The Corvette (36 page)

‘Belay that Hill!' He indicated the spanker. ‘Brail up the spanker! Forrard there! Mr Comely! Foretopmast staysail sheets to windward . . .' His voice cracked with shouting but he hailed
Nimrod
.

‘
Nimrod! Nimrod
'hoy! Back your main and mizen tops'ls, Mr Walmsley, those whalemen that help you to be pardoned . . .' It was a crazy, desperate idea and relied for its success on a swifter reaction than the
Requin
's captain could command. Drinkwater waited in anxious impatience, his temper becoming worse by the second. He raised his glass several times and studied the
Requin
, each time expecting to see something different but all he could distinguish with certainty was that the big privateer was drifting down on them. And then
Melusine
and her prize began to turn again, swinging slowly round, rolling and grinding together as the continuing wind built up the sea.

The katabatic squall had steadied to a near gale and swept the smoke away. The sun still shone from a cloudless sky although its setting could not be far distant. The altered attitude of the ships had silenced their gunfire and the air was filled now with the scream of wind in rigging and the groaning of the locked ships.

Drinkwater shook his head to clear it of the persistent ringing that the recent concussion of the guns had induced and raised his speaking trumpet again.

‘Larboard guns! Gun captains to lay their pieces at the centre window of the enemy's stern. Load canister on ball. Fire on the command and then independently!'

He saw Quilhampton in the waist acknowledge and wondered what had become of Gorton. He raised his glass, aware that Mount was still beside him awaiting the instructions he was in the process of giving when the squall hit them.

‘Any orders, sir?' Mount prompted.

Drinkwater did not hear him. He was watching
Melusine
's swing and waiting for the raised arms that told him his cannon were ready. The last gun captain raised his hand. He waited a little longer. A quick glance along the gun breeches showed them at level elevation. They traversed with infinite slowness as
Nimrod
and
Melusine
cart-wheeled . . . Now, by God!

‘Fire!'

Noise, smoke and fire spewed from the ten six-pounders as sixty
pounds of iron and ten pounds of small ball hit
Requin
's stern. Drinkwater was engulfed in the huge cloud of smoke which was as quickly rent aside by the wind. Then the six-pounders began independent fire, each captain laying his gun with care.
Requin
's stern began to cave in, beaten into a gaping wound, her carved gingerbread-work exploding in splinters.

‘Sir! Sir!' Mr Frey was dancing up and down beside him.

‘What the devil is it, Mr Frey?' Drinkwater suddenly felt anxious for the boy whose presence on the quarterdeck he had quite forgotten.

‘She strikes, sir! She strikes!'

Drinkwater elevated his glance. The tricolour was descending from the gaff in hasty jerks.

‘Upon my soul, Mr Frey, you're right!'

‘Any orders, sir,' repeated the hopeful Mount.

‘Indeed, Mr Mount. You and Frey take possession!'

Drinkwater jerked himself awake with a start. The short Arctic night was already over. His wound, pronounced superficial by an exhausted Singleton, throbbed painfully and his whole body ached in the chill of dawn. He rose and stared through the stern windows.
Melusine
and her assorted prizes lay at anchor in Nagtoralik Bay. The battered British sloop to seaward, a spring on her cable, covering any signs of trouble in the other ships. He had prize crews aboard the lugger
Aurore
, the
Requin
and the
Nimrod
, although the
Nimrod
had assumed the character of consort, having towed the helpless
Melusine
into the anchorage.

They had been met by boats from the whalers
Conqueror
and
Faithful
as the last of the daylight faded from the sky and the wounded ships had come to their anchors. It was clear from the expression of Captain Waller of the
Conqueror
that he had put an entirely different interpretation on the sight of
Melusine
towing in astern of
Nimrod
than was the case. His false effusions of congratulation had been cut short by Drinkwater arresting him and having him placed in the bilboes.

‘Thou hast done right, Friend,' said Sawyers, holding out his hand. But Drinkwater gently dismissed the Quaker, pleading tiredness and military expediency for his bad manners. There would be time enough for explanations later, for the while it was enough that
Faithful
was recaptured and
Requin
a prize.

