Where The Flag Floats (6 page)

12pm

”So what did the signal say, Bill?” asked one of the men, as the signalman returned to the table where I was handing out the freshly baked bread.

“Take the bar,” the man replied as he took the bread and wiped his bowl with it. “But it’s going to be tricky, I can tell. The signal is hard to see and there’s no pilot to guide us in.”

“Aye, it’s tricky all right,” said Fred from the next table. “We’d be better waiting for Mr Wing to come out in the pilot boat and take us in.”

As I stood alongside Fred at the next table, he whispered so only I could hear. “We’re all set, Sam, are you ready?” I nodded. “Then I’ll give you the signal once we’re on deck.”

I strove to finish my tasks quickly; it helped that the cook was in a hurry too, as we had to square away all the pots and utensils as well as dampen down the fire in preparation for the crossing.

One bell marked the first half hour of the afternoon watch. I made my way up the ladder to the deck to find most of the men assembled there, the officers lined up either on the bridge or on the quarterdeck with the marines in a row just under the bridge, and men in the shrouds or in the tops ready to shorten sail if necessary. I steadied myself as a rough wind squall hit the ship and she shuddered. The wind was coming from over my left shoulder as I faced forward and she was leaning over to her starboard.

Ahead I could see the headland through which we had to enter. The hills rose up from the sea in a broad expanse of green in which I could see no break, and I doubted that an entrance could be found in what looked like an impregnable fortress. Yet there had to be – Fred had come through it before, and the officers on the ship would sure have maps that would show them where to go.

Another bump as the wind gusted through, ruffling the sea ahead of us. It was rougher up ahead, the sea boiling as though a huge hand stirred it. I could not see the banks that Fred talked about, but I knew that they were there, as did everyone else.

Up in the bow there was a leadsman in either side, in the chains with the leadlines, ready to call out the depth when ordered. Back at the stern of the ship, the spare tiller had been shipped with block and tackle and six men were ready to jump into action if the main gear gave way while we made the crossing. Three helmsmen were stationed around the wheel itself with the quartermasters all behind them, waiting to give orders.

There was an air of tension and anticipation on the deck. The men were mostly quiet as if in awe of this stretch of water, a stretch that most of them had not seen before. It certainly looked menacing, with the sea dark before us, the lumpy waves throwing the ship around, the full set of sails above us casting shadows on the deck and the ship surging as the swell rolled beneath her. The wood beneath my bare feet juddered as the steam engines pulsed in the hold, driving the ship forward together with the force of the wind in the sails.

The crossing would be over quickly, I thought, and I did not have much time. I glanced up at the bridge again and saw that Lieutenant Amphlett, like all the other officers, was staring at the way ahead. None of them had eyes for the deck. Fred had been right: this was the time to retrieve my watch. I patted the picklock in my pocket and looked around for Fred.

“There’s the signal station there,” Fred said as I approached him. “Can you see it?” I shaded my eyes and peered ahead, but all I could see was what looked like a bare tree on top of a promontory. “You should be able to see the signals – look, two squares. That means take the bar.”

I could not see that and anyway, I was anxious to get our plan underway. My stomach was tight and the scabs on my back tightened as if to warn me that they would be reopened by another flogging if I got caught again. I wriggled a little to ease the tingle running down my back. This was no time to be faint of heart.

Fred nodded towards the stern of the ship.

“They’re all on the bridge, so this is your chance. You go down the companionway nearest the galley; we’ll go down this one. When you hear us, make for the commodore’s cabin.”

I didn’t have time to ask what it was I had to listen out for as John and Pat quickly followed Fred towards the forward hatch. I made my way aft, glancing up at the bridge as I neared the companionway and assuring myself that all the officers had their eyes on the water. They took no notice of me. I scampered down the ladder to the deck below and made my way towards the gunroom where the midshipmen had their mess, but the large cabin was empty as was the rest of the passageway. I hid around the corner, out of sight of the marine sentry as I waited for the signal or some sort of sound that would indicate that Fred and the others had enacted their plan. The ship creaked as she always did when she moved on the water but the sound had a tone of anticipation in it, as if she knew she would soon be in the harbour and at anchor. I heard the sentry cough, but, apart from the creaks and groans of the ship, that was all. How long would it be before I could make my move? I sensed that we were closing in on the bar now and would soon be over it, and then it would be too late.

I heard shouts forward and I tensed as the yells grew louder. I recognised Fred’s voice.

“I’ll teach you …” he roared. There was a loud thump and a man cried out. I heard the sentry shuffle forward and I threw myself against the side of the cabin, trying to make myself as small as possible. The smacks of the fight became louder as the men threw punches and swore; I could hear the sentry draw level with me in an effort to see the men. If he glanced to the right, he would spot me instantly ...

“Hey, you there!” he shouted as he went past me, his rifle in his hands, making off down the length of the gangway to where Fred and the others must be staging their fight.

