Harry Heron: Midshipman's Journey

by Patrick G Cox

  “Was it a fever?” asked Harry. “A plague, perhaps?”

  “According to the Sawbones it was the result of working without protection in the sun and the heat. He had taken no drink during the day, and when he did come down for our dinner, Eamon sent him aloft again to correct some omission. He’d no chance to even taste his food or relieve his thirst.” Kit glanced around carefully to see who might be within earshot. “The Captain was in a fury, and I think if the opportunity serves, he will take some action over it.”

  “A pity it has to come to a death,” Harry observed. “Though I hear that the surgeon has persuaded our Captain to cease all work aloft in the heat of the day.”

  “True,” Kit replied with a grin. “And he’s forbidden our senior from awarding any punishment on pain of immediate dismissal to await court martial.” He nudged Harry in the ribs. “So we may be safe from his attentions for a while at least.”

  “Aye,” said Harry, frowning. “But best not to put it to any great test.”

  MIDSHIPMAN JOSEPH PELHAM WAS LAID TO REST in the cemetery on the outskirts of the town next to Richard Trehearne, and the burial party was in sober mood when they returned to the ship. That it coincided with Harry’s fourteenth birthday was most unfortunate, as it quite suppressed any desire, even on his part, to celebrate this milestone.

  Ferghal did remember it and presented Harry with a small gift, a beautifully carved box in which to store his instruments. “This for you, Master Harry,” he said with unassuming pleasure at being able to give such a fine gift. He had been likewise touched when Harry had quietly marked his own sixteenth birthday earlier in the year with a gift of his own making, and Ferghal now repaid it with this and a plate of the choicest pieces of the freshly caught fish that was their dinner this night.

  Barely two days later, a party sent to recover boat anchors and buoys from a small cove with a shallow beach, which they had used for the purpose of landing to refill water casks and other stores, was at work in the water when a shark attacked. It swam between two men, brushing them violently aside, and seized a third man standing closer to the shore.

  “Summat’s taken Tom,” shouted one of the shocked pair. He stared in horror at the frothing water that indicated a struggle.

  The victim’s head appeared briefly, his mouth open in a strangled scream as the water turned bloody. A man closer to the victim seized a flailing arm shouting, “Gi’es a hand, mates. Hit t’ brute wi’ summat!”

  His companions seized anything that came to hand and rained blows on the thrashing shark as it flung its victim from side to side. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and the shaken party struggled ashore bearing the grisly remains of their now lifeless companion. Laying the torn torso and bloodied limbs on the sand they stood uncertainly as the sent a boy to fetch the Lieutenant.

  “T’ beast as done fer ’im, sor,” he reported to Lieutenant Beasley. “I reckons ’e were dead afore we even managed ter get near.”

  The Lieutenant surveyed the torn body, noting a missing leg, part of the hips and lower torso. “Cover him decently, Pringle. And everyone stay out of the water; that beast will be lurking somewhere.” To Midshipman Tanner now hurrying to the scene he called, “Take the boat back to the ship and fetch the surgeon.”

  “IT WAS GHASTLY, SIR,” LIEUTENANT BEASLEY REPORTED to the Captain. “Jameson was not deeper than his waist in the water when the beast seemed to rise from the sea and snatched him before he could even turn to escape. It took his legs and then flung him aside only to seize him again and tear him in two. He was dead when we managed to drive the creature off.”

  “Well, Michael, Thomas….” Captain Blackwood said, gazing across the harbour. “Warn the men that they must exercise great care near the water. These sharks are ferocious and evidently have a taste for human flesh. And stop the midshipmen from their new sport of swimming, if you please. We have lost one to a storm, one to a snake and another to the sunburn or heat exhaustion I think the Sawbones called it. I’ve no desire to lose another to these sharks.”

  “Quite so, sir,” the first Lieutenant agreed. “I shall make your instruction known immediately.”

  Harry and several others were disappointed when this order was given.

