On the Lee Shore, page 8
‘Oh no you fucking don’t!’ yelled Evans, his cry lost amongst the clash of battle. He threw his axe over arm, and the handle clattered flat against Sexton’s back, knocking him forwards. He sprang back up and turned in surprise, saw the big Londoner racing across the deck towards him and swung his pistol round. Evans struck his arm to one side and the pistol went off as the two men crashed down onto the deck. They scrabbled together, Evans trying to keep free of Sexton, where he could use his longer reach to land solid blows, while the smaller man sought to grapple with one hand while he tried to reach the clasp knife in his belt with the other. The Londoner ducked back to avoid a vicious head butt and brought his fist crashing down onto Sexton’s jaw. He followed up with a huge blow into his opponent’s body and felt him go limp as the wind was knocked out of him. He rose to his feet, picked up his boarding axe and stood over the prone figure, yelling down at him.
‘You’re going to fucking hang for this,’ he shouted. ‘I saw you try and kill Macpherson, you piece of shit!’
‘Wait Evans,’ gasped Sexton, pushing himself up. ‘You don’t want to do that.’
‘No, you’re wrong,’ said the Londoner. ‘I really do want to see you swing for this.’
‘Aye, I bet you do,’ said Sexton. ‘But that’s not what is going to happen. See, I know who you are. I was sure I had seen you before when you first joined, but I just couldn’t place you. And then we did gun drill this afternoon. It was right hot work, what with all that sun. Soon as I saw you with your shirt stripped off, it all came back to me. You’re the prize fighter who knocked down Southwark Jack back in ninety-five.’
‘Yeah, I bleeding did,’ snarled Evans, raising the axe. ‘And he was a damn sight tougher than you are.’
‘That’s right,’ smiled Sexton, picking himself back up. ‘Only I was in the know about that mill. You was supposed to take a fall, not win, weren’t you? There was a bloody fortune lost that night, and there are no end of angry traps that are still after you Sam, my boy. I know many of them, all good mates of mine. Be a real shame if I told them where to go a looking for you now.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ said Evans. Sexton laughed at him.
‘Come off it, Sam. You don’t really think I ain’t got the balls to do it? You do know I have led a mutiny on a King’s ship? Compared with that, telling a few mates where they can find you is of very little note. I wouldn’t be so sure as to what a desperate man is capable of, if I was you.’
‘Maybe I am desperate too,’ shouted Evans, raising the axe again. ‘Maybe I’ll kill you now.’
‘In front of all these people?’ said Sexton, pointing at the fight still raging yards from them. ‘It’ll be you that’ll swing for murder.’ He patted the ex-prize fighter on the side of his face. ‘Vexing, ain’t it? Still, this is how it shall be. You keep your trap shut about what you saw me do tonight, and I might be persuaded to hold my peace a little longer. Now, we had best join in this fight, else we will both be hanged from the same yardarm for cowardice.’
Chapter 6
Alone
‘So how the deuce did you contrive to get the brig out from under the French noses?’ asked Pellew, laying down his knife and fork, the food on his plate ignored for now.
‘The chief part of the vessels in the bay were all cutting their cables in panic and heading out to sea, Sir Edward,’ explained Clay. ‘Some ended that night on the rocks, others fell on board each other, and in all the confusion Lieutenant Taylor was able to sail the brig out through the middle of them all. The French batteries barely fired a shot for fear of striking their own commerce.’
‘Sounds like the scramble at the start of the St Leger! How simply splendid!’ laughed Captain Warburton, the commander of the Concord and the other guest seated at the dinner table in the Indefatigable’s great cabin.
‘He performed well then, your first lieutenant? said the commodore. ‘Strange that Captain Sheridan never had occasion to bring his name before me.’
‘Hardly, Sir Edward,’ said Warburton. ‘Sheridan would never have attempted such a coup.’ He turned back towards the captain of the Titan. ‘Do you consider it to be a ruse that you might take advantage of again?’
