Sugar and Spice (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 6)

by Andrew Wareham

  “It is a drastic course, Sir Frederick, and one that I might find difficult to justify in London. A skeleton crew, perhaps, and her devoted to necessary harbour defence, consequent upon our discovery of the Spanish invasion plans, which may envisage a descent on Antigua after Jamaica has been taken. I must not be seen to weaken your squadron, so a sloop in exchange, sir – Raven would be the obvious candidate. We should be able to free up one hundred or so of officers and men by that device. Wallsend to be moored bows and stern and with few more than the gun crews aboard; she would require her captain, a single lieutenant and a master’s mate, I imagine.”

  Frederick was happy to agree – provided Wallsend did not suffer huge losses from the fever then there would be a lieutenant, at least one master’s mate and a couple of midshipmen as well as a goodly number of able seamen, all to be spread around the squadron as a whole.

  That was a point.

  “Mr McPherson, what of Speedy and Nimble, how do they fare? I have no report from them – they are not all down, surely!”

  “Speedy is almost untouched, sir – her crew was made up almost wholly from gaol-delivery men at the beginning of the Peace, when bodies were difficult to obtain. Most of them are salted against the fever, sir. Nimble has one case only from her forty men, and he is like to live, they say. Mr Perlman tells me she was sore hit by the lesser fevers while at Toulon in the last war, and he thinks again that has given them immunity.”

  “Fortunate indeed.”

  Admiral Makin was happy for Frederick to sleep ashore and pointed out that several houses were now vacant and could be leased at very low cost.

  “Servants come with them, Sir Frederick, being black men and women who seem to be less vulnerable to these plagues.”

  “Bosomtwi tells me that all those likely to die from the fevers have already done so, in Africa, during the first days of their enslavement. I will not, by the way, sir, tolerate the presence of slaves in my service – I owe more respect to Bosomtwi and Marc and Jean than to do that.”

  “So be it, Sir Frederick, though I doubt those sentiments will make you well-loved in Antigua. The planters especially will not approve.”

  “The planters, Admiral, may go and…”

  He was cut short before he could finish his undoubtedly vulgar statement – every word spoken in the office would be overheard by a steward or a warrant officer who would be sure to gossip. Officers who might hear would be expected to exercise tact; that was a matter of honour, and they were, no doubt, all honourable men.

  They settled into a pleasant wooden house on two floors, both surrounded by verandas which caught the breezes across the harbour, and picked up the smells as well; one could not have everything.

  The kitchen was separate at the rear and contained a plethora of cooks and lesser mortals. The chief cook was identified and was introduced to Sid, was informed that she was his inferior; if she was good, and behaved herself, he would teach her the trade. Her first reaction was to seize her largest cleaver and advance with clear intent of ridding her kitchen, and the world, of this intruder; she was quite upset to hear the click of a pistol being cocked and to discover Bosomtwi smiling at her across the barrel.

  “Sid, he the best cook in the world, lady. You learns from he, or you gets out of he kitchen, isn’t it.”

  “What he know ‘bout cookin’ our style?”

  “Teach it, he listen, if you got anythin’ to say.”

  She agreed, with obvious reluctance, but she was free and jobs were hard to come by – wage-labourers were undercut by the slaves.

  “What ‘bout the girls?” She waved a hand at the dozen or so of young scullery-maids and menials of various descriptions.

  Bosomtwi shrugged – he was sure they were daughters and nieces of the cook and her two older helpers, and that there would be no other work for them. If they were thrown out then they would end up in the brothels for lack of a way to buy their food. Their wages were only a matter of a very few shillings.

  “They stays, lady. Make sure they busy time the captain see them.”

  She nodded brusquely, acknowledging a kindness she wanted but would far rather have done without.

  Bosomtwi glanced at the girls, saw that three at least of them were more than handsome, which could be a problem in a naval household. Not his business, fortunately.

  The number of new infections fell away to nil, and a few of the sick became convalescent, able to return to light duty. A storm blew for two days, the edge of a hurricane, they suspected, and provided work for every available hand in making good the damage to the rigging of the frigates. It was useful in a way, keeping the men active with useful work, for idleness was already affecting their morale.

  “Only one practical solution, Captain Jackman. Send almost all of your fit men across to Trident and I will transfer my less than fit to you, as a temporary measure. We can make up the numbers from Wallsend, if need be. I will take Trident out for a cruise of four weeks or so. When I return we shall shift the men across to Arnheim and you will go out. Thus we keep the men busy and attempt to carry out our orders.”

  Denton was hovering between life and death, Doctor Morris unable to offer any prognosis, and Frederick took Arnheim’s second - a very keen, and poor, young man who was only too pleased to go cruising – in his place.

  “Mr Makepeace, I am pleased to welcome you aboard. You are immune to the fever, it seems.”

  “It appears so, sir, though I know not why.”

  It was a known fact that some fortunate people were naturally immune, or possibly lucky.

  “Captain Jackman has much that is good to say of you, sir, and I have no doubt that I will say the same to him next month.”

  Makepeace, like any other sensible man, was aware that a number of officers had taken sick and that some would die or be forced to invalid out, too enfeebled to serve again. A fit young man with a good record could find himself in the way of very rapid promotion.