  “Blow!” exclaimed Harry. He enjoyed these excursions and the opportunity to swim. Now he felt a more potent expletive might have been more appropriate when told of the order. “Our swimming is the one thing that makes this infernal heat bearable.”

  They had discovered the pleasures of swimming and disporting themselves in the water all too recently. It gave them a welcome relief from routine and a means of cooling their bodies after a day spent toiling over a slate or some other activity. It had become the practice, for as many as were off watch, to take a boat in the Dog Watch to a small beach beyond the great prison that rose above an islet named for the birds that flocked there.

  Kit Tanner, one of the stronger swimmers, agreed. “It cools the blood and is good sport too.” He looked at the disappointed faces around him. “A curse on these beasts. We have just found a sport we can enjoy without restriction, and now it is taken from us.”

  It was Dick Peterson who gave a voice to their hope of a reprieve. “Sir, can we not find another place where the sharks will not attack us?”

  “I doubt such a place exists here, Mister Peterson,” the second Lieutenant told him. “Besides, we are sailing within the next few days, so you will not suffer any hardship by the loss of this temporary privilege.”

  Reluctantly the midshipmen had no choice but to agree. So it was a relief when, three days later, the ship made use of a change in the wind direction to get underway. Clear of the heads, she turned with the wind over her quarter and began to make her way northwards. The embarkation of Captain Te Water and his passengers, just before their departure, provided a small disruption to the gunroom and the other officers. Harry once more found himself the chosen shepherd of Pieterzoon and his companions.

  IN DRAMATIC CONTRAST TO THE STORMY CONDITIONS that had almost destroyed the survey party at sea, the weather, as Spartan made her way northward, was balmy, so much so that the ship was only just making ground over the current until she reached the thirtieth parallel. Now the winds freshened a little and the Spartan made good progress until they encountered the great coral reef described in his journal by Captain Cook in his voyage in the bark Endeavour.

  “We should stand well out to sea according to the chart I have of this coast, Captain,” the master advised. “It is a copy of one made by the late Captain Cook, and though much added to, it is woefully incomplete, sir. The Endeavour herself grounded on the reef in seeking a passage to the west.”

  “Sound advice, Mister Wentworth. Very well, we will stand away to the east and then to the north.” The Captain studied the chart carefully. “The inshore lead appears tempting, but not for a ship of our size and draft.” He thought a moment longer and said, half to himself, “It would be interesting and beneficial to pass between the reef and this scatter of islands, though. According to Cook’s journal, the water was deep along the seaward side of the reef, at least standing three miles off.” He traced a line with his finger. “Let us see if we can pass to seaward of the reef and these islands then close the shore again near this island.” He glanced up. “New Guinea, is it not?”

  The master frowned at the chart. “Aye, sir, that it is, though the sea is shallow in that strait with many reefs according to my notes. It will be risky, and I suggest we make the passage in daylight with the launches scouting ahead if we can.”

  “A good thought, we will do so.” The Captain straightened himself. “Once through that channel, we can make for Batavia and set our passengers ashore there. Captain Te Water and his young charge will no doubt be glad to be among their own again.”

  IN THIS SURMISE, THE CAPTAIN WAS RIGHT. Captain Te Water and his party had high hopes that they would encounter a Dutch trader who could take them to their destination. Th
us far, however, there had been no such contact, and the Dutchman was anxious to deliver his charges to Batavia, a point he had discussed at some length with Captain Blackwood.

  Pieterzoon had attached himself to Harry almost as soon as he came aboard, much to the amusement of other members of the gunroom and to Harry’s embarrassment. No longer was his perch in the foretop a private retreat, for the Dutch boy had discovered it and now joined him whenever he could. They were enjoying the coolness as the sun set away over the vast landmass to the west as the ship stood steadily north by north-north-east in an effort to skirt the outlying reefs, a challenge considering that they were marked rather vaguely on the chart.

  Pieterzoon was just remarking rather excitedly on a pod of dolphins, which minutes before had begun to disport themselves under the ship’s bow when there was a cry from the lookout in the crosstrees above them.

