Rennie was snatching an hour of rest in his sleeping cabin, suffering from a bout of severe headache – an intermittent condition that was the result of a blow to the head during one of the earlier engagements with the French. Dr Wing had advised him to rest a full watch through, and given him physic, but Rennie was determined not to succumb. He was awake in his hanging cot when James came to his door. James made his report in clear, concise, seamanlike language.
Rennie sat up, rubbed his forehead, and: 'Very well, thankee. Do what y'can to secure the hold, and report to me again. As to the depth of water, well well, we must keep the pumps working and hope for the best. Is Mr Adgett there below?'
'He is engaged on another repair, sir.'
'What repair? Oh, d'y'mean the boats' tillers, that was broke?'
'Yes, sir.'
'But that ain't vital work, James. He must follow your direction, and aid you in the—'
'He is following my direction, sir. If we founder, the boats may be our only hope.'
'Well well, we will not founder. That will not happen. Who has the deck?'
'Richard Abey, sir.'
'Very good.' A nod, and he rubbed his forehead again. 'The boy has come up to his new rank very well, has not he?'
'Indeed, sir.'
'Cutton! Colley Cutton! A can of tea!' Swinging his legs to the deck, and clutching the side of the cot as the ship rolled. He nearly fell.
'Sir, are you sure you are well enough to—'
'Yes, yes, yes. I am.' Over him. 'Kindly return to the hold, and report to me again in one glass.'
James found Mr Adgett, who had completed repair of the boats' tillers, and took him below to the hold.
'We will have to find this second leak, you know, and stop it. The pumps cannot keep up.'
'I will do my best, sir, as always. But as I say, with all these casks heavin' about loose, I cannot be certain of success.'
'We will secure the casks. How many men have you in your crew, now?'
'I am desperate short-handed, sir. There is only my mate and me.'
'Mr Loftus!'
Bernard Loftus joined them on the platform of the orlop.
'How long before we are secure in the hold?'
'Another glass, at least. We are having great trouble in getting casks returned to their tiers, because we cannot tell if the damned ballast is shifting under the ground tier. And if water casks in the ground tier have been stove in, and the water has escaped—'
'Yes, I understand – it will make unstable all tiers above. Christ's blood, what a mess. What depth of water in the well?'
'Five foot, and rising.'
'It was madness to sail into this storm, sheer bloody lunacy ...' Lurching and stumbling as the ship pitched and slewed heavily through another tremendous sea. 'Very well, do all you are able. I must consult the captain's opinion.'
James returned to the great cabin, and found that Rennie had gone on deck. James climbed the ladder. The wind roared along the deck, whipping and snatching and tearing at everything in its path. The poles of the masts creaked and sighed in their restraining shrouds and stays. Night was descending over the sea, and the remaining light showed only the lifting dark hills of waves, now tall over the ship as she slid into a trough, now surging at an equal height beside her as the ship rode up shuddering and groaning, and spray flew over her bow.
Captain Rennie stood forrard of the wheel, clinging to one of the lifelines rigged fore and aft along the deck. He was wearing an oilskin and a battered hat, and in the near darkness his face had an alarming pallor. His voice was strong.
'What is the matter, Mr Hayter? Why are you here on deck?' Over the wind.
'Sir, do not you think that we must lighten ship?'
'Eh? Lighten ship, did y'say?' As if this were a suggestion entirely without merit.
'Sir, there is a second serious leak, and five foot of water in the well. Unless we lighten ship, it is likely she will founder. In my own opinion—' Ducking under a heavy smash of spray. 'In my opinion, sir, the—'
'Lighten ship! What d'y'propose?'
'I think we should throw the great guns overboard, sir.'
'What!' Staring furiously at his lieutenant, gripping the lifeline.
James thought that Rennie's eyes were too bright, and his face too livid. He had the look of a madman on a hilltop, intoxicated by height and distance, and the piercing conviction that he could fly. James opened his mouth to repeat what he'd said, and Rennie:
'How in the name of Christ d'y'propose to fight the enemy without guns, you fool!'
'Sir, our enemy is not that French frigate. Our enemy is the storm. Unless we—'
'You have took leave of your senses! Go below, sir, and lie in your cot!'
