Then an uncomfortable thought struck him. While he had a full crew, most of which had successfully fought in the Vikkenfiord, his officers were largely inexperienced. It would not have mattered if all they had had to do was act as part of Prince William Henry's Royal Squadron. But now, while his elderly frigate was painted to a nicety, she had not refilled her magazines and was woefully short of powder and ball. True, he had a stock of langridge, grape and musket balls, but there was no substitute for good iron shot. And if that were not enough, he was victualled for no more than a month, two at the most, and carried no spare spars. These thoughts brought him from his bed.
The frigate was still close-hauled on the larboard tack, well heeled over to starboard, and the rush of water along her sides added its undertone to the monstrous creaking of the hull, the groan of the rudder stock below him and the faint tremulous shudder through the ship's fabric as she twitched and strained to the whim of wind and sea.
Drinkwater reached the quarter-gallery, eased himself and poured water into a basin. It slopped wildly as he scooped it up into his face and brushed his teeth. His servant Frampton had long-since abandoned the captain to his slumbers, and Drinkwater was glad of the lack of fossicking attention which he sometimes found intolerably vexing. He retied his stock, dragged a comb through his hair and clubbed his queue. Finally he eased his wounded shoulder into the comfortable broadcloth of his old, undress uniform coat, pulled his boat-cloak about his shoulders and, picking his hat from the hook beside the door, went on deck.
It was almost dark when he gained the quarterdeck. Low on the western horizon a dull orange break in the overcast showed the last of the daylight. Overhead the clouds seemed to boil above the mastheads in inky whorls, yet the wind was not cold, but mild.
Seeing the captain emerge on deck and stare aloft, the officer of the watch crossed the deck. It was Frey. 'Good evening, sir. Mr Birkbeck ordered the t'gallants struck an hour past, sir. He also had the main course clewed up.'
Drinkwater nodded then, realizing Frey could not see him properly, coughed and grunted his acknowledgement. 'Very well, Mr Frey. Thank you.'
Frey was about to withdraw and vacate the weather rail but Drinkwater said, 'A word with you, Mr Frey. There is something I wish to ask you.'
'Sir?'
'Have you any idea what we are up to?'
'No, sir.'
'What about scuttlebutt?' Even in the wind, Drinkwater heard Frey sigh. 'Come on, don't scruple. Tell me.'
'Scuttlebutt has it that we are off somewhere and that it is due to the, er, officer who came on board last night.'
It already seemed an age ago, yet it was not even twenty-four hours. Drinkwater cast aside the distraction. 'And what do they say about this officer then, Mr Frey?'
'Frankly, sir, they say it was a woman, at least, that is, the midshipmen do.'
'Tom Paine is an intelligent imp, Mr Frey,' Drinkwater replied, smiling. 'He noticed straight away'
'Then it was a woman?'
Drinkwater sighed. 'Yes, though you should not attach too much importance to the fact. I'm afraid she brought disturbing intelligence, Mr Frey, not entirely unconnected with that business in the Vikkenfiord.'
Drinkwater could sense Frey's reluctance at coming to terms with this news. 'Then it is not over yet, sir?'
'I fear not, my dear Frey, I fear not.'
A profound silence fell between them, if the deck of a frigate working to windward could provide such an environment. Then Frey said, 'I think you should tell Marlowe, sir. I do not think him a bad fellow, but he feels you do not trust him, and that cannot be good, sir.' Frey hesitated to voice his misgivings about Ashton. 'I don't wish to presume, sir.'
'No, no, you do quite right to presume, Mr Frey, quite right. I fear I used him ill. It was unforgivable.'
'He certainly took it badly, sir, if you'll forgive me for saying so, though I think Ashton made the situation worse.'
'Oh,' said Drinkwater sharply, 'in what way?'
'Well, sir, I think he put Marlowe up to importuning you; made him stand upon his dignity, if you know what I mean.'
'There was a time when a lieutenant had precious little dignity to stand upon.'
'There was much made of it in the wardroom, sir.'
Drinkwater grunted again. 'Well, well, I must put things to rights tomorrow'
'You don't mind ...'
'If you speak your mind? No, no. Under the circumstances, not at all.'
'It's just...' Frey faltered and Drinkwater saw him look away.
'Go on. Just what?' he prompted.
'Nothing sir,' Frey coughed to clear his throat, adding, 'no, nothing at all' As Frey moved away, Drinkwater watched him go, wondering what was on his mind.
CHAPTER 5
To Weather of the Wight
'Well gentlemen,' Drinkwater looked up from the chart at the two officers before him, 'I think I must confide in you both.'
'Are we out of soundings then?' Marlowe asked, a supercilious expression on his face. Drinkwater had forgotten his earlier remark, made more for the sake of its effect, than as a matter of absolute accuracy, but Marlowe's tone reminded him. He stared at the younger man for a moment, taken aback at Marlowe's attitude, so taken aback that a quick retort eluded him.
'Soundings?' he muttered. 'No, of course not,' then he looked up and glared at Marlowe, though he forbore from snapping at him. 'We have yet to weather the Wight.' He tapped the chart, pausing for a moment. 'What I have to say I shall shortly make known to the people, but for the time being it shall be between ourselves. Once we have resolved those difficulties which we can foresee, and there are several, then having taken what remedial action lies within our compass, we can inform the ship. Is that clear?'
'Perfectly, sir,' responded Birkbeck quickly, shooting his younger colleague a sideways glance.
'I think so, sir.' If Marlowe was being deliberately and sulkily obtuse, Drinkwater let the matter pass. He was resolved to be conciliatory, then Marlowe added, 'But is that wise, sir?'
'Is what wise?' Drinkwater frowned.
'Why, telling the people. Surely that is dangerous.'
'Dangerous, Mr Marlowe? How so?'
'Well, it seems perfectly clear to me. It could act as an incitement. If you make them privy to our thoughts, it would exceed their expectations and we should be guilty of an impropriety. Sir.'
'You think it an impropriety to ask them to go into action without knowing why, do you?'
It was Marlowe's turn to frown. 'Action? What action do you think we shall be involved in?' The first lieutenant was wearing his arch look again. It was the condescending way one might look at a senile old man, Drinkwater concluded with a mild sense of shock.
'Well, who knows, Mr Marlowe, who knows? Though it occurs to me we might encounter an American cruiser.' It had clearly not occurred to Marlowe. Drinkwater went on. 'Now then, let us be seated in a little comfort. Mr Birkbeck, you have the other chart there, and if you wish to smoke, please do. Mr Marlowe, do be a good fellow and pass the decanter and three glasses ...'