The Devil to Pay

by David Donachie

  ‘To have fought would have put at hazard not only vessel but also the crew who sailed her. If I could not save both I decided it was my duty to save one element who could then, at least, continue to serve against our enemies.’

  Another murmur broke out from behind him at what even Pearce knew to be hyperbolic excess, this time let pass by Linzee, as the prosecutor, having established the board had no more questions, requested permission to call Matthew Dorling. That changed the mood of John Pearce who felt he had made a good case and if it was built of falsehoods then there was no way to gainsay them. But the young man who entered now to swear on the Bible to tell the truth could sink him with one name.

  If he mentioned Emily Barclay, especially after her husband had just arrived from England, he would be damned as a seedy lothario and his evidence seen as a tissue of lies. In considering his case Pearce had known that honesty was not his best course. He had no idea what Dorling or anyone else would contribute, which left him relying on any residual goodwill they might have; it was a tenuous place to be.

  ‘Mr Dorling, were you aware of the reasons why Lieutenant Pearce disobeyed his orders on departure from Naples.’

  ‘Wasn’t aware of his orders, sir.’

  ‘He did not confide in you,’ Linzee demanded, surprised.

  ‘No sir, he did not.’

  ‘Did you not find that strange?’ asked the dry stick captain.

  ‘It’s my first warranted place, your honour, I am a loss to know if what Mr Pearce did was the right thing or a commonplace.’

  The man in question, who was both holding his breath and seeking to keep his face from showing any emotion began to relax; if he had not stated to Dorling his orders there was little doubt that master knew what they were. The man was not going to desert him and quite clearly he had not noted in his log that Pearce had chosen to ignore them or the reason.

  The prosecutor, first making sure he was not about to interrupt a superior, took up the questioning. ‘So you did not question the course he set you.’

  ‘I set the course, sir,’ came the proud reply. ‘Mr Pearce was inclined to trust me in that once I knew his aim.’

  Dry stick came in again. ‘Do I take you to mean that this officer lacks the necessary skills in that department?’

  ‘He does the best he can, sir, but will, by habit, check with me.’

  That got Pearce a sour look from the middle of the bench as Dorling was asked his opinion of the decision to engage a superior enemy, which got the reply, delivered with respect that such judgements were not for the likes of him to question. When it came to the leaving of Palermo Dorling had no choice but to back up the opinion he had written down on the day, that it was a risk he himself would not have countenanced, which had the prosecuting lieutenant looking at Pearce, who stood up to cross-examine.

  ‘Mr Dorling, did you at any time have dealing with the British Consul in Palermo?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘And while we were berthed off Naples you never departed the ship?’

  Dorling blushed then and proved he was as adept at lying as his captain. ‘No one did, sir, bar the wounded, on your orders.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Dorling,’ Pearce said, before addressing the court, ‘I have no further questions.’

  Dismissed, Dorling was followed by Mr Bird and the Kempshall twins, none of whom materially added to the case and were quickly sent on their way, which had Linzee check that his prosecutor was done with the witnesses and that Pearce, unlike him, did not want to enter into a closing argument, before he stated that the captains would retire to consider their verdict.

  It was only when he stood and was able to turn round that Pearce espied Henry Digby; he smiled at his fellow lieutenant who merely nodded in response. Then he saw Taberly on the other side of the room, who looked at him as if the mere act would kill. There was true hatred there, for which he cared nothing but the lack of a reassuring smile from Digby did bother him.

  He looked straight ahead as he passed them, to be escorted by a marine officer to a cabin on the orlop deck, which normally housed one of Hotham’s clerks. The admiral would be beneath the feet of that court, no doubt willing them to damn him and as he considered what had occurred Pearce reckoned he had done as well as he could.

  It was not long before the court was reconvened and he was escorted back to his table to sit and immediately stand again as Linzee looked at the paper before him on which was written the verdict. Acutely attuned to the atmosphere Pearce feared the worst for the face was not reassuring; it seemed as if every muscle was as tight as drum.