'Sir, I cannot abandon my—'
'Did you hear me, you mutinous blackguard!' Shouting over him. 'You are in the pay of the French, by God! It is that damned woman, she has turned y'head! You are weak, sir, weak! And a traitor, in the bargain! Sentry! Sentry!'
'Sir, you are not yourself. Let me help you to your quarters.'
'Stand away from me! Sentry!'
The ship rode to the height of a wave, quivered and strained a moment in blasts of wind, and heeled as she began to surf down into the trough. An ominous grinding and creaking.
'I cannot keep her head up!' One of the men at the wheel, desperately.
A long, shuddering moment, and slowly the ship righted herself.
'Sir! We must get those guns overboard!' James, gripping Rennie's arm.
'Take your traitor's hands off, you damned scoundrel!'
James glanced around, saw only the four men gripping the wheel – all concentrated wholly on keeping the ship's head to the wind – and made his decision. He sucked in a breath, swung his fist and knocked Rennie unconscious. As Rennie collapsed, James caught him, lifted him on his shoulder and carried him below. Rennie was a spare man, not heavy to carry, but in the conditions James had great trouble in getting him down to the great cabin.
Rennie's steward Colley Cutton helped to get the captain into his sleeping cabin.
'He has fainted on deck,' James said. 'Thank God I was there to break his fall, else he would have been swept overboard.'
'Fainted, sir?' Anxiously.
'Yes, the captain was not himself. He – he talked very quick, and then his eyes rolled up in his head. Hold the cot at the corner, while I get him ... that's it, thankee.' James heaved the limp form into the hanging cot, then: 'How long had he been intemperate in his language?'
'Intemp ... ah yes, I see, sir. Loud and daft. Well, since ever he rose out of his bed, I should say. It's them headaches which makes him strange, but he will not lie still when they comes on. He must get up and drink tea with a splash of rum to lift hisself.'
'You gave him rum?'
'He demanded rum, sir.'
'But that is the worst possible thing for a severe headache.' Thinking that he should not have struck Rennie, after all. Was not that the worst possible thing?
'Hit ain't for me to tell him that, sir. I do as I am told.' Holding the cot as the ship rolled.
'Surely Dr Wing has forbidden him rum?'
'Dr Wing ain't his steward, sir. He ain't here when such demands is made. Alls I can do—'
'Yes yes, very well, Cutton, thank you. I will say a word to Dr Wing myself.' And he left the steward to attend to Rennie, and hurried on deck to begin the arduous and dangerous task of jettisoning the great guns. As soon as he came on deck he heard a cry, whipped thin by the blasting air:
'Starboard number three gun loose on de-e-e-ck!'
A rending, grinding sound forrard, and a thudding crash. James felt the deck timbers shake under him. Another cry, high and terrified:
'The gun is sending across the de-e-e-ck!'
Rumbling, then a further thud, and a horrible scream.
The ship yawed as she rode down the slope of a tremendous sea. Spray flung in a drenching sheet across the fo'c's'le, and foam seethed along the larboard rail. Jam
es lurched forward, clinging to the lifeline. As the ship came up on the rise of the next sea, further rumbling and grinding, a further thudding shock. Another scream, tailing off into nothing.
'Mr Tangible!' bawled James. 'Roman Tangible! Gun loose in the fo'c's'le!'
James fought his way through a thunder of sea along the gangway, and reached the fo'c's'le.
A man lay sprawled just aft of the fo'c's'le, half-submerged in a draining flood of water, his left leg twisted and broken. Blood leaked into the rinsing water, and the man's body slid and nudged against the forehatch coaming. Beyond him in the fo'c's'le the number three gun, trailing rope, lay at an angle against the broken gunport, the breeching bolts wrenched clear of the ship's side. The Brodie stove, long since cold, had been struck by the loose gun, and the felled man caught there as he tried to clap on to loose tackle. It was nearly dark in the fo'c's'le, and James could hear the terrified bleating of beasts in the manger forrard. He ran to the felled man, and saw that he was dead. His chest had been crushed.
