‘Not much cover from that point, sir. Have Ed move along the escarpment, the bugger will be expecting a move from about there. He has some good marksmen in his section, and can keep the bastard’s head down.’
‘Yes, I see. Very well, then. Pass that on to the sections, and have them ready to move in five minutes. I will stay here and keep an eye on him. Oh, and Joe, one more thing; better post a couple of the lads at the top of the gully, just in case he should slip behind us.’
With those orders, Jack crawled up to a clump of long grass and again put the telescope to his eye. He slowly pulled some long grass over his face, weaving some into his hair. He wished his shirt were other than white. He was conscious that they would stand out as ghosts in the fading light. He rubbed some earth onto his neck and face.
‘Got that you lot?’ Packer had explained the tactics and deployment to the detachment in a whispered voice.
‘Seems a rum way of going about it to me, sarge. There’s enough of us - why don’t we just rush the bastard and be done with it?’ a private in Ed Munday’s section grumbled.
‘Because Mister Vizzard has a different way of doing things, Brannon.’ He growled back. ‘We’re marines boy, not bleedin’ ordinary foot sloggers, and our officer thinks differently about things!’
Jack gave a pre-arranged hand signal for an advance and the first section moved off along an old track close to the jagged cliff edge. Packer took his section to the north, wriggling along like an extended snake and Jack waited until they had moved a hundred yards then started to crawl to the south of the outcrop of rock in which the fugitive was hiding.
The setting sun was very low over his left shoulder, and there was now very little light left in the dying day. He found a shallow gully and crawled slowly along it. He was in position some ten minutes later, and signaled his section to move apart. ‘At least five yards you men.’ He whispered.
Again rolling onto his back, he bit on a cartridge, dropped a ball down the barrel, silently rammed it home with a wad and leveled the weapon towards the rocks. He was gratified to note that his marines had followed suit and were ready in firing positions. He noticed that the two men closest to him had emulated him and smeared their faces with dirt, recognizing the purpose. If Ross could see us now, he smiled. Marines lying prone in the earth, not standing erect waiting to be shot at; it was contrary to all field practice.
He looked at the shadows again, and judged the other sections would be in position. He gave a soft hoot, akin to the wood pigeons of home, which was answered by Packer over to his right, about three hundred yards away, then took aim at the gap in the rocks; a sudden movement and he fired, the rest of his section following with an almost simultaneous crackle of fire. His ball blew pieces of rock to dust, and an answering crack told him his quarry was waiting for them. So their approach had not been undetected after all, he thought. White cotton shirts were too visible.
A cry to his left told him that one of the men was hurt, but now Munday’s section had opened fire on the position, and smoke was hovering over the field. He fired a second ball this time simply to keep the man pinned down, but moments later another ball hit the earth in front of his face, sending dust and grit into his eyes. Sweet Jesus, he thought. This man knows his business.
Now he heard an oath from the cliff edge and guessed that one of Munday’s men had been hit. Then a shout and Packer’s men were running. He too, was on his feet, shouting with a mix of fear and a rush of blood pumping through his body. Another ball sung overhead to his right. Two of Packer’s men reached the rocks and there was a clash of steel on steel. Jack reached the rocks, sword drawn, and saw a marine on the ground with another grappling a dark skinned man, who fought with surprising strength, a long bayonet in his left hand. Jack’s boot struck him hard in the back and he sagged. He hit him across the temple with the butt of his musket and it was finished.
‘Truss him up, Joe, and make them tight. This one has caused enough trouble.’
Two men quickly tied the man’s hands behind his back, and shackled a short length of chain to his ankles Packer had brought with him. Jack moved to the motionless marine, a knife buried deep in his throat from which the blood still slowly seeped, staining the earth around him.
‘Davis is dead, Joe.’ He sat on a rock and felt the guilt hit him. The man was the first casualty under his command. He felt the responsibility heavily in the chest, as if he had been struck a blow from a prizefighter.
