A Sloop of War

by Philip K Allan

  When Faulkner had left, Windham hurled his cigar to the ground and stamped on it. A trail of sparks flew up from the butt and drifted in the night air. Who did that damned fool think he was? he asked himself as he made his stumbling way along the wall. Had his family not bailed out the Faulkners when their son’s foolish gambling had brought them to the edge of ruin? Had they not hushed up the scandal at the time? Well, it need be hushed up no longer. Ahead of him he saw the tall figure of Clay shaking hands with Major Grafton.

  ‘Thank you again for a most enjoyable evening, major,’ Windham heard Clay say as he approached the pair. The major raised a friendly hand, and set off towards his new quarters inside the fortress.

  ‘Might I have a word, sir?’ Windham asked.

  ‘By all means, Mr Windham,’ said Clay. ‘Have you enjoyed your evening?’

  ‘It was tolerable,’ he replied. ‘The society of army officers is not one I would naturally chose.’

  ‘Indeed?’ said Clay. ‘I must say I found our hosts most welcoming. Major Grafton in particular was highly instructive on the science of siege warfare, and I now understand rather more about recent events than I did, but perhaps the conversation was less engaging where you were sat? Still, I digress. You wished to speak with me?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Windham. ‘I feel it my duty to warn you about the ill character of Mr Faulkner. The man is a notorious rake, who should certainly not be trusted with the finances of any ship.’

  ‘I see,’ said Clay. ‘That is a very grave accusation. May I ask why you are able to be so decided in your view of Mr Faulkner? I thought he was a friend of yours?’

  ‘An acquaintance certainly, sir,’ corrected Windham. ‘Friendship would be to overstate our relationship. He has had some dealings with my family in the past with regard to his considerable gaming debts.’

  ‘Ah, I believe I start to see how matters stand,’ said Clay. ‘Tell me, are you aware of any recent actions on Mr Faulkner’s part that I should be concerned about, or do your observations relate only to events in the past?’

  ‘They do relate to the past, sir,’ conceded Windham, his face flushing with annoyance, ‘but I hardly see that as a cause for you to dismiss them.’

  ‘No, I shall not dismiss them, and I thank you for your advice, Mr Windham,’ said Clay. ‘But if they are of a historic nature then I am already aware of them. Mr Faulkner told me the details himself. I confess that I was concerned at first, but I have received sufficient reassurance for me to take no further action.’

  ‘No further action!’ spat Windham. ‘How can that possibly be?’

  ‘Provoking as this seems to be for you, unless you have some more current allegations about Mr Faulkner, the matter is closed,’ said Clay. ‘Although I am a little surprised that you have only seen fit to bring your knowledge of Mr Faulkner’s past to my attention now. Surely you must have had your doubts over him for months? Or perhaps it would be for the best if we should not explore your motives too deeply? Now, if that is all, perhaps I might return to my ship?’

  ‘I am not finished with you,’ insisted Windham.

  ‘Mr Windham!’ barked Clay. ‘May I remind you that I am a superior officer? You address me as sir, and you do not contradict me in such a fashion. You have obviously taken more drink than was wise and I suggest we end our discourse here.’

  ‘Are you also aware of everything about Mr Sutton... sir?’ blurted out Windham, his face contorted with fury.

  ‘I strongly advise you to end this conversation now, Mr Windham,’ said Clay, his voice ice. ‘Before things are said that cannot be unsaid.’

  ‘He murdered my uncle!’ hissed Windham, past caring. ‘When he fell over the side of the Agrius. My uncle was clinging to a line, and he took his sword and cut him free. I know he did. I have spoken to people who were there, who saw him do it.’

  ‘Get out of here,’ shouted Clay ‘Go, now! That’s an order!’

  *****

  In the main cabin of the Rush only two lanterns had been lit. Their light conjured dark shadows up from the furniture and objects in the room that slipped across the walls with the gentle rocking of the anchored ship. Clay sat facing the stern windows, deep in thought. He glanced across at his coat, which he had dropped over a nearby chair when he got back to the ship. The single gold epaulet flashed in the light, and he thought again about that desperate sea fight that had won him his promotion. His gaze moved from the golden epaulet to the jet black night behind the run of glass windows. As he sat, consumed with his thoughts, Hart came into the cabin.

