'This endless debate shows no sign of ending, Captain Drinkwater. Will you tell us, when you propose to sail?' A tall man dressed in a sky-blue uniform elaborately trimmed with fur rose from his place. A similarly dressed colleague joined him and the two officers picked up lavishly trimmed hats and made for the door.
'Commander Malim and myself will await your instructions at the White Hart. Perhaps you will oblige us with your company at dinner, Captain.'
'And where are your ships, sir?' asked Drinkwater sharply, aware that the two officers, commanders of two vessels belonging to the Hudson's Bay Company, threatened to break the meeting up.
'Off Killingholme where they have been at a short scope this past sennight.'
Drinkwater restrained them from leaving as a babble of talk engulfed the whale-captains round the table.
'Be silent!' he bawled, 'may I suffer you to be silent for a moment!'
Eventually the noise diminished.
'This morning I visited the Custom House and authorised the release of your clearances.' He paused as this revelation found its mark. At last the Greenlanders fell silent. He turned to the pockmarked Harvey.
'Do I understand that it is customary to embark additional men at Shetland whether or not men are pressed out of your ships?'
Harvey nodded cautiously. 'If we are bound for the Greenland fishery. If we are bound for the Davis Strait we recruit in Orkney. We also fill up our water casks.'
'And to which fishery are you bound, gentlemen?' He looked round expecting a further outbreak of argument but apparently this matter, at least, had been brought to a conclusion.
'We have resolved that, due to the advance of the season, sir, we shall repair to the Greenland fishery. Shoulds't the fish not prove to be swimming there we may then catch some favourable effects from rounding Cape Farewell and entering the Davis Strait. But this matter we hold in abeyance, to be decided upon later by a majority and for those that wish to try the enterprise.'
'Thank you, Captain Sawyers. Then I must advise you that I cannot winter in the ice…'
'We do not need you, Captain,' said the black bearded Ellerby aggressively, 'and we shall in any case fish where the whim takes us, so do not expect us to hang upon your skirts like frightened children.'
'I have no intention of so doing. I shall require that you attend me upon the passage as I have word that there are French cruisers already at sea. I shall cruise in company with those captains who wish for my protection on grounds of their own choosing. I further propose we sail the instant we are ready. Shall we say the first of the ebb at daylight tomorrow morning?'
A murmur of surprise greeted this news and the Greenlanders debated briefly among themselves. After a while Sawyers rose.
'Thou hast our agreement.'
'Very well. You should each send a boat to the Melusine at six of the clock this evening for your written instructions. I shall include a table of signals to be used by us all for our mutual support and the direction of the convoy. The rendezvous will be Bressay Sound until the end of the first week in June. That is all, but for reminding you that I was informed in London that French private ships of war have sailed for the Polar regions, gentlemen. You may yet have need of Melusine.' Drinkwater watched for reaction to this slight exaggeration. It would do no harm to induce a little co-operation from these independent ship-masters. He was quite pleased with the result. Even the black bearded ruffian Ellerby exchanged glances of surprise with a captain near him.
Drinkwater rose and picked up his hat. The meeting broke up into groups. The Hudson Bay Company officers made for the door. The one who had spoken introduced himself as Commander Learmouth and congratulated Drinkwater on taming 'the polar bears'. He repeated his invitation to dinner which Drinkwater declined on the grounds of insufficient time. Learmouth and Malim departed and Drinkwater paused only to thank the curious Quaker Sawyers for his help.
'Thou hast an evil calling, friend, but thou dost not discredit it.' Sawyers smiled. 'And now I shall attend the Custom House and tomorrow pilot thy ship to sea.'
Drinkwater moved towards the door and found himself behind the big, bearded Greenlander. Suddenly the man turned, barring the way so that Drinkwater almost bumped into him and was forced to take a step backwards.
Drinkwater looked up at the face. Beneath the mass of dark hair and the beard he noticed a sharpness of feature and the eyes were a peculiar pale blue which caused the pupils to seem unnaturally piercing.
'Have you ever been to the polar regions, Captain?'
'No, I have not.' The big man turned to his companion, the same whaler captain who had sat next to him.
