Cut and Run: The Fourth Book in the Fighting Sail Series

by Alaric Bond

He was pouring himself a second generous measure of the brandy when his servant put his head round the door.

  “Officer to see you, sir. Name of Paterson; says he is the new second mate.”

  Rogers snorted to himself; does he indeed? Well, there was no harm in pulling him down a notch or two. He had long ago learned that, however competent or experienced a man might be, it was always worthwhile putting him in his place, and showing who was really in command.

  “Show him in, Luck,” he said, before downing his drink in one and standing to meet the newcomer.

  * * *

  King walked through the door to the steerage mess and threw his ditty bag into the corner of the small, airless room. At the long canvas-covered table, Kate and Manning looked up from the remains of their meal.

  “Have you eaten, Tom?” she asked.

  He nodded and gave an ironic smile. “I took a bite just before the captain came aboard; haven't felt much like food since.”

  Manning grunted. “Rather puts you off, don't it?”

  “The pity is, it were all starting to go so well,” Kate said, as King slumped down at the table. “I'll admit that Mr Myles, the purser, isn't God's gift to accountancy, but at least he has things reasonably in order and some degree of planning for what is to come.”

  “Likewise with the surgeon.” Manning thrust his plate aside and turned his attention to the teapot in the middle of the table. “A trained man, and he seems willing to pass on what he knows. Better medical supply than I've ever seen in a King's ship, and a first-rate reference library to boot. He's got Blane, Lind, and the latest Trotter; a fellow could get educated, were he so inclined.”

  King collected a cup and passed it across to be filled. “Aye, well up until the arrival of our dear captain, I weren't faring too badly. Ship's in a state, of course, there can be no doubting that, but it’s also to be expected with her just out of Blackwall. She needs to work up proper, and there's little chance of that with a skeleton crew aboard.” He paused and sipped at his tea, considering. “Mind, what we have are sharp enough, once you get them going. And all are volunteers; far better than the sweepings from the press I'm used to. Together we achieved more in a day than I'd have thought possible, an' I think that in the main the people are happier for it.”

  Kate had finished eating now and collected Manning's plate beneath hers, neatly stacking the cutlery on top of both. “What really nettles me is the fact that Rogers was quite right.” Both men nodded as she continued, “Tyrant and bully he may be, but it weren't the best way to greet a new captain,” she looked across at King. “You should have made certain of your rank and entitlement before accepting the post, and I…” She paused for a moment, “I probably should have been a little less forthcoming.”

  There was a silence as Kate's admission was digested. It was one that, for her, was almost bordering on a revelation. “Perhaps you were a little hasty,” Manning conceded, studiously avoiding King's eyes.

  “So we will have to make the best of it,” she said, standing and taking the plates away. “Purser says they'll be a fresh intake in the morning, both officers and men; it's up to us to make this ship work.”

  “I doubt that we'll get much help from Willis or Seagrove,” Manning said gloomily. “Seems to me they've got their mind set solely on pandering to the captain.”

  “That's as may be; we'll have to see. But, if we don't try to meet them at least halfway, this cruise is going to be a nightmare for all.”

  A sound from outside, followed by the opening of the door, made them all look round. A man stood hesitantly in the passageway. Slim, and below average height, his short dark curly hair was cut in the modern manner, and he was dressed in the Company's uniform, with a canvas parcel tucked under one arm.

  “Room for one more?” he asked, smiling pleasantly. “I don’t take up much space.”

  “Come in and be welcome!” Both men stood, and King extended a hand. “Thomas King, midshipman; this is Robert Manning, surgeon's mate, and Katharine Manning assistant to the purser.”

  “Pleasure to meet you gentlemen, madam. John Paterson, at your service; third mate, or so it appears. I had hoped for better, but it seems the captain has already appointed.” His look was good natured and genuine. “Sorry not to be here the sooner, there were illuminations in London and not a carriage to be found.”

  “Third mate?” King asked cautiously. “Are you in the correct berth?”