  ‘By the power vested in me as President of this Court I hereby declare that it is the decision of myself and my fellow judges …’ Linzee paused then to glance left and right at two others who seemed to be sitting back a bit and wearing on their faces a look of serenity. ‘That the accused, Lieutenant John Pearce, blatantly disobeyed his orders while his stated reasons for doing so do not justify his actions.’

  Time to think of another way to earn a crust Pearce thought.

  ‘It is however the verdict of this court that in doing so he rendered sterling service to both the navy and His Majesty and that is his action against the enemies of our sovereign he demonstrated both flair and application.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ came a hissed whisper, which Pearce thought he recognised as Taberly. Linzee heard it too and barked out. ‘This is not a playhouse. Anyone else who comments where they should be silent my well find themselves sitting were the accused has been this last two hours.’

  His eyes went back to the paper he was reading from. ‘The court finds that in leaving Palermo Lieutenant Pearce took a calculated risk and cannot be held accountable for the misfortune that befell HMS Larcher. In his actions to save the crew he showed commendable skill and sound judgement and he therefore cannot be held to account for the loss of the ship.’

  He’s not happy was the next thought Pearce had, unlike his fellow judges, who were now managing slight smiles, not very evident ones but contented expressions nonetheless. Had they disagreed? Was Linzee being obliged to read out a verdict he did not approve of, had he been outvoted? The way he read the final sentence certainly made it seems so.

  ‘In conclusion we find Lieutenant Pearce worthy of a reprimand for his disobedience of his orders, but that it must be mitigated with praise for his subsequent actions. It is the opinion of this court that he should be returned to duty with no stain attached to his name.’

  Linzee looked up and glared at Pearce then, his high forehead creased with lines in such a way that left the accused in no doubt that if he could, he would have thrown him out of the navy. The trio stood and disappeared into Holloway’s dining cabin without any exchange, even eye contact.

  ‘Congratulations, John,’ said Henry Digby, over the noise of scrapping chairs and a babble of talk. ‘You have a Will O’ the Wisp’s ability to escape the consequences of your behaviour.’

  Having turned Pearce saw Taberly not far behind Digby and he spoke too.

  ‘You’re a liar, sir, to my mind.’

  ‘I invite you to say that in another place,’ Pearce replied, his tone cold and measured.

  ‘Fight you? Never and not only because it is forbidden that you be allowed to challenge a superior officer. I have seen your methods, Pearce and they leave me with only one impression, that you came from some gutter and have the mores of your upbringing. Mr Digby, might I remind you as your superior officer that your duty is aboard HMS Leander.’

  Taberly spun on his heel and left, Digby sighing and following.

  Toomey had come up behind him and when he spoke Pearce turned back to face him. ‘Well I am surprised, Mr Pearce I had you down as guilty.’

  ‘I would like to be a fly on the wall when you tell Admiral Hotham.’

  ‘I daresay he already knows and is now wondering what to do with you. The fleet is short of officers and now he will find he has to provide you with a place.’

  In truth, Hotham
was in his cabin and smiling as he appended his signature to the orders that would shift a whole raft of people from one vessel to another. Matters were, to his mind, moving in a promising direction.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Henry Digby opened the heavy piece of parchment, breaking the Admiralty seal with something akin to bewilderment. Two documents had been delivered to the wardroom of Leander – a third had come aboard of which he was unaware – one for Taberly another for him and while the premier had gone into his cabin to read his, Digby, aware that all eyes were upon him, decided to examine it at the table at which he had just finished his breakfast.

  The preamble at the top was the standard identification of the authority under which it had been written, namely Lord Hood as C-in-C, followed by the names of various officers being shifted and as he read on his mind had some trouble in taking in what was being imparted.