'They send a novice to protect us, God damn and blast them.' The Greenlander turned on his heel. Behind him Drinkwater was aware of other men gathered in a group. His reserve snapped.
'Captain!' There was no response and Drinkwater stepped quickly into the corridor where his voice echoed: 'Captain! '
With ponderous contempt the big man turned slowly.
'What is your name?'
The big man retraced his steps, intimidating Drinkwater with his height. 'Ellerby, Jemmett Ellerby of the Nimrod.' Drinkwater put out his hand to prevent a further dismissal.
'I understood, Captain Ellerby,' he said quickly but in a voice that carried to the curious group behind him, 'I understood you had a reputation for good manners. It seemed I was mistaken. Good day to you, gentlemen.'
'No, sir, you may not go ashore. I require the services of three midshipmen as clerks this afternoon to make copies of my orders to the convoy. You must make the final rounds of the ship to ensure that she is ready to weigh tomorrow morning. We will refill our water casks in Shetland so you may stum a few casks in readiness. Tell me, did Captain Palgrave lay in a store of practice powder?'
'Yes, sir,' replied Lieutenant Germaney unhappily.
'Good. Will you direct the purser to attend me and extend to the gunroom my invitation to dinner. Mr Quilhampton and Mr Gorton are also invited. I shall rate Mr Gorton as master's mate. As for the rest of the young gentlemen I may make their acquaintance in due course.' He turned and peered through the stern windows at the high, white mare's tails in the west.
'We shall have a westerly breeze in the morning,' he rose, 'that is all.'
'Aye, aye, sir. There is a gentleman come aboard, sir, with a trunk and God knows what besides. He has a letter of introduction and says he is to sail with us.'
Drinkwater frowned. 'Sail with us? What imposition is this?'
Germaney shrugged. 'He is in the gunroom.'
'Send him in.'
'Yes, sir… sir, may I not take an hour…?'
'God's bones, Mr Germaney, can you not take no for an answer! We are about to sail for the Arctic, you have a hundred and one things to attend to. I have no objection to your sending a midshipman ashore on an errand. Send Dutfield or Wickham, neither can write a decent hand, judging from their journals. Now where the devil is that pen…?'
Drinkwater cursed himself for a fool. In the luxury of Palgrave's cabin he had forgotten he was without half of his own necessaries. Tregembo had not yet arrived and here he was giving orders to sail!
He swore again, furious with Palgrave, Ellerby and that cabal of whale-ship masters that had distracted him. Sudden misgivings about Germaney's competence and the fitness of his ship for Polar service seized him. He had made no preparations himself, relying on those made by Palgrave. But now Palgrave's whole reputation threw doubts upon the matter. He remembered Ellerby's taunt about being a novice in Arctic navigation. His eyes fell on the decanter and he half-rose from the table when a knock came at the door.
'Yes?'
The man who entered was dressed from head to foot in black. He was about thirty years of age with hair short cropped and thinning. His features were strong and his shaved beard gave his lantern jaw a blue appearance. His brown eyes were full of confidence and his self-assurance had led him into the centre of the cabin where the skylight allowed him to dra
w himself up to his full height.
'I give you good day, sir. My credentials.' He handed Drinkwater a packet sealed with the fouled anchor wafer of the Admiralty. It contained a second letter and simply instructed Captain Drinkwater to afford every facility to the bearer consistent with the service he was presently engaged upon, as was set out in the bearer's letter of introduction.
Drinkwater opened the enclosed letter. It was dated from London three days earlier.
Honourable Sir,
Having been lately acquainted with Their Lordships' Intention of despatching a ship into Arctic Regions, the Governors of this body conceived it their Christian Duty to carry the word of Christ to the peoples Domiciled upon the Coasts of Greenland. It is with this purpose in mind that you are asked to convey thither the bearer of this letter, the Reverend Obadiah Singleton, D.D., M.D.
Your landing him at a Settlement of the Esquimaux, or causing him to be landed at some such Settlement, will assure you the Warmest Approbation from this Society for your furtherance in the Spread of the Christian Gospel.
