A Brig of War

by Richard Woodman

  ‘Women,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We’ve got a festering bitch of a woman on board.’

  Chapter Seven

  Vanderdecken’s Curse

  November 1798

  Closing his mind to one problem Drinkwater was unwilling to face another. He was very tired and the implications of Appleby’s remark took several seconds to penetrate his brain. The black-strap coiled round his belly and radiated its warmth through him so that stiff muscles relaxed. But it stimulated his mind and he turned to Appleby. ‘Woman? What the devil d’you mean? We landed ‘em all at the Cape.’

  Appleby shook his head, his jowls flapping lugubriously. ‘You thought you did.’

  Drinkwater swung his legs round and put both elbows on the table. ‘Look man, I saw the bloody boat away from the ship’s side. Big Meg actually smiled at me and I footed a bow at Miss Mary. Your wench was already in the boat when I reached the rail.’

  ‘Exactly! Did she look up?’

  ‘No. Why should she? She wasn’t exactly undergoing a pleasure cruise, I daresay they put gyves on ‘em as soon as they got ashore.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, cully, but that is not the point. Who wrote out the receipt?’

  ‘I did,’ said Drinkwater rising to reach down the ship’s letter book. He flicked over the pages. ‘There!’ He spun the book to face Appleby. The pasted in receipt bore the words ‘Three convicts, ex Mistress Shore, Government Transport, female.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake Harry, quit hazing me. If you’ve a woman on board let’s see her.’ But Appleby, angry and dismayed by the turn of events would not yet produce his evidence.

  ‘That proves nothing, any fool can squiggle a signature and pretend it’s that of a garrison subaltern. All one does is draw up a second one and throw it overboard on the way back to the ship.’

  ‘But that indicates a conspiracy. Damn it, Griffiths would have reported three female convicts to the Governor; Torrington or his men knew there were three of’em. Come on bring the woman in, I’m tired of fencing with words.’ He swallowed the blackstrap.

  ‘Look, Nat, I don’t suppose Torrington gave it a second thought and I daresay the soldiers were a party to it. As for the Governor, who knows what our captain said to him? The Old Man was already feverish and we know His Excellency was annoyed that Griffiths had not called immediately upon arrival . . . who knows what either of them remembered to say during or after their interview? I daresay H.E. was obsessed with Griffiths’s lack of protocol before worrying about whether he had reported two or three convicts. We sailed the following day . . . but one last question. Who took the boat ashore to see those trollops off?’

  Drinkwater’s argument was merely a sympton of his fatigue. Both of them knew Appleby was not lying but Drinkwater was trying to delay the inevitable with logic. It was a spurious argument. ‘Rogers,’ he said resignedly.

  ‘Huh! Now, to reward your exemplary patience I will produce the evidence.’ Appleby rose and left the gunroom. Drinkwater emptied the jug of blackstrap into his mug. The door opened and Appleby returned. Drinkwater looked up. Leaning against the closed door was Catherine Best. Her pinched face was almost attractive, half shadowed in the swaying lantern light. An insolent half-smile curled her mouth while a provocative hip was thrust out in allurement.

  Drinkwater closed his mouth, aware that he had flushed. He was aware too that she knew well the hold she had over them all. It was not difficult to imagine a conspiracy among the hands, an easy woman amongst them would seem like the answer to a seaman’s prayer.

  ‘Where have you been living?’

  ‘She’s been in the cable tier,’ volunteered Appleby.

  ‘That is Lestock’s province.’

  ‘He delegates his rounds of the hold to one of his mates.’

  ‘But I myself was there yesterday . . . no, no, the day before . . .’

  ‘Efficient though you are, Nathaniel, you are an officer of regular habits. It is easy enough to give warning of your coming.’

  Drinkwater nodded. It was all too true, a dreadful nightmare. He looked again at the woman and was suddenly furious. ‘I shall have you flogged!’ he snapped vindictively. ‘Turn Dalziell out of his cabin again and lock this trollop in for the night!’ Appleby turned to take the woman out. She remained for a moment, resisting the hand upon her arm, looking fixedly at Drinkwater. He felt again the colour mounting to his cheeks.