  You are hereby required and directed to proceed on board Flirt and take upon you the charge and take Command of her, willing and requiring all the Officers and Company of said Brig to behave themselves in the several employments with all due respect to you as their Commander. You will likewise to observe as well the General Printed Instructions and also what orders and directions you may from time to time receive from any of your superior officers of His Majesty’s Service …

  It ended with the usual warning that failure to abide would cause him and those he commanded to answer at his peril and there was his name and that of the ship, signed by Sir William Hotham.

  ‘My God, I have got a step.’

  ‘To what vessel,’ came the enquiry from another lieutenant?

  ‘Flirt, fourteen-gun brig.’

  ‘I know her, she a damn fine ship, fast on a bowline.’

  ‘And will now have a damn fine commander,’ essayed another voice.

  Digby, raising his eyes from his instructions looked around the wardroom at the collection of faces and he could not fail to see that the last sentiment expressed was not held by all, certainly not by those he called Taberly’s geese. Some of that band looked positively miffed but he took more from the smiles than the frowns. The door to the premier’s cabin swung open and Taberly yelled for his servant before raking the wardroom with a look that Digby could not fathom. Was it a glare or was it a sneer?

  As soon as the servant appeared and entered the cabin the door was closed behind him but not before those observing heard the order to fetch up his sea chest from the hold and pack his dunnage, with an added and more muffled order to clear out his private store locker.

  If there was joy in the wardroom, for even Taberly’s geese were smiling now there was none in the cabin above their heads where their captain, Frost, was reading his own orders shifting him to HMS Conqueror, another seventy-four and one he that was likely to be singled out as being in most need of a full refit; in short he was being sent home and in a vessel that would discharge its officers and crew as soon as it docked at Portsmouth. He was being beached.

  If he was an indolent fellow and a less than taut commander Frost did not see himself as such; in his own opinion he was a diligent and conscientious officer who had the good sense to choose the right inferiors, men like Taberly, thus leaving him free to do those things that left his mind clear for reflections on higher matters. Standing he went to the bulkhead to examine the collection of butterflies therein, something of a passion and right now he felt very close to those pinned to the board and no longer living creatures.

  An order to shift was not one to be either questioned or delayed whatever your rank but when he called for his servants and clerk to begin the necessary packing it was done softly and with a real degree of sadness; his cabin had been his home and now it would be that of another officer and he felt he must be gone before that person arrived to avoid his own feelings of embarrassment. It was only when he went on deck for a deep breath of air that Frost got wind of the other changes and that induced feelings of deep misery. His subordinates were on the up while he was well on the way to a half pay.

  That was when Taberly approached and asked if he could use the captain’s barge, to which he got a shake of the head. ‘But I have been given my step, sir?’

  ‘And I, Taberly have been given the boot.’ The insincere regret with which that was greeted was impossible to miss, but it was ever thus. No one sought advancement or comfort for another in the service; Frost reckoned it was dog eat dog. ‘So lieutenant you will have to satisfy yourself with the cutter.’

  Digby got the Jolly Boat, which in his case was sufficient and he had good grounds to be cheerful for two reasons; first the independence he would now enjoy and second he would get away from a man he had come to hate. As far as Captain Frost was concerned he thought the man was getting what he deserved: let him employ his catching nets at home, where there were just as many butterflies to pursue.

  Toby Burns registered the commotion aboard Tarvit even if it did not affect him in any way. The draft of sailors who had so recently come aboard were being shipped out and he left his part of the vessel to look over the side and observe them piling into the boats. One huge fellow took his eye, he being so much bulkier than his companions, impossible to miss. Burns was forced to withdraw his head sharp as the man turned his head and looked up.

  ‘What the devil is O’Hagan doing here?’ he hissed to himself, before edging forward to look down again, able to observe and Irishman busy exchanging jests with his shipmates, the faces of whom he took note of, reckoning there might be a couple more who had served aboard his Uncle Ralph’s frigate.

