However, at the end of the meal, things began to happen. The villagers, in their best clothes, such as they were, began to assemble on the large paved square by the mill. Soon came the strains of a ceiledh band, going full tilt, and the accompanying sounds of reels and jigs. Argent and his men stood and watched, but from a distance, until Sinaid Malley came across to him.
“Won’t you and your men come up and join us, Captain?’
No more Reuben, he thought, the joy of that moment now gone with the daylight.
“My men would like that very much, I’m sure, Miss Malley. May I bring some more of my crew ashore?”
“Why sure, of course! The more there is, the better it becomes.”
With that she jigged back to the dancing, skipping in time to the music.
This claimed his gaze for some while, then Argent called over to Sanders, whilst examining his watch.
“It’ll be the Starboard Watch off duty. Get them ashore, and leave an anchor watch from the Larboard, and don’t forget Elliot, and there’s someone who has a squeezebox, Smart, I believe. Bring him too, and as many Marines as can be spared from the Watch.”
Within an hour the Starboard Watch and most of the Larboard, were ashore and occupying the high bank above the square, shouting, cheering, and clapping to encourage all the dancing below. Elliott and Smart had joined the band. An ancient was stood on a barrel conducting the dancing and, although his Gaelic was unintelligible, many sailors went down and joined in. Eight girls then held the audience with a performance of Irish line dancing and so, not to be outdone, the dancing team of the crew took their place to perform a series of jigs and hornpipes, with raucous and incessant encouragement from their own shipmates. Little could be heard of the music above the cheering and clapping. Argent was stood just off and just out, he felt that this was an affair for the men, but, suddenly a waft of perfumed soap came to him and, to his great disquiet he found himself stood besides Sinaid Malley. For him, words wouldn’t come, but they did for her. She had a plan.
“Would you like to take a walk along the quayside, Captain?”
A jumble of awkward thoughts shaped his equally awkward reply.
“Er, yes, but only if you think it will be right, er, proper? Isn’t “walking out” of great significance here, in Ireland. Isn’t it something very formal, I mean, I don’t want to do anything that will affect your reputation, here.”
She looked at him shocked.
“Well now, what an English stuffshirt you turn out to be! Sure, it’s just a walk! And we aren’t that backward, nor held down, that two people can’t take a walk together.”
She waited for a reply. None came.
“It’s this way.”
She took his arm, not the formal placing of a hand, but she looped her arm right through his and held the wrist of her arm with her other. She guided and pulled him to the quayside until the sound of the dancing was muted around the corner and they could hear the waves of the full tide. She spoke first.
“I’m giving my full thanks for the gift of the food.”
Argent was still groping for something to say.
“Well, I can’t accept it. It was the idea of my men. They thought of it and they have paid for most of it.”
“But you had to say yes or no. Right?”
“Well, that is true.”
“There. So, you can accept my thanks and say no more.”
She paused and looked out to sea.
‘What’s you ship called?”
“Ariadne.”
“That’s a nice name. Where’s it come from?”
“It comes from Greek legend, you know Greek mythology.”
“I’ll stick with the word legend. So, what’s the story?”
Argent laughed.
“Well, to cut a long one short, in the Greek legend, there was this character called Theseus who had to go on a voyage to get this golden fleece, from the King of Crete. That’s an island, but the King would only give Theseus the fleece if he got out of a labyrinth, sort of maze, guarded by a Minotaur. Half man, half bull. Ariadne was the King’s daughter and offered her help only after Theseus promised to marry her and take her back to Athens. She tied a thread to him so’s he could find his way back. He did kill the Minotaur, by the way. But, once off Crete, Theseus deserted her.”
“Typical sailor!”
“Ah, but it didn’t end so bad. Some say she was spotted by a God, Dionysus, and he fell in love with her, married her, and Zeus, the chief God, made her a God, and she’s up there in the stars, or at least her crown from her wedding. We call it the Corona Borealis, or the Northern Crown.”
“Can you see it?”
Argent looked North
“Ahmmmm, yes. It comes up in May, yes there it is, I’ll try to point.”
He pointed at the group of stars, checked the alignment of his finger and then moved away, hoping his hand held still.
“Follow my finger, it’s a sort of chain, making a horseshoe that’s tilted left.”
She came close, in front of him and he smelt her again. She stooped slightly to look along his finger.
“I can’t make out anything like that. Are you sure?”
Argent put his head beside hers to look along his finger.
“Well, I am off a bit. Look right a bit, there’s a red one, that’s the main one. Then there’s two up to the right. Then two immediately left.”
Silence.
“Then two up to the left.”
She held his forearm with both hands and looked along his finger again.
“I think I can, yes , I can. So, that’s Ariadne, at least her crown.”
“Yes. And that’s her out there as well, on the water, but her lights make an upside down horseshoe.”
Sinaid turned to look at the lights, defining the now vague silhouette, but her shoulder still touched his chest.
“And you won’t desert her?”
“Never!”
“Do you like your ship, Captain?”