  “What was the old toast, Mr Makepeace? ‘A bloody war or a sickly season’?”

  Every junior officer had raised his glass to that one.

  He had the grace to appear shamefaced – some of his own friends lay at death’s door or had already passed through.

  “We need three midshipmen, Mr Makepeace – two of mine ill and one yet to be appointed. Name the three best, or surviving perhaps. I have taken Mr Hughes from Wallsend, at Mr Smith’s recommendation, and he is of fifteen years, so you may select oldsters or young as you wish.”

  Every midshipmen’s berth had those who were discovering themselves to be unsuited to the sea-faring life.

  “Pigott, Thorne and Higginbottom, sir, are all capable lads – four years, three and first voyage, respectively.”

  “Pigott is not a good name in the service, Mr Makepeace.”

  “No relation, sir – it is not so uncommon a name.”

  “I was on this station at the time of the mutiny, but I never actually met the man. A vicious brute, it was said. What of Higginbottom? That is a new one to me.”

  “North country, sir, younger son of one of these new mill owners – his father worth more than a hundred thousand, or so it is said and not by him, and liable to make a million yet.”

  “A million! Unheard of, yet in fact I think we have all heard of these new ‘manufacturers’. Not for me, sir! Is he a gentleman?”

  “He has his manners, sir, and can live in the mess.”

  “Haul him across, then, Mr Makepeace.”

  “Mr Cheek – a mixed crew indeed. What do you have in mind?”

  “Keep the Tridents in their stations, sir, and add a mixture of able-bodied and ordinary seamen as needed; landsmen to be spread round as is unavoidable.”

  They sailed for Aruba two days later, Jackman moving into the vacated house for the while, his eyes lighting up as he surveyed the kitchen maids.

  Book Six: The Duty and Destiny Series

  Chapter Four

  Trident led Speedy and Nimble fr
om English Harbour, away from the stinking, pestilential port and out to open seas. There was a sense of irrational relief among the hands, none of whom had succumbed to the typhoid and all of whom secretly feared that they might yet; they were sure they would be safer at sea. 'Men of iron', they said, implying that only the weaker brethren had become ill, but they all suspected, silently, that they were merely lucky.

  'Bloody good thing it weren't Yellow Jack. Spotted fever don't take so many and a damned sight more lives through it!'

  Sergeant Benson had sailed three times to the Sugar Islands in his twenty years of service, considered himself an expert at survival there. He surveyed the depleted ranks of his own Marines and compared them to the dozen borrowed from Arnheim. He believed his men to be the smarter; he was not surprised.

  He reported the parade strength to Lieutenant Quinlan, alone on deck, his ensign a week in the grave.

  "Very good, sergeant. Carry on."

  He quickly assigned them to their platoons and sections and gave them their duties, recommending them to spend time on their boots and belts - 'a little bit of sickness' was no excuse for idleness.

  Quinlan was lonely, needed a partner for conversation. The ensign had only ever said very little, being something of a simpleton in Quinlan's opinion, but he had at least provided an audience. Both officers from Arnheim were convalescent, sat in the sunshine on the moored frigate's deck, so he had no Marine company. Doctor Morris tended to be sympathetic and he joined him as he took the air on the quarterdeck, relaxing for the first time in weeks, having managed more than five hours of unbroken sleep that morning.

  "A month at sea may be the best thing possible for me, Mr Quinlan! I had no wish to leave my patients behind, you will appreciate, but no more than an hour at a time in my cot before I was called to another crisis was like to be the death of me, sir!"

  Quinlan agreed, ponderously expressed the opinion that the sick had been very lucky in their doctor; the hospital in Antigua had no good name in the service.

  "Only the less qualified are sent to the Sugar Islands, Mr Quinlan! Their Lordships are unwilling, it seems, to release their most able doctors to a place where too many will die themselves. Yet the demands of the posting are such that only the best will do - and I do not include myself in that number - I am no physician, sir! It seems to me that a man properly qualified from the University would be able to study the aetiology of the diseases here and would thus be able to seek cures for them."

  Quinlan said that he was quite right, it must be so; he had no idea what an aetiology might be and was in no condition to argue the point.

  "The sea air is most refreshing, Doctor. Do you believe that the poor, sick fellows on the hillside might benefit from being exposed to its breezes? Perhaps put on board for a day and just taken out of the harbour for a few hours? It could blow the miasmas and contagions out of their systems."

  "I fear not, Mr Quinlan - those most in need would likely be killed by the exertions required to move them."

  That was a point he had not considered.

  "Is there anything more to be done for them, poor souls!"

  "Perhaps a better diet to strengthen their constitutions - but how that is to be achieved at sea, I know not! We can hardly increase the size of the galley and install ovens and a bakehouse in a wooden ship, and the provision of fresh meat and vegetables is quite impossible. Less of rum would be a suggestion, but the men would mutiny at the very idea!"

  "Do not ardent spirits serve to protect the system, Doctor? I know that I generally feel better for a glass or two after dinner."

  Doctor Morris had often experienced the same sense of well-being after a brandy, found it impossible to argue the point.

