The Fuzzy-Wuzzy Man (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 3)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Tin makes gun-metal, does it not?”

  “Yes, sir. Our ‘brass’ guns are in fact bronze, of a sort, tin the admixture rather than zinc. Less important now, of course, sir, since we are able to cast and drill out iron guns in our new manufacturies that are as straight in the bore as any brass piece. Even so, sir, tin commands a high price in England.”

  “It was used to come from Cornwall, sir,” Ferrier added, “the Romans mined there, but the workings are now too deep and wet and the veins thinning and becoming poorer and I doubt that half a dozen pits are still open and most of their miners gone to the coal in Wales.”

  “Keep her in company, I think, till we make port and consign her to the court. Too valuable to send off with a midshipman and I cannot afford to lose a lieutenant and prize crew. Mr Jackman! Take her, if you please, in consort to Trincomalee in the first instance. Mr Ferrier will advise you.”

  There was a fine harbour at Trincomalee set in a vast deepwater inlet surrounded by hills rising to the mountains of Ceylon behind. The Dutch had built a fortified port with naval facilities – but the Navy was not there, and nor were traders. A disconsolate ship’s chandler, a Burgher, his Dutch grandfather clearly visible in his face and skin, gloomily explained.

  “Oh, no, mijnheer. South, in Colombo, they all are. Looking north, as we do, no enemy is to be found, or not many, and them without ships, or very few, and busy defending themselves against the English who attack them on land. No, Captain, mijnheer, here they are not – but stores there are in plenty, and priced at the most reasonable!”

  Water there was, as well, sweet and easy to come at, and Charybdis filled her butts before following the monsoon south and east.

  Colombo had an admiral and a shore establishment – an empty dockyard and a half-full barracks, their forces called away to campaign in India. They had no knowledge of a French squadron, possessed little by way of stores and could assist only in the disposal of the prize. There was an Admiralty court and it was very willing to sit, its members’ emoluments depending wholly on their fees, which had been scarce for many months. There was an equally willing to oblige prize-agent, a merchant who would be happy indeed to aid the good captain.

  Mr Stevens, the agent, was young, plump and scandalous, his habits the source of much gossip in the small English community. The few wives were all beholden to Mr Stevens, for they could not decently mingle with the Dutch they had supplanted in the colony and could talk to black men only if they were very rich and princely, so their sources of entertainment were very limited. Mr Stevens was reputed to keep servants – housemaids! A plurality of them! No more need be said, but much was hinted at, and rapidly passed on to the tragic young captain of the Charybdis, so rich and respectable a gentleman, one who needed be protected from inadvertent contamination.

  Frederick listened, shrugged and went forearmed into the company of the sinner, taking Warren with him in case a chaperon might be useful.

  “High prices here, gentlemen,” Stevens informed them, rubbing his hands greasily and ringing a little handbell. Three young girls brought in a tea tray and followed with decanters.

  “Black tea with lemon, gentlemen! Most refreshing!”

  They drank abstemiously, the girls watching anxiously to mop up any spills and managing to show that the light cotton saris they wore were their sole garment. Frederick kicked Warren as his eyes popped out.

  “Now, gentlemen! It seems to me that at this remove from England, in a port to which you may not return for many years, it were better that you signed me a Power of Attorney that I might more conveniently act for you. Moving the opium, assaying the tin ore, finding a buyer for the hull, all will take time and would require decisions, signatures from you – there might be letters following you to the ends of the Earth for year upon year, sirs! Better far that I should be able to make all tidy here.”

  Frederick agreed perforce, the argument made sense, but Stevens was obviously determined to distract him, to take his mind off business – one of the girls’ bodices was in imminent danger of slipping, the folds of the sari somehow loosened. Warren’s mouth was hanging open.

  “There are refineries and bronzesmiths in town, sir, and traders, Dutch and Parsee, with connections across the whole of the Orient. A thriving trade in rice, one in which a large ship is welcome. Leave the business with me, sir, at my normal commission rate, and all will be well.”

  “My agent in London works for three and a half per centum, I believe, Mr Stevens.”

