by V. A. Stuart
“Sir … Mr Hazard, sir, is the prisoner misbehaving? Shall I put him under restraint?”
“No,” Phillip answered shortly. “The prisoner is giving me no trouble. Return to your post.”
“He may be giving you no trouble at this moment, Phillip. But wait …” Graham’s tone was bitter. “You’ll come in for plenty if it’s ever known that we are brothers. Tomorrow morning, in case you have forgotten it, I am to receive six dozen lashes for drunkenness and—”
“Were you drunk, Graham?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me. Were you?”
Graham Hazard shifted uneasily. He avoided Phillip’s anxious scrutiny and said, with simulated indifference, “I had brought a bottle of whisky on board with me and I’d had a tot out of it … that, according to your Captain, merits a flogging. But if it really matters to you, I was not drunk—I very seldom am these days, and you may believe that or not, as you please. It’s the truth.”
“Then why bring whisky on board with you?” Phillip demanded.
“Why? As a precaution against cold nights on watch and because I’ve a cough that troubles me,” Graham answered. “It is an old merchant navy custom and I assure you, no one was ever flogged for it in the Wanota.”
“This is the Royal Navy,” Phillip reminded him. “And you know the regulations.”
“Oh, yes. I realize it was a stupid thing to do … stupid to allow myself to be caught with the stuff, I mean.”
“Who actually caught you?”
“The Captain. He was making Rounds, smelt the whisky on my breath, I can only suppose, and ordered a search of my kit … with the result you know. He put me under arrest and I have been in this noisome hole ever since. But …” Graham’s thick, fair brows met in a thoughtful frown. “I have been aboard this ship long enough to hear some very ugly talk concerning this Captain of yours, Phillip. No one has a good word to say for him, not even his own coxswain.” His frown deepened. “His name’s North, is it not?”
“Yes, it is. But you—”
“Thomas North?” Graham persisted. “Who commanded the Guillemot brig on the West African coast about twelve years ago … is that who he is?”
Phillip inclined his head. “Why—do you know him?”
“I know of him … and what I know isn’t to his credit, I can tell you. The Guillemot was a hell-ship and her commander would have had a mutiny on his hands if he had not lost more than half his crew from yellow fever. Eventually, in sheer desperation, the officers got up some sort of petition and North was relieved of his command and sent home. There would have been an enquiry—or possibly a court martial—if the Admiral had had his way, but all the witnesses were sick and Guillemot was at Accra, unable to put to sea for lack of seamen to man her.”
“Are you sure of this, Graham? Because if it’s true—“
“I can vouch personally for the truth of it, my dear Phillip,” Graham asserted. “Because I was serving in the flagship at the time—H.M.S. Thalia, Rear-Admiral Sir Patrick Campbell. He sent a confidential report on North to the Admiralty—to Admiral Dundas, if I remember rightly. I do remember hearing him say that North would never be given another command, if he had anything to do with it.”
“I see,” Phillip said tonelessly. He did not doubt that his brother was right—Captain North had been behaving very much in character since assuming command of Trojan and the leopard, it seemed, had not changed his spots. Probably this particular leopard was incapable of doing so … he expelled his breath in a long, pent-up sigh.
“Do you see?” Graham challenged. “Do you see why you cannot admit that I’m related to you? North is a sadist, with a record that won’t bear a close examination. For pity’s sake, Phil—for my sake, if not your own—you’ve got to lie to him. Otherwise …” He spread his hands helplessly.
Phillip saw, only too clearly, and what he saw did not bear thinking about. An ex-officer, dismissed the service and disgraced—his own First Lieutenant’s elder brother, serving as a seaman on the lower deck and already under sentence for having brought liquor aboard … of course North would take full advantage of the situation, would exploit it to the full. He could not allow that to happen, since Graham would suffer for it, even more than himself.
“Very well,” he agreed wearily, “I will deny our relationship, although I don’t imagine that North will be deceived for a moment. However, as you pointed out a little while ago, he cannot prove anything … your merchant service papers are in the name of George Arthur Hazard, I take it?”
