It took a few moments to fish Paine back out of the launch which was now bobbing alongside again. He reported to the trio of grave-faced officers on the quarterdeck and was asked for an explanation.
‘Whilst you lay in Santa Cruz, Mr Paine, were you not aware that Mr Ashton had given orders to the effect that no one should go ashore?’ Drinkwater asked.
‘Well, sir,’ Paine replied, ‘yes and no …’
‘What the devil … ?’ began Ashton, but Drinkwater put out a hand to stop him going further.
‘That is too equivocating, sir,’ Drinkwater said, his voice hard and level. ‘Kindly explain yourself
‘Well, sir, I understood Mr Ashton to have said that the boat’s crew were not to go ashore. When Shaw asked me if, on behalf of the men, he and Ticknell might not run up to the town to buy some fresh bread, I consulted Sergeant McCann and he felt that it would not be contrary to the spirit of your orders if just two men went. The boat’s crew had a tarpaulin muster …’
‘What d’you mean ”would not be contrary to the spirit of my orders”?’ demanded Ashton, ‘you knew damned well I meant no one could go ashore.’
Paine stood his ground. ‘I understood you did not want shore-leave granted, sir, but the men could not desert and had taken money on trust from their ship-mates. I did not see the harm …’
‘Very well, gentlemen.’ Drinkwater silenced the midshipman and strove to keep the exasperation out of his voice. ‘It is clear this matter cannot be resolved quickly. It is also clear that we cannot hang about here dithering. Have the launch swung inboard again; we will take Mr Gilbert to Angra ourselves, and the sooner the better. Do you pass word to Mr Marlowe, Mr Ashton; Mr Paine, I shall speak to you later. My Hyde, thank you.’
Ashton seemed to hesitate a moment, but then the officers broke away and Drinkwater crossed the deck to where Gilbert awaited his departure, masking his curiosity in a thinly veiled attempt at indifference.
‘My apologies, Mr Gilbert, I have changed my mind; we shall run you to Terceira in the ship.’
‘Thank you, Captain,’ Gilbert replied, smiling, ‘I cannot pretend that a long passage in an open boat is much to my liking, though I did not wish to inconvenience you.’
‘That was most considerate of you.’ Drinkwater returned the smile. ‘My chief anxiety is that I do not miss any rendezvous of enemy ships by being absent from my station. The whole thing’, he confessed, ‘is something of a hazard.’
‘Is such a rendezvous likely now the war is over?’
‘Is the war over, Mr Gilbert? I wish I was so sure. Anyway, the die is cast.’
Both men watched while the tackles were hooked on to the launch again. Drinkwater intensely disliked giving orders and counter-orders, for nothing created distrust between officers and men more than such obvious uncertainty in the former.
‘I beg your pardon, Captain Drinkwater,’ said Gilbert, ‘but does your change of heart have anything to do with the little incident ashore?’
‘What incident?’
‘Well, it is none of my affair, but I observed some breach of discipline which gave rise to your Lieutenant Ashton remonstrating with two of your sailors. They appeared to have offended in some way by purchasing bread …’
‘Bread?’
‘Yes, they had a bag apiece, which Lieutenant Ashton kicked into the harbour. He seems a rather headstrong and intemperate young man.’
‘Was there no liquor involved?’ Drinkwater asked.
‘There may have been a few bottles of wine,’ Gilbert replied, ‘but my chief impression was of a quantity of bread.’
‘Thank you, Mr Gilbert. Perhaps you would like to make yourself as comfortable as possible in my cabin.’
‘That is most kind of you, Captain. I can assure you that your cabin will be luxurious compared with the bilges of your launch,’ Gilbert said, smiling.
The overnight passage east-south-east towards Terceira, cost Drinkwater the remains of his equanimity. Already consumed by anxiety and speculation about the sudden appearance of the Gremyashchi, this unwanted diversion of almost two hundred miles to the eastward was a sore trial. Had he not so desperately wanted news of the whereabouts of Bonaparte, he would have returned Gilbert to Santa Cruz, but at least providence had ensured that Andromeda had arrived off Flores at the same time that the English consul had been visiting the island, and they had not had to resort to communicating with a Portuguese vice-consul who, whatever assurance Drinkwater had given Ashton, while perfectly reliable, would not have been so capable of supporting an informed, speculative debate.
