The end of rope dropped from the yardarm barely inches from William’s head. He flushed. Allgood had known it was coming, hence the order.
‘Mr Allgood,’ he repeated.
‘Aye aye sir? Ah, the vital supplies. Oh, there be wine, tobacco, sweetmeats, silk shirts, twelve yards of Flemish lace…’
William’s flush deepened as the slow Devon voice itemised these flimflams. He composed his face to a look of haughtiness verging on anger and bared his teeth to speak. But the boatswain, without apparently looking at him to see this reaction, changed his tack, and spiked his guns neatly.
‘Drugs to aid the sick and needy, new linen bandages, couple of bushels of onions for the scorbutickers, some bags of potatoes to same effect. Item, a new anvil for Mr Gunner and I believe one new spyglass, or telescope, lately manufactured for the owner by his own personal instrument maker in Lunnon. Sir.’
William decided to let the reference to Captain Swift as ‘the owner’ go past unchallenged. It was a normal conceit and one which his uncle enjoyed. He watched in silence as Allgood gave the orders and the first barrel was hauled into sight over the bulwarks.
‘Oh,’ said the boatswain, almost as an afterthought. ‘And one blind musician-man.’
He turned to his band of sailors and roared at them in his gigantic bass. He snatched a rattan from the hand of one of his mates and laid about him vigorously. The seamen hauled harder.
William fumed. The boatswain was playing with him. He obviously wanted to know more about the blind musician, but could not ask now. He would have to wait and see. The boatswain was deliberately trying to humiliate him, and he was the only seaman in the ship who could get away with it. He turned away and sauntered back towards the quarterdeck, every line of his body expressing lost interest in the unloading of the launch. By God, he savagely told the boatswain – inside his head – Christ help you, mister, when I’m a lieutenant. Or a captain!
He had not reached his favoured position on that hallowed deck, when word was brought him to kindly attend on Captain Swift in the cabin. William’s heart leapt and he forgot the boatswain immediately. This then would be the time for orders. He faced to windward, exultantly filling his lungs with the cold easterly air, then made a quick check on his dress, clamped his hat smartly under his arm, and clattered away after the messenger.
Had it not been for the shape, the low beams, the square windows in the stern, they might almost have been at a smart officer’s apartment in town. Swift, resplendent as ever in his expensive blue, the many ruffles of his shirt glittering opulently, stood easily near his great mahogany table with a glass of fine crystal in his hand. The other officers stood or sat, depending on their whim or personal comfort. On the rare occasions that he entertained, the captain liked to make his lieutenants feel at their ease. To have required Mr Hagan to stand would not have induced such ease, on account of his great height and the lowness of the deckhead. When Mr Hagan sat, William had noted before, Plumduff liked to sit too. These men faintly annoyed him with their insistence on their small dignities. The third lieutenant, Higgins, was beneath contempt. He sat merely because he was an idle slug.
Sitting more stiffly in a chair, and far less at his ease, was the young lieutenant from the launch, who seemed startled at the richness of it all. He’d clearly never been in a frigate like the Welfare.
Captain Swift welcomed his nephew with a smile. At a signal, a servant moved forward with glass and decanter. William was introduced to Lieutenant Hall, shook hands and bowed, then sipped a glass of wine. They were given no time to become more intimate.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Daniel Swift, ‘I would ask you to be seated at the table. As you know we shall shortly be about our business and I have a few words to say. Few, but important.’
At another gesture the servants filled each man’s glass, then withdrew. As they opened the door, William’s eyes were arrested by the flash of scarlet of the marine guard’s coat.
Swift raised his glass and proposed a toast. They stood once more.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said gravely, ‘I give you His Majesty’s ship Welfare. May God keep us and save us in the work we are about to undertake.’
When they were seated, they were offered an explanation for Lieutenant Hall’s continued presence. It would be still some time, Swift said, before the launch was ready to return to Portsmouth, and although what he had to say was specifically about the running of the ship, there was no reason why the visiting gentleman should not be privy to it. Of William’s presence, a mere midshipman, he made no explanation. That was entirely a matter for him.
The captain wet his lips with his wine, carefully placed the glass on the table, and began.
‘As you all know, gentlemen, we are now in a state of readiness to sail. We are fully manned, fully provisioned, and fully watered. Our ship is sound, our gear is good, and by the grace of God our people will serve.’
The cold pale eyes searched the faces in front of him. William smiled inwardly, although he kept his face like a poker. His uncle was looking for signs, he knew. Signs of disagreement at such blatant falsehoods. To describe the Welfare as fully manned, when she was under complement and had a higher scum element than most ships could stand, was a measure of the man. He was admirable, and so was his method. If the people served, he thought, it would be grace of his uncle, not any other deity.
Seeing no flicker of dissent or questioning, Swift clearly felt able to go on. There was his method revealed. He had given his officers a picture of the state of his vessel which they knew to be false, and also the theoretical opportunity to challenge it. William revelled in such tactics. They distilled the fine paradox by which the Navy was run.
Officers were required by law to obey their superiors, while being also required to guard that nothing illegal or untrue was done, even by those same superiors. Now the officers had assented in the fiction that the ship was well-manned.
If anything were to go wrong in the future, no finger could be pointed at Swift alone. All were involved and all would therefore make sure that nothing should go wrong.
‘I cannot, of course, tell you what our orders are,’ continued Captain Swift, ‘but you will all have gathered that our mission will take us to the far-flung corners of the earth. We sail, God willing and this easterly continuing to blow, before noon tomorrow. We are, of course, heading west, to clear into the Atlantic as soon as may be. Further sailing instructions will be conveyed to all of you, and the master, when necessary. Any questions?’
A mere courtesy; none was expected. The captain wetted his lips again.
‘Now, gentlemen. As to the running of this vessel. You all know me and you all know my requirements. But I make no apology for restatement. I want a taut ship, and I want a hard ship. I want iron discipline and I want total and immediate obedience. I want – I require – that, from the top to the bottom. You, gentlemen, are the top.’
He stared at their faces one by one. William did not move a muscle, even when the pale eyes burned into his. Hagan, inevitably, licked his lips. Plumduff quivered almost imperceptibly. Lieutenant Hall did not receive the stare, but reddened nevertheless as Swift’s gaze flickered across his face.
‘You…gentlemen,’ the captain repeated with deliberation. ‘My officers are gentlemen and will behave as such at all times. Any behaviour that falls below those standards will not go unnoticed.’ He turned to William. ‘That particularly applies in your berth, Mr Bentley. You will carry the word for me. Any falling off in the behaviour of the young gentlemen will likewise not go unnoticed. Nor will it go unpunished.’