The signature was illegible but was accredited to the Secretary of the Church Missionary Society.
Drinkwater put down the letter and looked up. He was beginning to feel the burden of command too great for him and the decanter beckoned seductively.
'Mr Singleton, pray take a seat. Will you take a glass of wine?' He rose.
'I do not drink intoxicating liquors, sir.' Drinkwater sat again, aware that the splendid isolation, the power and the purpose of command was, in reality, a myth. Only men like Palgrave sustained the illusion.
'Mr Singleton, are you aware of the extreme climate of the Arctic regions? Do you mean to winter there among the Eskimos?'
'I do, sir.'
'Entirely alone?'
'With God, sir,' Singleton answered with devastating simplicity. Drinkwater rose, a sense of helpless exasperation filling him. Almost defiantly he helped himself from the decanter, ignoring the disapproval in Singleton's eyes. Well damn Singleton! There would be much that Singleton did not approve of aboard a King's ship.
'But like me, Mr Singleton,' he said sipping the wine, 'you are flesh and blood.'
'Imbued with the Holy Spirit, sir, and the faith that can move mountains.'
'Let us hope,' remarked Drinkwater, 'that your faith sustains you.'
'Amen to that, sir.'
Drinkwater looked at the missionary, searching for some gleam of humour evident in the man. There was none. He was an alien amongst them, uncomprehending of their jack-ass humour, unable to understand the bawdy small talk, the rigid divisions that made a man-of-war. Singleton was an academic, a product of universities where the distilled wisdom of a thousand generations might be assimilated within the confines of a library. Drinkwater sighed and drained his glass. Singleton's insufferable self-righteousness would doubtless combine with an assumed right to criticise. That augured ill for the future and Drinkwater could see squalls ahead.
'Where have you been berthed, Mr Singleton? There is little room in the gunroom.'
'I do not think a gunroom a fit place for a missionary, sir. No, Lieutenant Germaney has permitted me to use the cockpit.'
Drinkwater could well imagine it! The harassed lieutenant would not want the intrusion of a priggish irrelevance challenging his position in the gunroom.
'I doubt you will find it to your liking, but this is a small ship and there is no alternative.'
'It is true the air is mephitic, sir, but it will be a fit preparation for my ministry. The darkness alone will condition me to the Arctic winter.'
'It was not the darkness I had in mind, Mr Singleton, but no matter. You will see soon enough.' He ignored Singleton's puzzlement and went on: 'There is one thing you should know and that is that while you remain aboard this ship you are answerable for your conduct under the Articles of War as surely as if you were truly a midshipman. You will doubtless observe things that you do not approve of. Have you ever seen a flogging, sir? No? Well, it does not matter but you must accept that the usages of the naval service will come as a surprise to you and you would do well to remember that the wooden bulwarks behind which your church so comfortably nestles, are purchased at the price of blood, sweat and indignity'
Singleton ignored this homily. 'When do you propose to land me, sir?'
'Land you? Good heavens, do not trouble me with such matters now. First I have to get these confounded ships out of this Goddamned river!'
Drinkwater saw the look of shock on Singleton's face and found that it gave him a pleasurable sensation. 'Saving your cloth, Mr Singleton,' he said ironically and added, 'I should like you to join the officers and dine with me this evening. And I should like you to make no hasty judgements about the sea service; parsons have a bad reputation at sea, far worse than that of seamen ashore.'
He rose and smiled, dismissing Singleton abruptly as another knock came at the cabin door. The purser entered.
'You sent for me, sir?'
'I did, Mr Pater… I shall see you at dinner, Mr Singleton.'
'Your man has arrived, sir,' put in the purser, 'they are swinging your baggage aboard now.'
'Excellent. Will you take a glass, Mr Pater?'
'With pleasure, sir.'
'Thou should'st address the ship's head a half-point more to starboard.'
Drinkwater nodded at Hill as the master sought his approval.
Melusine leaned slightly as the wind shifted forward a trifle as they altered course. The distant banks of the broad river were low and barely perceptible as the steeples and roofs of Hull dropped astern. Drinkwater raised his glass and studied the two vessels hoisting their topsails off Killingholme. The Hudson Bay Company's ships were superbly fitted, of a similar size to Melusine and with the appearance of sixth-rates of the smallest class. They were certainly a contrast to the squat whalers following Melusine down the river.
