by M. C. Muir
‘Did she indeed? Is that the full extent?’
‘I believe so, Captain. I thought it unreasonable to refuse fresh supplies, however, as the quantity is very minimal, when I spoke with the purser, I suggested those victuals would best be allocated to the women and if there was any excess it should be delivered to the sick berth. I should note that I included this information in my written report, which I believe you received the day after we departed Gibraltar.’
Mr Parry glanced to papers still awaiting the captain’s perusal littered on his desk.
The captain noted the direction he was looking.
‘What accommodation has been afforded to the women?’ he asked.
‘They were issued with hammocks and have slung them in the carpenter’s workshop.’
‘And what of the daylight hours?’ he replied with a frown.
‘It is my intention to find some occupation for them. I will speak with Dr Whipple, if that meets with your approval.’
Captain Quintrell shrugged. ‘I shall leave the arrangement to you. What do you know of them? Have you spoken with them at length?’
‘Only briefly. The younger woman is reserved and prone to tearful outbursts and, for the present, has no stomach for the ship’s movement. Mrs Crosby, who you met briefly, is of a stronger character and disposition. However, both are polite and well-mannered and I gave them strict orders not to wander the decks, or venture into the mess, or to interfere with or distract the men through conversation or unseemly behaviour. Mrs Crosby politely reminded me she was a married woman travelling in the company of her husband and she thanked me not to remind her how to behave.’
‘Did she indeed?’
Simon Parry repressed a smile. ‘It is possible that, like yourself, many of the men are not even aware that these two women are aboard.
The captain huffed. ‘I find that hard to believe. Seamen who had been confined in a ship for three months can smell a woman a mile off. I presume their names have not been entered in the muster book.
‘Naturally not.’
‘Of course, but I need their names for the log.’
‘The carpenter’s wife is Mary Crosby. The younger woman is Mrs Pilkington. Her husband and children perished in the epidemic. I believe that is the reason she is rather fragile at the moment. She is the younger of the two, but is caring for a ten-year-old boy who accompanied them―Charles Goodridge, an orphan from the naval dockyard.’
Oliver shook his head. ‘I had hoped all reference to the epidemic had been left in the colony, but it appears we are carrying a reminder with us.’ Deep creases furrowed his brow. He rubbed his finger along them, as if to smooth them out, but the creases remained. ‘I pray to God none of these people still carry the infection with them. Perhaps the doctor should examine them.’
‘I will arrange that.’
‘And I will need to speak with the carpenter, also.’
Mr Parry nodded and with nothing more to say excused himself and closed the cabin door.
Shaking his head, Oliver Quintrell returned to his chair, picked up the glass and swallowed the contents in two large mouthfuls. He immediately refilled it, but sat contemplating whether to drink it or not. A few minutes later, he pushed the glass aside, though his eyes remained settled on the Waterford crystal. Beams of bright sunlight streaming in from the side window were glancing off the faceted glass reflecting the rich blue and gold tones of the cabin’s soft furnishings. Concentrating on the bursts of brilliant colour, his eyes glazed and the images in front of him grew blurred. Slowly and without prompting, the tears he had never shed for Susanna rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the polished wooden surface.
The slow-match that had been burning within him was finally extinguished.
Chapter 4
A Dilemma
‘Mr Crosby, is it not?’ the captain asked, as he scrutinized the carpenter.
‘Aye, your servant, sir.’
‘How long were you employed at the naval yard in Gibraltar?’
‘Seven years, Captain. I arrived in ’97.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘Mainly doing refits. But it was a poor yard in those days. It employed few skilled men and, with no money for materials, it was not a good place to work. But Sir John Jervis spent two years on the station and left in ninety-nine.’
‘Did conditions improve after that?’
‘His Lordship recommended many changes to the port facilities, and Admiral Nelson, when he was commander of the Mediterranean Fleet, saw the situation for himself and agreed something needed to be done. Both sent reports to the Navy Board of what was wanted and, although it took some years, improvements came eventually. Then it all went bad again.’
The captain asked for an explanation.
‘When malignant fever ran rampant and the quarantine regulations were in force, the ships of Nelson’s fleet were ordered to stay away from Gibraltar and the work at the yard ground to a halt. Even before the people started dying in droves, I’d hoped for a chance to sign on a ship bound for England so I could get me and Mrs Crosby and my son away from the place.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Captain, for granting me and the other carpenters a berth and for allowing my missus and Mrs Pilkington to ship with us.’
Oliver grunted. ‘I did not sanction your arrival on board. However, you and the other tradesmen are welcome. The frigate has been without a ship’s carpenter for several weeks and I would not have put to sea without one. But be aware,’ he added, ‘I do not welcome females aboard my ship no matter what capacity they are travelling in.’
‘I understand your feelings, Captain, but I had no choice. What should I have done? Left the womenfolk there in the colony with no one to support them, and with the shortage of food and fresh water as it was, they would have died. My only wish was to get them away from the Rock and see them shipped to England.’
