The Glorious First Of June (Neville Burton: Worlds Apart Book 1)

by Georges Carrack

  “Doctor Badeau?” Mills interrupted, looking up at him suddenly, much as Badeau had done.

  “Yes, Badeau. Do you know him? He startled at your name, as well.”

  “No, I don’t. Or verily, I think it fair to say he is a well-published physician, and I have read some of his work. It will be quite a pleasure to meet him. Will you please have someone bind that ear of yours back on? It is making a bloody mess of your uniform – literally – and no officer should appear that way. Take that vial of Algaroth powder there to stop that bleeding, and return it as soon as someone has bound you up.”

  Neville was suddenly aware of the pain of it. He whipped his hand whipped up to his left ear, feeling that the upper half hung over forward. It had apparently been cut by the first blow in the dark. He sought out his friend Watson to bandage his head, and he changed his coat, but the left side of his neck and his shirt were already red with blood.

  “Mr. Shustik,” Neville said when he had found the man, “Shall we go see the bodies we are responsible for before they cast off the Angelique?”

  They made their way to the prize to view the corpses that had been pulled from the bilge by the marines and were then sprawled amidships.

  “I’ve never killed a man before, have you?” Neville asked.

  “Not me, no. Which is which?”

  “This short, squat fellow must have been mine,” said Neville. “He’s got a knife wound in the throat, and I’m sure that’s where I struck him.” It could be me lying there, thought Neville. Seeing the man in the light with a bloody hole in his throat that he had made was having an effect on him. He wasn’t shaking, but his mind was racing: It was luck saved me – or the Lord’s Will. That bit of sword practice wasn’t it. I’d better get more practice in somehow. Would anyone care if it were me lying there? My mother and sister, of course, and Daniel, maybe, but not the rest of these. He was feeling that death had looked him in the eye, and it was very unnerving. He was glad he had not been able to see much in the dark – to look the man in the eye when he stabbed him. He wondered if he could have done that. A piece of his juvenile immortality had been hacked off. His ear throbbed under the strip of sail canvas.

  “Aye, and this tall, gangly one mine. They were probably most loyal men.”

  Neville held his hand out awkwardly to Shustik, saying “Thank you, Bill. We’re lucky it isn’t one of us there.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” After shaking hands, Shustik knuckled his forehead and the two returned to Castor.

  The captain’s ‘minute you are ready to sail’, when the Angelique was released to fly on her own, did not come until the last rays of the sun were streaming over Spain, far out of sight to the west.

  HMS Castor had taken a course southwest. The day’s annoying, but very helpful, northwest mistral politely calmed at sundown and left a night breeze from its more normal direction, the east.

  “We must return to Gibraltar, I am afraid,” said Mr. Graesson to his navigation students the next morning. “We will leave Angelique there with English authorities. The chase led us much closer to Spain than we intended. Spain is allied with England against France these days, so there should be no danger from Spanish warships, but we must navigate carefully this close to a shore we don’t know well. Take care with your sightings.”

  The three ships stood closely in line with Mermaid at the van and the Angelique in the center. Castor would follow her light again this night, but with no chance of being tricked astray with English officers aboard. In addition to the light, there was a slightly larger slice of moon and the stars were out.

  The next morning Captain Troubridge, determined to find out as much as he could about the cargo of Angelique, called together those who might provide him with that information. Lt. Tripp, Burton, Badeau, and Montague sat in his cabin under the watchful eyes of Sergeant Hycson and Baxter, Master-at Arms. Lt. Froste was absent, being on duty at the time.

  “Mr. Montague, your crew is not aware of your cargo, are they?”

  He answered in clear English, “No. We were very careful that they did not.”

  “So I thought. Let me make it clear to the rest of you that there is to be no talk of this cargo at all outside this cabin. Let the blasted rumors go ‘round, but do not confirm anything. Do I make myself understood?” he asked, glaring at Neville and Badeau.

  “Do you have any estimate of the quantity of casks or boxes in the hold, Mr. Burton?” he queried first.

