A Question of Duty

by Martin McDowell

  The sailors and themselves began their journey back down the hill, leaving the women, standing their ground and now almost laughing. However, Argent had not gone but a few yards before he heard something shouted in Gaelic, shouted loud enough to carry over the walls to the unseen Fallows. It didn’t sound at all complimentary and Argent had a very good idea concerning its origin.

  Within minutes Argent had two tables placed in full view of Fallows’ residence down in the village, level with the mill. Sanders and Bright sat at one table, Wentworth and Trenchard the other. Sanders and Bright were accompanied by Patrick, Sinead’s foreman at the mill, who had an adequate command of English, whilst Sinead herself sat with Wentworth and Trenchard. The Officers were there to ask questions, the Midshipmen to record, Sinead and Patrick to translate.

  For the rest of the morning there came a continuous procession of villagers to tell their story and soon each Midshipman had a sheaf of witness statements. Argent prowled up and down the village. He had deliberately placed the tables in full view of the castle and gained satisfaction to see Fallows himself at a window that overlooked the scene. With all interviewed that could be described as a witness, Merrymen Maybank, ever anxious over some imminent calamity, placed all statements in his leather satchel and had himself rowed back out to the ship, there to order them into priority and identify some for copying; some for copying twice.

  With little daylight left, Argent ordered evacuation. Whiting and the others of Argent’s bargecrew were the last to leave the village and then assemble at the Captain’s barge. Surreptitiously, they had managed to carry extra into the cottage of the family they had helped during the first visit. The Mother had survived, but the raiders had taken three of her children, the three eldest. Throughout the day her thin frame had been wracked by a tangle of emotions; she thought she had lost three children, but now had regained only two, the son was gone. Whiting and the others had done their best to give comfort, but the fisherman Father was more stoical; disease and disaster would take their inevitable toll and both were well within his experience. The extra food helped and the Father shook the hands of each, saying thanks and good wishes, albeit on Gaelic, but each sailor could now manage a rough reply in the same language. However, now the men of the foretop stood waiting at the barge.

  Argent was again the very last to leave the village. He stood looking around, acknowledging the waving hands and goodbyes of the villagers stood in their doorways under their low thatch, including Kaled, who had already been taken in and now stood before a cottage, his white smile bright in his dark face. Argent, then took a deep breath and did what he finally realised he wanted to do, to see Sinead one last time and to make a serious good-bye; at least that was how he described it in his own mind. One last check that nothing had been left behind, this as much to delay the anxious oncoming moment with Sinead but, nevertheless, he finally walked purposefully to the mill. This time he didn’t even reach halfway, she came out of the mill and hurried to meet him. Whiting and his mates were watching all, as before, and Whiting pronounced judgement, looking at those stood around to add emphasis.

  “If he doesn’t bloody kiss her this time, I swear to God I’ll dump the bugger in the oggin next time he’s reaching down with his foot, an’ tryin’ to get hisself aboard!”

  Able Jones looked away from events at the mill to re-assure his Foretop Captain.

  “Then I reckon he’ll be stayin’ dry for the next time an’ the time after. Just take a look up there.”

  Whiting did as he was bid and his face split in a wide grin. He could not see two separate figures, merely one shape, that of two figures clinging together, Argent’s hat discarded at his feet, Sinead’s white arms crossing on the back of his uniform.

  oOo

  Chapter Ten

  Praise and Recrimination

  At first it was just a smudge, a suggestion, hidden by the unkind mid-October weather of the Western Approaches. All the Ruanporth women and children had been standing watch, all taking turns on a random rota, since they had cleared The Scillies off to starboard. They had been replacing each other on unofficial lookout as and when required, but now the cry of “Land ho” from the masthead sent them all to the larboard side of the forecastle. There they won the argument with the men of the larboard carronade as to who had the greatest claim on that particular place, the seamen disputing the women’s need against their own to house their gun after the finish of the daily gun drill. However, the seal had been set on the argument by the women saying it was their turn in “the heads” and so all men were banished from the forecastle rail and the lookout in the foretop was also told to turn his ugly mug around.