‘He was a good `un, sir. Must have been the first to reach the bastard.’ Packer looked at Jack’s face and continued, ‘Take a tot of rum sir; it weren’t your fault. Could `ave cost more if we’d charged in like.’ He passed a stone bottle from his haversack, and Jack took a large swallow of the spirit. He thought of a cold day in Gloucester with his father and Giles. He felt as low as that day.
‘I should have got the timing better, given closer support to you.’ He rose slowly to his feet. Another man had a wound to his thigh, where a ball had passed through. Packer placed a cartridge wad on it, and bound it with a handkerchief.
‘You’ll be right as rain in a week, Griffiths. Doubt the surgeon will have to take that one off!’ He laughed at the private, the man obviously in pain, and kicked the prisoner. ‘Get to your feet, you bastard, and thank which ever God you have that I ain’t in charge, or I’d blow your mucking brains out myself, right here and now!’
The Malay pretended not to understand, and was still reeling drunkenly from the blow of Jack’s musket. Packer collected two pistols, a pair of muskets, a vicious bayonet and searched the Malay for other weapons. Another hidden knife was found in a boot.
Jack turned to the men and said, ‘Right, well done lads. Good work by all of you, but time to get back to the town and hand this bugger back to the Dutch. Ed, detail some of Davis’s mates to bring him back to the ship.’
He drank from his bottle, a long swallow of warm water to quench the thirst that now made his throat dry and tight. His tongue felt twice its usual size.
Gathering his musket he started the slow descent to the town, made very difficult in the dark of the evening, but a full moon was rising and lit the track down the mountain – the same moon that had illuminated The Vicarage that night, so long ago, he thought.
Eventually he found the house and the Dutch officer, now waiting with a small crowd of officials and citizens. The firing had attracted the populace, who had watched the marines’ progress as they descended Table Mountain.
Feeling very dirty and now more tired than he thought possible, he handed the Malay over to the officer. ‘This is your murderer. He killed one of my men in the taking of him.’ The Dutchman looked confused.
Jack did not wish to explain, and turned and walked to the ships` boats waiting at the jetty and sank onto the sternsheets, his shoulders slumped and chin on his chest. Within a minute, he was sleeping.
The bosun’s mate glanced at Sergeant Packer, who just shook his head, and made a sign to move off. The moonlight sparkled across Table Bay, as though a giant hand had cast thousands of minute diamonds across the surface, as the boats returned to Sirius.
28
A Bonding
‘He did a damned fine job, Arthur. The Governor is extremely satisfied.’
Captain John Hunter was reading a dispatch from the Dutch Governor, as Arthur Phillip sat on a chair on the quarterdeck.
‘He reports that the man was ‘immediately executed’ - in a barbaric fashion it seems. He was broken on a wheel and then... beheaded and quartered, Good God! No pretence of a trial, just... well, off with his head!’
Captain Phillip looked at his friend with a shocked expression.
‘Dreadful, simply dreadful. The Dutch were barbaric in the Spice Islands of course, but I had thought such treatment was now beneath them. Better not relate that to young Vizzard. He seems upset as it is.’
‘Yes, indeed he is. Dawes tells me that he is much distressed at the loss of one of his men. There were two wounded as we
ll, I believe.’ Hunter had Jack’s report of the episode in front of him.
‘There really should be no record of this, John.’ Phillip stood and started pacing. ‘It would cause the Dutch some small embarrassment if it became known that they had need of the Royal Navy and its marines to maintain order in their precious colony; and we have need of their co-operation, for the present at least. Remember, `tis but four years since we were at war with Holland. I fancy that we will, one day, seek to displace the Dutch here to protect our own trade, and our routes to India of course.’ Arthur Phillip looked at the brief report that Jack had written that morning.
‘Keep it in your personal papers, John, but make no official reference to it; in fact, the incident is closed.’