‘Then regard yourself fortunate that my first officer permitted them to come aboard. Had I been consulted, I would have refused. I have seen the disruption women cause at sea, from the frivolous antics of warrant officers’ wives to the unbecoming behaviour of wives of senior officers. I have suffered the whining and wailing of sea-sick females from Plymouth to Port Royal.’
‘I can assure you, Captain, Mrs Crosby has sailed with me before and she does not suffer sea-sickness. Nor does she recoil from the noise of battle or the sight of blood. I’ve known her stitch up an open wound quicker than you can sew on a button. I can promise you, my missus will give you nothing to complain of.’
‘Mr Crosby,’ the captain continued. ‘My ruling is not founded on personal preferences. Need I remind you of Article 38 of the Regulations and Instructions Relating to His Majesty’s Service at Sea, which clearly states that any captain or commander shall not carry any woman to sea without the instructions of the Admiralty?’
‘But I came aboard under instructions from the Navy Board, which was aware of the situation existing in the colony.’ He paused. ‘I hear you are a married man, Captain. You must understand.’
Mr Crosby’s brazen reference to his personal life rankled the captain.
‘Let me remind you, mister, His Majesty’s fighting ships are not run on the basis of whim or emotion. Special provisions or allowances cannot be made for a man’s wife or any other female person when the ship is facing a broadside from enemy guns.’
The carpenter bowed his head but continued in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘As for Mrs P,’ he added, ‘she lost her husband to the sickness. She and George Pilkington were married in Gibraltar near five years ago. He was a Portsmouth lad, but she was born and raised in the colony. Her forebears were Spanish, like many of the folk in Gibraltar. Her real name is Consuela, but my wife calls her Connie.’
‘Huh. And what of the boy you mentioned―Charles Goodridge?’
‘Orphan. Nice little lad. The son of one of the wrights―another good craftsman. He died two days before his wife. They were the first at the yard to p
erish, and before they went, they begged me to care for the lad if their lives were taken. I told him I would do what I could, but I made him no promise because I couldn’t guarantee I would live through it myself. It was the same time Connie’s two infants were taken. Less than two years old, the pair of them. So she took Charlie in and looked after him even when he got poorly. But she nursed him through it. Now, when you see the pair together, you would think they were family.’
The carpenter sniffed and screwed his woollen hat around in his hands. ‘I buried my own son in the big ditch along with hundreds of other nameless souls. I’ll never forget that scene as long as I live.’
The captain closed his eyes. He, too, had witnessed the horrors of the epidemic first-hand, and doubted the memory of Susanna’s death would ever leave him. Pausing for a moment, he glanced through the stern window to the backdrop of blue. ‘I am sorry for your loss,’ he said, his expression of sympathy genuine. ‘Thank you, Mr Crosby, you need say no more. However, I must advise we are not heading for England. My orders take me into the southern latitudes, far from Europe.’
The carpenter looked troubled.
‘Do not worry. I intend to make landfall at St Michael, the main island in the Azores. The ship is in dire need of wood and water, and fresh supplies, which I can purchase at the victualling yard there. I will disembark your wife and her companion at Ponta Delgada. It is a busy port and many ships returning to England call in there. It will be your decision as to whether you accompany your wife or continue with the ship. Let me remind you, however, that when the Navy Board granted warrants to the wrights and carpenters transferring to Perpetual, it was with the intention those men would commit to service for at least the present voyage and not merely use it as a convenient means of escaping the colony. As captain of this vessel, I cannot sail without a good crew in the carpenter’s shop. The role you play is one of the most important aboard. Very soon, I intend to careen the ship and, when that happens, I will be relying on the ship’s carpenter and his mates to effect any repairs and oversee the scraping of the hull once it is out of the water.’
‘Me and the lads can do that, sir.’
‘That is well. I do not wish to linger in those waters any longer than necessary, but the work is unavoidable. Currently the ship is swimming like a fish wrapped in a woollen stocking. When we make the Western Islands, you have my permission to go ashore. I suggest you arrange suitable lodgings to accommodate the women in the town until a ship arrives to convey them to England.’
‘Thank you kindly, Captain. Have no worries, I fully intend to stay with the ship.’
‘Then we shall say no more on this matter. Providing we get some wind, we are less than two weeks sailing from our destination. In the meantime, the women must remain below. If they come on deck to take some exercise, they will be accompanied by a marine officer.’
The carpenter knuckled his forelocks and turned to leave but the captain interrupted him.
‘One more thing, Crosby. From your papers, you are the most senior carpenter both in age and experience, therefore, I will have you rated as ship’s carpenter. Are the other men fully skilled tradesmen?’
‘Four skilled wrights with many years’ experience between them, sir, and a lad who completed his time a year ago. He tells me he’s sailed with you before. Goes by the name of William Ethridge.’
The captain showed sign of recognition. ‘Indeed.’
‘And I have an apprentice from the yard,’ Mr Crosby added. ‘He’s served four years, but has the makings of a good tradesman.’
‘Then I am satisfied the carpenter’s shop is adequately served with mates. I will speak with you again when we raise the Azores.’
‘Enter,’ the captain called, not raising his eyes from the paper in his hand. Sitting at his desk, with his back to the door, he did not regard the man who entered, nor did he need to, the almost imperceptible footfall of his first lieutenant was familiar to him.