‘That will be rather less easy now,’ said Clay. ‘When we stood in to reconnoitre Brest yesterday I observed that the French have now stationed one of their larger frigates in Bertheaume Bay, doubtless to deter any further attacks.’
‘Yes, and my cook has a grave complaint to lay at your feet,’ added the commodore. ‘He was telling me that the local fisherman have become somewhat shy of our approach since the Titan surprised those two boats. He is in despair as to where he will be able to obtain a new source of fresh lobsters.’
‘Pity,’ said Warburton, sipping at his wine. ‘Still, I daresay the desire for some of your specie will bring them back soon enough. But stationing a frigate in the bay certainly shows how provoking for the Frogs your attack was, Clay, even if they are rather bolting the stable door after the dashed horse has gone, what?’
‘Quite,’ agreed Pellew. ‘I hold it to be very satisfactory that Captain Clay has obliged them to take such measures. The more we can bring them out of the shelter of Brest, the more opportunities we shall have to fight and defeat them.’
‘Hear him,’ said Warburton, drumming the flat of his hand on the table top in appreciation of the sentiment.
‘Gentlemen, a toast to the Titan’s splendid victory, if you please,’ said the commodore, raising his glass. His two guests followed his lead and drained their wine.
‘Ah, that is a lovely drop of bishop, Sir Edward,’ enthused Warburton. ‘I would dearly love to know how you are able to source such excellent claret. Pray tell, what is your secret?’
‘Oh, that is simple enough,’ said Pellew. ‘Anything can be obtained, even during wartime, for a price. Being from Cornwall, some of my people know where to find those with the diligence to source the odd case that has slipped across the channel on a moonlit night, while the revenue cutter was in port. I use my connections, and the weight of my purse does the rest.’ He chuckled to himself for a moment, and then turned towards his other guest.
‘Do not attend overly to my swaggering, Captain Clay, I pray you,’ he said. ‘I like to play at being a man of breeding like Warburton here. The fact is that all this, the knighthood, my estate, all the luxury that surrounds you, the whole lot is paid for with the newest of money. Much like you, I came into this world with little more than my wits. My people were barely above tradesman. I ran away to sea at fourteen to escape a fresh beating at the hands of my headmaster at Truro Grammar School. Every promotion I received, every ship I was given was as a reward for some act of gallantry or minor success. You of all people will understand how hard it is to make your way in the service without any preferment.’
‘Quite so, Sir Edward,’ said Clay. ‘I cannot count the times I have had to watch those with connections be promoted ahead of me.’
‘Steady there, you two,’ protested Warburton. ‘You have both made post now, haven’t you? I may have a father who was an admiral, but I was still required to pass the same examination as you two to become a lieutenant, don’t you know?’
‘Examined by a kindly godfather who overlooked that he had three years too little sea time, I’ll warrant,’ said Pellew to Clay in a stage whisper. They all laughed at this, although it was noticeable that the captain of the Concord made no attempt to deny the accusation.
Clay sat back in his chair and sighed with contentment. He made a mental note that should he ever be as wealthy as Pellew, he too would spend at least some of his money on the very best of cabin stores and the finest of cooks to prepare them. The food and drink were far better than anything he had tasted on board a ship before. He smiled at his host and fellow guest. They were very different from each other, the aristocratic Warburton and the down to earth commodore. He had half-expected that two such veteran captains would look down on him as a junior with no connections, but he could not have been made to feel more welcome. He was contently full, in convivial company, with a glass of Pellew’s smuggled wine in front of him. The capture of the brig would net him a further generous slice of prize money; the victory would help to cement the positive work he was doing with his mutinous crew. He was young, in command of his own frigate, and was well regarded by his superiors. All was going splendidly, he told himself.
‘Now, gentlemen,’ said Pellew, setting down his glass. ‘Pleasant as our dinner together has been, I have had some disturbing news that I must appraise you of. Where do you suppose the Channel Fleet to be?’
‘Thirty leagues due west of Ushant, Sir Edward, ready to support us,’ said Clay. ‘Unless the wind should blow above a topsail gale, that is, in which case the fleet will withdraw to the shelter of Torbay.’