  “Deck there, breakers ahead!”

  Leaping to his feet Harry peered through the rigging and, as the ship lifted slightly to the swell, saw the line of foam and spray as the surf around it revealed a long reef. Already the deck below them was a flurry of activity as Harry heard the first Lieutenant demand, “What bearing and to what extent?”

  “Dead ahead and to starboard, sor! There be open water to larboard as I can see, sor!”

  Harry studied the surf carefully. It did seem to run from left to right across their path, and there did seem to be open water to larboard. The starboard view, now half shrouded in darkness, held the suggestion of more broken water and therefore a hidden reef. To Pieterzoon he said, “Remain here; I must go to my station and report what we can see.”

  Taking hold of a stay, Harry slid down it hand over hand then hurried aft and reported to the first Lieutenant. “Sir, the reef seems to lie in a long crescent to our starboard side. The sea appears clear to larboard though.”

  “Very good, Mister Heron, that is useful.” Captain Blackwood had joined them. “We won’t be able to bear up with the wind in this quarter.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Mister Wentworth, Mister Bell, bring her about, please, and set her on the starboard tack. We will stand away for an hour, and then resume our present direction. Double the lookouts, please.”

  Ponderously the ship tacked. The surf was visible from the quarterdeck as the Spartan lifted to the swell. From the mizzen crosstrees, where he had been sent with a night glass, Harry was able to make a better estimate of the extent of the reef. As he returned to the deck to make his report, he heard the leadsman at work in the forechains obviously using a deep-sea leadline singing out the depth. It had been a close call, he realised, as the depth fluctuated at first and then began to fall away steeply until eventually the leadsman called, “No bottom. No bottom with this line.”

  “Very well, Mister Bell, we will hold this course until six bells then tack again to our former course. Relieve the lookouts every hour if you please I have no desire to have another such close encounter.”

  The Captain retired to his quarters, leaving the deck to the first Lieutenant as officer of the watch. Released to have his supper, Harry remembered Pieterzoon and hurried to bring the boy down before escorting him to their meal.

  THE CHANGE OF COURSE AN HOUR LATER saw the ship once more heading north by north-north-east. Dawn found her sailing through calm seas with the breeze steady and no sign of further reefs to interrupt her passage. This would be the pattern for the next fortnight, though her course now took her steadily toward the west in a series of tacks. At the westward end of each of these long legs, breakers marked the need to turn away and steer clear of what could easily become a dangerous lee shore. Finally, a group of coral ringed islands appeared, and the Captain decided that the ship would anchor in their lee while the boats explored the safest route through the narrow strait that lay between them, the Indian Ocean and their destination of Colombo.

  “Take the barge, Thomas,” Captain Blackwood told Lieutenant Bell. “And seek a channel and anchorage for us in the lee of that island.” The low-lying island was ringed with coral, and the ship had hove to just north of it while the boat was prepared.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” the first Lieutenant replied. He turned and hurried away to summon the crew he would need, calling to a , “Send a leadsman to me.”

  The sea was shallow here and the water clear. Shoals of fish could be seen swimming beneath the ship, darting from its shadow to seize some prize before vanishing again. For some days now, they had been accompanied by several large sharks swimming effortlessly in the ship’s wake, something the seamen found disquieting.

  Harry watched one now as it kept station on the ship’s quarter, less than a boat length from the hull, and marvelled at its size. He pointed it out to the standing nearby.

  The looked overside and drew a sharp breath. “Strewth, but that is a big bugger, begging yer pardon, Mister Her’n. Any poor bugger falls overside now will be taken by that fer sure!”

  Harry was, of course, familiar with the belief that all sharks were man-eaters, a belief reinforced by the loss of their messmate in Port Jackson to one. He shuddered as he contemplated the animal now lazily investigating a trailing weed from the hull. “What a size it is! It looks to be as long as the launch.”