However, the presence of the Gremyashchi confirmed the veracity of Hortense’s intelligence, and the action of Rakov had clearly been as intimidatory as his orders allowed him. But while the appearance of the Russian frigate removed a major doubt in Drinkwater’s mind, it caused another: Rakov’s purposeful withdrawal to the north and west suggested he too was to rendezvous with the Antwerp squadron’, and while he was doing this, Andromeda was waltzing off to the eastwards with a passenger!
As night shrouded the ship, Drinkwater paced the quarterdeck angry and frustrated, feeling the advantage he had so assiduously cultivated being thrown away with every cable Andromeda sailed towards the eastern Azores. In his heart he was doubly annoyed with Lieutenant Ashton.
It was, Drinkwater concluded, a mean thought to ascribe his current woes to the young officer, but he was meanly inclined that evening, reluctant to go down to his cabin which he would have to share with Gilbert, yet irritated by his tumbling thoughts which kept him pacing and fidgeting about the quarterdeck. What was he to make of this damnable business at Santa Cruz? It would have been a silly incident, he had no doubt, but on the one hand lay the argument for order and discipline, and upon the other that for toleration and humanity. And he, as commander, amid his other preoccupations, was obliged to reconcile the essentially irreconcilable.
He paced up and down, only vaguely aware that the watch was about to change with a flurry of activity, the flitting of dark shapes about the quarterdeck, a shuffle of figures around the helm partially lit by the dim glow from the binnacle. He sensed, rather than saw Marlowe on deck, engaged in discussing something with the shorter, slightly stooped figure of Birkbeck. It was then that the idea struck Drinkwater.
He stopped pacing, turned to windward and barked a short, monosyllabic laugh. Coming on deck late, just as eight bells struck, Midshipman Dunn caught sight of the captain and heard the odd sound, stored it away to add to the cockpit’s fund of stories about the eccentricity of Old Nat. As for Drinkwater, he turned on his heel, crossed the deck and confronted the first lieutenant. It was too dark by now to see the expression of satisfaction upon his face.
‘Mr Marlowe, may I have a word with you?’
‘Of course, sir. As a matter of fact, I wanted to speak with you.’
‘Oh, what about?’
‘I have just been telling the master here, I think I have located the leak.’
‘That is very satisfactory, at least I hope it is. Is the matter serious?’
‘Serious enough: it’s a dockyard job, but we may be able to do something to reduce it.’
‘Does it compromise our present situation?’
‘Not as long as we have men to man pumps, no, sir, but it is likely to get worse. I’m afraid the leak is caused by devil-bolts.’
‘God’s bones,’ Drinkwater swore quietly. The dockyard practice of making repairs with short and inadequate screw-bolts had once been common. It was a mark of the corruption of a great public service, the indolence of its overseers who grew fat on the myriad minor economies they practised widely, and their indifference to the fate of the ships of war placed in their hands for refitting. It was widely believed in the sea-service that ships had foundered in heavy weather owing to their working in a seaway, their planking springing because it was not properly secured to the framework of the ribs.
The loss of HMS Blenheim in the Indian Ocean, homeward bound from the Hoog
hly with Admiral Sir Thomas Troubridge on board, was attributed to this cause and the resulting scandal had, it was generally thought, ended this particular dockyard malpractice. Of course, it was impossible to say when the bolts now causing Andromeda’s leak had been fitted. Probably some time ago. The slow decomposition of the iron and its infection of the surrounding oak progressively weakened any fastening, even when payed and covered with sheets of anti-fouling copper, but a short bolt, with insufficient of its screwed shank penetrating the futtock behind the planking, would deteriorate and spring within a few years, and such bolts were cheaper and more easily fitted substitutes than the effective oak trenails or heavy copper bolts.
The news somewhat dimmed Drinkwater’s satisfaction in having resolved his earlier problem, but it was at least satisfactory to know the cause, and neither problem would vanish unless something were to be done about each of them.