  “Not at all, Sir. It was dark as pitch, as I have said, and the water was up to my waist. I could not speak to a single thing in the hold except myself, Mr. Shustik, and the most horrid water I’ve ever smelt in a bilge. I came out before anyone took a lantern down, and then I was called to see you.”

  “Where are you taking this cargo, M. Montague?”

  “As you know, captain, I am under no obligation to assist you. I have given you my parole not to attempt to escape or damage your vessel, in the hope that my exchange may be executed soon after arrival in Toulon.”

  “Yes, I thought as much on that score, as well,” sneered Troubridge.

  “That leaves you, Dr. Badeau. Why are you aboard a privateer with such a cargo?” Again, the captain was careful not to use the word ‘gold’ where the men might hear it.

  “I am simply a passenger, Sir,” he replied, his English improving with each sentence. “There is also a M. Garend, a corn merchant. The Angelique was the only vessel sailing for Marseille this week, and neither of us had much choice in our timing. What I can tell you is personal. My offices are in Toulon, and my business is much disrupted by this great military enforcement of our political situation there. In order to release my medical dissertation on dissection of the lungs to any audience beyond France, it was necessary to travel to Spain. Spain is most easily reached by sea from Marseille, after taking the road to Toulon. The Good Lord only knows that the Republicans are not scholarly men, so now I must return to close up my offices and leave for good. I fear that if I do not leave soon, I may never be allowed to do so.

  “As to the … cargo, I can only speculate. It was delivered as crates of stone for construction work, so the men would not know it otherwise. There were a great number of Spanish soldiers about, and we were told that they were there to prevent desertion,” he concluded, spreading his hands.

  After this, the captain ejected everyone but Captain Montague from his cabin. Rumors went ‘round the ship about the discovery that Angelique’s hold was full of gold. “A king’s ransom of a prize,” they mused, “and a good thing Mr. Burton hadn’t let it sink.”

  5 - “Medical Men”

  Midshipman Burton, during his off-watch, descended the ladder to the sickbay deck. His intentions were to ask the doctor to re-bandage his ear and to visit Colson, who was one of those unlucky enough to be injured in the altercation with Angelique. He found Colson in the sickbay with three others who were far more seriously injured. He was sitting upon a trunk with his bandaged foot upon another, writing in his journal. He looked up as Neville walked in.

  “Day’s fine, thanks, Arthur,” he replied. “That bugger in Angelique’s hold close to cut off my ear is what’s happened to my head. To your other question, I don’t quite enjoy being interrogated by the captain. When do you get back on duty? I am not amused by serving watch-on-watch, even for one day.” Ratcliffe on the Angelique and Colson in sickbay reduced the number of officers available for normal duty.

  “I’m out when doctor allows it. Why is cap’n interrogating you? I’ve never even spoken to him.”

  “Some fishy goings-on about the Angelique, I guess.”

  “I’ve heard the rumors. Did you see it?”

  “No, but cap’n wanted to hear my report because I went aboard. Not much to tell, and he says I can’t anyway; else he’ll have me seized on the main shrouds for an afternoon.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You went below and killed some Frog, didn’t you.”

  “You seem just fine to me. I’ll go find D
r. Mills and ask him if you can take some fresh air.”

  “Hold on; I’d as soon stay here.”

  “Hah!”

  Neville walked forward along the passage toward the doctor’s cabin. Hearing the voices of two men talking, he decided he’d pass by and knock later.

  “Mr. Burton,” he heard as he went by the small door, “is that you?”

  Looking in, he saw both doctors, Mills and Badeau, sitting – one on a trunk and the other on a small chair by the little writing desk the doctor had squeezed into what tiny space he was allowed.

  “Aye, doctor. I came down to check on Mr. Colson. He looks well, and I told him I would confer with you on his readiness for duty, or at least about his taking air on deck, although he claims no desire.”

  “He is well enough, then. I will give him instructions before he goes, and he might want your assistance with his bandages each day. He might do the same with your ear.”

