By the Knife

by Steve Partridge

  ‘Mrs. St. George, might I speak with you in private?’ David asked.

  ‘I think not, Captain. I have many guests, you understand; perhaps some other time.’

  Mrs. Whatever-her-name-was-now walked away. ‘It’s alright, Captain,’ Francis told him. ‘I’ll manage.’

  ‘Then I will leave you, Francis. Good luck, if you ever need me please find me.’

  ‘I will, Captain, thank you for your kindness.’ The boy moved away into the crowd. Outside David climbed into his carriage and thanked god for his lowly beginnings.

  The same tavern and the same room; this time, however, he was not kept waiting at the admiralty. As he walked through the door and gave his name to the clerk he was asked for his reports and told to return to the tavern. He would be called.

  Back at the tavern Jones was dressed in his best clothes and insisted on waiting on David hand and foot. He brought the food to the table, sending the serving wench away and spooned David’s food onto his plate. In the end David had to order him to sit down and eat. Jones was showing his tension in his own way. David showed his by lying awake all night.

  At last he was sent for. This time he sat in the waiting room for almost two hours before being shown into the inner office.

  Admiral Brookes offered no friendly greeting. ‘What the devil you thought you were playing at, interfering with the legal trade of this country, I do not know,’ he began. ‘You were sent to harass the French not merchant traders going about their business.’

  He sat and stared at David for some moments in silence. ‘You have nothing to say?’

  ‘Might I speak with Admiral Keyton, sir?’ David asked.

  Brookes leaned back in his chair and sighed. ‘Admiral Keyton is not here.’ Again a few moments’ silence. In a calmer voice Brookes said, ‘Look, Fletcher, you have done good work on this cruise, but there are people in parliament who want your head. In fact, they would already have it were it not for the support given to you by Sir Henry Walters.’

  ‘Who, sir?’ David asked.

  ‘The man whose ships you recovered; he thinks you’re wonderful.’ Brookes stood and walked over to a window overlooking the park.

  ‘Fletcher, our private thoughts about the slave trade are one thing, but the navy’s task is to keep the seaways safe for our merchant shipping and until this sick trade is made illegal we must protect its commerce.

  There are great changes taking place in the navy board and in the country as a whole. Soon we will be fighting this war in every part of the world.

  Already there are moves to reinforce a base in Nova Scotia.

  ‘I cannot afford to lose talented young officers to this kind of stupidity.’ He turned back to David. ‘Go home, Fletcher. Let’s hope this problem will fade away with time.’

  David stood. ‘I would like to recommend Lieutenant Peterson for command of the Challenger, sir.’

  Brookes nodded. ‘I will consider it,’ he said. ‘Good day, Fletcher.’

  In the room back at the tavern Jones waited with a worried expression. ‘What is going to happen to us, sir?’ he asked.

  David could not help smiling as he said, ‘We are going home, Jones.’

  Now Jones looked confused. ‘Home, sir, where’s that?’

  ‘The village of Mistley on the Essex–Suffolk border,’ David told him.

  ‘Is that in London, sir?’ Jones asked.

  As the coach rounded the final curve and slowed at the Ipswich crossroads, David shook Jones awake. The boy had been sleeping for the last four hours.

  ‘Wake up, Jones, we have arrived,’ David told him. They climbed down to the road. As always his mother and Aunt Molly rushed up to David, hugging and kissing, whilst Daniel stood watching.

  ‘Who’s this?’ his mother demanded, looking at Jones.

  ‘A young man who needs a roof,’ David told her.

  ‘He needs a good meal more like; he’s all skin and bone,’ she said. ‘What’s your name, boy?’

  ‘Jones,’ the lad replied.

  ‘Your first name, I mean,’ she said. ‘We don’t call people by their second names in my house.’

  ‘Peter,’ the boy told her with a grin. He turned to David. ‘Shall I get the box down, sir?’

  Mrs. Fletcher grabbed his shoulder and led him away. ‘Unless the king has knighted somebody without my being told there are no sirs in my house either,’ she said.

  Daniel shook David’s hand and said, ‘Very clever, but it won’t work, David.’

  ‘What won’t work?’

  ‘You bringing a young lad home for your mother to look after so you can go off to war.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m doing. Where is Joseph today?’ David changed the subject.

  ‘He’s away with the barge in London; you probably could have seen him down on Dutchman’s wharf.’

  ‘If I had known we could have come back with him on the barge; it’s better than that damn coach.’

  They climbed up onto the cart where the women and Jones already sat.

  ‘How long are you home for, David?’ Aunt Molly asked.

  David looked glum. ‘Might be a long time, Aunt,’ he told her.

  ‘About time you came to your senses,’ his mother snapped.

  ‘I have decided we should buy a cottage, a home of your own,’ David told his mother. ‘Father would have liked that, would he not?’

  For a moment, Mrs. Fletcher was shocked into silence at the idea. She soon recovered, however. ‘Am I to live completely alone when you rush off to get killed?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’ll be alone as well when the boys are away with the barges,’ Aunt Molly exclaimed.

  David sighed.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘If you are happy we will leave things as they are. When either Daniel or Joseph get married, however, we will have to do something.’

  ‘Funny you should say that, David.’ Daniel grinned at him. ‘Joseph has taken up with your barmaid.’