The ship lurched to larboard, the gun lurched with it, the trucks squealing, and abruptly plunged away from the gunport, diagonally across the deck, directly toward James. He had a split second to leap clear, and the gun smashed into the waist ladder, and splintered it.
'Roman Tangible!'
'I am here, sir!' A breathless voice.
'Thank God. Party of men, Mr Tangible, to secure the loose gun.'
'Aye, sir.'
'Bring hammocks! Hammocks to choke the trucks!'
James kept well clear of the gun, knowing that at any moment it could again hurtle across the deck, and crush out his life.
The boatswain returned with a party of four men, and half a dozen hammocks.
'Four men ain't enough, we need—'
'Four men is all I could muster, sir.' Over James. 'There's more men injured below, and these is all I have.'
'Very well. We must make do. Now then, lads! On the next rise, when the gun runs away from us, we must follow!'
'Follow a loose gun, sir?' Mr Tangible, aghast.
'I saw this same thing my first commission. The only way we could secure the damned thing was to choke the trucks with hammocks, then haul on the tackles and lash the gun fore and aft to the side. We must do the same—'
'Look out, sir! It is running wild again!'
Again James had to leap clear as the gun lumbered, not back the way it had come, but slewing in a semicircle, and plunged laterally, smacking against the hatch coaming, and spinning heavily away.
'Christ Jesu ...' Roman Tangible. 'We must send ropes over it, somehow.'
'Nay, the hammocks will answer!' Seizing two hammocks. 'Follow me!'
SEVENTEEN
It was only after the rogue gun had been secured – braked and choked off by hammocks under the trucks, and hauled and lashed up alongside the gunport, a further five men having been summoned from the hold to aid the original four – that James saw the futility of his plan to jettison all of the great guns. He had not the means to do it. The emergency crew that had secured one loose gun were now urgently dispersed. Five had returned to the hold, the other four to the pumps. To heave guns overboard efficiently required careful assembling of tackles and men, and he had neither. He was even more short-handed than before the storm. Men had broken bones falling, men were seasick, and there could be no proper system of watches, now.
The position was desperate.
Pacing on the water-blown, wind-lashed deck, clinging to the lifeline, he had to make the most terrible decision. He could keep the ship's head to the wind, and continue to defy the storm. Or he could bring the ship about, and attempt to run before the wind. Either way he risked everything.
Lifting his head, half-blinded by flying spray, he saw his purpose:
'Reefed forecourse, and reefed driver. And we may by the merest glimmer of providence survive this night.'
Turning his head from the blasts of wind and water, sucking a breath:
'Mr Ta-a-angible! Stand by to go about! Hands to make sa-a-ail!'
Presently the call, snatched at and made ghostly by the storm, and a handful of able men answered.
Half a glass, and moments of pure terror as the ship wore, heeling and heeling, the sea boiling up round her stern, seething up along her side. Her masts tipped, as if like falling trees, everything creaking and groaning and grinding, cables and ropes dangling, a block swinging wild, and at last she lifted herself, wallowed and wallowed and lifted herself ... and was running free.
Mr Tangible, clinging to the rail at James's side:
'Oh Christ's love, sir ... oh by God, I thought we was done ...'
Another half-glass, and Bernard Loftus on deck. 'We have secured most of the casks, I believe. And the pumps are holding at four foot and a half.'
'They have gained, then? That is well ... that is well ... thankee, Bernard.' Glancing about. 'Where is Mr Abey ... ?'
'I could not say – I have been below all the time.'
'Take the con, will you? I must go below and see the captain.'
James went below, and found Rennie awake.
'Who is that? Where the devil is my steward? Cutton!'
'He is fetching you some tea, sir.'
'James? By God, I could not see who it was. Why are we not beating west, into the storm? We are running before, now, ain't we? What has happened?'
'Yes, sir, we are running before. You fainted on deck, sir, and were carried below. It was my judgement that—'
'Your judgement? You ordered the ship about?' Frowning at him.
'I did, sir, yes. Else we should have foundered. The—'
'Foundered? What fucking nonsense is this! I gave no such order! Ohh ...' Clutching his head.
'A gun broke loose in the fo'c's'le, sir. It was touch and go before we could secure it. Casks had broke loose in the hold at the same time, and the pumps were unable to gain against the leak.' All very quickly and forcefully, before Rennie could interject again.