‘Bravo, captain,’ said the Cornishman. ‘I see you have committed my sailing instructions to memory, and can recall them in spite of the five bottles of claret we have drunk already.’ He turned to his steward and waved forward a sixth bottle. ‘You can clear away the dead marines, Weaver,’ he added, pointing at the empty bottles, ‘and then kindly retire and see we are not disturbed.’
‘Aye aye, Sir Edward,’ murmured the steward as he clanked out of the cabin and closed the door behind him.
‘Unfortunately, gentlemen, Captain Clay has informed us as to where the Channel Fleet should be,’ continued Pellew, his face becoming grave. ‘I must inform you that at this moment the fleet is actually at anchor in Spithead, with all of the ships’ crews in open revolt. I have just this morning received the news from Lord Bridport. He himself has been put ashore from his flagship, as have all of the ships’ captains, together with some of the more unpopular officers. The men say they will not sail until their demands are met.’
‘Good God,’ exclaimed Warburton. ‘The whole damned fleet have mutinied! It quite beggars belief. What are their demands, then?’
‘Actually they are not so unreasonable,’ replied the commodore. ‘Better pay, better vittles, a Royal Pardon for the mutineers, more shore leave and the removal of certain officers. How long all this will take the Admiralty to resolve is anyone’s guess, but I live in hope it shall be tolerably soon. Admiral Bridport believes the government is in a mood to be conciliatory, given that with no Channel Fleet there is little to stop the French from invading. But even with goodwill on the Government’s part it shall still take some time. An increase in the men’s rate of pay will require an Act of Parliament, for example.’
‘What must we do, Sir Edward?’ asked Clay.
‘First of all, you must breathe no word of this to anybody,’ said Pellew. ‘If the hands find out what is afoot, they may all seek to join the revolt.’
‘Agreed,’ said Warburton. ‘My crew has been petitioning me over pay for months now.’
‘Secondly, no hint of this must get to the French,’ continued their host. ‘They must see that the Inshore Squadron is carrying on as if nothing were amiss. If once they realise that there is no fleet over the horizon, and that all that stands between them and control of the Channel is our four little frigates, the game will well and truly be up.’
*****
The orlop deck of the Titan was below the waterline. Tucked between the hold beneath and the lower deck above, it had only five feet of head room, which was quite inadequate for any of the six sailors who had gathered there. On the other hand it was one of the few places on board the frigate where they could meet even for a short while in anything approaching privacy. The six were grouped in a circle around the single lantern they had taken from its place by the main hatch way and brought in to this normally dark space. They had crawled their way into the centre of the cable tier, where there was a small area of empty deck. The flickering orange light turned their hunched forms into the shadows of giants that stretched and flowed over the coils of cable that occupied the tier around them.
‘Here is the paper what I was given when we took Pipe across for his shindig with the commodore,’ said Thomas Rodgers. ‘Like I promised, Able, I am showin’ it to you first, but I got to give it to Sexton. He’s expecting it and he will bloody kill me if I don’t get it to him soon.’ He glanced up as the sound of footsteps sounded on the lower deck just above their heads. ‘Be quick, lads, for Christ sake.’
‘All right, Tom,’ said Sedgwick. ‘Calm down. None of us want to pass more time down here than needs be.’ He passed the paper across to Rosso. ‘I can make most of it out, but you are better at reading than me, Rosie.’ Rosso flattened the paper onto the deck in front of the lamp and read the note out loud.
‘Friends onboard the Titan,
Now is the time to make the ship your own. Intelligence on which total reliance may be placed has reached us that the Channel Fleet has risen at last. The crews have taken control of their ships, set their captains ashore and cast out their more wicked officers. A list of fair and just demands has been given to the Admiralty.
Our gallant shipmates aboard are steady in their resolve, and more ships join them every day. The ships of the Inshore Squadron must follow their brave lead. The time has come for us all to throw off our yokes and join our brothers at Spithead.
Huzza for the Red Flag of liberty!