  “Of course, sir, in London he has many clients, a large volume of business such as is not available here, sir.”

  “Of course, Mr Stevens.” That was a nipple showing, Frederick was certain, was uncomfortably aware that he had not seen its like in many months. Damn the man!

  “For making contact with me, Mr Stevens, by far the best course is to address any letter to my uncle, Lord Alton, at Westminster. I may be anywhere on the watery globe but he is ever to be found in the seat of government.”

  It was an unsubtle threat, but, after all, he was no more than a coarse sailorman.

  Stevens offered a commission rate of six per centum, Frederick immediately closed and took Warren away, walking with some discomfort, firmly refusing the offer of dinner, he could not leave his ship. He did not want to become obliged to Stevens or to be perceived to have entered his circle – letters home to England had destroyed more than one reputation in the past.

  They briefly discussed the possible worth of the prize, fixed upon twenty four thousands as a good number, making a seaman’s single share of about nine pounds, more than a year’s pay. Ablett and Bosomtwi would ensure that the whisper passed along the messdecks, unofficially, to cheer the men. It was a pity there had been no coinage aboard the prize, to be unlawfully distributed without condemnation, for the men would not see a paymaster for several months yet and scrimshaw did not sell in Eastern waters, the carvings on bone and filched scraps of timber valuable only in England. On the bonus side, of course, was that the ship was almost free of active poxes, the crew in remarkable health, something they would rapidly remedy given access to a few shillings. Doctor Morris’ returns showed only two terminal syphilises in the sickbay but a little silver would overwhelm him with itch, crabs, clap and chancre – yet the men must have their relaxation, and what they did with their own money was their own concern.

  As so often, Frederick realised that there was nothing he could do to remedy the problem of the welfare of the common people – he could deplore their plight, but could imagine no way to alleviate it.

  “To business, Mr Warren! Master and all officers to my cabin, if you would be so good.”

  “Gentlemen! This is not a committee, a council of war, but I wish to benefit myself of any knowledge you may possess. Somewhere within a thousand or so miles of us, probably to east or north, unlikely to the south in the Great Ocean, there is a French squadron which we must seek out and destroy. They took the Star of the Carnatic in the Malay Straits ten days since, so they are not to our west, but more than that is uncertain. Their prize-master would not reveal his rendezvous and the survivors of the corvette simply do not know, having been told only that they go to attack the English at their weakest. Mr Warren, what do you suggest?”

  “With respect, sir, I can only imagine that where we are weakest is where we are newest established. The Spice Islands have been just one year in our hands and this is the earliest a French counter-stroke could be mounted. So, sir, somewhere along the chain of islands is my guess. I would incline to follow the north coast, where the bulk of settlements appear to lie, so our limited charts suggest, and speak local craft as we may to gain such information as there is.”

  “How do we speak to them, Mr Warren?”

  “Why, sir, in…” Warren unbent sufficiently to smile at himself. “I was going to say, ‘in King’s English’, sir. I know that none of our people are Dutchmen or Malays, and I doubt that the Indian men speak the right tongue for our needs. Can we sh
ip an interpreter, sir?”

  “Beg pardon, sir,” Forshaw, ever willing to be heard. “When I first sailed as midshipman, Eurydice, 32, it was a commission to these waters, sir, to Canton. We found, sir, that no local trader would come near, quite the opposite in fact, not to us or any other ship bigger than themselves. The most of them are only too willing to turn pirate, sir, will take anything weaker, will not stop to discover the nature of any hull that could be a threat. To speak ‘em, sir, we would have to waylay them first.”

  “Well said, Mr Forshaw. You raise, of course, consideration of the China trade, the tea wagons.”

  “Convoyed these last three years, sir,” Ferrier offered dismissively. “A fourth rate or a small third rate, one of the fast old 64s, one or two frigates and a mixture of ours and the Company’s sloops and brigs of war.”

  “And no pair of frigates will achieve anything there, Mr Ferrier, and nor would Admiralty be concerned that they might. You are right, sir – we can ignore the trade in the South China Sea. I can hardly imagine that they would intend to fall upon Botany Bay – no rich prizes there, gentlemen!”