Drinkwater turned from the stern windows and slumped back in his chair. The low candle-flame in the lantern fell upon the muster book. In the two actions with the
Requin
he had lost a third of his ship's
company. They were terrible losses and he mourned Lieutenant Bourne who had died of head wounds shortly after the
Requin
surrendered.

Hardly a man had not collected a scratch or a splinter wound. Little Frey had received a sword cut on his forearm which he had bravely bandaged until Singleton spotted the filthy linen and ordered the boy below. Tregembo had been knocked senseless and of the quarterdeck officers only Mount and Hill were unscathed.

He blew the sand off the muster book and closed it. Amid all the tasks that awaited him this morning he must bury the dead. His eyelids dropped. On deck Mr Quilhampton paced up and down, the watch ready at the guns. Mount was aboard
Requin
with a strong detachment of marines; Lord Walmsley commanded
Nimrod
and the Honourable Alexander Glencross the
Conqueror
.

He could allow himself an hour's sleep. He was aware that providence had chastened him but that luck had saved him. His head fell forward onto his breast and his ears ceased to ring from the concussion of guns.

‘Will you receive the deputation now, sir?' Drinkwater nodded at Mr Frey's figure standing in the cabin doorway. It was frightening how fast the maturing process could work. Frey stood aside and half a dozen whale-men came awkwardly into the cabin under the escort of Mount's sergeant and two private marines.

‘Well,' said Drinkwater coldly, ‘who is to speak for you?'

A man was pushed forward and turned a greasy sealskin hat nervously in his hands. Addressing the deck he began to speak, prompted by shame faced shipmates.

‘B . . . beg pardon, yer honour . . .'

‘What is your name?'

The man looked about him, as if afraid to confess to an identity that separated him from the anonymous group of whale-men.

‘Give an answer to the captain!' Frey snapped with a sudden, surprising venom.

‘J . . . Jack Love, sir, beggin' yer pardon. Carpenter of the
Nimrod
, sir . . .'

‘Go on, Love. Tell me what you have to say.'

‘Well sir, we went along of Cap'n Ellerby, sir . . .'

‘An' of Cap'n Waller, sir . . .' another piped up to a shuffling chorus of agreement.

‘Pray go on.'

‘Well sir, there was a fair profit to be made, sir, during the peace like . . .' He trailed off, implying that trade with the French under those circumstances was not illegal.

‘In what did you trade, Love? Be so good as to tell me.'

‘We brought out necessaries, sir . . . comestibles and took home furs . . .'

‘Furs?'

‘Aye, sir,' an impatient voice said and a small man shoved forward. ‘Furs, sir, furs for the Frog army what Ellerby could sell at a profit . . .'

Drinkwater digested the news and a thought occurred to him.

‘Do you know anything about two Hull whale ships that went missing last winter?' He looked round the half-circle of faces. Love's hand rubbed anxiously across his mouth and he shook his head, avoiding Drinkwater's eyes.

‘We don't want no traitorous doin's, sir. We was coerced, like . . .' He fell silent. The word had been rehearsed, fed him by some sea-lawyer and he was lying, although Drinkwater knew there was not a shred of evidence to prove it. They would have profited under Ellerby, war or peace, so long as no supercilious naval officer stuck his interfering nose into their business.

Love seemed to have mustered his defences, prodded on by some murmuring behind him.

‘When we realised what Ellerby was doing, sir, we wasn't 'aving none of it. We didn't obey 'im sir . . .' Drinkwater remembered
Nimrod
's failure to take full advantage of her position during the action.

‘And
Conqueror
's people. How are they circumstanced?'

‘We were coerced too, sir. Cap'n Waller threatened to withhold our proper pay unless we co-operated . . .'

Drinkwater stared at them. He felt a mixture of contempt and pity. He could imagine them under the malign influence of Ellerby and he remembered the ice-cold fanaticism in his eyes. The men began to shuffle awkwardly under his silent scrutiny. They were victims of their own weakness and yet they had caused the death of his men by their treachery.

‘Would you wish to prove your loyalty to King and Country, then?' he asked, rising to his feet, the picture of a patriotic naval officer. Their eagerness to please, to fall in with his suggestion, verged on the disgusting.

