by Alaric Bond
“David here was a member of my father's household, as I think you are both aware,” she said, not looking directly at either of them. “I can say without hesitation that he probably saved my life, as well as those of Lady Banks and Mrs Manning.”
“Indeed, sir. I hears you fought extremely bravely,” Caulfield said, extending his hand. “And have our thanks, although I believe a more significant reward is in preparation.”
“That is kind of you,” the man spoke softly. “Though in truth I was hoping you would give me leave to serve in your ship.”
“My father has granted David his freedom,” Julia interrupted, her face flushing only slightly. “It seems I was in error and he does crave for something more than we can provide on the island.”
“Do you have any skills as a seaman?” King asked.
“Precious few at present, sir, though I am eager to learn,” the man replied. “I am trained as a valet, and can cook and serve at table, as well as having a fair hand at needlework.”
King glanced across at Caulfield and received a subtle nod and a smile. “Thompson, the captain's man, is killed, but even if Sir Richard does not require another servant, I am certain there will be a place for any with such skills,” he said.
“I own that this goes rather against what I spoke of a week or so back.” Julia was now more directly regarding the first lieutenant.
“Not as such,” Caulfield answered, his gaze not meeting hers. “Some would say your man is simply exchanging one form of bondage for another. But I do consider it good that he has been given the choice,” he continued, before their eyes did finally meet. “And right; I think that also.”
“Miss Booker, I wonder if I might have your attention?” King was conscious that his question had broken something of a spell between the two and, when she turned to him with an expression of caution and reluctance, he felt his heart drop down to his boots. “I-it is of a private nature,” he continued, stammering slightly. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me below?”
* * *
“There is someone to see you, Mr Fraiser,” Kate whispered softly into the old man’s ear, and his eyes opened. A young girl stood before him, but he could say no more; she seemed in no way familiar, although the light in the sickbay was bad and he remained heavily sedated following the operation. “This is Julia Booker,” the surgeon's wife continued. “She is the daughter of one of St Helena's officials, and Mr King here was especially keen that you should speak with her.”
The sailing master's eyes flashed up as the young lieutenant entered and stood behind, then back to the woman herself. Julia Booker: the name meant nothing to him and, now that he was fully awake, his leg had begun to hurt once more.
“I believe you knew my mother,” the girl said, drawing closer and lowering herself to his level. “Her name was Kitty Davies; she spoke of you often, and I did so want to meet you.”
The name sparked a reaction, as it would have whatever the depth of pain or drug that plagued him. Fraiser actually tried to raise himself from the fixed berth, but Mrs Manning pressed a hand against his breast and breathed calm, reassuring words that were totally ignored.
“Kitty, yes; I do remember,” he said urgently and staring at her more closely.
“I was so sorry to hear that you are wounded,” the girl continued. “And hope you to be well by and by. Perhaps you may benefit from being on shore for a spell?”
Fraiser blinked, uncomprehending, then looked to Mrs Manning who was still resolutely by his side as she seemed to have been since her husband operated.
“Lady Banks is currently at Julia's house where she is being cared for,” Kate explained. “You would be able to go there and be well looked after, although there is also a military hospital should you prefer.”
“What of the ship?” Fraiser asked, and received a smile and a shake of the head in reply.
“The ship won't be going anywhere for a good while, master,” King explained softly. “And even when she does, you need not be with her.”
This time he understood completely. He knew what had been done to his leg. Even though the sensation of movement and feeling remained strong in his foot and toes, no one would need a crippled sailing master and, at his age, it might be better to bow out with dignity. Retirement was something he had considered taking for some while, although the lack of a suitable place in which to settle had always prevented it. Throughout his long life a steadily increasing faith had given him as strong a grounding as he could have wished for, but a physical home was another matter entirely, and something he had always lacked. Now, and in the company of the young woman whose features were starting to become more distinct by the second, he sensed he might finally have found one.
Author's Note
This book is set in the time between two actual governors of St Helena: Robert Brooke, (retired March 1800), and Robert Patton who arrived two years later. During the interregnum, Colonel Francis Robson FSA, an eminently capable man who had served with distinction in Madras, did indeed act as governor, although Sir Terrance Hatcher, and his charming lady, are figments of my imagination. My only excuse in introducing this fiction is that when such an important outpost as St Helena is left effectively unattended for so long, the opportunity is just too good to pass by.
The previous governor, Robert Brooke (1744-1811), would have been a hard act for Hatcher to follow, and was actually a fascinating man who properly deserves an entire book of his own. He was born in Ireland and first joined the HEIC as an aspirant officer in his early twenties. Following a period of illness, Brooke moved back to his homeland where he established Prosperous, an industrial town in County Kildare, to serve the cotton industry. It was an ambitious project and received generous government support but proved far too expensive and soon consumed all of his personal fortune. At its height Brooke effectively employed over three thousand people, although the venture ultimately failed. His property was sold, and Brooke was left not only bankrupt but rumoured to be owing an amount close to that of Britain's national debt.
