“Sir. The Regulations are quite simple, until it comes to the crew. The Admiral who signed our orders for the voyage, receives one twelth of the prize money, you, the captain receive one sixth, the wardroom officers one eighth, the standing warrant officers receive one eighth and the remaining half is distributed among the rest of the crew, based on their ranks, but not necessarily evenly. That decision rests with you, Sir.”
Argent stared back at him, but already thinking.
“I’d like the Gun Captains, and Top Captains, to have extra. Perhaps a half share extra. That can be done, I presume.”
Maybank spoke lucidly and confidently, meeting Argent’s gaze, now at home in his world of figures.
“Yes, Sir. Very easily. When we captured La Mouette, our complement was 213, but we had one runner. So that gives 424 half shares. Extra half shares for three Top Captains and 38 Gun Captains adds on 41 more half shares. That gives 465 shares for the men, Sir.”
Argent looked back, impressed.
“You know how to undertake this?”
“Yes Sir. I have first to take this to a bank. I would appreciate an armed escort, Sir.”
“Consider it done.”
Argent paused.
“Do you start now?”
“Yes, Sir, if you so choose.”
“Good.”
He placed the draft back in the cover and handed it over and Maybank took it with both hands and carefully placed it into an inside pocket. He then stood and saluted. It was not to quarterdeck standard, but Argent’s informal grin befitted the occasion. Maybank turned and left, but Argent was already reaching for pen and paper. One sixth to himself! A quick division gave him a figure of just over £28,000! A fortune! He was a very rich man! Then he indulged in another gladdening thought, the Admiral who had signed their orders for the La Mouette patrol had not been Broke, but Leadbitter, whom Broke replaced. He must make that known to Maybank, then he did some more calculating. His men would receive half, that being £84,231. Some intricate division gave a half share at £182 15s. Each seaman would receive £365 10s. His “Captains”, having an extra half share, would receive £547 5s. They were rich men!
The Warrant Officers were easy. He had ten, which gave over £2,000 each. Heavens! A huge thought. That included Mortimor! Then he could not resist further calculations for his Officers, but paused to think. Should a Midshipman receive the same as a Lieutenant? He thought not, then thought further. When taking La Mouette he had a Wardroom of ten, including McArdle, Maybank, and Surgeon Smallpiece. He thought it right that a Midshipman should receive one share, then he added on from there, up the ranks, counting Ramsey’s widow alongside 2nd Lieutenant Bentley, until he came to Fentiman, who would receive four. The total of shares came to 21. More hurried calculations ensued until he sat back thoroughly satisfied. A Midshipman would receive over £1,000, but Fentiman would receive over £4,000! He was a rich man.
oOo
“Henry! I’ve news, much news!”
Fentiman had arrived within minutes of being bidden and he came forward, his face alternating between the emotion of possible glad tidings and deep apprehension for the possible opposite.
“I’ve just seen Maybank going off in the launch, with six Marines and a full crew. Is that part of your news?”
“It is, and here it is.”
Argent pushed forward the letter from the Prize Court and pointed to the figure.
“That is the value they have placed on La Mouette. They’re going to buy her into the Service.”
Argent sat back to let the fact sink into his First Lieutenant, but, surprisingly, he saw no change. However, undeterred, he pressed on, his glee almost getting the better of him.
“I’ve calculated your share. Over 4,000! What do you think of that?”
A half smile crossed Fentiman’s face, but then left it.
“Henry? Are you well? All’s well at home?”
“Quite well, Sir, thank you.”
Argent cleared his throat. Perhaps his First Lieutenant was already possessed of significant private means, unknown to himself, so he pressed on further and pushed across Fentiman’s invitation to the wedding. As Fentiman read it, Argent saw a whole gamut of emotions cross his First Lieutenant’s face, but it finally settled, somber and almost at peace. Argent waited for a reaction, but none came.
“I’m going to accept. What about you?”
The answer was immediate and accompanied by a sharp nod of his head,
“Yes, me also. I’ll be pleased to attend.”