  “They might be looking to join with a local prince, sir, in India,” Jackman suggested. “They to control his sea, him to lead an army using warlike stores they supply to rise against the Company.”

  “Possibly… No! Time, Mr Jackman – six or seven months to sail to France, then however long it may take to contact the Revolutionary government and convince them of their bona fides, then to make a plan and another half of a year to return with a treaty and make all ready here. Two years of preparation, at a minimum, and even two years ago the French had hopes of making alliances in Europe, Dutch against the English, even with England against Spain and Portugal – they would not have wished to affront the colonising nations then.”

  “As well, sir,” Warren added, “Royalists are still fleeing France, often from government service. Such a plan as Mr Jackman suggests would be known to Navy, Army, Foreign Ministry and Finance, at least, could never be kept secret. A wholly naval undertaking, unknown to the bulk of their Admiralty, let alone by outsiders, that could just be hidden.”

  Frederick was impressed – he had not considered this broader aspect of the situation at all. He made a mental note that Warren possessed intelligence as well as ability to cope with routine.

  “So then, Mr Ferrier, we are probably looking to the northern coasts of the Spice Islands – how are the winds at this season, would they favour such an endeavour as we postulate?”

  “Very much so, sir. Not from personal experience, sir, for these waters are new to me, but the texts state, and I have no doubt Mr Forshaw will bear me out, that the strong, wet monsoon progresses from west to east, from India in August to the fuzzy Papues in December, lessening in its transit, its winds holding two to three months in any one location. It is not clockwork, sir, does not run to the hour or day, and some years fails utterly so that there are no rains and the people starve, but generally follows more or less the same pattern. The books tell me that there is a month or two of doldrums as the monsoon ends and then a weaker, opposite, dry wind that falls away into a hotter doldrums before the next wet. The doldrums here are not precisely identical to those of the Atlantic, are not wholly windless, but light, inconstant, storm-ridden, fickle and froward – womanish, one might say!”

  “One might indeed! Thank you, Mr Ferrier – as ever, you amaze us with the depths of your erudition. Westerly winds till year’s end, so long as we travel east with them, eventually reversing to bring us back again. Let us assume that the French store is just that, a supply vessel for their own use: they are then independent of land for the better part of a year, except for water and leave for their people. They have no colonies in the Great Southern Sea, could not replenish this side of Cape Horn, would be bold indeed to circumnavigate, unless, rarely, they have prevailed upon the Spanish to allow them use of a port in the Philippines or on the Main.”

  Ferrier shook his head – the Spanish protected the exclusivity of their colonies most zealously, welcomed no foreigners, however much allies they might be.

  “Then the French must return, retrace their steps, replenishing at one of their stations in India, or, far more likely, in the Mauritius – the Navy will be blockading the Indian coast. I intend to base our course on this assumption, gentlemen. We shall pass south of Java Head and then probably aim to call at Batavia in the first instance, hoping there may be information there – if not, then east again.”

  “Sir?” Forshaw, unusually diffident. “Could not the Frenchman, the prize master, be pressed? I mean, sir, not pressed to serve, but persuaded firmly that he should talk to us.”

  “A bribe?”

  “At first, sir. Then, if he is obdurate … other means, sir.”

  “No!”

  Minutes later Frederick in his cabin heard raised voices below him in the wardroom, Warren formally addressing Forshaw, suggesting that, if he could not master the character of a gentleman, then he might wish to exchange out of Charybdis at his earliest convenience. English gentlemen, Warren declared, did not imagine the torture of their enemies, however convenient an expedient it might be.

  No challenge might lawfully be made on board a ship on active service, or, indeed, should be uttered in the whole of a commission, in the dockyard, for example, nor should junior seek to fight his superior, but Frederick was sure that Warren’s words would lead to pistols at dawn when they made port in India, their chase successfully concluded. It was, of course, Frederick’s fault, as he acknowledged to himself, he should have done more than note that Forshaw’s face did not fit, that he was too cocksure and full of himself – though what he could have done he had no idea. He must pull his wardroom together: a weekly feast perhaps, the wine bottles flowing freely to create a bibulous atmosphere of goodwill. The birthday of the Prince of Wales came soon – perhaps they should celebrate it, he was almost king, the sad state of his father being borne in mind, it would provide an excuse.