“Yes, of course. She’s fast; very fast, handy on any wind, stiff, and surrenders hardly any leeway. And dry.”
“I’ll assume all that is good, though I barely understood half of it.”
Argent laughed.
“She’s Spanish built. We captured her.”
“So, she’s a Spanish ship, with a Greek name. Why isn’t she called Maria or somesuch?”
Argent laughed again.
“Girls, gods, goddesses, heroes and flowers are the favourites of the Royal Navy. English girls names.”
There was a pause and she shifted to face him.
“You’ve good men aboard your ship.”
“Yes. I think as much of my crew as I do of my ship. I’ve had to rely on them totally three times now, and on none did they let me down. But don’t tell them!”
It was her turn to laugh, then silence fell, but he knew she was looking up at him.
“You’ve been very good, Captain, you and your crew. I thought you must be different when you allowed my people out to come to work, and now your gift of food confirms it, and the way your men are joining in the dancing, and all.”
Argent could only sidestep the sentimentality in her words, and voice.
“Oh, they’re not backward with joining in with any fun, nor starting it, of that you can be certain.”
Argent was glad of the excuse to laugh, the emotion was building up. He changed the subject.
“So, this is your mill. It and fishing support the village, I would guess?”
“Support is too strong a word. We make the best linen in the South, as I see it, but it has to be the best, only then can I sell all I make, but selling’s one thing, profit’s another.”
“It makes little money?”
“It would, but himself up there, has his foot on my neck. He charges a toll to use his road. It’s only the quality that gets the stuff sold and out. With his charge, our price for a decent profit would be way high, so I have to lower it right down to make
any kind of market. There’s little left as profit.”
Argent, having been raised on a farm, knew something of business and understood what she was saying. He looked out over the water from the quay. He could see that beyond the wall the sea came quite close.
“But a small quay out there, would make it possible to bring in and out by sea. A small coaster could nudge in there.”
“Yes, Captain. A very good idea, but where’s the money coming from? You need skilled masons and good stone to build a quay. And a boat with a proper hold that would protect the cargo, sea water ruins flax.”
She paused to allow Argent to answer, but none came, so she changed the subject.
“I’ll say you’re better than the other representatives of King George we’ve had around here.”
“Such as?”
“O’Dowd and his Major, Kibley. God rot him.”
“Well, on that subject, I’m afraid that the Militia are arriving tomorrow. I expected him today. They must now be on their way here, at least.”
She took his arm again and turned him around.
“I should have guessed, with all this talk of smugglers. And it being my linen. Right, the music’s stopped. All are away to bed. Will you still be here in the morning?”
She walked forward and, with her arm through his, he kept pace with her.
“Yes. My orders were to land and wait for the Militia. I have information for them which I gained from Mr. Fallows, though I doubt it’ll be much use, but it shows I’ve tried.”
“What information?”
“Who he sells your linen to. Merchants inland.”
“Oh, I could have told you who they are. I sell to the same, but no matter.”
They were at the door of the mill. At the square the gathering had greatly thinned. He turned to face her.
“Well, good night, Sinaid. It’s been a grand evening, for me and my men. We’ll still be here in the morning, and I’ll come and say good bye before we go.”
She said nothing but he could see her looking up at him in the light of the lanterns remaining from the ceiledh, but when she did speak, she astonished him.
“You can kiss me, if you like.”
He was so astonished that he froze rigid, so she took the initiative and kissed him, looping both arms around his neck. Before he knew it, his arms were around her waist, his mind turning cartwheels, then she broke away.
“There. Now. Good night to you.”
With that she turned and opened the door, giving him a little smile before she closed it behind her. Argent went down to the shoreline and had himself rowed out to his ship, following his rowdy crew, but once in his great cabin and in his bed, he didn’t sleep much.
The next day saw what he had been expecting, but dreading, even against hope. For that reason he had himself woken early to return ashore, but as his barge left the ship’s side, he saw that he was late, perhaps too late. A company of Militia were already at the top of the village and spreading out to enter the cottages. Argent’s own Marines and seamen were around their fires on the shoreline, some had noticed the commotion and were standing up. Argent turned his head and spoke to Whiting, at the tiller.
“Whiting, I want to be ashore inside a minute. You can see for yourself what’s afoot, up at the top.”
Whiting looked up and through the village. He needed no explanation.
“Up the rate, you bastards, beg pardon, Sir. We needs the shore, sooner than now.”
Argent felt the kick in his back as the four bent their oars in the water. Soon the barge crunched deep into the gravel and Jones leapt out to hold it steady. Argent immediately climbed the beach, the loose shingle frustrating his progress. Ramsey saw him coming and saluted.
“Ramsey, the Militia are here, and I don’t like the look of it. Put your men in line and follow me.”