  "What of this cruise, Mr Quinlan? Do you know its purpose?"

  "The Captain was so good as to inform me that there have been reports of any number of small privateers - picaroons, he named them - swarming out of the French islands, much to the detriment of our trade. Because of their nature he said that the Marines might be sent aboard the small ships, fast enough to overtake little island schooners and able to penetrate the shallow waters."

  "We need a sloop, I would suggest, Mr Quinlan. To provide support for the little ships and able often to work its way inside the reefs, which Trident cannot."

  "I am told that Mr Vereker's Raven is to be given to us, Doctor."

  "Very good, sir! More prize money! I shall put my brass plate up in Harley Street yet, sir!"

  Quinlan was not quite sure of the location of Harley Street or why it had brass plates. Doctor Morris explained in the kindest fashion before discovering that it was time to do his rounds of the sick berth. Conversation with Quinlan could be very hard work.

  "Make our way south, Mr Nias, circling each of the British islands, for that is where one will expect to find the privateers, seeking their trade as they would put it."

  "West of the chain then, sir. Are we to progress as far as the Dutch islands, sir?"

  Frederick had not made his mind up, thought that they might make south to the Trinidad before retracing their course as far as the Bahamas whose tiny bays and sheltered cays made hiding places for those of malicious intent.

  "In case of hurricane, sir?"

  "Run. We are under no obligation to hold any particular course and so at the first signs we shall leave the scene under all sail that we may carry. I have never yet sailed through a great hurricane or South Seas typhoon, and with a little of good management will not do so in the future."

  "It is possible, sir, that a privateer under chase might seek the cover of the storm, preferring wind and wave to our guns."

  "In such case we shall return at an appropriate time to seek out their water-logged bodies and offer them Christian burial, Mr Nias."

  "Aye aye, sir."

  Speedy and Nimble rousted out a merchantman off Martinique, a large brig that had been sheltering in a bay as if she had fled before them and raised American colours on their approach. They very politely requested her to accompany them to the flag, to be examined by a more senior officer.

  Akers rowed across as soon as they had taken station, reported to Frederick, a grin on his face.

  "Neutral, sir, brig Marthe Dubois, owned by Mr Peabody of Boston; a cargo of brandy, silks and lace together with agricultural handtools. No manifests, 'they being sent on another of the firm's ships'. The master has spelled his name - Josiah Smith - two different ways on his statement to me. Port of destination is said to be Jamaica. Port of origin is admitted to be Bordeaux, but leaving in the Peace and thus legitimate at the time. Ship's papers are here, sir. Written very recently, by the condition of the paper and ink. The mate, sir - only the one - is French and has volunteered to speak to you privately; I believe he does not fancy being a prisoner, sir. He has a young wife waiting at home for him, on Martinique, by coincidence."

  "Wheel him aboard, Mr Akers. Bosomtwi! My clerk and the First Lieutenant, please."

  A pair of witnesses to testify in the Admiralty Court that he had neither threatened nor bribed the man.

  "Lemaire, sir, mate of the Marthe Dubois."

  "You have something to tell me, M. Lemaire?"

  Lemaire was fluent in English, said that he was supercargo as well and had traded many years with the Americans.

  "We are French, sir, cargo and hull, and are intending to berth in St Pierre, Martinique. I am told that your courts will often take five years to adjudicate on a disputed neutral, and I have no wish to be held for that long a time. I have been away nearly six months and that is long enough! I will write that we are French and fair capture, and will ensure that others of the crew do the same. In return, sir, those of us who sign are to be set down on the shores of the island."

  "And the master? You will not want him ashore with you to call you traitor."

  "His choice, sir. He may go to Antigua instead."

  "Agreed, sir! Mr Dunnett, take the gentleman's dictation, if you will be so good, in three copies, all signed
by him and you and attested by Mr McPherson. M. Lemaire, if you will be so good as to name those members of the crew who are also to sign, then we will deal with this matter very quickly indeed. With a little dispatch we may have you on land before sunset."

  "A rich prize, sir. Two hundred and fifty tons, the brig, and the after hold full of silks and brandy, nearly one hundred and fifty tons weight, sir!"

  "The great advantage of being the first ships on station at the beginning of a war, Mr Nias. Will you think to leave the sea with your money, sir?"

  "I am not as young as I was, sir. A cottage near Christchurch, where I was born, and maybe a widow lady to console my lonely evenings - a very tempting prospect, sir!"

  They laughed - the sailor's ideal a real possibility in this case.

  "Speedy is to act as escort to Antigua, Mr McPherson; inform Mr Akers that he is to recover the prize crew so that they may benefit to the full from their sea time."

  She was too rich a prize to be casually retaken by any passing Frenchman.

  They searched the islands very thoroughly for three weeks, and saw no sign of a privateer.

  "Trident is just too big, too obviously a ship of war, I fear, gentlemen. The little ships see our topsails in the dawn and flee instantly - and many of them are very fast indeed. We cannot do more than frighten them away, which is something in itself, for a running privateer will not be in the business of pursuing merchantmen as well."

  "Captain Jackman may well do better than us, sir - his ship looks far less the English frigate, after all."