"It was ever thus," Captain Blackwood sympathised. "A man with a powerful patron can escape any charge, no matter how serious. Is not Lord Camden the patron of this MacArthur?"
"So he is, so he is," nodded the Governor. "Mark my words, the scoundrel will arrive here with some new grant in his hands giving him half the colony. As well make him Governor!"
"So it seems. Now, you asked my assistance on a matter of surveying. What do you require? It will be good to have my people engaged in some real tasks in this place and away from the provocations this Corps of adventurers and cut throats seem to be so eager to engage in."
***
In the great cabin aboard the Spartan Captain Blackwood surveyed his officers as they studied the papers he had brought back from the Governor's Residence. "As you can see, gentlemen, the task is a large one, but we may play a small part. This harbour has been surveyed in its entirety but a possibly greater one lies to the north and that we are asked to examine and map as soon as an expedition may be sent there. It will require a passage in the boats to the entrance and then much work within to produce a suitable map from which further work may be carried out. I propose to send you, Mister Rae, with three boats and Midshipmen to assist you."
The lieutenant nodded his assent and the Captain continued, "While Mister Rae is thus engaged, you, Mister Beasley, will take another party overland and conduct a survey of the coast to the south of Botany Bay itself. You, Mister Rogers, will take a party inland to a river reported to the west which we are informed runs through a mountain chain. You will survey a route both to that river and then of the river itself as far as you are able, reporting your findings back to me." He hesitated and then said, "Both Mister Beasley and Mister Rogers will have the escort of a number of your Marines, Captain Kriesler. The natives here are not reported to be violent toward us, but I trust not our friends in the New South Wales Corps."
***
Despite the Captain's precautions some of the illicit rum found its way aboard and there were several instances of drunken behaviour resulting in punishment ranging from a dozen lashes to a much more serious award of three dozen. Captain Blackwood and the First Lieutenant were concerned at this outbreak of indiscipline and the rise in awards of punishment. Tempers flared at the least provocation among the men and sometimes blows were exchanged.
Into this tinderbox stepped Mister Midshipman Barclay.
The day had been long, hot and filled with much boat work besides the moving of stores and the work of repairing some rigging the Boatswain and the First Lieutenant were convinced required it. Eamon Barclay had driven his men hard, as was his usual manner, and towards evening they were tired and tempers were short. A man, one of the convicts recruited after the brush with the Corsairs, tripped carrying a pair of buckets just filled with water from overside and the contents of one struck the Midshipman, drenching him from the thighs downward.
"Damned scum." Barclay snarled, "That was deliberate! I'll see you flogged for that. Master's Mate, take his name. And the rest of you, get on with your work. I'll have no slacking or mutiny from you."
"It was an accident, sir," the Master's Mate responded carefully. "Garstead tripped on the ring bolt, sir."
"Taking his part now are you?" Barclay's face was like thunder as he rounded on the Master's Mate. "I'll have your rate for as well. Get this mess cleared away. I'm going to report this to the First Lieutenant – then we'll see about insubordination." He turned and stamped away, the water draining from his trousers as he progressed.
"Get this mess cleared up," the Master's Mate snapped. "Garstead, you clumsy dolt, you're for it now. Pray that the First takes a lenient line – he don't like floggin' an' Mister Barclay…." He left the sentence hanging, realising he was saying too much.
"Bleedin' bastard," growled one of the others. "He weren't so big an' bold when we 'ad to get the people off'n t' Maid in that storm – but way he tells it now …"
He stopped as the Master's Mate snapped, "Shut yer gob. That'll get you a spell on the gratings if'n you're not careful!"
***
Mister Barclay's complaint put his superiors in an awkward position. Discipline had to be upheld and, more importantly, it had to be seen to be upheld. Captain Blackwood was far from pleased when Thomas Bell advised him of the complaint.
"Damme Thomas," the Captain said. "Has the fellow no sense at all? Garstead is young and a good man despite his conviction. Tirley, the Master's Mate, is an experienced and reliable man as well. He is adamant it was an accident and yet Mister Barclay has complained that he failed to keep proper discipline among the men. The ship is a tinderbox as it is with the damned illicit rum finding its way aboard. We simply do not need any further provocation – a full third of our people should be serving sentences in this God forsaken place as it is."
"If you'll pardon my saying so, sir, this has been brewing for some little while. Mister Barclay is very free with his accusations and you are aware of his bullying of the juniors and playing his favourites." The First Lieutenant considered a moment and then continued, "Perhaps if he were given some task that takes him out of the ship for a time? It may also encourage him to consider his future."
"I shall consider that, Thomas," the Captain looked thoughtful. "For the moment though, I see no alternative to making an example of young Garstead, but will make the sentence as lenient as I can. A half dozen I think will satisfy Mister Barclay's honour and serve to warn any others who may be tempted." He paused then said, "And send Mister Barclay to me in the Dog Watch. It is time I reminded him of my strictures when he joined the ship."