Argent waited for more, but nothing came, bar some turmoil behind Fentiman’s eyes, but eventually he did speak.
“Sir. I’ve something to tell you concerning your recent Court Martial, which I ………”
There came a knock on the door and Sanders entered immediately.
“Sir, sorry to barge in, Sir, but Admiral Grant is on his way to us, Sir, and like to arrive in a few minutes.”
Argent and Fentiman both stood, Argent reaching for his coat.
“Thank you, Jonathan. You are right to interrupt. Get a side party organized immediately, will you?”
Sanders disappeared and, with Argent still buttoning his coat, both Officers left the cabin; Fentiman, so it seemed to Argent, trying hard to pull himself together, both inside his mind and outside, especially his buttons, both of waistcoat and jacket.
Ten minutes later, a rumour was running all over the ship and it included one of the few times when the men of the maintop were civil to those of the fore. Jack Bilsley, Captain of the Maintop, shouted it forward to Gabriel Whiting and the whole crew of the foretop descended to join the huddle about to swamp Bosun Fraser.
“Now, I don’t know no more’n you. All I can say, is, that ‘tis a very tidy sum, and that each of us as was there when we took her, is in for a very ‘andy amount of coin.”
From all around came the same question.
“How much?”
“That’s what I’ve no way of sayin’. But, ‘tis arrived, and that Frencher was a fine vessel and worth a fair amount. That’s what’s comin’ our way, as shares, and ‘twill arrive all in good time.”
“When?”
“All in good time, but ‘tis here, and so, all I can say is, ‘twon’t be long.”
More questions arrived, mostly repeats, but Bosun Fraser had had enough.
“Now, back to work, the damn lot of you. I want’s this barky ready for a new voyage tomorrow, if asked for. Now move! Shove off! Away!”
But three did not move. Henry Ball, Sam Morris and Gabriel Whiting remained and George Fraser gave no objection. Sam Morris spoke first.
“Well, this is what I know, that when the Caroline took the San Rafael, back in the year seven, each man got nigh on five hundred!”
But it was Gabriel Whiting who answered.
“Ah, but she were a treasure ship. That doubled her value, the same won’t be comin’ our way.”
He looked at George Fraser.
“How’s it work, George. You ever had prize money afore?”
“Yes, some, when I was on a Revenuer, an’ we took a smuggler full of brandy. We didn’t get much for the spirits, but the vessel was a neat package and we each got £95. That brought every doxy, diddykite, and shyster down to the harbour, each with some scheme to part us of the crew from our prizemoney; an’ they succeeded with it too, but most went on drink in the pothouses, I’m sorry to say, an’ the whores an’ the dice. They gives it out as bags of coin, you see. ‘Tis so easy to spend.”
Sam Morris looked concerned.
“Yours an’ all?”
“Some, but most was sent home, an’ that’s where it still is. I ‘as hopes of buyin’ a Inn or summat, somewhere. Somewhere a long way from the sea.
Gabriel Whiting smiled.
“This dose of cash, then, just might do it.”
“It might, we’ll see.”
He paused.
“Now, we’ve all ship’s business, but time’s soon we’ll all k
now.”
With that he turned to mount the companionway and could soon be heard shouting at some waisters about “grasscombing lubber’s work.”
Meanwhile, Argent and Fentiman were bidding farewell to Admiral Grant. Their time together had been short, enough for report on Ariadne’s state of readiness, the La Pomone engagement, a glass of madeira and for Grant to allay Argent’s fears that they would be at sea for the wedding. As Grant’s barge pulled away, Argent turned to his First Lieutenant.
“We have to talk!”
Down in his cabin, Argent explained his concerns
“Our Purser is in the Mining and Mercantile even as we speak and within days chests full of money will be coming aboard; they won’t have enough in coin to meet the £84,000; most will have to arrive from up country. Then Maybank will begin the distribution; bags of coin will be issued to the men. Our lowliest seaman will receive £365! It doesn’t take a genius to predict what comes next. If we let them ashore, we’ll get heavy desertion, even after they’ve lost half of it to every cheat and whore in Devon and Cornwall. If we keep them on board they will gamble, then steal, then fight. Where else do they have to keep it, but in their seachests?”
