Nobody’s Child

by Andrew Wareham

  “Our losses were few in number, sir, and the Chinese paid dearly for their temerity in attacking us and the convoy escort.”

  “Very good!”

  No doubt Arbuthnot hoped we might have sunk the pirate chief he and Ainslie had been in contact with.

  “I must imagine that we might be able to find other, similar commissions for Jenny Dawes, sir.”

  Jerry explained that he was to retire from the freebooting life. He was for England and the shore.

  “And the ship, Mr Marker?”

  “I would hope to sell her, sir. She might suit the needs of a country merchant, having a pair of good holds – well, one at the moment, the Indian men having their accommodation in the other.”

  “She carries a heavy crew and water for them for a good six months, if needs be. Abundantly suitable for a trade in a high value cargo that is yet small in bulk. I would not be surprised if several of the wealthier merchants bid for her. With your permission, I shall spread the word that she is for sale. What of her crew, Mr Marker?”

  “We have yet to discuss that, sir. Perhaps it will be easier to do so when we know if the ship will be bought and if the new owner will offer for their services.”

  That, it seemed, made very good sense.

  “Beg the men to remain aboard for the while, Mr Marker. Things happen quickly in Bombay and we may have a future for them in a few days.”

  “If they are to return to England, must they pay for their passage or will they be permitted to sign on one way as crew?”

  There was always a shortage of skilled big ship seamen in Bombay, it seemed. An Indiaman could sign on inshore fishermen by the thousand but able-bodied seamen who had sailed the oceans were rare beasts and to be cosseted.

  “A passage one way is easily come by, Mr Marker, and paying as much as eight pounds a month to them.”

  “Good money, sir. They will be pleased to hear that, those who will go home – and I do not know, cannot even guess, how many that will be. I believe Mr Jackson here wishes to remain in the East and may well seek a post as supercargo, or as a leader of a party of fighting men, if such is required. He is amply qualified in both roles, despite his tender age.”

  Mr Arbuthnot achieved a dry chuckle and told me I no longer looked so very tender. I was relieved to hear it.

  “Is that the evidence of a wound I see in your hair, Mr Jackson?”

  “The merest nick, sir. A spear blade, I believe, that almost passed me by.”

  “I trust the wielder of the spear came to regret his endeavour.”

  “My man, sir, who stands at my shoulder, was quite upset and made a most efficient job of him.”

  “Good, good! That is how it must be – those who dare to attack a sahib must be granted little time to regret their error.”

  We left Arbuthnot to contact Ainslie and retired to the waterfront inn where we had taken a drink when last in Bombay.

  “I suspect Mr Arbuthnot will have a proposal for you, Giles – a job that is, I think the white lock of hair has made you too martial for his tastes now. Think carefully of any offer he makes. He is too important to offend and may well have a good job in any case.

  We had a gin and availed ourselves of the other services, female, that the inn offered, having been long at sea.

  Jerry called the men together when we returned to the ship.

  “I am to sell the ship, lads. You have several choices. I shall be able to make our pay out within a few days, by the end of the week at latest. First indications are that a share will come in at eighty pounds.”

  They nodded and grunted mild approval. Had we remained in business for another two years, as had been the original intent, then we would have been looking at four or five times as much. It was not too bad.

  “The Company tells me that any man who wishes can sign on, one way, on an Indiaman at a respectable wage – the better part of fifty pounds for the voyage.”

  That was good money for a merchant seaman and offered the chance of signing on for another round voyage out of London if they wished.

  “If you prefer, I hope to sell the ship to a merchant in the China trade, and he will need a crew, and fighting men besides. If that sale comes off, then you will be given first choice to sign on and that includes your men, Jamadar Rao.”

  The bulk of the men cocked their ears up at that – it sounded good to them.

  “Should you rather, then I shall ask around the country merchants here to discover if any need men ashore in Bombay. John Company is always seeking gunners for its artillery regiment, which is manned only by Europeans. There are several possibilities for work ashore here, some of them giving the chance for you to rise in the world.”