  ‘Get out, damn you!’ he roared, angry at his own weakness. As usual Drinkwater had the morning watch, from four until eight a.m. He woke with the realisation that something was very wrong and the bare two hours sleep that he had enjoyed left him in a foul temper when he reached the deck and realised the nature of his problems. Quilhampton brought him coffee but it did nothing to lighten his mood. The men avoided him, all knowing the mad scheme to carry their own doxy had been discovered by the surgeon and Mr Drinkwater.

  Whilst the watch below melted away and the unhappy culprits in Mr Drinkwater’s watch busied themselves about the decks, the first lieutenant paced up and down. An hour passed before he realised that daylight was upon them, that the sun was above the horizon, revealing a grey-white sea, furrowed and torn by the ferocity of the gale the night before. The wave crests, half a mile apart were already losing their anger as the gale abated, to turn them slowly from breaking seas to crested swells.

  He swept his glance over the shambles of the deck. Luck had been with them again last night. Later he hoped he would find Griffiths surfacing for a lucid moment and could tell him what they had been through. But then he would also have to tell him about the woman Catherine Best, and he was not looking forward to that. He swore to himself. He could not flog the woman alone since all were guilty, all these sheepish seamen who crept round the deck pretending to check the lashings on the pieces of yard. Tregembo passed him and Drinkwater was struck by a feeling of abandonment.

  ‘Tregembo!’

  ‘Zur?’

  ‘Did you know about this woman?’ he asked in a low voice.

  ‘Aye zur.’

  ‘And you didn’t tell me?’

  Tregembo looked up agonised. ‘I couldn’t zur, couldn’t welsh on my mates . . . besides, zur, there was officers involved.’

  Drinkwater bit his lip. Tregembo could no more pass tittle-tattle than he could have favoured Tregembo over the ridiculous flogging business. Nevertheless the apparent disloyalty hurt. ‘Have you lain with her?’

  ‘No, zur!’ Tregembo answered indignantly. ‘I’ve my Susan, zur.’

  ‘Of course . . . I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right, zur . . . you’ve a right to be angry, zur, if you’ll pardon me for so saying.’ He made to move away. Drinkwater detained him.

  ‘Just tell me by whom I was deceived?’

  ‘Zur?’

  ‘Who dressed as the jade in the boat at the Cape?’

  ‘Why Mr Dalziell, zur.’

  Drinkwater closed his gaping mouth. ‘How very interesting,’ he said at last in an icy tone that brought an inner joy to Tregembo. ‘Thank you Tregembo, you may carry on.’

  Tregembo touched his forehead and moved aft, passing the wheel.

  ‘What was he asking you?’ growled the quartermaster apprehensively.

  ‘Only who was tarted up like the woman at the Cape, Josh. And I reckon the buggers’ll see the sparks fly now. He’s got his dander up.’

  Drinkwater took two more turns up and down the deck then he spun on his heel. ‘Mr Quilhampton! Pipe all hands!’

  That would do for a start. The middle watch would be deeply asleep now, damn them, and the members of the first watch had been a-bed too long. If they thought they could pull the wool over the eyes of Nathaniel Drinkwater they were going to have to learn a lesson; and if he could not flog them all then he would work them until sunset.

  The men emerged sleepily. Lestock came up, followed by Rogers. ‘Ah, Mr Lestock, I do not require your presence, thank you.’ The elderly man turned away mutteri
ng. ‘Mr Rogers I desire that you take command of the hands and unrig the broken yard, clear all that raffle away and then get one of those Corsican pines inboard and rig it as a jury yard to reset the spare topsail without delay. Wind’s easing all the time. When you have completed that bring in a second tree and get a party of men under the direction of Mr Johnson to start work with draw knives in shaping up a new yard, better let Johnson choose the spars. We’ll transfer the iron work after that and paint the whole thing before swaying it aloft. Your experience on Hecuba should stand you in good stead.’

  Still fuddled with sleep Rogers could not at first understand what was happening. It dawned on him that it was not much past five a.m. and that he had had hardly any sleep. It was doubtful if he yet knew of Drinkwater’s discovery of Mistress Best or of his part in the conspiracy. ‘Look, damn you Drinkwater, if you think . . .’