“Yes, they are … all quite legal and above board. I even answer to the name of George more readily than I do to my given name. Odd, is it not? To be honest, I prefer it … although, for no reason that I can possibly explain, I clung to the name of Hazard. George Arthur Hazard, A.B. Hardly a ’name to live up to,’ is it, Lieutenant Hazard, sir?”
Phillip got to his feet. He said, having to make an effort to steady his voice, “I shall do the best I can to convince Captain North that it’s your correct name, Graham. I will also endeavour to have your punishment reduced.”
“And how,” Graham asked cynically, “do you imagine you’ll be able to do that? I hardly think that Thomas North will listen to any pleas on my behalf, do you? Even if you are willing to plead for me, Phillip … and you’ll be a fool if you do.”
“I can get the Surgeon to examine you. If he decides that you are not fit to receive the full number of lashes, then the Captain will have to accept his decision.”
“But I am—perhaps unfortunately—very fit,” Graham stated, with a wry grin.
“Our Surgeon is opposed to flogging. He is also a good fellow and one I can trust,” Phillip assured him. “So don’t worry.” He patted his brother’s muscular shoulder. Then, bracing himself for what he was fully and wretchedly aware, would be an ordeal, he went to make his report to the Captain.
To his relief, North was not alone. He sat at his table from which the food had now been cleared, enjoying a glass of port with Mademoiselle Sophie and the Baroness von Mauthner and, as Phillip entered the cabin, he broke off in mid-sentence, frowning at the interruption.
“Well?” His tone, as always when he addressed a subordinate, was brusque to the point of rudeness. “To what do I owe this intrusion, Mr Hazard? I left orders that I was not to be disturbed unless the matter was urgent.”
“You also left instructions, you may recall, sir, for me to report to you when I had seen the prisoner.” Phillip reddened but he held his ground, conscious of Mademoiselle Sophie’s sympathetic gaze and of the warmth of the smile with which she had greeted his unexpected appearance.
“The prisoner?” North exclaimed impatiently. “What are you babbling about, Mr Hazard? What prisoner?”
“A seaman from the Impregnable draft, sir, whom you put under arrest this morning.”
“Ah, yes, of course … you refer to Able-Seaman Hazard are you not? The fellow who came on board drunk …” Captain North settled himself more comfortably in his chair. He glanced at his guests, to make sure that he had their full attention and permitted himself a faint smile but Phillip, sensing instinctively what was to come unless he could prevent it, put in quickly, “The man is an ex-merchant seaman, sir, who chances to have the same surname as I have. That is all I have been able to find out about him, sir, and we do not appear to be related.” He added, greatly daring, “Except that he knew you when you were commanding the Guillemot … er … that’s all, sir. I am sorry to have interrupted your meal.”
He bowed to the two ladies, came briefly to attention and, before the Captain had recovered from his momentary surprise, turned his back on all three of them and swiftly stepped outside. Mademoiselle Sophie called after him, bidding him good night in her shy, charming voice, but Phillip scarcely heard her and his hands were shaking as he closed the door of the cabin firmly behind him.
He had won a small victory, he thought, with a feeling of heady, unaccustomed elation … a very small v
ictory but the first since Captain Thomas North had assumed command of Trojan. He had allowed himself to be publicly humiliated and— whether or not the Captain believed him—he had denied his relationship to his brother Graham, before two unimpeachable witnesses. It would not end there, of course, he had no illusions on that score but … North had been shaken by his mention of the Guillemot. His florid face had paled and, for an unguarded instant, there had been alarm in his eyes and he had not been able to think of a reply having, no doubt, imagined that the story of the Guillemot’s near-mutiny was safely buried in the past.