  ‘Has Mr Sutton returned to the ship yet?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet, sir,’ replied the steward. ‘Shall I have him sent for when he does?’

  ‘If you please,’ said Clay. ‘Can you also make a pot of coffee for two, and perhaps some rum as well.’

  ‘Aye aye, sir. Rum and coffee twice it is.’

  Sometime later Clay heard a hail of ‘Boat ahoy’ from the quarterdeck above his head, and the reply from the returning launch. A little later he heard the stamp and clatter as the marine sentry came to attention outside his door, followed by a knock.

  ‘Come in!’ he called, and Sutton came through the cabin door with a grin.

  ‘Where did you get to, sir?’ he asked. ‘One moment you were deep in conversation with Major Grafton, the next you had quite vanished.’

  ‘John, do take a seat,’ replied Clay. ‘I was accosted by Mr Windham, after which I returned here. Coffee or rum?’

  ‘Say no more, Alex,’ laughed the lieutenant. ‘I believe I might have flown from Mr Windham’s society too. Just coffee, if you please. I have the morning watch tomorrow, or perhaps it is today now?’ Clay poured out the coffee, and then sat back in his chair, wondering where to begin the conversation. Sutton stirred in his sugar, placed his spoon in the saucer, and looked at his captain.

  ‘What did Mr Windham have to say for himself?’ he asked.

  ‘At first he wished to share his intelligence with regard to Mr Faulkner’s past,’ said Clay, sipping his coffee, ‘which he made clear he has known about for some time, but which had become a pressing revelation only tonight.’

  ‘He must have been sore vexed when he found that you already knew,’ said Sutton with a chuckle.

  ‘Very vexed,’ said Clay. ‘So angry indeed that it prompted him to share with me his view that you were responsible for the death of Captain Follett.’ The cabin suddenly became very quiet.

  ‘That blackguard has gone too far now,’ Sutton eventually growled. ‘How can he make such an outrageous allegation? He was not even present when the captain fell!’ Clay looked at his friend before he replied.

  ‘He is able to make such an allegation, because it is true,’ he said.

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Sutton. ‘Alex, you cannot possibly believe him!’

  ‘I am afraid that I do. The moment he said it the scales dropped from my eyes, and I realised that I have always known it to be true. John, I came up on deck just after the mast had fallen. I recall quite clearly what I saw. Everyone that was capable of action on the deck was busy striving to free the ship from the burden of the fallen mast. Everyone that is, except you. You were standing by the rail where the captain had been with your sword drawn, your attention entirely devoted to something over the side. At the time your want of animation puzzled me. You are too good an officer to have been inactive in such a crisis. The John Sutton I know would have been directing matters and issuing instructions. I did think you must have been wounded, but of course you were not. Your shock derived from a quite different source. Why did you do it, John?’ Sutton stared at his friend for a long moment, his face flushing red.

  ‘Why did I do it?’ he repeated. ‘Why? I did it for you, Alex, and for every other person aboard the ship. When the mast came down, and Follett was knocked over the side, I thanked God for it. I had been forced to watch the sad confusion with which he was directing the ship. We were losing the battle, and with every French broadside mor
e shipmates were slain by his incompetence, and for what? Even if we won through he was bent on ruining the career of my closest friend in a quite unjust fashion. So when the fortune of war brought the mast down and pitched him over the side, I confess I was glad. I knew he was no swimmer. I thought, here is justice at last, all our problems solved. I ran to the side to make sure he was truly gone, and there he was, clinging on by a thread like a spider. I had ordered the crew to the far side of the deck to work on cutting the stays free from the mizzen chains, and so I finished off what the French had started. One little cut, and one more death among so many others. I call that a fair price to pay.’

  ‘Oh, John, what have you done?’ groaned Clay.

  ‘Alex, I killed a man who threatened my ship,’ said Sutton. ‘It is what the service requires of us in every action we go into. And I killed someone who threatened the person I hold to be dearer than a brother. For that I make no apology. I would gladly do it again, now, if I had to.’

  ‘But I never required you to do this,’ exclaimed Clay.