  “Ah, King by name, and do I detect a King's man by nature?”

  “I have served in the Royal Navy,” King confirmed, guardedly.

  “Sure, I gathered as much, and that you aren't used to the ways of the Company.” Paterson smiled again, although this time there was something slightly superior in the expression.

  “Allow me to explain; the steerage mess is treated very much as a wardroom for junior offices, do you see? Third mate is customarily the president. We don't go for fancy cabins; even those that do are likely to sell them on to the wealthier passengers.” Paterson's look grew wistful as he added, “Forty guineas or more, they pay for an outward berth, or so I'm told.”

  “Tis a tidy sum,” Manning commented. King said nothing. He had not asked for an explanation and was a little taken aback by the new man who clearly enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

  “Aye, but not for the likes of me, it seems,” Paterson continued. “Not for a few more trips at least. Chief and second mates will be in cabins; likewise, the captain. They will eat and drink in the cuddy with the better class of passenger, while we have to put up with each other. You won't mind, I trust?”

  “I am sure it will be a pleasure.” King said, although his tone was quite flat.

  “We might also have to share with a few of what they term the lower class of traveller, 'though I have usually found them to be the better company.” Paterson looked about the place. “Belikes it could be crowded by the time we leave Pompey.”

  “Won't you take some food?” Manning asked.

  “No, I ate on the way, thank'e, but if that’s coffee, or something like, I could be tempted.” He placed his canvas package against the bulkhead and took a seat at the head of the table.

  “Tea, perhaps a little cool, and I fear we have no milk,” Kate told him, picking up the earthenware pot. “Shall I warm it, or make afresh?”

  “It will be welcome enough as it is, thank you ma'am.” Paterson nodded, as Kate filled one of the squat china cups, and the two men were seated again. “So, what is the score aboard Pevensey Castle?” he asked, after taking a sip.

  King moved uncomfortably. “You have met the captain?”

  Paterson nodded seriously. “A brief interview, but informative.” His voice became deliberately neutral. “I gather he had dined rather well.”

  “It was always his habit in the past,” King replied.

  “You have served with him afore, then?”

  “In a different ship and a different navy.”

  “Ah, so our Captain Rogers is another King's man,” Paterson chuckled knowingly. “And did he distinguish himself in the service of His Majesty?”

  It was King's turn to smile now. “He did, but not in the manner that you intend.”

  Paterson nodded. “It is often the case that we take King George's bad bargains; present company excepted, though, I am certain,” he added hurriedly. “And I should say that Mr Rogers must not be judged too harshly on that account. Many's the man who has made his name and fortune from the Indiamen who never could have progressed in a warship.”

  King's coat was hanging on the bulkhead and, without speaking, Kate reached for it and began to spread the cloth over her lap. “Well, we shall have to see,” she said firmly. “It has not been the best of starts, but it is in our minds to improve matters as soon as the situation presents.”

  “I was appointed by Leadenhall Street and given to understand it was to be an improvement.” Paterson was sipping at his cold tea again. “Second mate at the very least. But from what I have now
discovered, the captain has already installed Mr Willis and Mr Seagrove; they are friends from a previous commission, perhaps?”

  “It is possible.” Manning thought for a moment. “Although when he interviewed me Mr Rogers claimed this to be his first command.”

  “Then, it is unlikely, and he is probably as blind to their worth as we are.”

  “You did not take to them?” King asked.

  Paterson stiffened slightly. “Forgive me, I have spoken too soon. Sadly, I have the habit for saying too much when it is not required. It’s a fault I do try to correct.” He grinned at King who found himself liking the man a little better. “Still, I understand he has conjured up a crew; no mean feat in these times.”

  “His family have excellent connections,” King said dryly.

  “Then maybe they found him our premier and second.” Kate was also one inclined to speak out of turn, although in her case no attempt was made to control the tendency. “And perchance they are not quite so stupid as they appear.” She produced a small pair of silver scissors and started to unpick the facings to the lapels on King's uniform.

