Mullender and Tregembo, his coxswain, crept in and out of the cabin while Derrick, the pressed Quaker who did duty as the captain's clerk, silently maintained the ship's books without the dozing Drinkwater ever being aware of his presence.
'Don't you wake him,' the solicitous Tregembo had said as Derrick passed through the pantry to collect the muster books.
'I am sufficiently acquainted with the virtues of silence, Friend,' replied the Quaker drily.
But their protection was broken by the still-limping Belchambers who nervously, but over-loud, tapped upon the cabin door.
'Sir ... sir ... Sir! If you please, sir ... there's a boat that's brought orders from the flagship, sir.'
'Specie, Captain, my clerk will give you the details. At one per cent its carriage should compensate you a little for the inconveniences attendant upon my diverting you ...'
It had been a long pull in the barge, though they had sailed much of it, and Drinkwater still felt a mild irritation that Drury had summoned him in person to acquaint him of something as easily conveyed in a letter.
'And the Juno, sir? I had hopes of finding her here.' 'Damn the Juno, Captain. These matters that I have in hand supersede that preoccupation. I have read your report, read it with interest, Captain Drinkwater, and not a little admiration. I think I may relieve you of the discretionary part of your orders ...'
Drinkwater looked at the admiral; this was a different Drury. It was obvious to Drinkwater why he had been chosen to relieve Pellew: there was a clear-thinking and obviously principled mind concealed behind the ram-damn seaman's exterior. He warmed to the man, forgiving the admiral the tedium and risk of the long boat journey. He was suddenly pricked with conscience, aware that Admiral Drury might be able to answer a question that had been bothering him for months now. 'Please, do be seated, Captain, and take a glass ...' The admiral's servant proffered the tray and then Drury waved him out, seating himself. 'Y'r health, Captain Drinkwater.'
'Your servant, sir.' The fine bual reminded Drinkwater of a long dead Welsh commander, and also of the question that begged resolution.
'Sir, forgive the presumption, but I am anxious to know the fate of Lord Dungarth. You will be aware from my orders that I have some knowledge of his Lordship's office ...'
Dungarth was the obscure head of the British Admiralty's Secret Department, the very centre of its intelligence network and a man who, along with the formidable figure of John Barrow, the Second Secretary, was instrumental in forming Admiralty policy. Drinkwater had known him since he had been a midshipman, even held him as his patron and friend. The last news he had had of the earl was that he had been blown up by an explosive device which had destroyed his carriage somewhere near Blackheath.
You heard ...'
'By the hand of Rear-Admiral White, sir ... an old messmate.'
'Dicky White, eh?' smiled Drury. 'Had the sense to hang up his sword and take his seat in Parliament for a Pocket Borough ...' Drury sipped his madeira. 'As for Dungarth, he still breathed when last I heard ... what, eight months ago.'
'But the prognosis ... ?'
'Was not good.'
Drinkwater nodded and they sat in silence for a moment. 'You had some expectation of preferment by his hand, did you?' asked Drury.
Drinkwater smiled ruefully. 'I fear I am a little long in the tooth to entertain such thoughts, sir.'
'We are of one mind, Captain.'
'I beg your pardon, sir ... ? Drinkwater looked up in surprise. Drury was mocking him!
'I am aware that you are an officer of experience, Captain. I have here', Drury patted a folded bundle of papers, 'your written orders which, loosely summarised, instruct you to take under convoy those ships ready to proceed. Our presence here in force has disrupted the trade and most of the India ships will not be ready. The Viceroy in Canton has been ordered by his Emperor to evict us from Macao and halt all intercourse with us. This interdict is contrary to the private ambitions of the Viceroy and will inconvenience him in the collection of his revenues. The Son of Heaven at Peking will expect the same tribute from his proconsul in Canton irrespective of its origin. I have come here to stop the French or Dutch from seizing Macao and ruining our trade, but I am also hounded by a mercenary pack of Selectmen to compel the Viceroy to continue trade through Canton and Whampoa and disobey the Emperor. The Indiamen have only just begun to break their outward bulk. There are fourteen large Indiamen, fifteen large Bombay vessels, six from Bengal, five from Penang and a brace from Negapatam and Madras. They have all yet to load. A boom and a fleet of war-junks could seal them above the Bogue and they could be forcibly discharged without any payment for their lading.
'Such a threat has the Selectmen quivering in their boots! That's why I want you to get out whatever specie the Chinese merchants have already collected, and, together with the two Indiamen and eight or nine Country ships that have managed to load, see them safe to Penang. If you ain't doing a service to the merchants, you'll be doing one for old Sir Edward.'
'I see, sir. And you think my grey hairs will help me ...'
'Damn it, Drinkwater, you've seen these boy captains! What the hell use d'you think Fleetwood Pellew is without I have a steady first luff to stay his impetuous helm. Such arrant nepotism will ruin the Service, to say nothing of prohibiting the promotion of worthy men who must be shackled in subordinate stations. Between us, magnificent seaman though he be, Pellew's made a ninny of himself on behalf of those two bucks of his.' Drury paused to drain his glass. All these young blades think about is prize money; prize money before duty ...
'Have you heard about young Rainier? No? Last year he was a snot-nosed midshipman; pulled the strings of influence and got himself command of a sloop; begged a cruise off the Commander-in-Chief and went a-skulking in the San Bernardino Strait. Took the Spanish Register ship San Raphael, pocketed fifty thousand sterling and sent Sir Edward his share of twenty-six. Yes, that stings, don't it, eh?
'And Fleetwood; sent up to Nangasakie to reconnoitre? Reconnoitre, my arse! Old Daddy Pellew wanted another slice of eighth-pie. Young Fleetwood, the valiant captor of Batavia, was to take one of the two Dutch ships that visit those parts every year and relieve them of the silk or spices, or whatever they go up there for and buy off the Mikado.
'That's why I want you to see these ships safe to Penang, Captain. There are several powerful French frigates working out of the Ile de France. Surcouf has raided the doorstep of Calcutta with impunity in a letter-of-marque called the Revenant that sails like a witch; word has it that he's at the Mauritius now, but he's quite likely to take another look into the Hooghly or the Malacca Strait.'
'I see, sir ...'
'Apart from the French National frigates, their privateers and the Dutch ships of war, you've pirates ... oh yes, sir, pirates. The Ladrones are infested with 'em and they'll take Country ships, knowing them lighter armed than the Company's regular vessels. Get south of the Paracels reefs and you can forget the Ladrones. What you'll have to worry about then are the Sea-Dyaks from Borneo. Fall into a calm and they'll paddle their praus up under your transom and cut out whatever they fancy ... that's why I want a man who knows his duty, Captain Drinkwater, so your one percent will be well earned if you get a chest or two of silver dollars to India safely.'