I slipped out from alongside the gunroom, headed towards the commodore’s cabin and tried the door, expecting it to be locked. It was not – my luck was in. I hesitated as I pushed it open, listening to the sounds of the men fighting and the sentry screaming for order above the noise.

The table was covered with maps and books, one of which stood open with a page half-filled, but I only glanced at them. I went straight to the locker in which my watch had been deposited and took the picklock out of my pocket. Hands trembling, I put it in the lock and felt for the tumblers. A noise nearby startled me and I dropped the picklock in fright. Then I stood still for eons, expecting someone to burst into the cabin, but again my luck held and the door remained closed. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the picklock from the deck and re-inserted it into the lock, setting to work on the tumblers. The mechanism was simple and within seconds, the locker opened.

My watch lay beside a wooden box on top of more papers, and I reached in gingerly and drew it out. I let it hang from my fingers, and it swung with the momentum of the ship with the light coming through the stern windows reflected upon it, flashing into my eyes. The words on the back taunted me with knowledge I did not possess, and could not have unless someone read them to me.

Suddenly there was a heavy footfall outside the cabin and I started out of my reverie, hastily shoving the watch into my pocket while I sought a place to hide within the cabin. There was a door to the right of the one through which I had entered and I had just begun to make my way towards it when the door swung open and Lieutenant Amphlett strode in.

“What? Why, you little thief!” he roared as he came towards me. I skittered to the other side, evading him, but he quickly made his way towards me. “The commodore will hang you for this!”

I bolted towards the open door just as the sentry appeared, his hand out to catch me, but I slipped away and made for the gangway beyond. With the two men close behind, I clambered up the companionway, reaching up to pull myself through the hatch, but one of the men grabbed my foot as I reached the top. I kicked out and my foot connected; I heard a yell and a thump as the man fell back. I did not wait to see who it was but clambered out of the hatch and onto the deck, blinking in the sudden bright light. A few men turned round to look at me and a marine stepped towards me, but I veered around him.

“Stop him!” Lieutenant Amphlett shouted from below. “He’s been in the commodore’s cabin.”

I evaded the next marine but one behind him grabbed the collar of my shirt. I pulled away, leaving the torn collar in his hand. Ducking away from another out-stretched hand, I climbed on top of a gun where it was difficult for the men to reach me. I could hear shouts and the ominous click of a firearm being loaded and cocked, but I jumped onto a pile of stores nestled between the guns, and then onto the next, jumping from gun to gun and scrambling over the piles of munitions and stores where I could not be reached by the marines.

Breathless, I reached the forecastle where most of the seamen had gathered. I thought it would be safe but they too tried to grab me. For a moment I considered heading out on to the bowsprit, but I knew that was a dead end so I doubled back … but did not get much further.

My way was blocked.

The marines had spread out along the width of the deck and most of them had their rifles raised and aimed at me. There was nowhere for me to go. I searched for a friendly face amongst the seamen but they had moved away, as if I were a leper. Even John avoided my gaze as I tried to catch his eye. Beyond the line of marines, I saw Fred, with a bloodied nose, sidling into place alongside some of the seamen.

“Come here, lad,” Lieutenant Amphlett said as he stepped forward.

I took one more look at the sea just behind me and at the muzzles of the rifle, and then walked forward with my head down. Again I had been caught, and my punishment this time would be worse than my first – possibly even fatal.

Lieutenant Amphlett grabbed me by the ear as I came close and twisted it so hard that I yelped. “What were you doing in the commodore’s cabin?”

“Nothing!”

“Liar,” he said and slapped me hard across the face, releasing me at the same time so that I fell to the deck. I could taste blood inside my mouth. “Search him,” he said, turning to one of the marines.

It was Private Gardner, who was rough as he searched through my clothes. He soon found the watch, holding it up in triumph. Lieutenant Amphlett took it from him and put it in his pocket while Private Gardner yanked me to my feet where I stood swaying, dizzy from the blow to my head. The lieutenant wrapped his hand around the back of my scrawny neck and pushed me forward without letting go. “Come with me, you scallywag. This time I’ll see you strung.”

With his hand heavy on where my collar used to be, he propelled me toward the bridge where I could see the commodore, the commander and the master, all sneering down at us as we made our way through the crowd.

“What’s going on, Lieutenant?” the commodore asked as we came close.

“The stowaway was in your cabin again, sir. I went to investigate a disturbance below and thought to check your cabin. I found him with this.” He took the watch out of his pocket and it swung from his finger as it had done from mine, catching the light. I almost reached out to grab it.

“Master-at-arms,” the commodore called out. “Shackle the boy to the compass stand in front of the wheel where we can see him and I shall deal with him after we have crossed the bar. I’ll not have him disrupting the ship again at such a crucial time. The men need to keep their attention on the sea, not the deck!”

