He looked at the younger Lorensen. ‘I consider you more culpable,’ he said, ‘because you knowingly ignored an order and brought the cards on board. I’ll therefore fine you five dollars.’
He turned to Goodschalclass="underline"
‘And you knowingly entered into the game, well aware it was forbidden. Your penalty will be three dollars.’
For men earning thirty dollars a month, it was severe enough for them to appreciate that he regarded what they had done as serious but not excessive enough to be considered unjust. He would log it, he decided, but not list it in their seamen’s books or in any report at the end of the voyage.
Richardson remained after the two men had been dismissed.
‘Weather is improving again,’ he said. He made a movement to clear his sweat-wet shirt from his back. ‘Good rainstorm might flatten the sea even more. And get rid of this confounded heat.’
‘I’d like to be able to ventilate today,’ said Briggs.
‘So would I,’ said Richardson. ‘The smell has become so bad that the men are complaining in the fo’c’sle. The cook says it’s even giving his food a taint.’
‘Seepage must be quite heavy.’
‘And this heat will make things worse.’
‘Perhaps we should risk shipping some water down there anyway. The pumps are more than adequate.’
Richardson moved his head doubtfully.
‘I wonder if that ship we came upon yesterday had any hatches off,’ he said. ‘Must have been something very odd to take her down as quickly as that.’
It would be a long time before any of them forgot that tragedy, Briggs knew.
‘It’s a question of balancing the risk,’ said Briggs. ‘We’ve sailed too long battened down.’
‘There’s still a high sea running. We’re shipping water almost all the time.’
‘I think it might be dangerous to wait longer,’ said Briggs.
When he emerged on deck, Briggs saw that Sarah considered the child sufficiently recovered to be allowed the run of her safety line. His wife had attached her own line immediately after Sophia’s and was guiding the child along the tilted deck with an arm around her shoulders. Sophia was laughing aloud, amused at a new game. Even the occasional spray did not seem to distress her.
Martens was at the helm, smiling that at last mother and daughter were getting some use from the harnesses he had made.
‘Is that line strong enough to support them both?’ asked Briggs. The ropes looked very thin, he thought.
‘More than sufficient,’ the German assured him. ‘I had someone spell me at the wheel when they came out and attached them myself.’
Farther along the deck, Briggs saw that Boz Lorensen and Goodschall had been assigned to work together. It showed foresight on Richardson’s part; it was difficult for shipmates to nurture grievances if they shipped side by side. The men were coiling the peak halyard and as he watched Goodschall said something to the other German and Lorensen grinned as he made his reply.
Briggs turned out to port. Somewhere hidden behind those lowering, thunderous clouds was the Azores archipelago. Even if they maintained the two to three knots they were running now, it would take until the next day before they were near enough to take a sighting from the most easterly island. He hoped it would not be too early in the morning; Sophia would be excited at her first landfall after almost three weeks.
Richardson emerged from the deckhouse and Briggs beckoned him, nodding towards the two Germans whom he had so recently censured.
‘That was a wise course, Mr Richardson.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said the mate.
‘Looks black,’ said Briggs, indicating the direction of the unseen islands.
‘Just checked the barometer,’ said Richardson.
‘What’s the reading?’
Before the man could reply, a wave larger than the others that morning slid encroachingly over the deck, sweeping the baby’s feet from beneath her. She would have fallen had not Sarah been immediately behind to scoop her up. Goodschall moved immediately from the halyard coiling, supporting mother and baby back along the line to where they were nearest to the deck-house and then walking with them to the companion-way. The child was crying, holding her legs bunched beneath her chin to avoid being soaked again.
‘It’s dropping,’ said Richardson miserably.
‘So we’re in for more storms?’
‘Within an hour or so,’ said the first mate. ‘Isn’t there ever going to be a respite?’
Briggs did not reply immediately. He had already been caught unawares with the crew and it had irritated him, even though the incident was a trivial one. And not twenty-four hours earlier had seen the far from trivial effect of a captain exercising insufficient care.
At the last reading, he was at latitude 36.56 N. by longitude 27.20 W., which put almost all the Azores group astern. San Miguel was about 100 miles away, Santa Maria a little farther.
‘There’ll be protection in the lee of the islands,’ he said, turning to include the helmsman in the remark. Briggs paused, making the decision. Then he said, ‘We’ll set course for Santa Maria. I want calm within the next twenty-four hours, so that we can ventilate.’
‘Aye,’ accepted Richardson, walking with Briggs towards the cabin where the captain would chart the course alteration.
It was a decision of sensible seamanship, thought Briggs, as he hunched over the mid-Atlantic charts. Just as taking the protection of Staten Island, at the very commencement of the voyage, had been good seamanship. It was a simple plot, taking only minutes to complete. There would be an added advantage, he decided, as Richardson went back to the conn. Now they would be close enough to the island for Sophia to get a clear view.
He returned to the charts, making another calculation. The impending weather would keep them back to seven or eight knots. It would still be some time before they made landfall.
He looked in the direction of the adjoining cabin, from which emerged the sounds of Sarah quietening the distressed child.
If they made Santa Maria’s protection by breakfast, they could be ventilated by noon. He pulled from his pocket the silver watch with which Sophia was so fond of playing.
Less than twenty-four hours before the guarantee of absolute safety. He frowned at the thought, finding it theatrical. There had not been the slightest indication that the cargo was entering a dangerous state. Just as it was sensible not to become careless or complacent, so it was important not to imagine problems before they arose. Hadn’t he told Sarah that morning that he couldn’t allow his judgment to become affected by external influences?
Sarah and Sophia entered from the next cabin, the baby quite recovered.
Briggs picked her up, holding her at arm’s-length as he normally did.
‘A surprise for you,’ he declared, to the child.
‘What?’ asked Sarah, over the baby’s shoulder.
‘I’ve changed course, to get some protection from the islands. She’ll be able to see land some time tomorrow.’
‘Is it necessary?’ asked the woman.
‘Yes,’ said Briggs. ‘Very necessary.’
Looking at Captain Winchester as he rose to begin his re-examination, the Attorney-General was again reminded of his bullfighting analogy. Just as he had earlier felt the euphoria of knowing he was sure to win, so there was about the New York owner that ambience of defeat that rises from the bull as the matador positions himself for the kill, an attitude of defiance that fails to conceal the beast’s awareness that it is confronting a superior opponent.
Flood decided the changed circumstances demanded a different approach from that upon which he had originally determined for this third session.
‘Your advice was sought before Oliver Deveau was despatched to Genoa, while Captain Morehouse remained here?’ he said.
‘It is the custom at sea for the superior officer to be held responsible for any action or statement of those whom he commands,’ said Winchester. He had removed his pince-nez and stood leaning slightly forward in the witness box, as if he had difficulty in focusing upon his interrogator.