The yards rose, stretching the canvas and setting the topsails again. 'Belay! That's well!' Drinkwater turned to Birkbeck who had materialized beside the wheel in all the commotion. 'Steady now, Mr Birkbeck. Let's have her full and bye, starboard tack, if you please.'
Andromeda heeled to larboard and a cloud of spray rose above the starboard bow as she shouldered her way through a sea and increased speed. Beyond this brief nebula lay the white rampart of Dunnose Head while on the starboard quarter Culver Cliff drew slowly, but inexorably astern. After the bowlines had been set up and all about the deck made tidy again, the watches changed. Only a small darkening stain of blood on the hallowed white planks marred the organized symmetry of the man-of-war as she stood offshore again.
'We shall work to weather of the Wight now,' said Drinkwater, handing the deck over to Frey.
'Aye, sir.' Both men stared to windward as they emerged from the lee of the headland. The sea was running high and hollow against the strong ebb and the wind again increased in force. Emerging clear of Dunnose Head and some five miles beyond the promontory, St Catherine's Point stood out clear against the horizon. High above the point, on Niton Down where it was already surrounded by wisps of cloud, stood the lighthouse. Forward, eight bells were struck.
'Judging by that cloud and the shift of the wind we're in for a thick night of it.'
'Aye, I fear so, sir,' agreed Frey. For a few moments the two men stood in silence, then Drinkwater asked, 'Did you see what happened?'
'Yes, I did. Marlowe left reefing too late, then feared embayment and lost his nerve.'
'I assumed he countermanded the order and tried to tack the ship first.'
'That is what happened, sir,' said Frey, his voice inexpressive.
'Do you know the name of the man who fell?'
'No sir; Mr Birkbeck will know' Frey turned and called to the master who hurried across the deck. 'Who was the fellow who fell?'
'Watson. A good topman; been in the ship since he was pressed as a lad.'
'Thank you both,' said Drinkwater turning away. He was deeply affected by the unnecessary loss. 'Another ghost,' he muttered to himself. Moving towards the companionway he left his orders to the officer taking over the watch. 'Keep her full-and-bye, Mr Frey, run our distance out into the Channel. We'll tack again before midnight.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
It was only when the captain had gone below Frey realized Marlowe had vanished.
CHAPTER 6
Three Cheers for the Ship
Captain Drinkwater looked up at the surgeon. 'Well, Mr Kennedy?'
'He was barely alive when he reached me.' Kennedy's face wore its customary expression of world-weariness. Drinkwater had known the man long enough not to take offence. He invited Kennedy to be seated and offered him a glass of wine.
'Thank you, no, sir.' The surgeon remained standing.
'Then we shall have to bury him.'
'Yes. They're trussing him in his hammock now.' Kennedy paused and appeared to want to say more.
'There is something you wish to say, Mr Kennedy?' Drinkwater asked, half-guessing what was to follow.
'I hear it was Lieutenant Marlowe's fault.'
'Did you now; in what way?'
'That he had begun to reef the topsails while we were running into a bay, that he left it too late, changed his mind and tried to tack with men on the yards.'
'It's not unheard of ...'
'Don't you care ... Sir?'
'Sit down, Mr Kennedy'
'I'd rather ...'
'Sit down!' Drinkwater moved round the table and Kennedy sat abruptly, as though expecting Drinkwater to shove him into the chair, but the captain lifted a decanter from the fiddles and poured two glasses of dark blackstrap. The drink appeared to live up to its name as twilight descended on the Channel.
'How many men have died while under your knife, Mr Kennedy?'
The surgeon spluttered into his glass. 'That's a damned outrage...'
'It's a point of view, Mr Kennedy,' Drinkwater said, his voice level. 'I know you invariably do your utmost, but imagine how matters sometimes seem to others.'
'But Marlowe clearly did not act properly. He should not even have been on deck.'
'Perhaps not, but perhaps he made only an error of judgement, the consequences of which were tragic for Watson. That is not grounds for ...'
'The people may consider it grounds for ...' Kennedy baulked at enunciating the fatal word.
'Mutiny?'
'They turned against Pigot when men fell out of the rigging.'
'Things were rather different aboard the Hermione, Mr Kennedy. Pigot had been terrorizing his crew and there was no sign of the end of the war. This is an unfortunate accident.'
'You do not seem aware, sir, of the mood of the people. They were anticipating being paid off. As you point out, the war is at an end and their services will no longer be required. Watson might have even now been dandling a nipper on his knees and bussing a fat wife. Instead, he is dead and the rest of the poor devils find themselves beating out of the Channel, bound God knows where...'
'I am well aware of the mood of the men, but you are wrong about the war being over. It seems a common misapprehension aboard the ship; in fact we remain at war with the Americans. However, I quite agree with you that Watson's death is a very sad matter; as for the rest, I had intended telling them when the watch changed at eight bells. But for being overtaken by events, they would not have been kept in the dark any longer. That is a pity, but there is nothing I can do now until the morning. We shall have to bury Watson and when I have the company assembled I shall tell them all I can.'
'The ship is already alive with rumour, sir,' said Kennedy, draining his glass.
'I daresay. A ship is always alive with rumour. What do they say?'
'Some nonsense about us stopping Bonaparte from escaping, though why Boney should choose to run off into the Atlantic, I'm damned if I know. I suppose he wants to emigrate to America.' Kennedy rose, holding his glass.
'I should think that a strong possibility, Mr Kennedy.' It was almost dark in the cabin now and the pantry door opened and Drinkwater's servant entered with a lit lantern.
'Oh, I beg pardon, sir ...'
'Come in, Frampton, come in. Mr Kennedy is just leaving.'
After the surgeon had gone, Drinkwater ate the cold meat and potatoes Frampton set before him. He was far from content with Marlowe's conduct, but at a loss to know what to do about it. He had been preoccupied with considerations of greater moment than the organization of his ship and now berated himself for his folly. He ought to have known Marlowe had precious little between his ears, yet the fellow had seen a fair amount of service. Then it occurred to Drinkwater that his own naval career had been woefully deficient in one important respect; owing to a curious chain of circumstances the only patronage that might have elevated him in the sea-service had actually confined him to frigates. He must, he realized, be one of the most experienced frigate captains in the Royal Navy. The corollary of this was that he had spent no time in a line-of-battle ship. Perhaps the constraints aboard a ship carrying five or six lieutenants and employed on the tedious but regimented duty of blockade gave young officers of a certain disposition no chance to use their initiative or to learn the skills necessary to handle a ship under sail in bad weather. It seemed an odd situation, but if Marlowe, as son of a baronet, was a favoured élève of an admiral, he might never have seen true active service, or ever carried out a manoeuvre without an experienced master's mate at his elbow.
It would have been quite possible for Marlowe to have climbed the seniority list without ever hearing a gun fired in anger! Entry on a ship's books at an early age would have him a lieutenant below the proper age of twenty, with or without an examination, if Marlowe's father could pull the right strings. Drinkwater found the thought incredible, but he forgot how much older than his officers he was. And then it occurred to him that his age and appearance might intimidate those who did not know him; indeed he might intimidate those who did!