The Master-at-Arms grabbed me and took a set of shackles out of his belt. I backed away but the lieutenant held me firm, holding out my arm so that the master could put the heavy metal ring around it. My small, bony hand slipped right through it and I thought I was saved, but instead the master ordered a marine to fetch him a length of rope. He wound one end of it around my right wrist, drew my hands together around the stanchion and wound the end around my left wrist. I was tied securely to the stanchion and unable to go anywhere. All I could do was slip my hands up and down the metal, so I slid down to the deck, drew my legs into my chest and lowered my head, unable to look up into the faces of the men, some of whom wished me ill and others who had betrayed me.

“I hope the commodore hangs you,” said Private Gardner beside me. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since you came aboard. And we all know that stowaways are bad luck. We should have dropped you over the side when we found you.”

“Thank you, Private Gardner, you may return to your post,” Lieutenant Amphlett said sternly as he returned the watch to his coat pocket and spun away.

The men returned to their positions and I was ignored as they again prepared for the crossing. I shivered as I sat there, filled with dread and pain. The rough handling I had received had opened up some of the wounds on my back, and I could feel blood running down my spine. My breathing was laboured as I struggled to recover after the pursuit over the deck.

I bowed my head so that the men could not see my tears. I had failed to fulfill my mother’s dying wishes, her grave would remain unmarked and I would be charged with mutiny and left hanging at the end of a rope. I was in despair, my heart filled with sorrow and my body trembling in fear.

At that time, I truly wished I had died with my mother.

1.00pm

I lifted my head at the snap of raised voices above and behind me. The commodore, the commander and the master, Mr Strong, were talking animatedly over a chart that fluttered in the wind.

“We need to follow Mr Veitch’s instructions,” Mr Strong was saying. His hand lay flat across the chart as he traced the route. “You see, it will take us half a point further to the north than that indicated by Mr Drury’s chart, but you can see that Mr Veitch’s instructions are dated 11
^th
October 1861. It post dates Mr Drury’s chart by nine years.”

“But Drury’s chart is provided by the admiralty,” the commodore said.

“There has been a history of the bank moving to the north,” Mr Strong said. “That is why the chart was amended.”

The commodore stared forward to the stretch of water in front of them and glanced down at the chart as if confirming what he saw there.

“It says here that that promontory there called ...” He looked down at the chart again. “… Nine Pin Rock should be in line with the southern end of the headland there.”

“But look at the line I’ve drawn using Mr Veitch’s instructions, which say that Nine Pin Rock should have about twice its base open.”

“But that will take us a quarter of a mile to the north of Drury’s line,” the commodore protested. “Surely we’re not meant to be so far north on entry.”

“That’s what Mr Veitch’s instructions say.”

“We will follow Drury’s chart,” the commodore declared, and he marched away as though he wanted nothing more to do with the discussion. The master looked after him, a little startled; then saw me watching him and scowled, so I averted my eyes.

Not many men had overhead the conversation on the bridge and, if they did, they were not about to say anything against their commodore. The men on the deck appeared calm, as were the men hanging on the yardarms, their feet on the footrope below the spar, knowing that land was in sight and within an hour they would be safe within the harbour. For my own part, I dreaded entering the harbour, as soon afterwards my fate would be decided.

“Yes, Mr Mallock,” I heard Mr Strong say and I noticed a midshipman standing to my right, just underneath the bridge.

“My compliments, Mr Strong, but Mr Oliert reports that the signals are telling us to veer north.”

“Thank you, Mr Mallock,” the master said as he turned to the commodore. “A veer to the north brings us in line with Veitch’s instructions,” he said triumphantly. “I advise a change of course, sir!”

The commodore conferred with the commander, a conversation I could not overhear. At length he sighed. “Very well, sir, we shall follow Mr Veitch’s instructions.”

Orders were relayed to the helmsmen who turned the helm to starboard to bring her head around to port. Men on the sails adjusted them as the yardarms swung on the masts and the ship settled down into her new course. I could not see anything from my position on the deck, just the blue sky above me with the white clouds scudding across it. A single seagull weaved overhead and I drank in the sight. I could feel the swells beneath the ship, making her rise slowly and driving her forward, while the sun shone down brightly from above. I could smell the saltiness of the air and the tar on the ropes around me. In the rigging the wind whistled, making it hum eerily while the seagull above me let out a haunting cry as if calling to the dead. The officers above me went silent, as if they were holding their breath as we approached the bar.

I did not hold mine. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the taste of brine on my tongue and hoping that my punishment was not going to be as severe as Lieutenant Amphlett had led me to believe. Maybe the commodore would spare me if I convinced him to find my aunt – but would they give me that chance? I had no way of knowing. I was a stowaway, unwanted and unwelcome. A burden. What’s more, I had stolen from the commodore’s cabin. Would they hang me first and ask questions later? I closed my eyes and I prayed that they would not.