***
The Punishment was performed with all the ceremonial the Navy had devised as a means of imposing discipline and instilling fear of the lash. Captain Blackwood confirmed the sentence and read The Articles of War to a silent and sullen crew assembled beneath the awnings. The seaman was lashed to a grating shirtless and spread-eagled by the Master's Mates. Then the six, slashing, lashes were administered by the Boatswain's Mate accompanied by a rattle of sticks on the Marine drummer's side drum.
Harry winced in sympathy as the lash bit into the young man's back, the first raising dark welts, the second drawing blood and the remainder churning the flesh into a bloodied mess. Throughout Barclay glowered, muttering that it should have been two dozen at least, drawing scowls from the nearest lieutenants and a sarcastic retort from the Marine's Captain who said, "For a bit of water on your breeches? Why not hang him and be done? Take care though, for someone may hang you for your pains!"
It hardly improved Barclay's mood, especially as he was being sent ashore with the Fifth Lieutenant and the Gunner with a working party to assist in the building of defensive batteries along the seaward shore. After his interview with the Captain he also fully understood that this was to be seen as a punishment and any further trouble with the men would result in his being transferred to another ship at the earliest opportunity without a commendation for promotion.
He was in a foul temper as he entered the Gunroom. "O'Connor!" He snarled, "Get me my dinner and be quick about it!" Adding, "Damned thief!"
Ferghal heard this and though it angered him he hurried away to fetch the meal. As he departed he heard Mister Bowles remonstrating with Midshipman Barclay, but it was cold comfort. Already there were those on the Lower Deck who would not be sorry to see some 'accident' befall the bully.
***
The Boatswain and the Surgeon dealt with Garstead's wounds in the rough and ready manner of the navy. He was cut down and walked below in something of a half swooning state.
"Steady lad," one of the Surgeon's assistants murmured. The Boatswain had, through the agency of one of his cronies, seen to it that Garstead had been given a good dose of rum before his punishment and this was now helping the man deal with the injuries afflicted by the 'cat'. They got him into the Orlop and the Surgeon swabbed the blood from his back with salt water, causing him to cry out.
"Easy lad, this'll ensure there's no
infection." The surgeon inspected the crisscrossed welts carefully. "You'll have some marks, but none too bad they won't heal cleanly." The surgeon snorted. "Boatswain's Mate must have softened his heart – I've seen him deliver far worse in the same number of lashes." To his mates he said, "Keep his back clean – none of your goose grease Hilliard! He'll be fit for duty in two or three days."
***
It was perhaps as well that Eamon Barclay was ashore two days later for an incident in his absence involving several of the men in his Division would have ended in several hangings if he had been present. As it was, several of his men were found drunk and had to be punished.
"The liquor is the least of it," Lieutenant Bell reported to the Captain. "Some of the men are in a state of serious malcontent. It will not take much to push some of the more hot headed into some rash act. I suggest we find some employment for them which will disperse the crew and give them some diversion."
"I agree," Captain Blackwood said. "In fact I have this very day received a request from Governor King for the survey of the great estuary North of here to be undertaken as soon as possible. I propose to send Mister Rae with Midshipmen Bowles and Heron to undertake this work. They will require the use of both launches and the barge. With Mister Barclay, Mister Beasley and Mister Rogers all ashore on different tasks and with parties of our people to support them that will go some way toward easing the pressures on board. At least we do not have to concern ourselves with Mister Barclay possibly inflaming things here."
***
The Captain might have been less sanguine in his assessment if he had been privy to a conversation taking place at that very moment between Midshipman Barclay and an officer of the New South Wales Corps.
"You damned navy fellows have made things difficult for a man to obtain a good return on his investments." The Rum Corps officer complained over a jar in what passed for the officers' mess at the site of the battery. "The Governor refuses to allow us to make full use of the convicts and tries to restrict our control of supplies to the ships and the town. How does he think any of us will make a profit on our outlay?"
"Aye, I can well see that." Barclay sympathised. "Our Captain does not believe in driving our men either and considers any attempt to instil respect for their betters an abuse." He sipped his drink and swatted the flies from his face lethargically. "I cannot see why any of you fellows would take a posting here at all – unless of course, there was some reward to be gained."
"A man of some perception," his companion said. "You are in the right of it. There is money to be made here my friend – but only if you are willing to venture an outlay on a cargo or two and lay claim to land. And you need to have gangs of these scum indentured to work it for you." He studied Barclay for a moment. "You could apply yourself if you are interested – I know my Colonel would be willing to entertain some additional capital in a venture he is planning. In fact it might pay you to register a land claim of your own. You can always appoint a proctor to work it for you and send any profit to you in London."