  I saw Master Gunner speaking earnestly to Jerry afterwards, wondered what he had in mind. The two went ashore together and Jerry returned on his own.

  “Senior Sergeant to a battery of siege guns, Giles. Master Gunner is delighted at the opportunity and rather expects to rise in the field. There are small wars most years and he can expect to march out after the Monsoon in search of martial glory. A few years may see him as the officer in charge of one of the arsenals, in his element and no doubt with a lady at his side.”

  I was glad for him. He was a strange man, distant always but not unkind. I was pleased he was to do well. I had learned from him and he had been glad to teach what he knew.

  “What we goin’ to do, Master Giles?”

  “Wait until Jenny Dawes is sold, Fred. That shouldn’t be too many days. If she goes to a merchant in the China trade, I may be invited to stay on as supercargo or officer in charge of the sea-soldiers aboard her. That should pay well, and I like this life.”

  “It’ll do me, Master Giles.”

  It went without saying that he would remain at my side.

  “If not, well, I don’t rightly know, Fred, but there are opportunities here and we have a few weeks to look around to find them.”

  He said no more, content to follow in the knowledge that I would look after him.

  It was a responsibility, but not a burden. I have always known that I owed more to Fred than he did to me – he risked his life repeatedly for me. I am sure I owe him my life four times over, and I saved him only twice that I can think of – and that makes it clear enough who is in debt!

  I never forget a debt - and have generally paid off those I owe. I had made a little vow to myself that if ever I returned to Canton then I would try to discover the name of the leader of the pirate fleet and pay him back for Captain Marker.

  I saw him die, before too many months were gone, though I could hardly claim him as my victim.

  Four days and we were called back to Mr Arbuthnot, found him in benign mood.

  “Mr Marker and Mr Jackson, a pleasure, gentlemen. I have an offer of two thousand and two hundred pounds for your ship, sir, and her guns and stores as found this day. Cash in hand.”

  Jerry accepted on the spot.

  “Mr Ainslie is the purchaser, Mr Marker. He would wish to use her on the run to Canton initially and with her existing crew, as many of them as will stay, paid a wage on her. That is to include the Indian men.”

  “I will tell the men, sir. What is the rate?”

  “For an able-bodied seaman, seven pounds a month, at sea and in harbour equally.”

  I knew that was good money – most merchant seamen were paid for the voyage, which did not include time in port in between sailings.

  “Eighty-four pounds for the calendar year, sir?”

  “Exactly. Plus rations, of course, all at the rates they are used to.”

  “What of Jamadar Rao’s people, sir?”

  “One half that for them, with proportionate increase for their officers. Good money indeed.”

  I knew that in the little public house we used, a meal and a couple of gins apiece came in at sixpence, and that was not cheap. Living cost little in Bombay. A man who worked for five years at forty-two pounds could go back to his village as a king, or something clo
se.

  Later I discovered that the man in question would become a money-lender, putting out shillings at an interest of fifty per cent and more, becoming the effective master of thousands of the peasants.

  “For you, Mr Jackson, Mr Ainslie has authorised me to offer you a place as Ship’s Corporal, in charge of all of the fighting men. It will pay two hundred pounds a year and a share of each voyage that will amount to more than that by a long way.”

  I was no seaman and a country merchant’s ship needed no supercargo. Ship’s Corporal suited me well. Despite the title, the holder was accepted as an officer in those few vessels that needed the position. The Navy had no use for such a one, the Marines taking his function; most merchantmen did not carry a fighting crew. Where the post existed, the ship was in the line of sailing dangerous waters or of turning her hand to privateering – in either case, making a substantial profit. As Jenny Dawes was to run to Canton it seemed most likely that she would be carrying opium and probably landing it dangerously to the smugglers rather than through the almost legitimate opium hulks moored out in the bay.

  “I shall be pleased to accept, Mr Arbuthnot.”