  He briefly considered Forshaw’s suggestion – he could send Bosomtwi and Ablett ashore to speak with the Frenchman; young David LeGrys could go with them, the boy drove himself unmercifully and had no more pity for others than for himself. Better not, the process would inevitably be noisy and difficult to conceal and the results were said to be unreliable; in any case, it was distasteful, however great the need – Warren was right, it was not the conduct of a gentleman, it was the sort of thing one might expect of a policeman. He contented himself with a visit to the prisoners’ barracks, the offer of fifty guineas on the nob and freedom in England with five hundred more on arrival; he was refused. The young lieutenant had parents, brothers and sisters at home in France, had seen whole families go to the guillotine, all condemned for the treachery of one; besides that, he was loyal to his country however contemptuous he might be of its present government.

  They sailed in driving monsoon rain, black cloud seemingly at the masthead, spindrift whipping across the short, coastal waves, the wind wailing through the palms on the shoreline and trying to blow topmen to the deck. Ferrier and Warren exulted – in a chase in these conditions a heavy, beamy, typically English frigate would have all the advantages over finer-lined French vessels. Thrice-reefed courses on fore and main, a scrap of goose-winged foretopsail, a pair of anxiously watched jibs so that she might point up a little, mizzen bare, and she flew, relatively speaking. They touched eleven knots, hour after hour and drove her to make up for the days lost in port.

  “We have them now, Mr Ferrier! If we lose a spar, sir, what do we do?”

  “Account for it to the dockyard clerks, sir, dockets and reports and explanations, all inadequate – mean-spirited, black-hearted, pettifogging snakes who have sat their chairs so long the very wood has entered their souls!”

  “Ah … yes, but perhaps I expressed myself poorly, sir. I meant that we have at least six major yards within three thousand miles and we can replace lost spars in any one of them. We can take a risk in
these winds, carry a little more sail than might be entirely prudent, but the Frogs, why, they have but the Mauritius, and no absolute certainty that all they need will be there. We can push harder than they dare – four knots is all they will risk in these winds, sir, and they will lay-to if it comes to blow more strongly.”

  “You are certainly right there, sir,” Ferrier agreed. “It occurs to me that the French would be well-advised to take a harbour for a week or two, one of the lesser settlements with maybe a single chandler or a prize to be stripped. Not a larger port, with a fort to be reduced and do them damage, but a place to make repairs and give their hands a run ashore, replenish their water and scrub out the butts, take some fresh fruit and greens aboard.”

  Frederick nodded, it was certainly what he would do.

  “Where, do you suppose, Mr Ferrier?”

  “Right at the easternmost limit of the settlements, sir, so that word cannot go before them. The charts we have, poor though they are, suggest that the island of Bali is most suitable – it seems to be the richest of the islands, it certainly has the most ports and is likely to have a busy coastal trade and some yards built by the Dutch to service the cargo hulls. That is where I would look to find them, I conjecture, sir.”

  “I suspect you may well be right, sir. Tell us all your theory at our dinner, if you will be so good.”

  The celebratory dinner was not a success. They had fired off a Royal Salute to mark the occasion and boiled up a special duff with dried Ceylonese fruit – foreign, but not bad for all that – and issued a bottle each of wine bought in Colombo from ‘salvaged’ Dutch stores, in addition to the normal rum. The watch was held by the masters’ mates, sail shortened to bare steerage way in deference to the spinning heads of more than half of the crew, and there was singing and dancing forward – a hand drum, a trumpet and an Indian wooden pipe, very strange to hear, as an orchestra. In the great cabin all was sombre – convention dictated that the captain initiated all conversation at his table and Warren was a stickler for formality while sober, defeating all of Frederick’s efforts to bring his officers to unbend. Warren drank and remained rigorously staid, his barrel of a body absorbing alcohol with little apparent effect.