Undeterred, he reapplied for service with the East India Company and, after initial rejection, (he had previously outstayed his leave) was finally accepted. Then, almost immediately afterwards, he found himself somewhat bizarrely appointed governor of St Helena, replacing Daniel Cornelille, and in control of one of the most important bases in Britain's burgeoning empire.
Despite his somewhat disastrous record in business, Brooke was to become one of the most successful governors of the island. St Helena's defences were improved to no small degree while under his control; he also instituted a better method of signalling, and extended the harbour installations that were judged to be both inadequate and dangerous, saving several lives each year. The disaster at Prosperous clearly had not dulled his enthusiasm for enterprise any; his plan for irrigating the island involved many miles of pipes, gullies and open streams, and was heavily opposed, but Brooke had the determination to see it through and, on completion, fresh water was distributed to some parts of the island for the first time. Suddenly visiting fleets could be served in a reasonable time, while the Company's considerable herds of cattle were not only able to survive the occasional drought, but also increased by 20%.
During his tenure Brooke also did much to improve the lot of the common soldier. The 'miscreant's mess' was a particular case in point; until that time military discipline rested almost entirely on corporal punishment and did little to actually modify bad behaviour. Brooke decided that regular floggings promoted an ethos of bravado amongst the men, some came to regard such punishment as a sign of masculinity while others, he suspected, actively enjoyed it. Instead he ordered offenders to be removed from the rank and file and grouped together, where they were provided with poor accommodation and victuals, while being employed in a variety of laborious and mundane tasks. This evoked an element of social disgrace that made the punishment truly corrective, and also provided St Helena with the many gardens and military installations that c
an still be seen today.
In 1795, and based on news received from a visiting warship, Brooke initiated an expedition using HEIC ships and corps to reinforce General Craig's recently captured Dutch colony at the Cape of Good Hope. Brooke's force also assisted in the taking of a fleet of valuable Dutch Indiamen, an act that won him praise, promotion and a considerable increase in salary.
At a time when slavery was generally accepted in British colonies, Brooke was one of the first to bring in legislation to improve matters, making the importing of new slaves illegal, and introducing harsh penalties for any found abusing their charges. His measures effectively raised the status of such labour to something nearer to that of serfdom, but by no means ended the atrocity: it would be another forty years or so before St Helena's last 800 slaves began a programme of phased emancipation. That was still ahead of any government ban, however, and Brooke's efforts certainly signalled the start of the later war against slavery that the British were to take up with all the gusto of reformed sinners.
The island itself deserves rather more explanation than I was able to give, and some of St Helena's latter history might also be related. Almost since its discovery in 1502, St Helena has been known as a place with therapeutic powers. Access to a plentiful supply of good, fresh water as well as fruit, vegetables and meat are obviously contributing factors, as is the prevailing south easterly trade wind which keeps the island healthy and the climate pleasant, despite its proximity to the equator. Consequently many members of the military that were discharged from Far Eastern service due to illness found their health miraculously restored after even a brief stay. The majority went on to either re-enlist in the garrison or volunteer for militia service, giving an unusually large force of seasoned men that could be called upon. Such strength, when added to the island's natural defences and extensive fortifications, ensured that St Helena remained immune from invasion. One plan, proposed in 1804, ironically on the orders of Napoleon Bonaparte, did come close to being adopted. The French minister, Decres, even allocated eight ships and fifteen hundred men for the task, but the expedition was abandoned at the last moment, with the force subsequently being sent to Surinam.
Then, in 1815, when a remote and impenetrable prison was required to detain the defeated emperor, St Helena became the natural choice, and accommodated Napoleon and his staff in relative comfort. His first home was at Briar's Pavilion, a beautiful estate just south of Jamestown. Then, following its rebuilding, Longwood House, the Lieutenant Governor's country residence mentioned in my story. During Bonaparte's residency the island was fortified still further, and housed an unprecedented military force, much of which was removed following his death in 1821.
As with the passing of many famous people, Bonaparte's demise is not without conspiracy theories, some of which are gloriously far fetched. The original autopsy report of stomach cancer has been regularly disputed, with St Helena itself being named as a suspect on occasion. It appears that high quantities of arsenic were used in the paint and wallpaper when renovating Longwood House, and traces of the drug have been found in remaining samples of the late emperor’s hair. But such is the manna of those who enjoy this kind of tale, and it is hoped that one of the world's greatest soldiers did not die at the hands of his interior decorator.
Thirteen years after Napoleon's death control passed from the East India Company, and St Helena became a Crown Colony. Within ten years a substantial naval base was established to combat the African slave trade and for some while St Helena remained a favoured refuelling and replenishing station. However, with the opening of the Suez Canal in 1870 the island's value diminished dramatically and, apart from brief periods during major and minor wars, it has not figured significantly in British history since.
Today the island is a British Dependant Territory, although the islanders, who currently number roughly four thousand, have no right of abode in Britain, and are mainly reliant on a Royal Mail Ship for supplies and personal transport. Despite, or possibly because of, the island's isolation, St Helena remains a fascinating and breathtakingly beautiful place, with a predominantly friendly population who are loyal to the crown and genuinely welcome visitors. An airport is due to open in 2016 and will inevitably bring change: some may argue that such development can only harm what is almost a unique environment, although that should surely be for those more directly affected to decide. Certainly a regular air link can only encourage travel, while also bringing much needed finance and trade to what has become something of a backwater. Most of all it will make an island that so excels in both beauty and historical significance far more accessible, while hopefully retaining more than a small amount of St Helena's inherent mystery.
