by Seth Hunter
Nathan raised a tentative hand to his head. He appeared to wear a crown of linen, bulging at the temple.
‘The ball – is it still in there?’ He kept his voice steady, knowing the answer was like to be a sentence of death.
‘No.’
No. Life, then. With its immensity of opportunity, with gossamer seeds and sunlight and the daddy-long-legs dancing. Or a living death? A crippled, drooling sub-existence on the twilight fringe of humanity.
‘And Dr Halsey has sewed up the wound. But he does not know if it has done any – that is to say, there may have been some – compression – within the skull.’
‘So there may be permanent damage?’
‘He said we will have to wait and see. If you appear cogent …’
Nathan smiled, though it felt more like a grimace, his dry lips cracking at the edges. ‘Do I often appear cogent?’
Tully also smiled. ‘It is a rare occurrence, but it has been known.’
Nathan tried to raise himself again, bracing himself against the tide of pain. ‘Help me up.’
‘No, you must lie still, Nathan – the doctor—’
‘I want to see if I can walk.’
But he had to get out of the cot first, a difficult manoeuvre at the best of times and in the rudest of health.
‘If I am so ill, why am I not in the sickbay?’ he demanded petulantly, giving up on the attempt and falling back in his cushioned tomb.
‘The sickbay is fairly crowded at present,’ declared Tully dryly. ‘It was thought you would be more comfortable in your own—’
‘How many did we lose?’
‘Nine,’ Tully informed him after a moment. ‘Nine dead, twenty-two wounded.’
It could have been worse.
‘Blunt, Joyce … ?’
‘Mr Blunt is quite well. Mr Vivian, I am afraid, has lost an arm – but only the left arm. And the doctor is hopeful of his recovery.’
No more Eton wall game. But he had moved on to more violent pursuits. Perhaps the loss of an arm would be no great hindrance to him.
‘But no other officers among the casualties.’ Tully’s voice betrayed a degree of irony. He might rise to be an admiral but he would always be a smuggler in his soul, and the son of a fisherman, and as much a rebel, in his own way, as Nathan’s mother.
‘And the Shiva? Did she strike?’
‘Yes, and is taken prize.’
‘What—’
But Tully raised a firm hand.
‘Not yet. You must rest. You are lucky to be alive. When you have slept, I will tell you the whole story.’
Nathan’s eyes went to the skylight, a myriad of distorted mirrors reflecting the multiplied image of the lantern. There was very little movement in the ship, but he could tell from the creak of timbers and the very slight tilt of his cot that they were underway.
Tully anticipated his next question. ‘We are halfway through the middle watch,’ he reported. ‘The wind is from the north-east and we are on the starboard tack, crossing the Bay of Bengal, bound for Madras. Now—’
‘Madras?’ Nathan moved his head a little too violently in Tully’s direction and winced as the hammer struck a sharp single bell. ‘Why Madras?’
‘Easy, easy,’ Tully said, as if he were addressing a restless horse. ‘All in good time. I am going to leave you now so you can sleep.’
‘Wait.’ Nathan raised a hand. He knew he would not sleep until he knew what had happened and why they were heading for Madras. ‘I was looking for the signal book,’ he said.
‘And it is found. Blunt found it. And some other papers. It is good that you remember this, but you must not tax yourself.’
Nathan did suddenly feel very weak and weary. He could hardly keep his eyes open. ‘I will sleep now,’ he heard himself say. ‘But as soon as I awake—’
‘As soon as you are awake I will come and tell you the rest of the story, but the doctor will wish to see you first and then …’
But his voice came from a great distance and the darkness had once more descended.
Chapter Twenty-one
The Falcon and the Pearl
‘Who is the King of England?’
Nathan regarded the doctor warily. ‘This is a trick question?’
‘No, sir.’ Dr Halsey frowned. ‘Why would it be a trick question?’
Halsey was a sharp-featured little man with a long nose and a gloomy countenance. He reminded Nathan somewhat of Dr Fell in the nursery rhyme, who was always depicted in the illustrations that accompanied it as a stooped raven, a bird of ill omen.
