of the sea, and Expedient was again alone.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
Expedient made steady headway, and two days after speaking with Tallyho she was a hundred miles due south of the Balearics at the noon declaration. How-ever, there was no other good news. Captain Rennie’s condition, in fits and starts, had slowly and inexorably worsened. He lay waxy and panting, his eyes glazed and unfocused, and was overtaken by sporadic bouts of shivering, followed by brief back arching spasms, th
en long moments of total inertia, a pallid living death. He was able to eat no solid food, and Dr. Wing spent long hours by his cot, wiping his forehead free of sweat, and spooning into his mouth broth, and tea, and plain water, in a determined effort to save his life.
James grew increasingly dismayed and concerned, and then deeply fearful. Rennie was almost certainly going to die. That he had not died was remarkable, as the doctor made clear to James in the great cabin.
‘He is a man of extraordinary constitution, James, of great hidden strength, that you would not in usual notice. He is a very dull and ordinary looking fellow, without distinction of bearing, nor voice, nor anything else, in usual. Hey?’
‘You make him sound very puny and undistinguished, Thomas. I don’t think he is that, and I have never thought so.’
‘Nay, I don’t mean to insult your friend, James. He is my friend, too. All I meant was his appearance, in the general way, don’t reveal him as the man he is. A very considerable man, a redoubtable man. That is fighting very brave.’
‘Aye, he is a fighting man. The most courageous I have ever known. Pray God he may win the battle.’
‘Ah, yes. Prayer.’ Quietly. ‘I prefer the alternative.’
‘Eh?’
‘The application of all of my skills, that in a moment of stupid carelessness I neglected at terrible cost to my patient. I will not leave his side until he is cured. That is my business, now.’ A moment, then: ‘What the Almighty may do is his.’
He returned to Rennie’s sleeping quarters and shut the door.
James busied himself in writing up his journal and did not pray. He did often say pray God , it was true, but merely as a convention of speech. He had long ago decided that praying was the activity least suited to his understanding and well being, since he had no religious beliefs, and regarded all such things as irrational, superstitious nonsense.
He did, however, believe in hope. Without hope failure loomed, ominous and dark. Failure was the handmaiden of death, the servant of extinction. Hope was
‘Hope may be equally irrational with faith, but in least it don’t rely on the oversight of the heavens.’ Murmured to himself.
James’s thoughts turned to England, and home. He thought of Catherine at Melton House, of the avenue of trees, and the broad slope behind the house, of lasting tranquility and deep contentment and of his promise to Cathy, and to himself, that he would leave the life of the sea forever. He thought of his desire again to become a father, and of filling his father’s shoes as landowner and patriarch. Then he thought of Rennie, and his plight, and of Rennie’s wife Sylvia. Rennie was her second sea officer husband. Her first had perished at sea. Was she to be twice widowed?
‘God damn this blighted career we follow, and the men that urge us to our oath and keep us to it, year on year. I had escaped them, and then allowed myself to be seduced into returning. Why? Why? I have far greater responsibilities at home, and in truth I owe them nothing. They do not care that the sea is like a great barren desert we must cross, each time we weigh and make sail. A desert of water, that equally with a desert of sand may bring a man to die of thirst, or send him mad. Even if we prevail in a bloody action, or survive a murderous storm, or long weeks becalmed, there is never a sense of victory nor triumph. Such paltry success merely reduces our chances of future survival.’
He looked up from the desk, and shook his head.
‘You damned fool. Where is hope in this doom-laden reverie, for Christ’s sake?’
He got up on his legs and peered out of the stern gallery window, then:
‘Steward! Steward, there!’
Ollary Dart now acting as James’s steward came through from his pantry.
‘You called me, sir?’
‘Yes. Erm I will like coffee. And please inquire of the doctor what he would like.’
‘Very good, sir. Coffee for yourself, and I will ask the doctor ’
He crossed to the door of the sleeping quarters, knocked and went in.
An urgent shout on deck, then answering shouts. James was about to go on deck to discover the cause, when a midshipman came rushing to the cabin.
‘Mr. Latimer sends his compliments, and asks that you come on deck as soon as may be conevient .convenient, sir.’ The flustered boy pulled off his hat.
‘Very well.’
James snatched up his own borrowed hat, shrugged into his borrowed coat, thought of buckling on his sword, instead seized Rennie’s long glass and went on deck.
‘Mr. Latimer ?’ Noting with dismay that there was blood on the bandaged stump of the lieutenant’s arm. ‘Have you injured yourself further?’
‘Oh, no, sir that is nothing.’ Glancing down at the stump briefly and shaking his head. ‘There is a flotilla of very long low vessels away to larboard, sir. They appear to be heading northwest. I thought you should be informed at once.’