Ramsey ordered a skirmish line and the Marines formed it in seconds, with the seamen following close behind. They passed the mill, it’s din proclaiming full production, but Argent only had eyes for what was happening at the top of the village. From there came screams, shouts and cries of anguish and misery. The Militia were running to the cottages and entering; then, judging by the screams, what was happening inside was none too gentle. At the centre an Officer sat a black horse, waving his men to various points with his riding crop. Argent hurried upward and his jaw clenched together, as a table and chair were thrown out of a door and smashed by a musket butt. Another Militiaman was dragging a woman outside by her hair, his hand grasping a handful at the back of her head, her children screaming behind her. She was thrown to the road, stamped into the dirt, spat on, then shouted at.
“Catholic scum. Feneian whore!”
Argent judged about 40 Militia. He had 24 Marines and about twice that from his crew. However, many of the latter were unarmed, but they could see as well as anyone what was happening and they crowded up behind the Marines. Argent broke into a run, and eventually, 100 yards off, the Officer noticed a Navy Captain, other Navy Officers, Marines and seamen hurrying in his direction. He stopped from directing his men to the site of their next predation and sat his horse, staring ahead, awaiting the new arrivals. He spoke first, after a perfunctory but cheery salute, with his riding crop rather than his hand.
“Good morning. Major Kibley, 2nd Cork Militia.”
However, his expression soon changed when he saw the evident rage on Argent’s face, even more so when Argent began to shout.
“This stops. Now! Either you stop it, or I’ll order my men to. But it stops, now.”
Major Kibley’s face showed both shock and surprise in equal measure. He rose in his stirrups and shouted, both left and right.
“Form up, on me. Four ranks, on the road.”
Some heard and obeyed, some were simply too carried away by their eagerness, and some were in the cottages therefore did not hear. Argent turned to his Marine Captain.
“Ramsey.”
Ramsey needed to further bidding.
“First section to your right. Second to your left.”
No further orders were necessary; the Marines pitched straight in. The only difference between their uniforms and those of the Militia, was the black midshipman’s hat and blue facings that the Marines wore, whilst the Militia had a shako with a face plate and lime green facings on their tunics. Confusion could have resulted, but the Marines ran forward and quickly got amongst the Militia. These suddenly found themselves confronted by angry strangers, wearing a red jacket, but none too gentle with their musket butts, nor in any way averse to use them, quarterstafflike, to emphasise what they wanted. One Militiaman ran out of a house, carrying a chest, prior to smashing it, to find himself tripped up and kicked back down to the ground by a glowering Marine Sergeant. The Militiaman scrambled up and soon, now thoroughly cowed, the last of the Militia formed up with their comrades, all looking puzzled and not a little intimidated.
Kibley had watched his men being roughly handled, rounded up and shoved out of the cottage gardens. He turned to Argent, his face now showing both shock and anger, but he recognised now that he was dealing with a full Navy Captain.
“But Sir. My orders were to search the village.”
Argent looked up, his own anger still in full spate.
“Get down off that horse, come to me and report!”
Kibley did as obeyed and stood before Argent at attention.
“Report.”
“I have been sent here to search this village, Sir. My orders come from Colonel O’Dowd.”
“And did you orders include that you should commit wanton destruction on these people?”
“Well, no Sir, not specifically, but it’s what we do. Any instance of lawbreaking, such as this smuggling, well, we teach them the consequences, Sir, as a form of punishment.”
“Punishment?”
“Yes Sir. Punishment.”
“Under the law, as I understand it, citizens of King George are punished after having been found guilty of some crime. You w
ould agree?”
Kibley’s face fell, as did the set of his shoulders. He could see where the argument was going.
“I’ll have to report this, Sir. That I was stopped from carrying out my orders.”
“Your orders were to make a search. Well, I can save you the trouble. We’ve already made one, and found nothing, nothing, including the residence of Mr. Fallows, which was searched by my Officers. What I have discovered is where the linen goes after it leaves here. Here’s a list.”
He pulled out the paper, with Fallows handwriting and signature and presented it to Kibley. He took it, studied it briefly, then folded it and put it into the pocket of his jacket.
“Regarding the search, Sir, I would like to point out that you do not have our experience. Of searching, Sir.”
“No, Major Kibley. By God, no! Me and my men have no experience of such as we’ve just seen. Now, I suggest that you take your men away, the sooner, then, that you can start your report on your return.”
Kibley had recovered some of his composure, which stemmed from years of unchallenged superiority over all around him.
“I’ll have to put all this in my report, Sir.”
Argent nodded, but at this moment Captain Ramsey stepped forward. His anger had matched Argent’s and it had reduced in no measure.
“My name’s Ramsey, Captain of the Royal Marines. Then you’d better put this in your report, Major, because it’ll be in mine, if called upon. What I saw here was mutiny. Mutiny. Men out of control and beyond the influence of their Officers.”
Shock reappeared on Kibley’s face.
“Mutiny? How so?”
“The moment your men entered this village, they embarked upon pillage and destruction. And robbery. Far exceeding their orders, and yours. That’s mutiny, and men are hanged for it. Hanged for robbery, too.”
A Question of Duty Page 20