  They watched as the cooks threw some offal overside from a forward gun port and the shark accelerated into action with a powerful flick of its tail. The offal had barely struck the water when the shark rolled beneath it, mouth agape, and seized it before vanishing almost as quickly beneath the surface. In that instant, Harry had seen the serried rows of teeth, the gaping jaw and the awesome power of the creature. He stepped back from the gunport in thoughtful mood.

  “Mister Bell is signalling, sir,” said Mister Rae to the Captain. “He is indicating a safe approach and anchorage.”

  “Very well. Get us underway, Mister Rae. Two leadsmen in the chains, if you please; I trust not this coral. Mister Wentworth, we will anchor and investigate the channel through the strait.”

  Under a flurry of orders, the ship gathered way, following the route indicated by the barge. At the master’s suggestion, sail was reduced until she was inching her way forward into the anchorage marked out for them by the barge’s crew. It was a relief to all when the great anchor splashed down and the cable roared out through the hawse pipe. The ship settled to her anchor in the lee of a low-lying island, the white-sand beach ringed by the beautiful but deadly coral. Beneath the ship, the clear waters made it possible to see the teeming fish flitting about the coral and the ever-present shark now lazily cruising close to the hull.

  THE OFFICERS GATHERED ’ROUND THE CHART LAID OUT by the master. “This is a copy of Captain Cook’s own chart, or so I am told,” Mister Wentworth informed the group. “The passage attempted by the Endeavour lies here, along the southern shore. But they encountered many reefs and islets and were forced to stand north to find deeper water. Even so they grounded several times according to the Captain’s journal.”

  Captain Blackwood studied the chart thoughtfully. The master and others had added to it over the years since Cook’s voyage. There were still large areas with no soundings and no details other than notations such as possible shoal or breaking seas observed in this area. One thing all the journals of those who had attempted this passage said clearly was that the sea was relatively shallow and the passage very narrow indeed.

  The Captain scratched his chin as he considered their options. “Very well, gentlemen, the boats will explore these reefs marked to our west and their extent to the north and south. According to our information from Port Jackson, a channel lies to the north of a large reef extending north and south-west across our intended track and a smaller reef lying to the north of that. Mister Rae, you will take the barge and find the entrance to that channel, which, if this chart is accurate, lies no more than twenty miles from our present anchorage.”

  “If the wind remains in this direction, it will be an easy run to leeward for the ship, sir,” remarked the
fourth Lieutenant.

  “As you say, Mister Beasley, the prevalent wind is from the east so, once we have the passage, it should be a simple matter to proceed through it.”

  “The channel on this chart is at least as wide as the Solent, perhaps wider, sir,” the master said. “It should also have sufficient depth, though I mistrust the surveying of it.”

  “Exactly. That is why we will proceed with caution. At least in the Solent, if we touch ground, it is shingle; here the coral will rip our planks, and I have no desire to continue our voyage in the ship’s boats.”

  The Captain straightened and looked at his officers. “We will proceed through the channel with the boats ahead of us under oars so that soundings may be taken. You will each command a boat, gentlemen, and if you find shoal water, you must signal accordingly, and we will either anchor or heave to until the channel is clear.”

  He accepted their acknowledgement and then said, “At least once we are beyond this strait we have a pilot of some skill and knowledge to assist us. Captain Te Water is familiar with the waters around Java and knows the route between the islands to reach Batavia. Now, gentlemen, to work.”

  “A suggestion, sir?” The first Lieutenant continued after receiving his Captain’s consent. “Perhaps, once we have passed this channel, we could touch land and renew our water casks and perhaps obtain some fruit. Captain Te Water says we are yet three weeks from Batavia if the wind continues light. Our supplies of lime juice are low, and our stock of fruit is now exhausted.”

  “Certainly, Thomas.” The Captain nodded. “Assuming, of course, that anything may be found in the jungles hereabouts. There is little edible growing wild on this coast of New South Wales, and of the New Guinea side we know little.”

  Chapter 30