I do not like thee, Dr Fell,
The reason why I cannot tell;
But this I know, and know full well,
I do not like thee, Dr Fell.
The pain inside Nathan’s head had receded to an occasional throb when he heard a loud noise or was made fractious. On the whole, he felt a great deal better, though still weak and extremely hungry. He had slept round the clock, almost, and it was now nearing the end of the first watch, which was to say near midnight. In Nathan’s view the doctor would have been best left in the sickbay to attend to his more needy patients while the commodore was attended by his steward and his cook.
‘You want me to say the father, but you mean the son.’
‘No, why—’ But then Dr Halsey frowned. ‘Can you not answer the question?’
‘George. The Third.’ Nathan was by no means assured by the surgeon’s denial. ‘But if he were to be declared – incapacitated – by reason of his madness, then it might be that the son, who is also named George—’
‘But that would make him the Regent, would it not?’
‘I suppose that is true. Very well. George the Third.’
‘And the chief of his administration?’
‘Pitt. Billy Pitt. This is easy.’
‘Very well. What is Canopus?’
‘A star. The lucida of Argo Navis. Also the ancient city by which we fought the battle of Abukir.’
‘You appear quite compos mentis,’ the surgeon informed him a trifle grudgingly, Nathan thought. ‘It would appear that there is no permanent damage.’
‘Good. Now can I have a drink of water?’
‘By all means.’ The doctor looked for assistance but finding none available to him, he was reluctantly obliged to supply the need himself from a small flask and a leather cup residing beside the patient’s cot. ‘I will have to raise your head a little,’ he said. He stooped over the cot, noticeably increasing his resemblance to a carrion bird pecking at a corpse. But it was only to put his hand behind Nathan’s head, lifting it very gently as he brought the cup to his cracked lips.
‘I thought I saw Sister Caterina,’ Nathan said when he had drunk a little.
‘Yes. She has been sitting with you all day. In fact,’ he added after a small pause, ‘she has been at your side ever since you were brought back from the Shiva, more dead than alive.’
‘Really?’ This required rather more careful thought than the questions the surgeon had asked. Nathan was not sure he was up to it yet, but it promised to be more pleasant than not. ‘And where is she now?’
‘She was here when I came in,’ Halsey replied. ‘But she left. Perhaps she thought I wished to be private with you. Shall I have her sent for?’
‘No. Not yet.’ There was another thought demanding Nathan’s more immediate attention.
‘Captain Tully said the sickbay was crowded.’
‘I am afraid it is, though becoming less so.’
This was unlikely to be because they had recovered.
‘How many more have we lost?’
‘Four. Their wounds were severe. In a hand-to-hand engagement of that nature …’
Clearly Halsey was not going to take a greater responsibility than the man who had ordered the attack. He was very probably right.
‘And how many of the Shiva’s?’
‘Forty-four dead and near a hundred wounded.’
‘Good God! That must be near half th
e crew.’
‘They were fighting to the death. By the laws of the sea they may be considered pirates – and would hang for it.’
This would explain why they fought so long and hard. ‘But I thought she was taken by the French.’
But this was as far as Dr Halsey was prepared to indulge him.
‘I will ask the captain to attend upon you,’ he said. ‘He gave orders to be summoned as soon as I had finished my examination.’
‘Did I pass for a pension?’
‘I believe you must discuss that with the proper authorities. As far as I am concerned, you have every chance of resuming your present command, after a due period of convalescence.’
‘Can I walk?’
‘I see no reason why you should not. Though you would be advised to remain where you are for at least a day or two.’
‘What about food?’
‘A little broth perhaps …’
‘Be damned to your broth, sir,’ Nathan was stung into retort. ‘If you see my steward, ask him to see if there is any cold pie left in the larder and a pint of small beer. If you would be so good,’ he added, remembering his manners, ‘and thank you, Doctor, for your – your …’ He was at a loss to know quite what the surgeon had done for him, but it had no doubt played a significant part in his recovery.