‘Was there something, Simon?’ Oliver asked, his tone much mellowed from their previous fractious encounter.
‘Nothing to report, sir. We are making a little over two knots, and the sail sighted earlier is no longer visible. All the hands are in good health and spirits. Perhaps you would care to see for yourself.’
‘Presently,’ Oliver murmured, returning to the letter on his desk.
The lieutenant waited and watched as a pencil rolled back and forth on the polished table. The captain appeared oblivious to it.
‘Was there something else?’ he asked, without looking up.
‘Indeed, there was not, I am pleased to say. But if you will pardon me for saying, you sound a little tired. Is there anything I can be of assistance with?’
‘Perhaps there is,’ the captain said. Leaving his desk, he turned and sat down at the table and indicated for his lieutenant to sit also. ‘It is this,’ he said, tapping his index finger on the paper he was holding. ‘Article Eight. I have read the words so many times I know them by rote, but they no longer make sense to me.’
Like all serving seamen, both officers and common hands, Simon Parry was familiar with the Articles of War. The regulations, first set down in 1661 and revised only twice since that time, were the rules every man who served in the Royal Navy was obliged to adhere to. The set of regulations were relayed from the quarterdeck to the assembled company whenever a ship was commissioned and, after that, at least once a month, or every Sunday following the observation of worship of God Almighty.
But while most captains did not read the complete set of Articles, the ones that were most pertinent to the crew were regularly repeated. Punishments for crimes such as disobeying orders, abusive behaviour, murder or mutiny all carried severe sentences. The phrase, shall suffer death was rammed into every seaman’s brain. But because the words were repeated so frequently throughout a sailor’s time at sea made Oliver question whether they meant anything at all or were not worth the paper they were written on.
‘Article Eight?’ Simon quizzed.
Oliver frowned and glancing down at the page read:
‘No person in or belonging to the fleet shall take out of any prize, or ship seized for prize, any money, plate, or goods…before the same be adjudged lawful prize in some admiralty court—’
He broke off and glanced at his lieutenant to make sure he was paying attention.
‘As you are aware―and no doubt, every man-Jack aboard this ship is also aware, whilst anchored in the Bay of Gibraltar, I received on board Perpetual four wooden chests removed from a Spanish ship that had been attacked when returning home from South America. The action took place off Cape Saint Mary and was by a fleet of British frigates. On receipt of the chests, taken from one of those ships, I was informed they contained coins. I was further advised that this Spanish treasure had merely been detained. Huh!’ he snorted, glancing behind him to the recently reinforced bulkhead near his desk. ‘Four chests containing specie―coins of various types and, I understand, of considerable value.’
The lieutenant chose not to interrupt.
‘I was assured that because Britain was not at war with Spain, the treasure had only been detained by the British fleet in order to prevent those funds finding their way into Napoleon’s coffers. Detained,’ he emphasized, ‘with the proviso that the coins would be returned to Spain.’
Simon raised his eyebrows.
‘I think you know as well as I, that such an eventuality is unlikely to happen. This confirms my original thoughts―the coins were never adjudged lawful prize as they were in fact pirated by the British squadron. Pirated!’ he repeated, as he returned to the paper in front of him and continued reading: ‘According to Article Eight:
‘—the full and entire account of the whole, without embezzlement, shall be brought in, and judgment passed entirely upon the whole without fraud, upon pain that every person offending herein shall forfeit and lose his share of the capture, and suffer such further punishment as shall be imposed by a court martial, or such
court of admiralty, according to the nature and degree of the offense.
‘According to my interpretation of this Article, I have been made an unwitting third party to this blatant act of piracy and am, therefore, no less equally guilty of taking a portion of a prize illegally.’
‘May I make a comment, Oliver?’ Simon ventured.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Did you not receive a statement in writing from the Admiralty that the Treasury was to make good, to Spain, the equivalent value of the specie you received?’
‘I did, but who is to convince my crew of that. Every man on board, even though he did not personally witness the transfer of the silver to the ship, is probably aware of what we are carrying.’
He slapped his hand on the pencil to stop it rolling off the table. ‘When it came aboard, there were murmurs from the men that it would bring nothing but bad luck. I only hope their predictions are not correct.’
‘If you are concerned that work of the treasure will be spread,’ Simon said. ‘I would beg to remind you we are heading across the Atlantic and the men will have no opportunity to share their knowledge, even if it was their intention to do so.’
Oliver laughed. ‘Men do not need prompting to part with priceless snippets of gossip. Some would sell their soul for the whiff of a woman’s purse, a gilded trinket, or even a twist of tobacco. Others have little control over their tongues once the taste of honeyed nectar loosens it and, given the opportunity in the Azores, they will no doubt consume their fill as soon as they step ashore.’
‘Only if you allow them to do so.’
‘The men have been cooped up in this ship for months, and once we have refurbished our supplies we have many months of sailing ahead with no ports to call into.’ He looked at his first officer. ‘If I do not permit the men to go ashore when we raise the islands, I will have a near mutiny on my hands.’