  ‘They’re all off to a brig called HMS Flirt,’ snorted one of the transport lieutenants, who had come alongside Toby with his noticing and spoken to him, which was a rare event. ‘Damn me they’ll have to use their bare fists to defend a ship with a name like that, don’t you reckon?’

  ‘Not a berth I would be happy to admit to, no.’

  He was not thinking of that really, but the fact that O’Hagan was close to John Pearce. Had he done a bit of ship visiting he might have known that the man he feared was aboard the flagship and had just undergone a court martial, for if Hotham had wanted his proximity kept close that evaporated as soon as he took Ralph Barclay into his confidence. The name was on many a lip in every wardroom in the fleet and so was the verdict of the court, which was held to be remarkable.

  ‘Can I borrow a telescope?’

  ‘Help yourself, Mr Burns,’ came the reply as the transport officer moved away.

  With that instrument, once he had seen the direction in which the boats were heading, he could pick out their destination, the first fact to register that just as many boats were leaving the vessel as were approaching. It was not a practised eye that looked at what he now assumed to be Flirt, a low flush decked brig lying at single anchor with seven visible gun ports. Another person might have appreciated her sleek lines; Toby Burns could only think of her as being seriously cramped.

  Henry Digby and his servant beat his new crew to their ship with enough time to exchange pleasantries with her departing commander, Lieutenant Atkins, and more than that, he got to glance at her logs and extracted good information on the brig and her foibles, as well as an invitation to dine aboard the captured French sloop Atkins was shifting to.

  ‘Have to clean her from end to end first of course,’ Atkins growled. ‘Dirty dogs the French when it comes to cleanliness.’

  ‘If the odour of vinegar becomes unbearable, sir, let me entertain you instead.’

  ‘You are aware I am taking my standing officers, Mr Digby.’

  ‘I am, but the men coming board are the crew of HMS Larcher, newly lost, so I have a full pack.’

  ‘Odd outcome, that court martial, don’t you think?’

  ‘Who can fathom the thinking of senior officers?’

  ‘Not I,’ came the reply. ‘I wish you good fortune in Flirt, sir for she is due some. We have worked her hard but never seen so much as a bag of nails for our trouble.’

  Atkins had onl
y just left when the first of the new crew came aboard and from then on there was too much to do for thinking about his good fortune of whether he would have any in command. The crew had to be mustered and entered to then have read out to them the Articles of War, which promised draconian punishments for offences various and death for quite a few.

  Sitting working out the watches he noted that as with every other vessel in the fleet he was seriously undermanned; but he also noted for the second time several names – he had recognised them when compiling the muster roll – and one in particular, a fellow impossible to miss. He was just about to send for O’Hagan when he was apprised of more boats approaching with a body of a fourteen marines and so was obliged to go on deck to greet their commander, a Lieutenant Grey.

  Flirt was entitled to a complement of Lobsters, which eased the under manning somewhat and he found in Grey he had an officer who needed no aid to allot his men to the duties they were there to undertake such as manning the two four-pounder cannon that took up a fair amount of his cabin space. It was with a bit of a chest swelling pride the first time Digby passed the red coat and rigid attention as he took to the steps of the short companionway that led to his cabin.

  Once more sat at his desk, Digby pondered whether it would be a good idea to write to Hotham, or perhaps Captain Holloway to point out that if he had a crew and marines he had no officers or midshipmen to aid him in the running of the ship. Did they expect him to stand every watch himself? On balance he decided it was best to wait.

  John Pearce was utterly unaware of his old commander’s good fortune or the way the Larchers had been shifted; he was, as he saw it, trapped in Britannia’s wardroom when he should have shifted to the transport, there to await whatever fate Hotham had in store for him, probably at best service in a ship of the line; at worst it would be an order to go home. Several times he had sought to beard Toomey and elucidate what was going to happen to him, the only reply he got being that no decision had been made.