  “That is something we will doubtless find out by and by.” Paterson was watching Kate with apparent interest. “Tell me, what are you doing to that coat?”

  Kate raised her eyes. “A simple misunderstanding, nothing more.”

  “I had thought to be shipping as a mate, not a midshipman,” King said glumly.

  “Ah, another who has found his expectations lowered.” Paterson pulled a wry face. “A pity. Still, the distinction is not so very great in the merchant service.”

  “So I have been advised.”

  “No, in truth, it makes little difference,” the man persisted. “Allow me to explain; if it will not bore you; of course.”

  King shook his head. “No, please, go ahead.”

  “Pay for a mid is the same as that of a fifth mate, an' you will still be called to stand watch. Berthing arrangements are also identical, the only way you will be light is in the matter of indulgence.”

  The three looked at Paterson blankly.

  “It is the term we use for private cargo; mates warrant a large allowance of hold space for their own personal trading. Of course, funds are needed to back the goods, but if that is in your mind, I rarely use my full quota and will gladly share.”

  “How many trips have you made?” Kate asked.

  “To India, this will be my fourth, but I travelled on to Canton on two occasions, and have also seen New South Wales twice.”

  “A busy life.”

  “Indeed.” Paterson looked keenly at King. “And one I'd not swap. I understand your loyalty to His Majesty, but John Company has its advantages; guaranteed travel, and most times you know exactly where you're heading, as well as an idea of when you shall return.”

  “And singularly little blockading duty, I gather?”

  Paterson returned King’s smile. “We are rarely asked,” he agreed.

  The door opened again, and this time an older man with prominent sideburns stood on the threshold. Manning rose from his chair at once.

  “Come in, sir. Come in do.” He turned to the other occupants. “May I introduce Mr Keats, our surgeon?”

  There was a brief exchanging of names and handshakes, and soon Keats was relaxing comfortably at the table and accepting a cup of cold tea from Kate.

  “Your first trip aboard Pevensey Castle?” Paterson asked him as Tomlinson, the steward, entered and began to collect up the remains of their meal.

  The surgeon shook his head. “No, I came back from Bombay with Captain Fuller; fine officer, handled the ship well, with always the time for his passengers. The new man - Rogers, isn't it? He'll have his work cut out to match him.”

  No one said a word, although Keats seemed oblivious to any awkwardness.

  “Actually, it was you both I wished to see,” he continued, singling out Manning and Kate. “I was thinking of your position, as a newly married couple.” They looked at him dubiously. “I am one who likes his fellow's company, yet chance that each of you wish only for the society of the other.”

  There was another strained silence; even the steward paused in his work, while Kate began to take extreme interest in her sewing. Manning simply blushed.

  “So, what say you take my cabin?” Keats asked. “'Tis large enough for two; two who don't mind a little intimacy.” His tone was light and pleasant, and there was no hint of mockery when Manning met his eyes. “I'd be more than happy to berth in here, if Mr Paterson permits?” Manning flushed a little deeper, although Kate appeared not to have heard.

  “Well, I'd think that a capital idea,” Paterson all but shouted, looking at the two for confirmation, while Tomlinson bustled from the room to hide his smirk. Manning nodded silently, but Kate was still totally immersed in her work. “Right then,” the mate continued with decision. He stood suddenly, and King was taken by the fact that he could do so without stooping. “But the evening is wearing out and rules state that cabin candles must be doused by ten, don't you know? Besides, if the rumour be true, we shall have more joining in the morning and a wealth to do, no doubt.” He looked about the company, now strangely silent. “If no one has any objection, I suggest we calls it a day.”

  King and Keats were quick to rise, although the remaining couple took a little longer. Both had their possessions to gather, of course, but the impression that there was no rush, and they were actually reluctant to leave, was unmistakable. Keats was momentarily concerned that he had committed some incredible gaff, but they bid goodnight to all calmly enough. However, when Manning held the door open for Kate to leave, the surgeon noticed that they avoided each other's eyes and, when the frail door finally closed, it was to a silence from both sides.