  The two doctors looked at each other quizzically, and Neville thought he noticed Dr. Badeau nod slightly.

  “Come in, Sir,” suggested Mills, “and if you don’t mind closing the door for a minute?”

  It seemed an odd request for Neville to force his relatively large body into such an already-crowded space. He had to shuffle around the door as it closed, and there was, of course, no place to sit. The stuffiness of the room seemed to increase immediately.

  “Mr. Burton, you know Sir William Mulholland, don’t you? From the same town, I believe . . . .” Dr. Mills trailed off.

  Neville felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and a slight jump of his pulse, but he passed it off as quickly as he could, thinking, How would our surgeon know where I am from? How does he know that I know Sir William? What would Sir William have to do with the medical profession?

  “Yes, I do know him. He has been a great benefactor to me. I am not from the same town, but nearby – Thurston. Are you from Bury St. Edmunds as well?”

  “I am not, I’m afraid. Sir Mulholland speaks well of your home. Our acquaintance is … professional.”

  “If we might go back to the gold, Mr. Burton,” began Dr. Badeau very quietly.”

  “Gold? What gold? You said the cargo was stone. I have heard the rumors, of course, but there are always crazy rumors.”

  Mills and Badeau again passed knowing glances. “The rumors are correct,” continued Dr. Badeau. “The cargo is not stone.”

  “There is a revolution going on in France that caused the war with England, isn’t there? There are a great many troops in Toulon and its environs; revolutionaries, who are the enemies of England and call themselves ‘Republicans’. There are also the counter-revolutionaries, who are enemies of the former. An enemy of my enemy is a friend, as they say. Do you follow?”

  “Certainly, doctor,” he replied warily. Dr. Badeau had just admitted to lying to his captain.

  “This military occupation of Toulon will almost certainly devolve into a siege of the city. It may be such already. The port of Toulon is too important for the Republicans – or England – to ignore. The French cannot attack the world or supply themselves without shipping that can come and go from there. All this, of course, brings us back to the gold. It may be a secret from the company of the Angelique, but it is not a secret from the public in Spain. This gold was stolen from Spain. I know not how – through some political trickery, I suspect. It is certainly meant to pay the revolutionary troops in Toulon, or at least to feed them, and was being shipped to Marseille. We passengers aboard Angelique were supposed to be an unsuspecting part of the ruse to make the vessel appear to be just another trader. The ruse did give me an opportunity to sail with the gold, though.

  “My true purpose was to assist in diverting the gold from the Republicans to our enemy’s enemies – or to you British, at the least – by raising an alarm when it arrived in Marseille. It must go by road to Toulon from Marseille after all, and the roads there, I must say, cannot hold a candle to those of Spain. Sorry, I digress.

  “Your captain knows of the gold now, since you have discovered it, so that business is done. I’m not sure this outcome is the best, from my perspective, but it is better than allowing the Republicans to have it.” He appeared to have concluded.

  “But you have lied to my captain, and now I am in a spot. If I do not go and tell him what you have told me, he will accuse me of thinking him the fool; that I know better what to do than he. He is not some junior captain. I will have no Navy career, if even he lets me live,” argued Neville, becoming visibly more agitated.

  “We are sorry for your predicament, certain, but you are not in such a pickle as you think. Your captain does not know of this conversation at all, and there is no one from whom he would learn it but you – or us. He does not know that I knew of the gold, and we must keep it that way; surely, if you tell him or I tell him, then that information will get back to the French. He would be required to report it. I will be outed, uncovered, and I will lose my advantage with them. The only other person who might suspect I knew of it, with any shred of evidence, is you, since you were in the meeting with the captain.

  “Why did you even tell me, then, and what of Dr. Mills, here?” he asked, calming a bit.

  “My answer to that depends on you. Can we trust you with our confidence?”

  “Yes,” replied Neville after only a few moments of thought.

  “As to your last question,” Dr. Mills began, “that business is done, but not all business. I, too, am here because of Sir Mulholland. You know he has an association with Whitehall, of course.”