‘Well gentlemen, better the devil you know, I suppose.’ This little witticism was greeted by respectful chuckles. ‘Perhaps you will have a look at the area tomorrow, Mr Birkbeck?’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
‘There is another matter though, Mr Marlowe,’ Drinkwater went on, ‘one that I’d be obliged to you for a moment of your time to discuss.’
‘Yes, of course, sir.’
‘I’ll take my leave then, sir,’ said Birkbeck.
‘Yes. Goodnight, Mr Birkbeck.’
Drinkwater led Marlowe across the deck to the weather rail where they stood staring to windward, out of earshot of the men at the helm.
‘I don’t know if you are aware of it, but there was some sort of incident at Santa Cruz today. I gather Ashton left orders that no one was to go ashore, then two men went into the town for provisions and Ashton accused Sergeant McCann of disobedience.’
‘I had heard something of the matter. Hyde was rather inflamed about it; he had heard McCann’s side of things and said Paine was in command of the boat.’
‘Yes, I had gathered that too. Ashton seems to have regarded his instruction as explicit and all-embracing, which is undoubtedly what was intended. Nevertheless, McCann seems to be implicated and Ashton is demanding a flogging for him. I expect Mr Paine was prevailed upon to release two men to get some fresh bread on the grounds that two men did not constitute a boat’s crew.’
‘And the two men brought back some bottles of wine as well as bread,’ added Marlowe.
‘Yes, I think you have the scene in your mind’s eye. Ashton, of course, painted the picture of a foraging expedition intent on acquiring liquor. The fault, of course, lies with Paine, which is unfortunate, and Ashton no doubt put fuel on the flames with his eagerness to punish the defiance to his order. This, I imagine, is where McCann got involved.’
‘I heard from Hyde that Ashton called McCann, a “Yankee bugger”.’
‘A Yankee bugger?’
‘McCann’s from Loyalist American stock, sir,’ Marlowe explained, ‘like Admiral Hallowell.’
‘Was McCann provoked?’ Drinkwater asked quickly.
‘I don’t know,’ Marlowe replied. ‘Knowing Ashton,’ he paused, ‘well, who knows? Probably.’
‘That is what I want you to find out, Frederic. I want you to hold an enquiry tomorrow. We can send Frey in with the boat taking Gilbert ashore and you shall gather evidence in the wardroom. Report to me when you have concluded … by tomorrow evening at the latest, by which time we shall, I hope, be resuming our station off Flores. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ said Marlowe.
‘It’s another chance, Frederic, to rid yourself of this man’s influence.’
‘He may see it as something else.’
‘He may see it how he likes; I am instructing you to carry out this duty and you are the first lieutenant of the ship. Whatever complexion Mr Ashton may wish to put upon the case is quite irrelevant, but it will do you no harm either way. Oh, and by the bye, either way I want the matter examined with scrupulous fairness.’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Marlowe.
‘That way any opinion Ashton may have to the contrary will be conscionably groundless.’
The wardroom presented an untypical appearance next morning, for Marlowe had ordered the table cleared completely and all personal items, which in the usual run of events would have cluttered the place, removed into the cabins of the individual officers. The announcement of this requirement was made at breakfast to which all, except for Frey, the officer of the watch, were summoned. The usually degenerately homely room now took on a forbidding appearance.
‘What’s afoot?’ Hyde asked, aware that some sort of effort was required on his part and that his entire day was being set awry at an early moment by this disruption of routine.
‘I am charged with examining the circumstances surrounding the incident which occurred on the mole at Santa Cruz yesterday …’ began Marlowe, only to be interrupted by an incredulous Ashton who rose and asked:
‘You are what?’
‘Oh do sit down Ashton,’ said Hyde laconically, ‘and pray don’t be too tiresome, I have other things to do.’
‘The day you actually accomplish them will be witness to a damned miracle,’ Ashton snapped unpleasantly. ‘I asked a question and I demand an answer.’
‘I think, Josiah,’ Marlowe cut in quickly, ‘you should heed the advice you have just been given. You shall demand nothing, and sit down at once.’ Marlowe took no further interest in Ashton and turned to Hyde. ‘I wish you to sit with me, Hyde. We will commence our examination at two bells; Mr Birkbeck, I should be obliged if you would relieve Ashton of his watch this forenoon, in order that we can carry out this duty without delay. He may substitute for you after noon.’