  Drinkwater took a step quickly and thrust his face close to Rogers’s. ‘It used to be said that every debt was paid when the main topsail halliards were belayed, Rogers, but it ain’t so. Newton’s third law states that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Now you are about to have that demonstrated to you. You have had your pleasure, you poisonous blackguard, and by God, sir, now you are going to pay for it! Carry on!’ Drinkwater turned contemptuously away and called Mr Quilhampton to his side.

  ‘Fetch my quadrant and the time-keeper from my cabin, take your time, Mr Q. Make two trips. If you drop that chronometer it will be the worse for you.’

  The boy hurried off. Drinkwater was beginning, just beginning, to feel better. He would take a series of sun altitudes in a while and calculate their longitude by chronometer. He was very proud of the chronometer. The convalescing Captain Torrington had been landed with his men at the Cape. The army officer had been most grateful to the commander and gunroom officers of the Hellebore and asked if there was any service he could perform for them. By chance his brother, a civil officer in the service of the East India Company was taking passage home in one of the Indiamen in Table Bay and Torrington intended to return with him to England. His brother had advanced the Captain a considerable sum of money to defray his expenses whilst the Indiamen were at the Cape and he was willing to do his best to purchase some comforts for his benefactors.

  Drinkwater, having missed his opportunity to obtain a timekeeper at Syracuse, knew that John Company’s ships carried them. ‘Sir, if I could prevail upon you to beg a chronometer from the commander of one of the Indiamen we should be eternally obliged to you. You are aware of the nature of our mission and that we were sent on it somewhat precipitately; a chronometer would be of great use.’

  ‘I should regard myself an ingrate if I were not to purchase you one my dear Drinkwater, a few wounds and a clock are a small price to pay to avoid Botany Bay.’ They had laughed heartily at the noble captain as they lowered him into the boat.

  ‘You know I used to deplore the sale of army commissions but when you have a generous and wealthy fellow like that to deal with it don’t seem so bad a system,’ Griffiths had said ironically.

  The following morning the instrument arrived in an exotically smelling teak case. Drinkwater had taken it in charge, not trusting Lestock to wind it daily at the appointed hour. He had confirmed the longitude of Table Bay to within seven minutes of arc and this morning would be the first time they had seen the sun since leaving to run their easting down in the Roaring Forties. The result would make a nice matter for debate when Lestock came below for dinner.

  After Lestock relieved him at eight bells and Drinkwater permitted the hands to cease their labour for half an hour to break their fasts, the first lieutenant sent for the woman. He sat himself down at the gunroom table and made her sit opposite while Appleby passed through into Griffiths’s cabin to tend the commander.

  The door had hardly closed on the surgeon when Drinkwater felt his calf receive a gentle and seductive caress from her leg. Last night, tired and a little drunk he had been in danger of succumbing. The lure of even Catherine’s used body had sent a yearning through him. But this morning was different. His position would not tolerate such licence as the men toiled in expiation above his head. Besides, despite his fatigue, his spirit was repaired and his body no longer craved the solace of poor, plain and desperate Catherine. Daylight did not help her case.

  ‘Last night I threatened to have you flogged. I have decided against that, but if you attempt the seduction of me or a single one of the men I will visit the cat upon your back.’ He saw the initiative fade from her eyes. ‘Have you ever seen a flogging, Catherine?’ he asked coldly.

  She nodded. Drinkwater opened the ship’s muster book, snapped open the inkwell and took up his pen. ‘I am entering you on the ship’s books as a surgeon’s assistant. You will be fed and clothed. If you prove by adhering to the regulations of the ship, that you can carry out your duties I will use my best endeavours to have your sentence remitted by whatever time you serve aboard this ship. I have a little influence through a peer of the realm and it may prove possible, if your services are of a sufficiently meritorous nature, that the remission of the whole of your sentence is not beyond the bounds of possibility.’

  He did not know if such a course was remotely possible but it kindled hope in Catherine’s eyes. She was a creature of the jungle, an opportunist, amoral rather than immoral and yet possessed of sufficient character to have hazed a whole ship’s company. That showed a certain laudable determination, Drinkwater thought. His plan might just work. ‘Will you agree to my conditions? The alternative is to be put in irons indefinitely.’