Fentiman remained distant, even distracted, but he did respond.
“It is their money, and that’s always how it’s been done. What I do agree with, Sir, is that we cannot allow them ashore. A quarter of the crew, more, are pressed men, and those we’ll not see again.”
Argent looked at him.
“When Maybank returns, send him straight to me.
When Purser Maybank did return, with his heavy Marine escort, he went straight to Argent’s cabin and spent sometime closeted there with his Captain. When they were finished Argent came onto his quarterdeck and summoned Bosun Fraser.
“Assemble the men.”
The Bosun’s whistles blew and, from all parts, the whole crew assembled at the mizzenmast, the Marines parading on the starboard gangway, but stood at ease with ordered arms. Argent walked forward to the quarterdeck rail and waited for silence, which quickly fell.
“Men, the prizemoney from La Mouette has arrived. Those of you on the lowest rate will receive £365 and some, the gun and top Captains will receive close to £550.”
He watched the reaction move over their faces, as a gust of wind flows over ripe corn, but none spoke, either from shock or astonishment or the wish to hear further what their Captain had to say.
“You are entitled to receive your money in coin of the realm. But……..”
He paused.
“I want to point out to you that such a sum will set you up for life, for the time when the war is over. It could buy you a home or even a small concern.”
He paused again. Should he lay bare the fact that he could not take the risk of a mass desertion of they were allowed ashore? He decided no, and moved on.
“It is my strongest advice that you lodge your prizemoney with the Mining and Mercantile Bank, to wait for the end of hostilities, for there it will earn interest. Those of you that choose to hold yours in coin will keep it with you on board ship. Those of you that choose to take my advice will receive a banker’s draft from Purser Maybank, made out in your name, drawn on the Mining and Mercantile and you can choose to keep that yourself, or lodge it with Purser Maybank, or have it sent home.”
He paused and adjusted his feet and hands.
“I would strongly advise that you lodge your money with the bank, you single men give the note to Purser Maybank, you with families, send it home. Left with them, if you do not return, for as man o’ war’s men we all know that you may not, your loved ones can still claim the money. The issue will take place the day after tomorrow.”
He looked at the expanse of upturned faces, but said no more.
“Dismiss.”
The hubbub of discussion came at last, as the men moved away. Few showed the pleasure of the award; almost all were considering their Captain’s words. It was a considerable sum, far above their expectations and its future was the subject of serious discussion. It continued in their messes at suppertime and the conversation of number three starboard was typical, the wise Sam Morris speaking in reply to Tom Bearman’s wish to have his share in coin.
“And come one year, there’ll not be one brass farthing left! It’ll be lost, stolen, gambled, or spent in some God forsaken hole at the back of beyond. The Captain’s right, what if we sinks and your chest goes down with it? If we sees the end of the war, in one piece, then we’n set up, like the Captain says, for a home and perhaps a little business. And come the end of the war, make no mistake, you’m out, an’ lookin’ for work, along with 50,000 others, but like as not we’ll finish with somethin’ missing, and you’ve seen the one armed, or one legged, or poor blind beggars around Plymouth and Portsmouth; sailors and soldiers. What if that’s you, chucked aside to beg a livin’? With that sum tucked away, you’ll still be alright. An’ if you’m dead, ‘tis there for your family, like the Captain said.”
He allowed his words to sink in.
“I’m for stowin’ it with the bank. I likes what the Captain said.”
All looked thoughtful, considering the wisdom of their Gun Captain, but Bearman was adamant.
“You talks about sinkin’, but Banks can go down an’ all. I’m for coin. That’s my right, and that’s my choice.”
The rest held their council and the subject closed, so they spent the rest of the meal listening to one of Ted Cable’s stories about life aboard the slave galley.