‘All I did was sew you up, sir, I doubt the gunner’s wife could have done a better job.’
‘And I doubt you have had a more difficult patient, sir, but thank you, all the same.’
‘You are quite certain you are prepared for this?’ Tully enquired.
‘Quite prepared, thank you,’ Nathan assured him, ‘apart from the hunger cramps in my stomach and a grow ing anxiety gnawing at my breast that you seem determined to prolong. Pray tell me the worst. If you are not too fatigued.’
Tully smiled. ‘I am not too fatigued, and the news is not entirely bad. But it is a lengthy tale. Very well.’ He settled himself in his chair with a sigh. ‘I had better start at the beginning.’
‘That is usually the best way.’
‘The Shiva was hired by the Honourable Company to wait upon the Falcon at Devil’s Point—’
‘The Falcon?’
‘The chase. That is, the East Indiaman she was fighting when we—’
‘The silver ship?’ If she was, there would surely be a large reward. The East India Company was not stingy about that.
‘If you are continually going to interrupt we will never get through this.’
‘I beg your pardon, but if you had added in parenthesis …’
‘Very well. Parentheses and all. The Falcon – an East Indiaman built in Deptford in 1793 by the firm of John Perry and Sons – left London at the beginning of May in the company of another ship, the Pearl. Bound for Calcutta by way of the Cape.’
‘The Falcon and the Pearl’. Another story out of the Arabian Nights.
‘The Falcon was carrying the usual freight – woollen and metal goods for the most part – but the Pearl carried a quantity of silver coin for the use of the Governor-General in Calcutta.’ Tully paused a moment, as if weighing the effect of his words upon the patient. ‘To the value of one million pounds sterling.’
Nathan pursed his lips and let out a silent whistle. This was the exact amount Billy Pitt put aside annually to pay off the national debt. Spent wisely it would buy a fleet the size of Nelson’s at Abukir.
‘But it was all in the Pearl? None in the Falcon?’
‘Apparently not.’ Tully shrugged. ‘They were accompanied by two ships of the line and two frigates, sent to reinforce Admiral St Vincent at Cadiz. They reached Gibraltar at the end of May but they had endured some rough weather and were obliged to remain there a month for repairs. Then they travelled without escort to the Cape.’
This was not unusual. There was little chance of falling in with the enemy off the coast of Africa, not with St Vincent sitting on Cadiz, and it was reasonable to suppose that two East Indiamen had enough guns between them to see off any pirates or corsairs they might encounter. But Nathan wondered if the delay at Gibraltar had alerted the Spanish and, through them, the French.
‘They reached the Cape at the end of August, but then there was another problem. There was news of a heavy French frigate that had joined the privateers at Île de France …’
‘The Forte.’
‘Quite. Apparently she had a fight with two of our frigates coming round the Cape and our people came off the worse for it. They were supposed to provide an escort for the next part of the journey but only one of them was ready for sea. It was already very late to make the journey out and they were advised to wait until after the monsoon. However, it was decided to take the risk. Apparently, there is urgent need of the silver in Madras.’
‘For what purpose?’ There were a number of questions that arose in Nathan’s mind and this was possibly the least of them, but it might provide some clue that would help answer the rest.
‘The purpose was not disclosed. Not at least, to the captain of the Falcon. They left the Cape in September with just one escort,’ Tully resumed. ‘A forty-gun frigate that had been in the Dutch service, sister to the Braave, in fact, and renamed the Bridport. She was to escort them as far as Devil’s Point where they were to rendezvous with another ship of war sent from Madras to meet them.’
‘The Shiva?’
‘They did not know the name, but I think we can safely make that assumption. However, when they finally arrived at the rendezvous, they found an entire squadron waiting for them – six ships, all flying the colours of the East India Company.’
‘Leloup.’