He had mentioned it on impulse, Phillip thought, but it had had an unexpectedly telling effect on his commander, had silenced him, as nothing ever had before. Now, if he could succeed in getting his brother’s sentence reduced, he would have consolidated his first small victory and … there would be others, if he had the courage to fight for them. Up till now he had accepted North’s right, as Captain, to order his ship as and how he saw fit to do so—he had never questioned that right because his training, and the rigid discipline it imposed, permitted no questions of a superior officer. As First Lieutenant it was his duty to enforce any order his commander issued, however harsh or unjust, however much he might personally regret or disagree with it, however unfortunate the consequences might be.
But, he told himself, there must be no repetition of the Guillemot tragedy, whatever the cost to himself or anyone else. He had to avoid such an outcome where Trojan was concerned … that surely was his first duty? From the deck above he heard the twitter of the boatswain’s mates’ pipe and the watch being called to take in sail, followed by the familiar thud of bare feet on the planking overhead. “All the sail she can carry, day and night,” North had ordered … Phillip smiled grimly to himself in the darkness as he made his way to the gunroom in search of the Surgeon.
CHAPTER THREE
In accordance with their commander’s instructions, the hands turned out to wash decks at seven bells in the Middle Watch. It was still pitch dark and blowing hard from the north-east, the ship running at nine knots under doublereefs, and rolling heavily in a wind-tossed expanse of cold black water. The wretched seamen shivered and grumbled in low voices among themselves as they started on their unwelcome task, doing what they were ordered to do sullenly and without heart.
Phillip, who had turned up with them, blew on his frozen fingers and paced the weather side of the quarterdeck, speaking no more than he could help and endeavouring to shut his ears to the grumbles, which the boatswain’s mates made little attempt to suppress. He sent the men to breakfast as soon as he reasonably could and was glad enough of his own, washing down the unappetising mixture of minced salt-beef and ship’s biscuit with two scalding, well-sweetened cups of strong tea. He had hoped for a brief respite but no sooner had the first pale light of dawn appeared in the eastern sky than the Captain—from the comfort of his sleeping cabin—sent word to the officer of the watch to make sail.
Young Duncan Laidlaw, who had the watch, attempted to set lower topsails and shake out the reefs in her upper canvas but the ship pitched and plunged like a wild thing, heeling so far over to starboard that her main deck guns were awash and the topmen had difficulty in regaining the comparative safety of the upper deck.
They experienced still more when the sails had to be taken again and Phillip had himself to struggle aloft when the foreupper-topsail broke loose and the topmen, daunted by the violently flapping canvas and fearing to lose their footing, failed after several half-hearted attempts to secure it. Under his breathless urgings, as he lay out along the yard, they managed eventually to do so but he was exhausted and soaked to the skin when he returned to his post on the quarterdeck.
The wind abated shortly afterwards and, within another hour when Captain North made his appearance on deck, Trojan was running close-hauled under all the sail he had ordered and logging a brisk 12-½ knots. Having checked her position and the night’s run with the Master, he said abruptly to Phillip, “We have a man to flog before Divisions, have we not, Mr Hazard?”
“Yes, sir.” Fearing that his sudden pallor might betray him, Phillip averted his gaze from the Captain’s but North went on relentlessly, addressing his bent head, “You flinch from witnessing this particular flogging, no doubt?”
“No, sir.” Recovering himself, Phillip faced him with simulated indifference. “I have no reason to flinch from it.”
“Are you sure of that? This man, after all, bears the same name as yourself, does he not?”
“Yes, sir, he does. But as I informed you when I made my report on the man last night, this would seem to be merely a coincidence. He is an ex-merchant seaman.”
“Very well, Mr Hazard, if you insist on these rather unconvincing evasions, there is nothing more I can say. Pipe hands to witness punishment and let us waste no more time. As I intend to commence training exercises aloft with a minimum of delay, you may inform the officers that they will be excused ceremonial dress on this occasion.” The Captain eyed his second-in-command coldly. “For what are you waiting, Mr Hazard? I gave you an order, did I not?”
Phillip did not move. “There is just one matter, sir …” His lips were dry and he passed his tongue over them nervously. “That is to say I—”
“Well?” North challenged irritably. “What is it? Speak up, man, for the love of heaven!”