'Loose gun? Leaks? Why was I ... why was I not kept informed? Ohh ...' Rubbing his head.
'We have survived, sir. The storm continues, but the immediate danger has passed, and we are no longer in dire peril.' Firmly.
'Well well – I do not like it.' Swinging his legs to the deck, and lurching. James took his arm and aided him to keep his feet as the ship rolled heavily, yawing as she righted herself.
'Kindly don't attempt to coddle me, so y'may soften me toward your conduct.' Pushing James away, and immediately falling down. James helped him up on his legs. 'Did not ye hear me!' Again angrily pushing James away. 'We are heading east, direct for France, when we should be westing!'
'In fact not due east for France. We are running before the wind, nor'-east and a point east – sir.'
'D'y'mean to contradict me, sir? Hey!' Glaring, his face deathly pale.
'In course I do not wish it. I merely—'
'Then why d'you talk over me, like a damned impudent middy that has took too much wine!' Clutching at his hanging cot, and wincing as his head gave him further pain.
'I am very sorry, sir.' Stiffly.
'You ain't, though, by God. I see it in your eye, and in the cast of your mouth, too. You wish that I had not woke and found you out. That is what you wish, sir. Well well, I have woke, and I have found you out. Who has the deck? Mr Abey?'
'No, sir. Bernard Loftus. I do not know where Mr Abey is, at present. I have not seen—'
'Ah, yes. Yes, I sent him below when I came on deck myself. He was not fit for duty.'
'Not fit, sir?'
'Do you wish to contradict me again, damn you! I will go on deck, and we will go about. The ship will go about, and beat west.' Staggering as the ship rolled and pitched.
'Are you quite well enough, sir?' James, in near despair. He could not strike his captain again, for fear of causing him severe injury. As it was, he had been guilty of a mutinous act, an act punishable by death – should he have been discovered in it. How could he prevent R
ennie from going on deck and undoing all the healing work that had lately saved the ship?
'What d'y'mean, am I well enough?' Rennie peered closely at James. His breath was stale, James noticed. 'And when you say I fainted on deck, what d'y'mean by that? Hey?'
'I was obliged to carry you below, sir.'
'Because I fainted?'
'Indeed.'
'How did I faint, exact? Did I slip from consciousness very sudden, like a scullery maid with the vapours? Or did I groan, stagger, and so forth, and then slump down slow? Which?'
'You went down very sudden. I caught you, and carried you below – sir.' Affecting indignation now. 'I thought I was doing right, aiding a fellow sea officer.'
'Fellow sea officer!' A huff of stale breath. 'You are merely a lieutenant, sir. I am a senior post.'
'Indeed.' Icily polite.
'And I think that I did not "faint", as you are pleased to describe it. I think I was felled.'
'I do not understand you, sir.'
'Don't ye? Don't ye?' Glowering. 'Well well.' A near-contemptuous sniff. 'If I thought for one instant that you had allowed a falling block to strike me, or some other loose object flying about the deck, and then had pretended—'
'Ship's lights ahe-e-e-ad! Two points to starbo-o-o-ard!'
A cry from the deck.
Both Rennie and James ran on deck, all differences forgotten. As they came up into the rushing air and flying spray of the storm they saw the lights, very near on the starboard bow.
'Starboard your helm! Hard over!' bellowed Rennie at once. Running aft to the wheel. 'Starboard your helm, d'y'-hear me!'
Four strong men at the wheel, and the ship answered as the wheel was spun, heeling and yawing as the lights ahead ran closer and closer, and became in the glimmering darkness a looming shape – the shape of the French frigate, beating into the teeth of the wind, and clearing Expedient with only a few feet to spare.
'By Christ, the bugger has chased me right into the heart of the storm!' Rennie, astonished. Recovering, and growing fierce as he stared after the retreating lights in the blackness: 'So he really does intend to smash and destroy me, does he, God damn his soul! I will show him what that entails, the fucking blackguard! I will catch him by the arse, and blast him to Kingdom Come! – Stand by to go about!'
The Gathering Storm Page 25