  Land’s End itself had been passed in the dark of a thick pre-dawn and full daylight found them back in the open sea, therefore their first sight of their homeland had to wait until the next landfall, achingly delayed. However, it had arrived and gradually the dark line grew and extended, then, after some study whilst stood on the carronade slide, one of the women turned to Easau Grimes, now merely marginally less put out, now that his gun was safely housed, but now having to suffer his gun being stood on and turned into little more than a viewing platform.

  “Which part of Cornwall is that?”

  Grimes didn’t need to look up from his tasks. He’d made the same landfall more times than he could remember or even count.

  “The Lizard. That’s The Lizard, the furthest point South of our Great British Isles.”

  “How much longer till we gets to Falmouth?”

  The grumpy Grimes looked up at the sails, the pennant and the waves passing by. He consulted his subconscious that had registered the bells of the Forenoon Watch, heard it say “four”, then made his own calculations.

  “I’d say two bells of the Afternoon Watch ‘ll see us there. That’s about three hours, if this wind holds, but that I wouldn’t count on.”

  The woman smiled, folded her arms, then reached down with one hand to stroke the hair of her daughter, but Grimes had more to impart.

  “I’d say, with this wind as ‘tis, ‘bout then, he’ll come up to North or such, to take us in. You may even get a sight of Ruanporth, if it clears a bit.”

  He consulted the sky.

  “Hmmm, yes, could be. You just might!”

  Grimes had doubts that became justified; the breeze was indeed dying, which gave Argent his frequent Captain’s problem regarding the quantity of spread canvas. The breeze, perfectly South West but now fading to a breath, was currently coming over the starboard quarter and Ariadne was slowing to little more than four knots, yet she was already displaying all common sail that would draw. He walked to the rail to give the order himself.

  “Mr. Fraser, set all starboard stunsails. Mr. Ball, warn all lookouts to keep a weather eye to windward.”

  As both ran off to do their Captain’s bidding, Argent looked around his quarterdeck, it now crowded with Officers, both off and on duty. There were happy and contented faces all around, many engaged in cheerful conversation and Argent had to admit to himself that he was also feeling far more buoyant. The memory of Sinead Malley held in his arms was fresh each time he closed his eyes and that potent thought did much to subdue the melancholy of his other concerns. He felt Ariadne heel over slightly as the stunsails were set and sheeted home. He studied how well they drew and was not satisfied. He spoke without looking, loud enough for the helmsman.

  “Down helm, one point.”

  “Down helm one point. Aye aye, Sir. Now on East by North.”

  Argent saw the stunsails tighten, then looked down to see Midshipman Trenchard on deck with his Journal and decided to take a direct involvement with his nautical education.

  “Mr. Trenchard!”

  “Sir?”

  “Did you hear my last order? That being the one I gave to Bosun’s Mate Ball?”

  “I did Sir.”

  “And why do you think I gave it.”

  Trenchard thought it wise to pause in order to fully form his answer
.

  “In case we are hit by a squall with a large amount of canvas spread, Sir. We need maximum advance warning.”

  “Very good. And what is happening in your Journal?”

  “I’m writing up that which we just talked about, Sir.”

  Argent smiled and nodded, but his mind soon moved on. The Lizard Point was becoming clear and he took his glass and walked forward to the join of the quarterdeck and the larboard gangway, here to obtain a clearer view. At first the arms of the signal station remained hanging limp, but, even as he watched, they jerked into motion. Argent knew what they were conveying, or more accurately, asking, but he waited to hear what he hoped for, that being something from Midshipmen Berry, the Officer of Signals on this Watch. He waited, then was less than pleased to hear the report of a gun coming across the waters. The signal station had grown impatient at the delay and had drawn Ariadne’s attention to their request. Argent re-focused his glass on the signal arms to see them repeating their movements and his impatience matched that of the men working the signal levers ashore.

  “Mr. Berry! I think you’ll find that the signal station, now on our larboard bow, is asking us to make our number.”