“After I had seen the prisoner last night, sir, I was concerned about his physical condition. I therefore asked the Surgeon to examine him, with a view to finding out whether he was fit to receive the punishment you had ordered. In the Surgeon’s opinion, sir, he is not fit to receive six dozen lashes. He—”
“On what authority,” the Captain put in wrathfully, “did you have this man examined by the Surgeon, Mr Hazard?”
Phillip continued to meet his commander’s angry gaze, his own unwavering. All fear of the consequences had left him now … he had committed himself, had defied North, and there was no turning back. In any case Surgeon Fraser had promised to back him up and he had expressed some concern over Graham’s persistent coughing. “On my own authority, sir,” he answered quietly.
“Yours, Mr Hazard?”
“Yes, sir. As First Lieutenant, I am responsible not only for the discipline but also for the well-being and fitness of the ship’s company and I do not consider, sir, that I exceeded my authority. It is laid down in Regulations and Instructions for the Medical Officers of Her Majesty’s Fleet, sir, that whenever a seaman is sentenced to be flogged the Surgeon, having examined the man may, at his discretion, advise reduction of the sentence or its postponement if—”
“That will do, Mr Hazard.” Captain North cut him short. “I am familiar with the regulations, I do not require you to remind me of them. I consider that you have grossly exceeded your authority and, I can promise you, this is not the last you will hear about it. Although, of course, in spite of your evasions …” his tone was acid, “one need not look very far in order to discover what impelled you to do so in this case. Blood is thicker than water, it seems … but you will not save your brother from the flogging he deserves by enlisting the Surgeon’s aid, let me assure you.”
“But, sir, you—”
“I’ll thank you to attend to your duties, Mr Hazard,” the Captain interrupted, losing patience. “Pass the word for the Surgeon to report to me immediately. Then have the prisoner brought up and pipe all hands to muster without any more delay.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Phillip passed on these orders, his voice expressionless but his mind in a fever of anxiety. Everything depended on Angus Fraser now, he thought … so long as the Surgeon refused to allow himself to be browbeaten, so long as he kept his word, all would be well. He watched the small, stout figure of the Surgeon emerge from the companion-hatch on the upper deck and come hurrying aft in search of the Captain, and unable from his own position on the lee side of the quarterdeck to hear what passed between them, waited tensely.
Angus Fraser was a man of forty or so
, who had been in civilian practice for the past ten or eleven years, a gruff, taciturn Scot of considerable professional competence. His previous naval service had been in his youth, as an assistant surgeon and, on his own admission, he did not like the Navy and found its discipline unnecessarily harsh. He had accepted his recall from the half-pay list with resignation, though not without complaint, regarding it as his unwelcome but unavoidable duty to serve his country in the event of war and making no secret of the fact that he did not expect to enjoy the experience. He was outspoken in his criticism and, on more than one occasion, he stated uncompromisingly that he disapproved of flogging for minor breaches of discipline but this was the first time he had been called upon to give active expression to his views and … Phillip sighed.
Whilst surgeons and their assistants ranked officially now as wardroom officers, in practice they had little power outside their own, strictly limited sphere and few cared to risk anything in the nature of a trial of strength with the commanders of the ships in which they served. Fraser had seemed willing enough last night to support him in his humanitarian act of defiance, he recalled. Indeed, he had voiced his opinion of North in bitterly critical terms but he was a civilian at heart … a man of peace, wanting no trouble and anxious only for the war to end, so that he might return to his family and his quiet country practice as soon as he could.
Would he, Phillip wondered, when it came to the point, dare to stand up to North if the Captain chose to assert his superior rank and made an issue of the affair? Had he the right, in these particular circumstances, to expect Fraser to keep his promise? Miserably aware that he had not, he looked across to where the two men were standing. They were still talking, North very red of face and obviously angry but the Surgeon, although pale by contrast, appeared quite calm and his hopes rose momentarily as he watched them.