  “Excellent, Mr Jackson. Mr Ainslie will arrange to see you later in the week, sir. For the while, you are entered on his pay-roster as of this day.”

  “My man as well, sir?”

  “Naturally, Mr Jackson.”

  Mr Ainslie was a typical country merchant, Scottish and of a poor but not illiterate background. It seemed that all of the men, and no few of the women, in Scotland learned their letters – which was strange to me, used to the English system in which the great bulk of the poor saw no schooling at all. He had gone south on a coaster and then sailed out from London, in what capacity he did not say, and had reached Bombay during a time of turbulence and had signed on as a soldier in a volunteer regiment. The normal had happened – he had picked up loot at the intaking of a town and had returned at the end of a campaign able to set up as a trader in a small way. Shrewdness had turned him into a very rich man.

  “I have my money tucked away, Mr Jackson, and more than many, but there is no going home to Aberdeen for me. My wife and family would not fit in there.”

  His wife was half-caste, like the ship’s boys, one of the growing community of those who belonged neither to India nor to Britain. She was a handsome lady and had given Ainslie two sons and three daughters, the youngest of them, Sunitra, no more than ten years, a bright little imp forever dancing and dashing around the factory warehouses and offices. A pretty little girl, even then, was Sunitra; I saw her frequently in the few weeks before we sailed as I had to confer with Ainslie on most days.

  It seemed to me that we might be working the inshore waters off Canton with some frequency, and that was an area full of pirates and the occasional customs officer who was often no more than a pirate in disguise. We needed some sort of equaliser – a weapon that would compensate for our relative lack of numbers. Talking with Master Gunner over two years, and seeing his Pale Ale bottles, had given me the idea of shipping a hundred or two of grenadoes – round cast-iron bottles, the size of two fists, filled with gunpowder and with a stopper and fuse. Light the fuse and throw, carefully, in the right direction and the grenadoe would shower sharp iron fragments and fire all round. Thrown onto a junk, they might do a lot of no-good.

  As Ainslie wittily pointed out, they did not grow on trees and were hardly to be found in the market. John Company had several hundreds in its arsenals, being in the habit of using them when assaulting walls or trenches. Mr Arbuthnot was approached and made them available to us at sixpence apiece, powder and fuse included.

  “Hardly worth it to him, is it, sir? A mere fifty shillings for the hundred?”

  Mr Ainslie shook his head wisely.

  “Many a mickle makes a muckle, my old father was used to say to me, Mr Jackson. ‘Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves’, which is a very true observation. If the good man makes merely fifty shillings every week of the year then he will put one hundred and thirty pounds English into his bank account, and that will build up over the years of service that remain to him. Never sneer at a bawbie, Mr Jackson, for a pound is made of only forty of them!”

  I do not attempt to reproduce that whining Low Scots accent – it grated with me then and since. I am sure that the bulk of Scots only assume it to irritate the English. In my case, they are very successful.

  I saw the grenadoes stored in the gunner’s room and bought in two extra barrels of powder to fill them, as they took about a half of a pound apiece. Ninepence each, I remember old Ainslie saying, his heart bleeding for the silvers leaving his cashbox.

  “And the cost of the match, Mr Ainslie, for I must buy the best for them. No sense in spending so much money if they will not explode when required.”

  He was mean with his money, but he was a businessman and knew that he must speculate to accumulate – as he repeatedly told me.

  “Ye are not to be wasteful with the grenadoes, Mr Jackson, but ye must use them as is needed – for there is no gain to buying them if they are not to be used.”

  I seized the opportunity to enquire whether he might not wish to regun Jenny Dawes.

  “The six pounder long guns, Mr Ainslie, are of small value against the junk. They will not smash her timbers nor yet knock down numbers of men. The nine pounder chaser is smaller than one might wish.”

  “Aye, but the cost of greater guns would not be small, and one must ask whether she could carry such.”

