When his gaze travelled farther aft, and caught the small figure of Daniel Swift, stern and upright in his bright blue coat, a cloud passed over the sun of his happiness. He had spoken to Fulman no more about him yet, but the captain was making his presence and his spirit known quite rapidly enough. His reputation, which Broad had been prepared to water down despite his own treatment, was fast being confirmed by events.
At the turn of the morning, the air of rejoicing that had somehow pervaded the ship had come to an abrupt end.
Not, thought Broad, that many had much to rejoice about, himself included. But there it was; rational or not, the end of the storms, the cleaning of the foulness from the quarters, a hot meal, if only of burgoo, had brought a new feeling to the people. A lightness,. in some cases almost a jollity. The cloud had fallen when the marine drummer beat all hands to witness punishment. Matthews and Broad, who had been working together setting up a shroud, had looked at each other, puzzled. Other men, too. Because punishment had been forgotten while the weather prevented it, and now the weather had made them feel happy. Punishment was in no one’s mind.
They guessed it was to be Henry Joyce, the man who had been arrested after the episode of running from the Frenchman. The arrest had stilled the wagging tongues instantly, and no one had spoken anything about the matter since. It bade fair to be a savage punishment, for Swift would hardly take kindly to such talk.
But it was another man. The man, in fact, Thomas had seen in the sick-bay with the knife wound. When his shirt was stripped off and he was triced to the grating, the wound was clearly visible, closed and healing well. Ten minutes later it was open, and hidden in a welter of blood from many other slashes. And when the man had been released, he had stared with black and hate-filled eyes at the unmoving figure of Captain Swift, until he had been beaten below by Allgood’s mates. The ‘mutineer’, Joyce, was said to be still in irons. God knew what Swift had in mind for him.
After the punishment, which the captain prefaced with another of his bitter homilies on discipline, they were served with a good dinner, including fresh vegetables, then the rum ration. Broad had secreted some of his, because he knew he would be working aloft all afternoon and feared a muggy head. But many of the company did get drunk, as how could they not on the great can of fiery spirit, on top of all the beer they had been served? In the course of the next hour, two were arrested and were now below. Perhaps there was to be a flogging every day. Or perhaps Swift might dream up other punishments.
Now below him, the waisters worked at scrubbing hammocks, the officers strutted, the purser sold slops.
Another thought came into his mind. That strange man Allgood. He could not make him out. Only yesterday he had terrified poor Thomas half to death on the foredeck, and today he had treated him like a lamb. He had taken him to the purser, Grandfather Fulman had related, and rigged him out in new gear. When the purser had tried to rook him, Allgood had intimidated that worthy to such an extent that the boy ended up with shirt, blouse, trousers and tarpaulin at a fairer price than any man on board could boast. The purser had said nothing, but given sour looks; it was, after all, his God-given right to cheat poor sailors. No man would dare rob Thomas again, or take his clothes off his back as they had done, now that Allgood had shown this interest.
But still there remained the day before. True the boatswain had been under orders to make the boy clean the heads, mad as that order was. But he had filled the lad with some sort of terror, that much had been clear. He had become nervous to a degree, trembled when approached, cast his eyes always downwards to the deck. Broad felt an odd protectiveness towards him; he was concerned.
He thought of the purser again. He did not know him, but had seen him and heard his reputation. He was a short, fat, slimy-looking man who rejoiced in the nickname ‘Butterbum’. His power on board was equal to Allgood’s in his own field; in the field, that is, of robbing seamen or making their lives miserable in many crafty ways. God help Thomas Fox if Mr Purser took it upon himself to seek revenge for the manner in which the boatswain had dealt with him. God help Thomas Fox.
As always, new orders ended coherent thoughts.
Seconds later Jesse was racing hand over hand towards the deck, racing to the next task, which was on the fore topgallant yard. As he dodged the rattans on the deck, and darted between outstretched, dripping hammocks, he had only time to envy the men who had the knack of sliding down the stays. It was an art he would have to acquire if he was to be a fast hand.
Sixteen
The good weather continued, much to everyone’s surprise and delight, and the Welfare was soon far out into the Atlantic. William Bentley and the other young gentlemen were required to take a noon sight with the master, who also delivered dry lectures on the Trade winds and various other nautical matters. William found him very vexing, very hard to follow. He sometimes suspected, in fact, that Mr Robinson enjoyed confusing the midshipmen, who were not of his own class and who sometimes showed their resentment at the power the ugly, uncouth little man held over the mysteries of the sun, the stars, the sea. He dared to mention it to his uncle over tea one morning, but not in any direct fashion. Captain Swift merely laughed, and reiterated that Robinson was the best seaman-navigator he had ever known.
‘He has saved my life before this, that good man,’ he said. ‘Ill-favoured, ugly, and cantankerous. I gave him his preferment. And that is no light thing.’
A man they resented far more was the schoolmaster, Mr Marner. One bad consequence of the reasonable weather was that this old worthy emerged from his hole like a hedgehog in spring and began to torment them. All the boys hated and despised him, but Captain Swift was unapproachable on this score too; his young gentlemen were young gentlemen, and they would behave and be taught as such. When William had tried, in a roundabout way, to get himself excused, the pale eyes had turned on him and grown paler. William wished he had not spoken, for he had certainly angered his uncle. And it was ridiculous, for Marner was a drunk, and a fool, and knew nothing.
Jack Evans had grumbled: ‘It is just like being at home, chaps, that’s the fact of the matter. I once had a German tutor, a great sausage of a man with an accent like a drain. I soon got rid of him, I can tell you!’
The other mids, lounging about the berth sharing a bottle of rather fine wine Simon Allen had pulled out of his chest, laughed.
‘How did you do it then, Jack?’ asked little James Finch. His eyes were glowing and his face was flushed. Drunk, in fact. He was very young and could not yet control the effect of a few glasses.
Evans twirled the wine round in the light from a lantern before he answered.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I merely made his life unbearable.
I complained to Mama about everything he did, and I absolutely refused to learn to talk the damned language. In the end, I threw a plate of mutton at him during a formal dinner.’
They rolled about, gulping wine and air in equal quantities.
‘Did your father whip you?’ asked Simon. ‘Mine would have thrashed me like a dog.’
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘That’s the best of it. My mother wanted to have him flogged, for upsetting me! The old father would not allow that, unfortunately, but the fellow was sent packing, of course.’
‘I once had a French governess,’ James said shyly. ‘Some men from the village followed her home one night. They...they made…suggestions, I believe.’
He blushed deeply as the others roared with laughter. ‘They were flogged from the parish,’ he ended lamely. All the boys had memories of various schoolmasters, tutors, governesses, and they flowed fast and free. Bentley, whose family lived on a large estate near Petersfield, on the London road in Hampshire, had been taught by a succession of men of all types. The earnest young variety had displeased him most, and there had been several of them. They invariably claimed to be from great houses, sadly fallen into decay through no fault of their own. He despised their fawning attitudes, and treated them as they deserved.