  Berry himself was following the movements of some topmen on the mainmast, so it was with a sudden start, then a jumble of his own hands and arms, that he focused his own spyglass to see the end of the signal. For him, things grew worse when he saw that the signalman had anticipated everything well before Argent’s order and had bent on the required flags to the signal halliards without any order from him. Berry gave a superfluous nod but the Ariadne signalman had lost further patience and the three squares of coloured bunting were already flying up to the beam end of the mizzen topsail yard, larboard side. He was not going to allow his ship to appear in any way laggard before the gaze of any lever pulling longshoremen!

  Having allowed a moment to pass, Argent turned to the miscreant Berry, his voice carrying more than a hint of sarcasm.

  “Now, Mr. Berry, try this. Make the signal, “Ruanporth rescuees on board.”

  Berry thumbed rapidly through his signal book and gave a reply that caused some reassurance in Argent concerning the capabilities of this particular Midshipman.

  “Can I substitute “captives” for “rescuees”, Sir? I’ll have to spell out “rescuees” and I’m already having to spell out Ruanporth. It’ll mean two parts to the signal, Sir.”

  Argent was inwardly pleased, but did not allow it to show. He grasped his hands behind his back and turned to look along the line of his ship.

  “Very good, Mr. Berry. Make it so.”

  The signalman had already lowered their number and was assembling the necessary combinations of signal bunting. Again without waiting for an order from Berry he hauled at the halliards and there was just enough breeze to hold the flags full out. Berry waited a minute then focused his glass on the station. Argent stood waiting.

  “Signal station replying, Sir.”

  A pause.

  “God ………. be………..thanked.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Berry. Make “Amen”.

  Berry did so, but remained with his telescope on the signal station; watching the “arms” rotate to face away from them, then move at a frantic pace.

  “They’re passing our message on down the coast, Sir, I believe. The message is not meant for us, they’ve turned the arms away, to point to the next station along the coast.

  Argent smiled and looked for himself. The signal arms were indeed now “end on” to them and were being worked very energetically.

  A throwing of the log showed that Ariadne had picked up her speed to five and a half knots. With The Lizard now passed and off their larboard quarter, Argent decided to continue to stand on Eastwards. To turn North East direct for Falmouth would put the wind full astern, not a good point of sailing, the mizzen sails would shield the main and foresails from the wind. He would hold his course, wear ship to North West, taking the wind over the larboard quarter, then wear again North East to Falmouth, with the wind over the starboard quarter. He was aware that this sequence would mean wearing ship for the final turn at a point immediately off Ruanporth, but he convinced himself that this was strictly for reasons of naval expediency; to lessen the time of his passage, nothing to do with sentiment. After the passing of two more bells came the Noon Sight and Argent surrendered the quarterdeck to McArdle and his class. Argent was pleased to see small Christopher Wheeler confidently taking a sight, using one of McArdle’s old, but perfectly serviceable, sextants. McArdle studied his performance down the right hand side of his nose, the studied look of disapproval, actually conveying satisfied approval.

  With the ritual complete Argent ordered his change of course and Ariadne settled onto North West, with stunsails now set on the larboard side. The wind picked up and Ariadne increased her speed by a knot and they soon closed the coast, to under half a mile. Now the forecastle was fully thronged with the Ruanporth women and children and the noise from them rose as they picked out the familiar sets of hills and, as the distance lessened even further, the noise then increased further, as did the excited jumping and skipping. Fentiman was stood by Argent at the quarterdeck rail and listened through a pause in the noise coming from forward.

  “Can you hear that, Sir?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Bells, Sir. I think I hear church bells.”

  Argent could hear nothing, so he turned to Midshipmen Bright, now on Watch.

  “Mr. Bright. Can you hear church bells?”

  Bright stood stock still, as if to aid his hearing.

  “Yes Sir. I believe so, Sir, but I couldn’t tell from where, Sir.”

  “Just so, Mr. Bright, just so.”

  Argent was judging his turn, the moment to wear ship for the last time. He moved to the larboard side to better his view and saw the close gathered collection of white houses, now clear against the dark green of the rain restored hillside.

