The Shadow of the Eagle (24 page)

Gilbert shook his head. ‘I should really return to Angra.’ He paused, then added, ‘May I take your boat? She will make the passage under sail, I daresay?’ he looked at the launch somewhat dubiously.

‘It must be upwards of forty leagues …’

‘No matter, your boat is up to it.’ Drinkwater looked askance at Gilbert; he was clearly a man of resilience and resolution. In the waist the launch was swinging slowly across the ship to its chocks on the booms. ‘Very well,’ Drinkwater agreed, ‘she is provisioned for two days, perhaps you will be kind enough to replenish her when you arrive; we are precious short of stores. Some fruit would be most welcome,’ he said, and raising his voice he called, ‘Mr Marlowe! Have the launch put back in the water!’ Drinkwater ignored the moment’s hesitation and the sudden irritated stares of the labouring seamen who were quickly ordered to reverse their efforts; he summoned Ashton.

‘Mr Ashton, run down to my cabin and take a look at the chart on my desk. A course for Terceira; you may take Mr Gilbert back to Angra in the launch.’

‘Sir, if I might suggest something.’

‘Well, what is it?’

Ashton edged round to attempt to exclude Gilbert from his remark to the captain. ‘I should like to lay a formal charge against Sergeant McCann.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mr Ashton, now is hardly the moment. What has Sergeant McCann done?’

‘Disobeyed my orders, sir,’ Ashton hissed intensely.

Drinkwater felt a great weariness overcome him; he was tired of these minor problems, tired of Ashton and the whole confounded pack of these contentious and troublesome men. He was tempted to consign Ashton to the devil, but mastered this intemperate and dangerous instinct; instead he caught sight of Lieutenant Hyde and called him over.

‘Mr Hyde, Mr Ashton here says that Sergeant McCann disobeyed his orders.’ He turned to Ashton. ‘Perhaps you would tell us how this occurred.’

‘I left orders that no one was to leave the boat while I waited upon the Governor. Upon my return I found two men had defied me and been into the town …’

‘Two
men, d’you say?’ Drinkwater asked.

‘Yes, and …’

‘To what purpose did these two men go into town?’ Drinkwater persisted.

‘That is the point, sir, they had been into town and purchased liquor.’

‘What liquor?’ Hyde asked.

‘What does it matter what liquor? They had disobeyed my orders and left the boat…’

‘Were sentries posted?’ Hyde pressed.

‘Yes, of course, under your Sergeant McCann …’

‘But Sergeant McCann was only in charge of the marines. Who commanded the boat?’

‘Well, Midshipman Paine.’

‘Then why isn’t he in the soup?’

‘I think we should have a word with Midshipman Paine,’ broke in Drinkwater. ‘Be so kind as to send for him.’

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 Hooghly 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?’