‘Very well, Mr Marlowe.’ Birkbeck drew his watch from his pocket and stared at it a moment, then he rose, went briefly into his cabin, reappeared and went on deck.
As soon as he had gone, Ashton began to expostulate. ‘Look here, Freddy, is this some kind of a joke, because if it is …’
‘It’s no joke, Josiah. I’d be obliged if you would clear that boat-cloak and bundle of papers and remain in your cabin until called.’
‘By God, I’ll…!’
Ashton stood up again with such force that he cracked his head on the deck-beams above and ducked in reaction with a further torrent of oaths. Then, seeing he was cornered, he snatched up his cloak and papers, and withdrew into his cabin, shutting the door with a bang.
‘Knocked some sense into himself at last,’ remarked Hyde with a grin as Frey entered the wardroom, his hair tousled.
‘Hullo, I hope you lubbers haven’t done with breakfast yet; I’m ravenous. Sam!’ The messman having been summoned, Frey was soon spooning up a quantity of burgoo and molasses, drinking coffee and pronouncing himself a new man, whereupon Marlowe opened the proceedings by summoning Ashton from his cabin. The third lieutenant was quizzed as to the exact nature of his orders and Hyde noted down his reply. He was then told to cool his heels in his cabin, to which order he resentfully complied, giving Marlowe a malevolent glare.
Midshipman Paine was then called and permitted to sit at the table. He admitted having been asked by the boat’s crew if they could nominate two of their number to obtain some fresh bread.
‘Why do you suppose the boat’s crew wished to purchase bread, Mr Paine?’ Marlowe asked.
‘Because they were hungry, sir, and could smell fresh-baked bread from a bakery across the harbour.’
‘And how did you think they were going to pay for this bread, the scent of which so fortuitously wafted across the harbour?’ queried Hyde.
‘Why sir, from money which they had brought with them.’
‘Isn’t that a little unusual?’ asked Marlowe.
‘That they had money, sir?’
‘Yes.’
Paine shrugged, ‘I didn’t think so, sir. I believe it was no more than a few pence.’
‘Did any of the marines contribute?’
‘I’m not sure, sir. I don’t think so.�
��
‘Where was Sergeant McCann at this time?’
‘He had posted himself on the beach as one of the sentinels, sir.’
‘So he was not party to any of the discussion in the boat.’
Paine shook his head. ‘No, sir, though it wasn’t really a discussion.’
‘Did you think there was any ulterior motive in the men’s request, Mr Paine?’
‘You mean … ?’
‘I mean, did it, or did it not occur to you that the men might have come ashore with ready money in order to buy liquor?’ Marlowe asked.
Paine flushed. ‘Well, sir, yes, it did occur to me, but the smell of the bread persuaded me that…’ The midshipman’s voice tailed off into silence.
‘How many men contributed money towards this bread?’ Marlowe enquired.
‘I can’t be absolutely certain, sir, but about a dozen.’
There was a brief pause while Hyde made his notes and then he looked up and asked, ‘Did you make a contribution towards the bread, Mr Paine?’
Paine coughed with embarrassment and his Adam’s apple bobbed uncomfortably. ‘Yes,’ he murmured.
‘Speak up, damn it,’ prompted Hyde, dipping his pen.
Paine coughed again and answered in a clearer voice, ‘Yes sir.’
And it was bread you were investing in, I take it?’
‘Oh yes, sir.’
‘Why?’
‘I was hungry, sir.’ A thought appeared to occur to the midshipman and he added, ‘I was jolly hungry, and I thought the men must be, too, since they had had a long hard pull from the ship, sir.’
‘So you thought that justified disobeying Mr Ashton’s order?’
Paine’s mouth twisted with unhappiness. ‘No, not exactly, sir …’
‘Then do enlighten us, Mr Paine,’ pressed Marlowe, ‘what exactly you did think.’
Paine relinquished the role of martyr and confessed: ‘I thought if only two men went, they would soon be back.’
‘Soon be back… ?’ prompted Marlowe, his face expectant.
The Shadow of the Eagle Page 19