  ‘Brothers should not need to ask,’ Sutton replied. Clay ran his hand through his hair, in shock at the callous way his friend spoke.

  ‘Windham spoke of witnesses,’ he said. ‘Who do you think he means?’ Sutton shrugged.

  ‘William thinks he has found a ship’s boy on the Agrius who might have seen something, but it can be little more than speculation. If he was sure of his position, you can be certain he would have placed his allegations before the admiral by now.’ Clay stared at Sutton.

  ‘William?’ he said. ‘So Munro knows about this?’

  ‘He does,’ said Sutton, ‘and would have acted exactly as I did if by chance our roles had been reversed. Alex, look how it has transformed your circumstances, for goodness sake. You now have a much improved chance of future happiness with Miss Browning, a command of your own and the regard of the admiral. Tell me truthfully if you are not pleased that I did what I did.’

  ‘I will not deny that my circumstances have improved materially, but I would never have wished for such a change at such a cost! John, you do not seem to realise that your life may hang by a thread as precarious as that which Captain Follett clung too. If Windham can prove what he suspects...’

  ‘I may be hanged for what I did,’ shrugged Sutton. ‘But it is unlikely. Even if Windham has his child witness, what can they have truly seen? At a time when the ship was encumbered with wreckage, I cut at some lines. No, Windham has no proof, nor will he ever have. What he does have is a most cruel and vindictive disposition. You can be sure that in making this revelation to you, his aim will have been to ruin our friendship. Please do not permit him to succeed in his design.’

  Clay rose to his feet, and Sutton followed him.

  ‘Never in life, brother,’ he said, and the two men embraced. Clay looked over his friend’s shoulder and out into the dark, frowning as he caught sight of something for a moment. Sutton detected his unease and released him.

  ‘What’s the matter, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ said Clay. ‘Probably just the reflection of the lamp upon the glass. I thought for a moment that I saw a light, far out at sea to the west.’

  Chapter 14

  San Felipe

  ‘Wake up, sir,’ urged Yates. ‘You must wake up!’ Clay came out of sleep, his senses groggy from all the wine he had drunk the previous night. From the dim light in the sleeping cabin he could tell it was just after dawn.

  ‘All Right, boy, I am awake,’ he growled, his mouth dry. He glanced beyond his servant and saw Midshipman Preston standing at the cabin door. The young officer looked as if he sported an even worse hangover than his captain.

  ‘What is it, Mr Preston?’ he said, forcing himself out of his cot.

  ‘Mr Sutton’s compliments, and there is a sail in sight bearing west by north, sir,’ he said. ‘The lookout reports it to be a large man-of-war, possibly the San Felipe again.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Preston,’ said Clay. ‘Tell Mr Sutton that I will be on deck directly. Yates, get me my coat.’

  Preston barely had time to report back to the ship’s lieutenant before Clay bounded up onto the quarterdeck, still buttoning his coat over his nightshirt.

  ‘Is she visible yet, Mr Sutton?’ he asked as he marched across the deck. ‘A good morning to you, by the way,’ he added.

  ‘And to you too, sir,’ he replied. ‘Only her topgallants are in sight from here, but they do resemble those of a large ship even at this range. Ship of the line for sure, even if she is not the San Felipe, but the lookout is confident. It’s Samuels, who is normally to be relied on.’

  ‘Who was it that recognised her last time?’ asked Clay. ‘Was it Wilson?’

  ‘Yes, sir, it was,’ said Sutton. ‘Shall I have him sent for?’

  ‘If you please, Mr Sutton,’ replied Clay. ‘I shall go below and shift into some clothes. Have Wilson sent aloft with a glass, and let me know what he reports.’

  Clay had just finished shaving, and had started to get dressed when Preston returned below once more.

  ‘Mr Sutton’s compliments, and Wilson is sure it is the Spaniard again, sir,’ he reported.

  ‘Very well, Mr Preston,’ said Clay. ‘Have this signal sent to the Agrius. “Submit unknown sail is Spanish seventy-four San Felipe.” Then have the watch below turned up, if you please. I will be back on deck directly I am clothed.’

  ‘Aye aye, sir,’ said Preston.