‘So it would seem. The timing is right. But as they entered the bay, something must have alerted the Bridport – possibly someone recognised the Braave, or even the Forte – but whatever the reason she fired a gun and flew the signal to scatter—’
‘Why did they not fight? If they had all fought together …’
‘I know. But if they were faced with a superior force, the plan was to scatter. The Falcon was to act as a decoy. It was felt in London that even if the French knew of the consignment, they would not know which of the two ships was carrying it. Or whether it had been shared between them. As they approached the rendezvous, the Falcon was about a mile to the rear. She had been having some trouble with her steering and was hurrying to catch up when she saw the signal. That is how she escaped.’
‘And the others?’
‘The captain thinks they must have been taken. He heard gunfire but then night fell and he was at a loss to know how to proceed. Then, at break of day, they fell in with the Shiva.’
‘Which had been taken by the French?’
‘As to that, there is some doubt. You will have to discuss it with Commodore Picket.’
‘But if she was not taken …’
‘That is the mystery.’
‘But what of the papers that were taken from the Shiva? Do they not tell us anything?’
‘Commodore Picket has them.’
‘You have not seen them?’
‘No.’
Nathan reflected in silence for a moment. The ship was rolling rather more heavily than it had been, and he was aware of rainfall upon the deck above. Even in the poor light he could see it dancing on the glass of the skylight.
‘The north-east monsoon is upon us,’ Tully remarked, noting his gaze. ‘We have had a number of violent downpours in the last few hours.’
‘And we are bound for Madras?’
‘The commodore was of the opinion that we must report what has happened to the governor, Lord Clive.’
‘So when do we expect to arrive?’
‘Four – perhaps five – more days. Provided the weather holds. We are beating against the wind, of course, but if it does not increase …’
‘And no more news of Leloup? Or the Pearl and her escort?’
‘None. Or I would have told you. If you show signs of agitation, the doctor says I must—’
‘Be damned
to the doctor. So the silver ship is taken?’
‘It would appear so.’
‘And that is it?’
‘That is the gist of it. I am sorry it is not more palatable, but it was hardly your fault.’
‘No.’ Nathan wondered if the East India Company would share that view. ‘What of Sister Caterina?’ he asked.
Tully looked surprised. ‘What of her?’
‘Well, where is she now?’
‘I really have no idea. Probably in her cabin. Would you like me to send for her?’
‘Well, if she is asleep, of course …’
‘You should sleep yourself,’ Tully counselled him sternly. ‘Sleep, the doctor says, is the best cure.’
‘I have been asleep for the best part of five days. I think sleep is not the most pressing of my needs at present.’
‘I would not advise—’
‘I do not mean that.’ Nathan sighed. ‘I merely wish to thank her for her care of me, but if you have an opinion on the subject, I would, of course, be properly grateful for it.’
‘I will see if she is about.’ Tully paused at the door. ‘But you should not exert or excite yourself in any way.’
‘I have no intention of exerting or exciting myself,’ Nathan retorted. ‘Good God, man.’ He paused a moment to let the throbbing in his head recede a little. ‘And if there is a possibility of anything to eat …’
‘It is quite late for the galley,’ Tully pointed out.
‘Of course, but if—’
‘I will see what I can do,’ sighed Tully.
Chapter Twenty-two
Wellesley’s War
‘So, we may have our war, but we have lost the means to pay for it. Thank you, gentlemen. Anything else whilst you are here?’
The governor-general viewed the two commodores with deceptive affability. Though his tone was sardonic, it was clear to Nathan that he was a very angry man; so angry, indeed, that one wrong word was likely to trigger an explosion. Richard Wellesley, Second Earl of Mornington, was a man of middling years with a face that reminded Nathan of the camel he had attempted to ride in the Joumrok Khan, though others, less well travelled, might have chosen a thoroughbred racehorse as a point of comparison. Either way, it was a face designed for winning, or putting people in their place, which often came to the same thing. It was long and narrow with a broad, noble brow which merged on its upper slopes into a mane of powdered hair; an exceptionally long nose, and a mouth perfectly formed for an expression of haughty disdain or smirking contempt. ‘He has never forgiven God for causing him to be born in Ireland,’ Commodore Picket had advised Nathan on their way here, ‘and woe betide any man foolish enough to remind him of this misfortune.’