‘Yes, I understand, Arthur. Our young marine deserves some recognition I think, but in the circumstances, perhaps that would be best. Actually, sir, Major Ross takes the position that the incident was entirely routine, and undeserving of mention in any dispatch, as he puts it!’
‘So it shall be, but for my own reasons, John, rather than to accommodate our Major!
AT LAST, ON 12 NOVEMBER after a month at the Cape of Good Hope, re-provisioning the fleet was complete, the capstans squealed and the anchors rose once more, as the small armada set off on the final part of its unprecedented odyssey. Arthur Phillip learned from a visiting English vessel of a second fleet of convicts in preparation. He took reassurance from the news.
The seas it encountered as the fleet left Africa were some of the worst the seamen had ever encountered. Great rolling hills of spray-driven, green water with spume at a level with the crosstrees of the ships. Crawling heavily first up and then racing down, ships slipped into the dark, frightening valleys. The wind screamed and roared, as though defying the ships, as if the heaven above had decided that they would not reach their landfall. Tons of dark, cold water dumped solid on the decks, searching out the gloomy cages below and the despondent inhabitants shivering, often waist deep in the water that swirled about them. It was relentless; day followed day, of dark skies, black tumbling clouds and winds that shrieked and kept the crews at hard labour, fighting the elements. The ships rolled, yawed and pitched so many of those locked below were heartily sick.
To Jack it was almost beyond his comprehension. Nothing in his experience could compare to the forces at work on this ocean. He was awed at the skill of the seamen. They turned out from the wet decks below, to climb the swinging masts, dwarfed by the seas on either side of the small ship. When the wind eased, and the sun made the decks steam, they had small respite, only to be assailed again by another storm.
Officers appeared drained, eyes shot with thin scarlet veins, and feet constantly wet. Captain Hunter rarely left the quarterdeck at these times, ordering changes to the helmsmen, never less than two, lashed to the wheel. Trimming sails, furling them, eyes scanning the seas about him.
Jack stayed below reading when he could, by the light of a lantern. It was permanently dark and wet, and cold; so very cold his teeth chattered until his jaw ached. The odours and poisoned air from the bilges permeated everywhere contaminating clothes, uniforms, and bedding, turning metal black and he longed for clean, purifying fresh air and the warming sun on his body. He considered himself fortunate he had not succumbed to sickness, as had some of his men. Bradley told him the fleet was making good progress with the ships miraculously keeping together.
The days rolled together, like the constantly surging ocean over which they slowly sailed, so he often was confused. Only the ritual of the ship’s routine reminded him of the passing hours and days. To occupy some of the time, he scribbled in a journal, recording the monotony. At first, his notes recorded bare facts, gleaned from observation and discussion with the officers, changing to more intimate, personal reflections of the journey and its ultimate purpose. He wrote of his lost love, Mary, and at such times became melancholy.
He wondered too how Captain Phillip must feel today. The little daily contact he had enjoyed of the Governor of the new colony had impressed him. Phillip had presented as a very thoughtful, caring man. That had become very evident to Jack as he learned from Dawes, and others, of the strenuous efforts made by the man before the fleet had sailed, and during the voyage.
During any lull in the weather, he spent time with the watch-keeping officers. He found their technical discussions of value and learned of the science of navigation, and something of the skill of managing a crew, some knowledge of seamanship. As he did so, he thought of his lost brother.
‘Jack,’ Dawes spoke quietly, ‘I confess I have increasing wondered about you since the Governor’s dinner. I have never thanked you properly for, well you understand me, I believe.’
He smiled at Dawes. ‘It was an instinctive matter, William. It is spoken below deck that I am some kind of hero; I am aware of the lower deck gossip.’ Jack now looked his friend more directly in the eyes. ‘I am no such thing of course. I saw you fall and dived in, without thinking of the consequences. It is the way with me, and has landed me in hot water before!’ He grinned, a little embarrassed. ‘Although, with you, it was very cold water.’