‘Very well. You will find work enough refitting the ships under the direction of my officers. You may go now. Return to your ships; but I
warn you, the first man that fails to show absolute loyalty will swing.' Their delight was manifest. It was the kind of thing they had hardly dared hope for. They nodded their thanks and shambled out.

‘You may discharge the guard, sergeant.' Drinkwater addressed Mr Frey. ‘Do you go to the two whale ships, Mr Frey, and ransack the cabins of Captain Ellerby and Captain Waller. I want the press-exemptions of every man-jack of those whale-men.'

Drinkwater regarded Waller with distaste. Without Ellerby he was pathetic and Drinkwater was conscious that, as a King's officer, he represented the noose to Waller. Somehow hanging was too just an end for the man. He had tried a brief, unconvincing and abject attempt at blustered justification which Drinkwater had speedily ended.

‘It is useless to prevaricate, Captain Waller. Ellerby fired into a British man-o'-war wearing British colours and I am well aware, from information laid before me by men from
Nimrod
and
Conqueror
, that you and he were in traitorous intercourse with the enemy for the purposes of profit. That fact alone put you in breach of your oath not to engage in any other practice other than the pursuance of whale-fishing. What I wish to know, is to what precise purpose did you trade here and with whom?'

Waller's face had drained. Drinkwater slammed his fist on the cabin table. ‘And I want to know
now!'

Waller's jaw hung slackly. He seemed incapable of speech. Drinkwater sighed and rose. ‘You may,' he said casually, ‘consider the wisdom of turning King's Evidence. I
do
have enough testimony against you to see you swing, Waller . . .'

Drinkwater's certainty was overwhelmingly persuasive. Waller swallowed.

‘If I turn King's Evidence . . .'

‘Tell me the bloody truth, Waller, or by God I'll see you at the main yardarm before another hour is out!'

‘It was Ellerby . . . he said it couldn't fail. We did well out of it during the peace. There seemed no reason not to go on. When the war started again, I tried to stop it. Aye, I said it weren't worth the risk like. But Ellerby said it were worth it. Happen I should have know'd better. Anyroad I went along wi' it . . .'

The dialect was thick now. Waller in the confessional was a man turned in upon himself, contemplating his weaknesses. Again Drinkwater felt that surge of pity for a fool caught up in the ambitions of a strong personality.

‘Went along with what?' he asked quietly.

‘Furs. French have this settlement. Just before Peace of Amiens Ellerby had run into a French privateersman, Jean Vrolicq. This Vrolicq offered us a handsome profit if we carried furs to England, like, and smuggled them across t'Channel. Easier, nay, safer than Vrolicq trying to run blockade. Furs for the French army taken to France in English smuggling boats . . .'

‘Furs?' It was the second time Drinkwater queried the word, only this time he was more curious about the precise nature of the traffic and less preoccupied by the fate of the man before him.

‘Aye, Cap'n. Furs for French army. They have bearskins on every cavalry horse, fur on them hussars . . .'

Drinkwater recollected the cartoons of the French army, the barefoot scarecrows motivated by Republican zeal . . . and yet he did not doubt Waller now.

‘We ran cargoes of fox, ermine, bear and hares . . . four hundred pounds clear profit on top o' what the fish brought in . . .'

‘Very well, Captain Waller. You may put this in writing. I shall supply you with the necessaries.'

Drinkwater called the sentry and Waller was taken out.

It was a strange tale, yet, thinking back to his interviews with Earl St Vincent and Lord Dungarth he perceived the first strands of the mystery had been evident even then. That he had stumbled on the core of it was a mixture of good and bad luck that was compounded, for those who liked to think of such matters in a philosophical light, as the fortune of war.

He poured a glass of wine and listened to the noise around him.
Melusine
's jury rudder was being lifted and the blacksmith from
Faithful
was fashioning a yoke iron so that tiller lines might be fitted to its damaged head and so rigged for the passage home. Spars were being plundered from the
Requin
to refit the sloop and the
Aurore
was being put in condition to sail to Britain.