"Now you interest me," Barclay replied. At the age of twenty-five and with his prospects for promotion looking ever more remote thanks to the antipathy of his Captain and officers, Barclay had begun to consider an alternative future. He had some capital stashed away in his chest. A small part of it had been used to create the intended trap for Ferghal, his father having entrusted it to him with orders to use it to secure a part of a cargo in India if opportunity arose. Or, if opportunity offered, to venture it on some other profitable enterprise. "Let us discuss this further, but not here." He became wary and said, "I shall need to know how one goes about this in good order. If I do venture some small sum on a land grant, how will I know who to trust with its management or the returns from it?"
"Wise decision my friend. I shall arrange for you to meet our Major, he will enlighten you." He raised his tankard and said, "I am sure you will find it a most profitable venture. Of course, we will rely upon your good offices to alert us to any attempts to interfere with our mutual operations."
Barclay returned the salute and smiled. "Of course, though for how much longer we remain I do not at this present know."
***
The outcome of this conversation was to see Mister Midshipman Barclay enter into an agreement with a small consortium of Rum Corps officers who promptly registered a claim to a large tract of well-watered arable land on the North side of the harbour. Unknowingly Eamon Barclay was laying the foundations to a future fortune. His partnership with the Rum Corps did reach the ears of his Captain, but there was little Captain Blackwood could do or say about it.
-
Chapter 20 — Completing the Complement
"The trials have gone extremely well," Captain Heron said as he surveyed his assembled Command Team. "Well done to you all. Now, all the defects that showed up during the trials will be addressed during the next six weeks. After that we will conduct a further series of trials and then we will be embarking our strike squadrons to commence our work up to operational efficiency. Any problems not on the schedule you have on your tablets?"
"Yes, sir." Commander Mary Allison got in the first strike. "The schedule doesn't include the backup of our reactor controls. The backup system isn't working properly and needs to be a constant monitor rather than the half hour check as it is now."
"Good point. See that it is added will you. Anything else?"
"I've raised this before, but the whole shielding system needs to be rerouted or given more shielding to the command fibres and the projectors. As it is it's vulnerable in several places and these need to be moved."
"Moving them isn't an option at this stage I would think." The Captain turned to the Dockyard Manager and asked, "What can be done to increase the shielding to the vulnerable nodes and sections?"
"Difficult." The Manager knew he wasn't going to be able to refuse – too much depended on getting this right. If the ship was ever called upon to engage an enemy her defensive screens had to be operable even under damaged conditions. "But I will liaise with the Commander and get my best engineers to look at it and see what we can achieve."
"Good, thank you." The Captain turned to the Communications Commander. "What about your systems Fritz?"
Commander Rheinhard von Dieffenbach smiled. "My computer is very good. The AI is learning fast and will surpass all expectations. However, some of the nodes are in positions where they may suffer damage in an engagement. I'd like to relocate some and increase the protection on those I cannot move."
"Won't relocating some of the nodes cause the computer to lose a lot of what it has learned?" asked Commander Nicolas Gray, the Strike Wing Flight Commander, newly joined and already comfortably settled among his colleagues.
"Nein," Fritz von Dieffenbach responded, "This is not like the simple systems you have encountered before. This is a new system entirely. This ship thinks," he finished proudly.
"One thing I'd like shifted." Commander Valerie Petrocova cut in. "There is a scanner array mounted on the fore part of the ship, topside, which interferes with the "A" arc of the upper Plasma Battery. Can it be relocated either above the battery and outside of its arc of fire or shifted to another position? There's a place just forward of the fin which would give it the same sweep and be clear of the projectors."
The discussion ranged across a number of matters and when it finally broke up James Heron had good reason to be satisfied with both his team and his new ship. Together he felt sure they would make not just their mark, but quite possibly history as well. He ran his hand along the surface of the desk and said, "Ship, show view one eighty to Port." The bulkhead seemed to dissolve and the vast reaches of space became visible with the bright blue dot that was the earth positioned at its centre. Closer to hand parts of the vast building dock station were also visible. A little further away a shuttle weaved its way between the assorted tugs and mobile building platforms that thronged about the huge ship as she lay against the platform. Less than two hundred yea
rs since mankind had built the first permanent station on the surface of the moon and here they were spreading out into the vastness of the universe. Even this ship and her sisters were being assembled in a Building Dock Platform – itself a miracle of ingenuity – in orbit above Mars. Difficult to remember that the first permanent station on Mars was only just over a hundred years old. He turned as the link on his wrist chirped. "Heron," he said.
"Your appointment with the Joint Service Committee is in twenty minutes, sir," the voice of his Writer announced. "Shall I order a shuttle for you or will you use your Gig?"
"I'll use the Gig," he said, "Tell them I'm on my way."
Their Lordships Request: A Harry Heron Adventure Page 17