The following day, at ten o’clock, four bells of the forenoon watch, two heavy chests were swung aboard, double cable to lift and four more to guide each aboard and provide extra security. Maybank set up his table, but he was not alone, for beside him sat the Manager of Falmouth Mining and Mercantile, with a whole sheaf of blank drafts. For the rest of the day, the crew filed past, some bearing away bags of coin, and some a burden not so very heavy, for many had accepted the new £1 and £2 notes. However, almost all left with only some coin and also a paper receipt to show that their draft was either lodged with Purser Maybank or with the august and trustworthy Manager. The Warrant Officers were finally dealt with, then finally, Maybank and the Manager removed themselves to the Captain’s cabin to dispense the prizemoney of the Officers. All accepted a Banker’s Draft, bar the Midshipmen, who took some of theirs in notes and coin. With the dying light, the chests were unshipped and, again under heavy Marine escort, they were rowed to the quayside and carefully ensconced once more inside the bank. It was a very contented crew that settled down for the night, but the dice rolled, well for some, but poorly for many.
oOo
Both were stood rigid and stock-still. Bible Mortimor circled each, like a bird of prey, eyes equally intense to spot any blemish. He had a clean rag in his hand, which he flicked at anything suspicious. Finally, he was satisfied; the two would not disgrace the ship.
“Ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward. Matthew 23, verse 27.”
“Thank you, Mortimor. We’ll take that as the highest possible verdict of approval.”
Mortimor flicked at a last piece of dust and stepped back, then he made a noise in the back of his throat to signify that he was done. Argent and Fentiman looked for themselves at their new breeches, shoes, and hose, then checked the “shoot” of their quality linen shirtsleeves from beyond their cuffs. Only their dress coats were not recently purchased but Mortimor, with his dark arts, had brought these up to the mark. With all three now satisfied, both Officers passed the Marine Sentry, him fiercely presenting arms, and they emerged out onto the gundeck, where many stopped work to see their Captain and First, and admire the sight of both decked out in full fig. Salutes and smiles were exchanged all round as they made their way to the entry port to be piped over by Fraser and his Mates, then down into the Captain’s barge. All involved were in newly heightened states of finery, new duck trousers, jackets, vests and shoes! The last being very black, with a shin
y pewter buckle!
Argent and Fentiman settled into the sternsheets and made careful placement of their swords, Fentiman giving the handguard of his an extra polish with his sleeve. The day was kind, the sun a possibility, and light enough, mild and not raining. Whiting stood resplendent at the tiller, “Ariadne” prominent on his hatband and, with his Officers secure, he called for a smart and brisk stroke to take them swiftly to the quayside and finally see their Officers ashore and safely up the steps and on their way. For the crew, this would be, unfailingly, a good day, with many hours of freedom, because their passengers would not return until late afternoon and so their time ashore would be their own. As they had argued on many an occasion, needs must that they remain ashore, for they may be needed for a swift return. They rowed their boat up to the Marine steps, moored it under their supervision, and then disembarked themselves. Whiting walked up to the Marine Sergeant.
“We’d like to leave our Captain’s barge up here, mate. Be that alright with you?”
“Good enough, but if you’m needed, where will you be?”
“The Pale Horse.”
He felt his crewmates surprise behind him and, when he turned, was not surprised to see it written all over their faces. Able Jones spoke the words.
“The Pale Horse! Now isn’t that one up from our deck? What’s the matter with The Ship Aground?”
Then he paused and stood with his arms akimbo, realisation growing on his face.
“Or has this got something to do with a certain serving girl?”
“Never you mind about the why’s and the wherefore’s, Abe Jones. Only one thing I wants to know from you, is where can I buy some flowers?”
Argent and Fentiman now sat secure in their cab; both checking that neither smudge nor stain had adhered anywhere, nor was liable to, from within the possibly unclean public compartment of their transport. Fentiman consulted his new watch, which agreed with Argent’s much older family heirloom. The time was nigh on 10.30 and ten minutes would see them at the church gate. Both sat back, seemingly relaxed, but Argent noticed the fingers of Fentiman’s left hand flexing back and forth upon the pommel of his sword.
A Question of Duty Page 69