  *****

  By the time Clay returned to the quarterdeck, the watch had been called, and an air of dread ran through the ship at the news that the Spanish vessel that had chased them so persistently on their last voyage in these waters was once more coming up over the horizon. The San Felipe’s top sails and topgallants were visible now, solid blocks of white on the horizon as she bore down towards them. Clay pulled his telescope out and examined the sails with care.

  ‘Agrius is signalling, sir!’ called Croft in a commanding tone. After weeks of unpleasant squeaking, his adolescent voice had at last broken, settling into a rich tenor. ‘Captain, repair on board, sir.’

  ‘Acknowledge, if you please, Mr Croft,’ ordered Clay. ‘Mr Sutton, kindly call away the jollyboat. While I am absent can you ensure that the crew are sent for an early breakfast. It may be some time before their next meal.’ He thought for a moment about getting changed into his full dress uniform, but then rejected the idea. This was almost certain to be a hasty conference to decide on what to do, not a formal visit.

  ‘The boat is ready, sir,’ reported the lieutenant. Clay ran down onto the main deck and across to the entry port. In the Rush this was a simple ladder of slats fixed to the ship’s side between two hand ropes, but it served the sloop well enough. Looking down into the jollyboat he noticed a new figure at the helm.

  ‘Push off there,’ ordered Sedgwick, the tiller of the boat tucked under one arm as Clay took his place in the stern sheets. ‘Give way all.’ The jollyboat gathered pace, gliding out across the sheltered waters of Black Bay and heading for the Agrius. Clay noted that Sedgwick steered the boat well, turning in a long gentle arc so as to minimise his use of the tiller.

  ‘I was not aware that you were coxswain of the jollyboat now,’ he said. ‘When was this change made?’

  ‘Mr Sutton was after seeing if I can hand, reef and steer, sir, with a view to rating me ordinary,’ Sedgwick explained, ‘and the crew of the jollyboat asked for me, on account of the boat being so small, and none of them able to swim at all.’ Clay looked forward at the crew, who all listened and smiled in agreement as they swung backwards and forwards in unison. With only four oars, it was the smallest of the Rush’s boats, and while it was in no danger in the bay, he could see the jollyboat would have a lively ride when in open water. He remembered now that Sutton had told him he was testing Sedgwick out, but he was running a risk with the reputation of the ship. Parker would doubtless watch their approach, and even with battle at hand might remember later if the boat
was poorly handled. A few minutes later they approached the tall side of the frigate.

  ‘Larboard side, if you please, Sedgwick,’ he ordered. With the San Felipe in the offing, there was no time for any of the naval ceremony that usually accompanied the arrival of even a lowly commander on board the deck of a warship.

  ‘Aye aye, sir,’ replied Sedgwick, watching his line into the ship’s side.

  ‘Boat ahoy!’ came the hail from the Agrius.

  ‘Rush,’ shouted Sedgwick, without taking his eyes off his approach. ‘Easy all! In oars!’ The jollyboat swept alongside and came to a halt beneath the Agrius’s entry port.

  ‘Neatly done, Sedgwick,’ said Clay as he stood up in the little boat and ran up the frigate’s side.

  ‘Captain Clay, very good of you to come across,’ said Parker with a smile of greeting as Clay stepped down onto the well remembered deck. He shook Parker’s proffered hand and looked about him, smiling with recognition at all the familiar faces among the crew. With a pang he was also aware of the many new hands, replacements for the fallen from the last time the Agrius had been in action. He nodded towards Windham as he stood at his post by the guns, but received only a cold stare in return.

  ‘I would usually avoid a council of war,’ continued Parker, as he led Clay up onto the quarterdeck. ‘But it would seem we do have a little time before our enemy is upon us, and in light of the disparity in our strength, I believe some agreed upon plan will be in order. My apologies, but I regret that I can offer you no refreshment, now we are cleared for action.’

  The quarterdeck was as crowded as Clay remembered it had been just before they had gone into battle with the Courageuse. Gun crews manned the carronades that ran down each side of the deck, trails of smoke spiralled up from the gun captain’s linstocks, while scarlet-coated marines lined the stretches of rail between the guns. Looking up Clay could see more marines in the rigging: sharpshooters, ready to pick off the officers on an enemy’s deck spread out below them. Munro came over to him and saluted.