Alaric Bond
Herstmonceux 2014
Selected glossary
Able Seaman One who can hand, reef and steer and is well-acquainted with the duties of a seaman.
Amphitrite Neptune's wife or consort (in Roman mythology).
Back Wind change; anticlockwise.
Backed sail One set in the direction for the opposite tack to slow a ship.
Backstays Similar to shrouds in function, except that they run from the hounds of the topmast, or topgallant, all the way to the deck. (Also a useful/spectacular way to return to deck for a topman.)
Backstays, running A less permanent backstay, rigged with a tackle to allow it to be slacked to clear a gaff or boom.
Bargemen (Slang) Weevils commonly found in hard tack.
Barky (Slang) Seamen's affectionate name for their vessel.
Belaying pins Pins set into racks at the side of a ship. Lines are secured to these, allowing instant release by their removal.
Binnacle Cabinet on the quarterdeck that houses compasses, the deck log, traverse board, lead lines, telescope, speaking trumpet, etc.
Bitts Stout horizontal pieces of timber, supported by strong verticals, that extend deep into the ship. These hold the anchor cable when the ship is at anchor.
Block Article of rigging that allows pressure to be diverted or, when used with others, increased. Consists of a pulley wheel, made of lignum vitae, encased in a wooden shell. Blocks can be single, double (fiddle block), triple or quadruple. The main suppliers were Taylors, of Southampton.
Board Before being promoted to lieutenant, midshipmen would be tested for competence by a board of post captains. Should they prove able they will be known as passed midshipmen, but could not assume the rank of lieutenant until they were appointed as such.
Boatswain (Pronounced Bosun) The warrant officer superintending sails, rigging, canvas, colours, anchors, cables and cordage etc., committed to his charge.
Boom Lower spar to which the bottom of a gaff sail is attached.
Braces Lines used to adjust the angle between the yards, and the fore and aft line of the ship. Mizzen braces, and braces of a brig lead forward.
Brig Two-masted vessel, square-rigged on both masts.
Bulkhead A partition within the hull of a ship.
Bulwark The planking or wood-work about a vessel above her deck.
Canister Type of shot, also known as case. Small iron balls packed into a cylindrical case.
Careening The act of beaching a vessel and laying her over so that repairs, and maintenance to the hull can be carried out.
Carronade Short cannon firing a heavy shot. Invented by Melville, Gascoigne and Miller in late 1770's and adopted from 1779. Often used on the upper deck of larger ships, or as the main armament of smaller.
Cascabel Part of the breach of a cannon.
Caulk (Slang) To sleep. Also caulking, a process to seal the seams between strakes.
Channel Projecting ledge that holds deadeyes from shrouds and backstays, originally chain-whales.
Channel Gropers (Slang) The Channel Fleet.
Chippy (Slang) A carpenter. Originally from the ship builders who were allowed to carry out small lumps of wood, or chips, and the end of their shift.
Close hauled Sailing as near as possible into th
e wind.
Coaming A ridged frame about hatches to prevent water on deck from getting below.
Come-up glass A device using prisms and lenses that can detect the speed at which another vessel is gaining or falling back.
Companionway A staircase or passageway.
Counter The lower part of a vessel's stern.
Course A large square lower sail, hung from a yard, with sheets controlling and securing it.
Crown and Anchor Naval board game.
Crows of iron Crow bars used to move a gun or heavy object.
Cutter Fast, small, single-masted vessel with a sloop rig. Also a seaworthy ship's boat.
Deadeyes A round, flattish wooden block with three holes through which a lanyard is reeved. Used to tension shrouds and backstays.
Ditty bag (Slang) A seaman's bag. Derives its name from the dittis or 'Manchester stuff' of which it was once made.
Driver Large sail set on the mizzen in light winds. The foot is extended by means of a boom.
Dunnage Officially the packaging around cargo. Also (slang) seaman's baggage or possessions.
Fall The free end of a lifting tackle on which the men haul.
Fetch To arrive at, or reach a destination. Also the distance the wind blows across the water. The longer the fetch the bigger the waves.
Fen (Slang) Common prostitute.
Flash man One who provides an element of security in a bawdy house.
Futtock A lower frame in the hull of a ship (similar to a rib). Futtock shrouds run down from the edge of a top to the mast.
Forereach To gain upon, or pass by another ship when sailing in a similar direction.
Forestay Stay supporting the masts running forward, serving the opposite function of the backstay. Runs from each mast at an angle of about 45 degrees to meet another mast, the deck or the bowsprit.
Fribble (Slang) A fool.
Gansey A seaman's knitted woollen sweater.
Glass Telescope. Also, hourglass: an instrument for measuring time (and hence, as slang, a period of time). Also a barometer.