‘Galleys?’
‘I do not know, sir.’ An apologetic shrug. ‘I am unable to focus my long glass.’
‘How many are they?’
‘The lookout believes there are six of them, sir.’
James flung off his coat and hat and jumped into the mainmast shrouds, the glass slung in its case on his shoulder. He climbed up over the futtock shrouds into the top, and on up the topmast shrouds. In the crosstrees he joined the lookout.
‘Well, John Crabtree, where are they?’
The lookout pointed south. James uncased and raised his glass, and found the vessels. They were long and low, with large lateen sails and many sweeps, and they were heading northwest just as Lieutenant Latimer had said. He counted them.
‘Aye, there are six of them, right enough. They are galleys from Barbary Algiers, due south of us. Corsairs’ galleys. Which means fierce fighters.’
‘Do they mean to fight us, sir?’
‘I believe they do. ‘ He lowered the glass. ‘We cannot allow them to approach us, else we shall be overwhelmed. Their galleys are very fast through the water, with many slaves at the sweeps. They can go about in a moment under your stern, lay alongside you larboard and starboard and swarm into the ship. We must keep them at a distance, and rely on our great guns.’
The lookout peered at the distant vessels, and:
‘They have altered course, now, sir. They are heading due north.’
James lifted his glass. ‘Straight at us, by God.’ He lowered the glass, snapped it shut, and thrust it back in the case.
‘Keep your glass on them, John.’
He clapped on to a backstay, swung himself off the narrow crosstrees and plunged in a clinging slide to the deck far below. The lookout watched him all the way down, then returned his gaze to the fast approaching fleet.
On deck James:
‘Mr. Latimer!’
‘Sir?’
‘We will beat to quarters, if y’please!’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’ His hat off and on. He turned forrard, and:
‘We will beat to quarters, and clear the ship for action!’
A moment, then the thin piping calls, and the ship broke into frantic activity. The roll of Marine drums. Thudding feet. Guncrews assembling and manning the tackles, sand strewn, cartridge brought, water buckets laid on. The clatter of mallets as the carpenter’s crew knocked down all bulkheads on the gundeck. Shouts and swinging tackles as the ship’s boats were hoisted out and lowered away to be towed. James sent for Expedient’s gunner. When the gunner attended him:
‘Mr. Richardson, how many swivel guns have we?’
‘A full dozen, sir, one pounders.’
‘Very good. I will like them all mounted, six guns per side, with tillers attached. Place a man at each. Make up plenty of one pound canister loads and extra grapeshot for our great guns.’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’
‘And grenades, Mr. Richardson. As many grenades as you have in store. I hope we shall not need them .but I will like them handy, in case we do.’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’
‘Very good.’ Turning f
orrard: ‘Captain Dysart!’
The captain of Marines attended him, and touched his cockaded hat smartly.
‘Captain Dysart, I will like Marine sharpshooters in the tops.’
‘It is already done, sir.’
James glanced aloft and saw the red coats in the maintop, and climbing into the foretop.
‘Ah. Very good.’ He nodded, and Captain Dysart again touched his hat and departed to his station.
Presently James heard:
‘Starboard battery ready, sir!’
‘Larboard battery ready!’
He strode to the binnacle, glanced at the ship’s heading, and glanced at Lieutenant Latimer, who was holding his bandaged arm. More blood had soaked through the bandages and he was very pale. Was he fit to be on deck? James spoke to the helmsman at the wheel.
‘Steady. Hold her so.’
‘Steady, sir.’
‘Mr. Latimer.’
‘Sir?’
‘Are you quite certain you are hale enough for duty?’
‘Yes, sir!’ He let go of his bandaged arm, and made his back straight.
‘Very well.’ A nod. ‘We will not run, Mr. Latimer.’ Another glance at him. ‘We will hold our course .until the moment comes.’
‘The moment, sir?’
‘Aye, by God. Then and only then we shall turn and fight.’
He strode from the binnacle and stood at the breast rail. The sound of the sea running along the wales. The coiling stream of the pennant far aloft.
Silence on deck.
‘Sta-a-a-a-a-nd ..by!’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
‘De-e-e-e-ck, there!’ The lookout in the crosstrees. ‘The galleys are one mile off our larboard beam!’
The vessels had approached Expedient much faster than James had expected.
Their lateen sails alone could not have brought them so rapidly onward. James now saw, through his glass, that the rhythmic strokes of the sweeps had doubled in rate to make the vessels surge through the water at disconcerting speed.
‘They cannot maintain such a rate for long.’ Half to himself.
‘Sir?’ Lieutenant Latimer.
‘The slaves at those sweeps will be exhausted in less than half a glass. The rais must mean to reach and surround us within that time.’
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