  ‘Yes, yer honour.’ She lowered her face.

  ‘Look at me Catherine. You must understand that any infringement of the ship’s rules will destroy our agreement.’ She looked up at him then at Appleby who had come from Griffiths’s cabin shaking his head over the captain’s condition. ‘Mr Appleby here will witness your undertaking.’

  ‘I understand yer honour, but . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Well sir,’ she said ingenuously, ‘it’s Mr Jeavons and Mr Davey, sir.’

  ‘The surgeon’s mates?’ She nodded.

  ‘They’re my regulars, like, sir, they’ve come to expect . . . you know . . .’ She looked down again while Drinkwater looked at an Appleby empurpling with rage. ‘Why the damned, festering . . .’ Drinkwater held his hand up.

  ‘I will deal with them Catherine. They will not trouble you again.’ He turned the book round and held the pen out. ‘Make your mark there,’ he pointed to the place but she said indignantly ‘I know, sir, I can read and write.’

  She signed her name with some confidence. ‘Very well, Catherine, now while I read out the men’s names do you tell me with whom you have slept.’ He began to read. She did not know all their names but the percentage of the crew who had visited her was large. But neither was it surprising. It was even possible that this bedraggled creature possessed a gentleness absent from the lives of the seamen and that it was for more than lust that they came to her.

  ‘It must stop now, Catherine.’ She nodded, while Appleby, with a hideous implication said, ‘I will look into this matter.’

  Drinkwater dismissed Catherine and sent for Appleby’s mates. It was certain that they had been instrumental in suggesting Catherine dupe the brig’s officers to their own advantage. Their plan had misfired when they discovered that many more of the hands would have to be a party to it and that those men would soon come calling for their share of the trophy. Besides, Catherine had to be found employment under supervision. Appleby was the only trustworthy person who did not have to keep a watch, and as the woman showed an aptitude for medical work she would be best employed with him.

  It was the work of a moment to disrate the surgeon’s mates. They protested they held their warrants from the College of Surgeons, that they were gentlemen unused to the labour of seamen. But being alone in the Southern Ocean had its advantages. There was neither court of appeal nor College of Surgeons south of
the equator and they were soon turned to on deck where the starters of the bosun’s mates were stinging their backsides with a venom spurred by a gradual realisation that the hands were being worked like dogs because of a certain lady of easy morals between decks. That her two pimps had been turned among them was a matter for some satisfaction.

  Drinkwater concluded his morning’s work by also appointing Tyson surgeon’s assistant. He too could write, they had discovered, and Drinkwater was amused to find Appleby growling over the radical alterations to his department. ‘My dear fellow,’ said Drinkwater summoning Meyrick from the pantry with some blackstrap, ‘you have always fancied your chances as a philosopher, now you have the most literate department in the ship. You will be able to plead the benefit of clergy for all of ’em. Now do be a good fellow and allow me to compute this longitude before Lestock comes below.’

  At noon Drinkwater called the hands aft. His announcement to them was brief and to the point. The woman, Catherine Best, he told them, had been apprehended. The deception against the Regulations for the Good Order of His Majesty’s Navy on board His Britannic Majesty’s Brig of War Hellebore was at an end. Although it verged upon the mutinous by virtue of its very nature as ‘a combination’, in the effective absence of the captain, he had decided that he could not flog the woman without inflicting the penalty upon them all. He held them all culpable, however, and would punish all of them by a stoppage of grog, to be indefinite against their good behaviour. The groan that met this announcement convinced Drinkwater that it was the correct measure. The deprivation of jack’s grog was a punishment incomprehensible to landsmen. As for the woman, he continued, she was now part of the ship’s company. Any man found lying with her would receive the same punishment as that prescribed by the Articles of War for that unnatural act whereby one man had knowledge of another. He did not need to remind them that the punishment for sodomy was death.

  When he had finished he sent them to their dinner. ‘By heaven, Nathaniel, that was a rare device,’ muttered Appleby admiringly, ‘what a splendid pettifogging notion. Worthy of Lincoln’s Inn.’