'Thou hast competition in the matter of elegance, Captain.'
'You object to elegance, Captain Sawyers?'
'It is irrelevant to the true meaning of life, Captain.'
'How will the Faithful fare with you piloting Melusine from the Humber?' asked Drinkwater, changing the subject and feeling preached at for the second time in as many days.
'My son is a chief mate, Captain Drinkwater, a man as skilled as myself.'
'Come, sir,' put in Drinkwater grinning, 'that is immodest!'
'Not at all. Ability is a gift from God as manifest as physical strength or the fact that I have brown hair. I do not glory in it, merely state it.'
Drinkwater felt out-manoeuvred on his own quarterdeck and turned to look astern. Alone among the whale-ships foaming in their wake, Faithful was without a garland slung between fore and mainmasts. The ancient symbol of a Greenlander's love-tokens was absent from her topgallant rigging, neither were there so many flags as were flying from the other ships. Drinkwater wondered how many of Sawyers's crew shared his gentle and sober creed. Perhaps his rumoured success at the fishery reconciled them to a lack of ostentation as was customary on sailing day.
The other ships were under no such constraint. The otherwise dull appearance of the whale-ships was enlivened by streamers, ensigns and pendants bearing their names, lovingly fashioned by their wives and sweethearts whose fluttering handkerchiefs had long since vanished. The embroidered pendant that flew from Nimrod's mainmasthead was fifty feet long, an oriflamme of scarlet, and Drinkwater could see the dominating figure of Jemmett Ellerby at the break of her poop.
Nimrod was crowding on sail and bid fair to pass Melusine as she slipped easily along at six knots, going large before the wind under her topsails and foretopmast staysail, leading the slower whalers towards the open waters of the North Sea.
'He hath the pride of Goliath before the Philistine Host,' Sawyers nodded in Ellerby's direction. 'He shall meet David at God's will.'
Drinkwater looked at the Quaker. He was not surprised that there were divisions of opinion and rifts between a group of i
ndividuals as unique as the whale-captains. Once on the fishing grounds there would be a rivalry between them that Drinkwater foresaw would make his task almost impossible. But the remark had either a touch of the venom of jealousy or of a confidence. Given what he had seen of Sawyers he doubted the man was a hypocrite and marked the remark as a proof of the Quaker's friendship. He responded.
'I am most grateful, Captain Sawyers, for your kind offer to pilot us clear of the Humber. It is an intricate navigation, given to much change, but I had not supposed that a gentleman of your persuasion would countenance boarding a King's ship.' He gestured towards the lines of cannon housed against the rail.
'Ah, but thou hast also doubtless heard how those of my persuasion, as thou has it, are not averse to profit, eh?' Sawyers smiled.
'Indeed I have,' replied Drinkwater smiling back.
'Well I shall confess to thee a love of the fishery, both for its profits and its nearness to God. It seems that thy presence is indispensable this season and so,' he shrugged, 'in order to practise my calling, sir, I have needs to assist thee to sea. Now, thou must bring her to larboard two points and square the yards before that scoundrel Ellerby forces you ashore on the Burcom.'
Nimrod was foaming up on their quarter, a huge bow wave hissing at her forefoot.
'May I give her the forecourse, sir?' asked Germaney eagerly.
'Aye, sir, he knows well enough to keep astern according to the order of sailing,' added Hill indignantly.
Drinkwater shook his head. 'This is not a race. Mr Q!'
'Sir?'
'Make to Nimrod, "Keep proper station".'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
Drinkwater turned his full attention to the Nimrod. She was almost level with the Melusine's mizen now, no more than a hundred feet off as she too swung to larboard.
In the waist of the sloop men milled about watching the whaler and looking aft to see the reaction of their new commander. Officers too, advised of the trial of strength taking place above, had come up from their watch below. Drinkwater saw Singleton's sober black figure watching from the rail while Mr Gorton explained what was happening.
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