  “Not long guns, sir, of a certainty. The chase gun could be replaced by a long brass twelve pounder – very accurate at three parts of a mile and carrying a punch, one might say. For the six pounders, I would replace them with a round dozen of cannonades – we could cut the extra ports and line them with zinc sheets, the barrels being so very short. With the two already aboard, that would give a broadside of seven to fire one hundred and twenty-six pounds of grape at fifty yards. I venture to suggest that a single such broadside would account for the occupants of any junk, and they reload quickly.”

  Mr Ainslie was no fool – he could appreciate my argument, which of course, biased me in favour of his being clever.

  “Probably, Mr Jackson. I should not take that decision but rather leave it to your new captain, who is to join you tomorrow. I know Mr Partridge from many years and he has one of my country ships the while. He has a family here in Bombay and has been taking his ease in their company these few weeks. He has recruited two mates to his own satisfaction, being men who also know these waters but are not in the way of fighting as much as you have been. The four of you make up the officers of the ship. You are each paid at your rate but also have your shares, which have now been decided.”

  I looked hopeful.

  “I have discovered the habit of private ships of war and will make a copy of it. The profit of each voyage will be divided into one thousand parts. One hundred to the captain and fifty each to the two mates and yourself. That leaves five hundred to me and two hundred and fifty which I have decided will be split equally between every other man aboard, and the boys. It is a lot to pay, but should, I hope, encourage zeal upon the part of all. There is, by the way, no need to tell the men the precise details of who gets what.”

  I was more than hopeful of making a substantial sum. We could realistically expect to make two voyages a year, perhaps five in two years, and there might well be more than a hundred pounds for me on each. With a little of private enterprise as well, there might be more. We could well take a sweep down through the islands off the Papues on one of the return voyages and might easily come across a trading junk there. That, of course, would depend on just how enterprising a fellow Captain Partridge might be.

  I met the captain next day and was not impressed with him at first sight.

  He was fat – not stocky or slightly overweight, but undoubtedly adipose. He had a belly and a great drooping arse, and at least three chins. He wheezed as he walked up the bro
w and onto the deck of Jenny Dawes.

  I saluted and stood stiff and still in respect. I had the greeting of him for being the most senior aboard, Jerry and the mate having gone ashore for good.

  “Good morning, sir. Welcome aboard. I am Giles Jackson, Ship’s Corporal.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr Jackson. I am Captain Partridge, of course. Our two mates, Mr Burton and Mr Taylor, will be here within the hour. Both are conferring with ships’ chandlers at the moment.”

  He shook my hand, all remarkably formal and condescending.

  “Mr Ainslie tells me you wish to change our guns, Mr Jackson. Do you know if it is possible to source them in Bombay?”

  That was a two-edged question – if I knew where to get the guns, I might well have taken a kickback from the suppliers, gold in my pocket.

  “I have not enquired, sir. I would imagine that I would wish to speak to Mr Arbuthnot of the Company. Mr Ainslie knows him well.”

  Captain Partridge showed satisfied – I was honest, until I showed otherwise.

  “I would agree. I would also wish to add more swivels, Mr Jackson. Very handy for clearing our own deck if pirates get onto it. We shall be working inshore to an extent. That means short-range work, with smaller guns. I am told that you already have six pistols for each of your fighting men, and they have a musket or musketoon and a blade. Very good. We shall certainly get rid of these six pounders – as you say, and as my experience tells me, they are of little value against a junk full of armed men. We will get carpenters aboard at soonest and make the change within days. Easy to get hold of skilled tradesmen in Bombay – they proliferate! We are to sail at the end of next week. How is your gunner’s room for stores?”

  “Well up, sir. Master Gunner, who has gone to the Company Artillery, was very good as an armourer.”

  “Excellent. I have spoken to Mr Ainslie and he is to discover an Indian man, an artificer, who will take over as armourer, under your orders, in the gunner’s room. There are some remarkably skilled men to be found in Bombay, you know.”