  The men in the steerage mess looked to one another. Something was amiss, although none could say what. King cleared his throat to speak when the couple apparently experienced a change of heart. The sound of whispering could be plainly heard, followed by a sudden laugh; then the noise of footsteps that quickly faded as they positively rushed along the passageway and on towards the surgeon's quarters.

  Chapter Three

  The rumour was spot on. Soon after dawn, when King and Paterson were checking the contents of the signal locker on the ship's tiny poop deck, a pair of longboats and a cutter were spotted making for them in the early morning mist. The first two boats were slightly more than half-full; not enough to make up a complete crew, but a welcome addition, nevertheless. From their vantage position at the stern, the officers watched while the boats approached the landing stage and men began to clamber aboard.

  “You, boy!” Paterson turned to a youngster who was brushing out one of the empty poultry coops. “The new intake is coming aboard; pass the word to the captain, then nip down and alert the cook that there's liable to be a few more for breakfast.”

  The lad was off in an instant and shortly afterwards Willis, the chief officer, appeared to meet the new draft. They assembled in the waist, forming up in ragged lines and facing the break of the quarterdeck. King watched them intently. Their tattoos, gait and attire marked them out as experienced seamen, and he could detect no unduly sullen looks, even though they may well have just stepped off a homeward-bound ship and were probably in need of food.

  “Seems like a good start,” he said quietly.

  “A good start indeed,” Paterson agreed.

  Then there was a further commotion. The cutter had drawn up, and soon a collection of petty and junior officers was climbing through the entry port and joining those in the waist. They were known to the seamen who allowed themselves to be arranged into what must have been their previous watches, then stood waiting, a little more formally now. Rogers timed his arrival perfectly, appearing on the quarterdeck just as their attention was about to drift from the new surroundings. King and Paterson watched him from behind as joined by Willis and now Seagrove, he strode forward to the break of the quarterdeck and commanded the assembly's complete a
ttention.

  King had to hand it to him. Rogers certainly looked the part; impeccably turned out in full dress uniform, with an embellished sword at his hip, and all the majesty, pomp and swagger of a true commander. The men were also impressed. There was a hushed silence while their new captain read a short statement that nominated him as the overall authority in the ship, the one who controlled her movements and, ultimately, their lives. The fresh intake was dismissed almost immediately, and for a moment stood in small groups, uncertain as to their proper station. Then, following a word from Willis, the petty officers began to shout, and the seamen were herded forward. A party was detailed to man the falls, bringing what personal possessions they might have up from the longboats, while the others were dismissed.

  “Mr King, Mr Paterson!” Rogers had not deemed it necessary to turn around, and his call took both men by surprise. “You will attend me, if you please.”

  King glanced quickly at Paterson who followed him forward and down the short ladder to the quarterdeck. The feeling that Rogers was aware of their presence, indeed had been watching intently, even though his back was turned, was impossible to ignore. Seagrove and Willis chose not to notice them, however, although Rogers touched his hat in return to their salutes with due formality.

  “The new men will have to be fed,” he said looking directly at King. “See to it, and do not take too long; we have much ahead, and are to be moving to the Downs with Tuesday's morning tide.”

  “Very good, sir.” King was equally formal, although his active mind raced. It gave them barely two days. “Is there a watch list?”

  Rogers was momentarily taken aback. “Not at present. Watch lists and quarter bills are something Mr Paterson can attend to.”

  King could not help but glance across as the third mate touched his hat. The work would take most of a day in itself and was usually the responsibility of the chief officer.

  “There will be a further man joining us later this morning, and the first of our guests by nightfall,” Rogers was continuing. “Cows, sheep and poultry are expected at any time, as is the last of the water. I also understand that some passengers embarking at Spithead are sending their personal servants in advance to prepare for their arrival. You will take especial care of them and see that the men do not fraternise with any females.”