  “Only that he has some influence there. He gave us a letter to take in.”

  “Us?” asked Badeau.

  “Yes, Mr. Watson and I.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Mills. “It is of no consequence, Dr. Badeau.”

  “I was ordered to this ship as well because he arranged it,” Mills continued, “and he arranged it because you were already here.”

  “Why would he do that? Why should I believe he has the power to do such a thing?”

  “Oh, you will find that bureaucrats have amazing power in an organization so large as the Admiralty. It only takes a letter to get you through the right doors, as you yourself discovered.

  “As to why, it is because HMS Castor is going where I need to go, and I believed I might need some help. He assured me you would help if I introduced myself using his name. Is it not so?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. I owe him a great deal.”

  “If I am to go further, and if you are willing to help, I must ask again if you would be willing to share another confidence. You owe me nothing. If you would say ‘no,’ I cannot complain, and would not mention it to Sir Mulholland, either.”

  “May I consider that, Sirs?” he asked. “It is frightful warm in here, and my thinking is suffering. Seasickness may be creeping up on me in this cubicle, as well, and my ear aches something awful.”

  “Yes, certainly. If we could know before we reach Gibraltar, it would be most helpful to us. Also, a last word … you should refrain from writing any of this in your letters or diary.”

  An extremely refreshing waft of air washed over Neville as he shuffled out around the opened door. A great feeling of relief came with it, and he headed up the companion to see if the even fresher sea air would calm the seasickness as well.

  Neville busied himself with some overdue chores over the next few watches, delaying his decision on the doctors’ question. He busied himself with battle cleanup, mending that small bullet hole in the sleeve of his coat, and helping Colson hobble about. During the next day’s afternoon watch, Neville searched out Doctor Mills. He found him changing bandages on a recent amputee’s arm. His stomach turned instantly sour. “Doctor,” he said, “I’ll have that talk you mentioned, but I’m needed on deck now.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Burton. I’ll be glad of your help but, as you can see, I am engaged at the moment. We can talk once we’re in port.”

  HMS Castor anchored sever
al days later by the new mole beneath the rock at Gibraltar. Captain Troubridge paced the quarterdeck on the warm afternoon. Yesterday he had called Lt. Froste from the prize and Captain Trigge of the Mermaid aboard for a short meeting. Immediately following, he’d called his gig. He and Captain Trigge had gone ashore to call on Governor Charles O’Hara.

  This morning, a shore boat had come with a satchel for the captain, who had disappeared into the after-cabin immediately as he was given it, saying nothing to anyone. After a short time, he had returned to his pacing on the quarterdeck and asked Lt. Tripp to pass word for Goode and Tillman.

  “I am free to use you and Mr. Watson, the captain tells me,” said Goode to Neville shortly after dinner. “Mr. Tillman and I are to ‘top things up,’ he says, because he expects we shall be here a fortnight, and that there will be no shore-going once we get into the Toulon blockade business. He has approved our lists.”

  The ship’s launch was swaying out just as the fourth bell of the afternoon watch was chiming, and was away for the wharf in just a few minutes more.

  “Mr. Watson, you’ll be with me this afternoon,” said Mr. Goode during the row ashore. “We’ll be off to find wood, water, whatever fresh meat these other ships here have not taken, and this list of specialties the captain has requested. I believe there is the most wonderful lime juice available here, too. Just like your duties back in Chatham, hey?”

  “Mr. Burton, you’re with Dr. Mills and me,” said Tillman. He’s hoping to find some medical potions he wasn’t able to procure before we left, and I’ll be off to find canvas and cordage. You know that lot well, if I remember.”

  “What of the lieutenants and Colson and O’Hanlan?” asked Watson.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but they’ll do as they wish after cap’n’s done with ‘em,” Mr. Goode offered. “Mr. Colson’s foot is still not up to much of a walk, and we haven’t time to try to train another snotty to know what you two already have in your heads. If I were you two, I’d count my blessings for a chance to get off that floating pile of splinters.