The Delegates of the Indefatigable.’
‘That can’t be right, can it?’ queried Trevan. ‘The fleet is just off Ushant in the Soundings.’
‘Are you fecking sure of that?’ asked O’Malley. ‘When did you last set eyes on the buggers?’
‘Jesus,’ said Evans. ‘The whole fleet in mutiny? What is that all about?’
‘Pay mainly,’ said Rosso. ‘We have all done alright in the matter of prize money, thanks to sticking with Pipe these last two years, but for those sailors in ships of the line who must rely only on their basic pay, it has been right bad.’
‘That’s right,’ agreed Rodgers. ‘An’ the fucking soldiers got their pay put up too. What fighting do they do, I ask you? They just have to set upon rioting mill workers and round up rick burning peasants. What about us in the navy, out in all weathers actually fighting this bleeding war! Aren’t we the true bulwark of England?’ The others looked at him in silence for a moment. ‘N... not that I’m a mutineer or nothing,’ he added, looking a little sheepish.
‘So what should we do?’ asked Sedgwick. ‘Shall we warn the Grunters?’
‘They probably know already, Able,’ said Rosso. ‘And they are keeping it real quiet like. I know I would. Pipe will not want news like that spreading on a ship as has just had a mutiny of its own.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Evans. ‘And it don’t seem quite right to grass up a shipmate to the Grunters, even if it is that bastard Sexton.’
‘Since when did you start watching out for him, Sam?’ asked Rosso. ‘I have not heard you pipe that tune before.’
‘I am just saying, till the ship rises he is still a shipmate, like,’ muttered Evans.
‘Do we reckon the ship will rise?’ asked Trevan. ‘Seems to me to be a happier place of late, especially since we got that prize an’ all.’ The others looked at Rodgers, who shifted uneasily on the deck.
‘There is no doubt the lads are a lot happier with Pipe than with that bastard Sheridan,’ he said. ‘But they are still right sore about their pay an’ all. Some are saying the last mutiny served to get rid of a bad captain, so maybes that’s what you got to do to get the Admiralty to listen to you.’
‘He’s right, you know,’ said Sedgwick. ‘I have known tension like this back on the plantation, before a slave rising. The atmosphere on the lower deck is bad. There are plenty enough as might rise if things start to go wrong.’
The others were quiet for a moment. From the forecastle far above them came the sound of eight muffled bell strokes, and the deck over their heads exploded with noise as the watch was called.
‘Oh, Christ!’ yelled Rodgers, snatching up the paper. ‘If I don’t get this to Sexton, I am going to be in a world of trouble.’ He hurried off towards the main hatch, followed by the other sailors, all of whose faces bore grim expressions in the guttering light.
*****
The frigate spent much of the next afternoon beating out to sea into a strengthening westerly gale. The cliffs and reefs of the Brittany coast now showed their true character after several days of mild weather. The rushing wind conjured up huge waves that sped across the ocean and thundered into the land, sending towering white columns of spray that rose ever higher up the cliffs before cascading back down again. The quiet reefs that Clay had observed in the spring sunshine with Henry Warwick now foamed and spat like the boiling cauldrons of sea hags.
But the ship was relatively safe. The coast was a black-notched saw edge on the horizon stretched between the dark green sea and the heavy grey clouds overhead. The Titan had swayed down her upper masts, and set enough fore and aft sails to allow her to beat forward into the wind at about the same rate as the long Atlantic rollers were pushing her back towards the coast. The motion of the ship had become a long series of corkscrew rolls as she passed diagonally across the flow of waves, making life uncomfortable for the ship’s officers in the wardroom of the frigate, tucked down on the water line just behind the rudder.
‘He’s a queer one, our new captain,’ said Lieutenant Morton, his voice forceful to make himself heard above the loud creak of the timbers by the other officers gathered around the wardroom table. They were all waiting for the arrival of their evening meal. With each fresh roll of the ship their sets of cutlery started to move across the cloth, and each officer at his place instinctively halted the motion with the palms of his hands, without the need to look down.
