by M. C. Muir
The surviving officers and sailors off the Pomba Branca looked forward to reaching Portuguese waters where they would be ferried ashore and, no doubt, be signed on another naval vessel. Oliver also expected five of the six Irishmen who had joined the ship in Ponta Delgada to leave the ship, but with no money and little due to them when they were paid off, they, too, would need to sign on another ship if they hoped to sail to North America.
Michael O’Conner, however, had proved to be an efficient scribe and it was Oliver’s intention to speak with him before they dropped anchor and suggest he remain on board. If so, his name would be entered in the muster book as captain’s secretary.
As for the two females, he would again ask Mr Crosby if his wife and Mrs Pilkington wished to return home, although he doubted they would do so. This time, he had no intention of raising objections. Both women had proved useful in the cockpit and displayed no more fear than the rest of the crew when they were engaged in the fight.
During the last week, he had observed an improvement in the health and confidence of Consuela Pilkington and noted that, when called on, she had adopted the role of matronly confidante to the ship’s boys. While this sort of relationship was not to be encouraged on a naval vessel, he could find no real reason to object to it. He had also noted that Mr Whipple showed a particular interest in the young Spanish-born widow’s welfare. It was the expression in the doctor’s eyes, when he looked at her, which gave that impression.
Thanks to Providence and the care afforded to him by Dr Whipple and Mr Crosby, Bungs’ condition was continuing to improve. Without the need for surgery, the swelling on the side of the cooper’s head had resolved. The bruising had also gone and he was able to stand for short periods of time. Being able to recognise people meant Bungs looked forward to the visits from his friends, though the surgeon insisted they did not talk to him for long periods or share jokes with him. He was anxious his patient’s brain should not be over-stimulated. It was a relief for Will, Eku and young Tommy Wainwright to see their mate improving. His banter was missed at the mess table.
Though it would be some time before Bungs regained his full mental capacity and was capable of resuming regular duties, having been on death’s doorstep for so long, Mr Whipple regarded his recovery as something of a miracle.
Being preoccupied with the problems confronting his crew, the captain had been delinquent in attending to his own affairs. He had not written to his wife, Victoria, since they had left Gibraltar. He could blame that on many things, including the injury to his hand, but he knew it was merely an excuse. It was something he intended to rectify very shortly.
Despite the events of the previous weeks, Perpetual was in surprisingly sound condition. It had weathered the storms with little more than a few scratches. New sails had been bent, lines spliced and the damage to the hull repaired. Now he was looking forward to heading south to gain the Roaring Forties―the most dependable winds travelling around the globe.
Accompanied by a flock of black frigate birds gliding gracefully overhead, the British frigate sailed silently past the impressive Sugar Loaf peak and drifted onto the broad waters of Guanabara Bay. Its safe delivery was marked by a cheer from the men on deck. It was an acknowledgement of relief rather than celebration.
The sight of the missing Portuguese frigate swinging from its anchor in the bay was met with mixed reactions, and little was said about it. Oliver Quintrell’s immediate attention was drawn to a British 74-gun man-of-war anchored a cable’s length away. It warmed his heart to see it.
Once the most pressing necessities of the port had been attended to, Oliver Quintrell accepted an invitation from the captain of the third-rate to pay him a visit. William Liversedge was an old friend who he had encountered on a previous mission.
Stepping on deck, Oliver was particularly delighted to be reacquainted with two officers who had served with him in the past―Lieutenant Hazzlewood and young Midshipman Smith. Having despatched the pair to Kingston in charge of a prize vessel, he hoped to speak with them both at length while they were in port.
‘You came in well laden,’ Captain Liversedge said, when the pair was alone in the cabin. ‘That probably explains why your arrival was later than expected.’
‘We do what we have to do,’ Oliver said, ‘and sometimes it takes a little longer than expected.’
‘I am sure you will tell me all about your cruise in due course. But, first, I have something for you.’
Oliver was puzzled. ‘This meeting is not by chance then?’
‘Not entirely,’ his old friend replied.
‘I was instructed to meet with you and personally deliver your Admiralty orders.’
‘But I have my orders,’ Oliver said.
‘I fear those are a little out of date. These were sealed in Whitehall only two days after Spain declared its allegiance to Napoleon. I sailed from England two days later. As I am sure you can imagine, many things have changed since you left England, indeed, since you left Gibraltar.’
‘So I am discovering.’
‘—Britain’s relationship with Spain. The Emperor. The war. The lack of money in the Treasury.’
‘The usual,’ Oliver added, looking down at the envelope his friend handed to him. On the reverse side it carried the Admiralty’s red wax seal and on the face, his name, his command, and the word SECRET stamped across the top. He turned it over in his hands, but did not open it.
‘There have been several policy changes since Spain joined forces with Napoleon. Britain now faces a bigger enemy. The cost of war is escalating daily and England needs all the ships it can muster. Tension is mounting, both at Whitehall and on the water, and it is considered that within the coming months there will be a major confrontation with the combined Franco/Spanish navies.’
‘I would not want to miss that,’ Oliver said.
‘I hear you had a privateer snapping at your heels,’ William Liversedge said.
‘Hardly a privateer,’ Oliver replied, with a glint in his eye. ‘This demon had me so preoccupied, I gave little thought to the coins I was carrying. Ironically, the brigand was blissfully unaware I had cases of Spanish treasure hidden in my hold.’ He relaxed and smiled. ‘I don’t doubt my orders relate to that cache of treasure.’
‘I cannot say,’ Captain Liversedge said. ‘I am not privy to the contents. However, I intend to go on deck and leave you in private for a few moments to read them. Then, if you are at liberty to do so, we shall share a glass of wine and speak about your sailing orders.’
Oliver acknowledged his friend’s courtesy and waited until he had left the cabin before breaking the seal.
* * *