  “Mr. Bright.”

  “Sir.”

  “My compliments to Mr. Tucker, but I think it will be expeditious to ready a gun, the larboard carronade. If I’m not mistaken, that’s Ruanporth over there, fine on our larboard bow, and I can see no harm in us drawing attention to ourselves.”

  “Aye aye Sir.”

  Bright hurried off and soon the forecastle, at least the larboard side of it, became a wholly male preserve again. Easau Grimes loaded a signal charge provided by Gunner Tucker into the wide mouth of his carronade and waited for the order, holding the lanyard and looking back to Argent. Bright had returned and Argent turned to him again.

  “Mr. Bright, I think you would do well to ask our passengers to assemble along the larboard gangway, but please ensure that none climb onto the railing. I wouldn’t want any lost overboard within sight of their home village.”

  Whilst Bright made off forward once again, Argent had judged his moment as arrived and shouted down to Bosun Fraser.

  “Mr. Fraser! Wear ship, starboard tack.”

  Argent turned to the helmsman.

  “Up helm. Come to North East by East.”

  Ariadne answered her helm and her bows swung to starboard to bring her larboard side opposite the coast. As the Afterguard bustled around the deck and the topmen described acrobatics in the rigging, Argent looked along the deck to Easau Grimes, waiting patiently. Argent lifted his hat; Grimes took the signal and jerked the lanyard. The gun gave a deep bark, but, with no ball, it made no movement along its slide and the smoke curled away in the breeze. The women and children, now with a clear view of their home, redoubled their jumping, shouting, waving and hallooing. Argent pulled out his glass and focused it on the shore of the village. Some people were there and were looking out to sea, their attention gained by the gun, but as yet none waved back. Fentiman and Bright were either side of him.

  “I’d say only those with a glass could see what we have aboard from this far out, but if nothing else, at least it’s added to the homecoming of our passengers.”<
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  Ariadne sailed on, but Bright kept his glass on the village. After about five minutes he spoke.

  “I’d say there were a few more at the shoreline now, Sir. Perhaps they’ve twigged, somehow.”

  “Yes, Mr. Bright. Let’s hope so. I wouldn’t want one of Mr. Tucker’s signal charges shot off in vain.”

  Bright saw the irony and smiled.

  “No Sir. Waste of powder, Sir.”

  Argent smiled and resumed his viewing of the deck, hands clasped behind.

  “Just so, Mr. Bright, just so.”

  oOo

  Abel Jones was serving his Watch as Foremast lookout, high in the foretopgallant crosstrees. His mate, Silas Beddows was busy below, working on the foretop. Jones shielded his eyes to aid his vision, although there was no sun and he peered ahead. The hills that marked the entrance to Falmouth harbour were clear and the gap between them growing with the reducing distance.

  “Silas. Come up yer, a minute.”

  Beddows climbed powerfully up to his mate and joined him, hanging his muscled arms over the spar.

  “What?”

  “Can you see what I see, in the harbour entrance?”

  Beddows shielded his eyes in similar fashion.

  “And what can you see? I can see a ship, looks like a frigate, by the size of her stern, but with a lot of buggery where her top hamper ought to be. Looks like she’s got but one whole mast still standing.”

  Jones’ voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “That’s what I see. Now I can inform the Captain.”

  He lowered himself down to the foretop and addressed the deck.

  “Sail ho! Fine on the larboard bow. Enterin' the harbour. Looks like she’s damaged.”

  Wentworth had the quarterdeck, Argent was now off-watch and was taking the time to assemble the ship’s books prior to going ashore. Wentworth had only Midshipman Trenchard as a Watch Officer, but McArdle was also close at hand.

  “M-Mr McArdle. Wh-what do you make of that? E-e-ntering the har-harbour.”

  McArdle fixed Wentworth with a frown, even though he was his superior Officer, and took himself to the larboard mizzenshrouds to gain a clear view forward and to use his own telescope. He studied for less than a minute.