Dawes was one of a new breed of officers in the Corps. A scientist, with a passion for astronomy, he was tasked with and excited at the prospect of establishing an observatory. The scientific community, in particular the Royal Society, had learned much from earlier voyages of discovery, but much more was to be learned, not only of the lands and peoples of the Pacific, but also of the night skies above.
William Dawes slapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘I am your servant for life, Jack, for I am sure no other would have acted thus. I owe you my life, and will never forget that. However, there is an enigma that I must question you on – David Collins has informed me that your time at Oxford was not studying classics, but the law. You told me so yourself. Now I ask, why should a lawyer choose an arduous and uncertain future as a marine? Answer me that, Jack Vizzard!’
Jack coloured slightly. ‘I am discovered then?’ He failed to conceal a small note of alarm in his voice.
‘Be assured my friend, your secret is safe. I merely wish to know why you should wish it so.’
‘Will, I told the Governor the truth. My past is simply that; I have no wish to discuss it, even with you. I am sincere in my desire to serve as a soldier. It is my true vocation. A decent-minded lawyer, and I fear there are insufficient, aspires to seek justice, not as an abstract concept, but as a reality, to do good for the people. I learned that I could not achieve that. I suppose I was not sufficiently committed. You must promise me to respect my confidence in this. Please?’
Dawes offered his hand, as a sign of his willingness to do so, and Jack took it and clasped it firmly.
29
The Supply
Thirteen days out from the Cape of Good Hope, Captain Phillip once more summoned Jack to his cabin. A large group of officers was present, including Lieutenants Bradley and King of the Navy, and Captains Shea, Tench, Collins and Campbell of the Marines. The murmurings amongst them ceased as he entered. One or two gave him a friendly glance and a greeting. Ross, standing next to Phillip, could barely conceal his displeasure.
‘Sir, you wished me to report.’ Just a hint of a question emerged in his tone.
Arthur Phillip looked hard at him, hesitating before speaking.
‘Mister Vizzard. Thank you. Yes, indeed I did. I have had conference with my senior officers, and have reached a decision. I am now resolved that the swiftest transports must press ahead taking with me as many artisans as we have, in order to reach Botany Bay ahead of the majority of the people, and prepare the way. However, I intend to take the Supply and make reconnaissance of the land before the fleet arrives. Major Ross will remain with the flagship, but I need capable young marines to accompany me. Lieutenant Bird has none aboard. We are all agreed,’ a swift glance towards Major Ross gave hint to Jack that in fact not all were in agreement, ‘that you are the fellow. I shall have need also of Mister Dawes, and will
speak with him as soon as he reports. I would be obliged if you will collect your dunnage, and a section of your more sober men, and be ready to transfer with me in an hour.’
Clearly, this was a snub to Ross, who as Lieutenant - Governor could expect the honour of landing first with Phillip. From the expression on his face, Ross had known nothing of this. He was plainly incensed that part of his command would be landing in advance of his own arrival. Jack could not prevent his eyes from glancing quickly towards Ross, who opened his mouth to speak, but instantly changed his mind as Phillip raised an eyebrow to silence any further protest.
‘Aye aye, sir’. Jack could not prevent the boyish grin that instantly came to his face and quickly turned on his heel, remembering to duck his head and avoid contact with the beam.
Closing the door of the cabin, he heard voices raised but was too pleased with his orders to care. He slid down the companionway calling for Sergeant Packer as he did so.
‘Packer, you and the five best men of the company in full order to transfer with me to Supply within the hour, if you please! Tom, Tom my kit within half an hour. We are off to... well do not stand gawping boy! Let us be busy, quickly now.’
In fact, another four days were to pass before the sea conditions allowed the transfer to be safely undertaken. Jack grew increasingly restless, as a horse might before a race. Ross now ignored the very fact of Jack’s existence, but he at least gained the satisfaction of learning that Ross was to continue the voyage on board the Scarborough, one of the other transports. He would be free of the man, for a time. He was also delighted to learn that Lieutenants Philip King and William Dawes would also transfer to Supply, with the Governor.
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