The Perils of Command

by David Donachie

The first customers would be the liberty men prettying themselves to go ashore for a night of debauchery, few in comparison to the complement of the ship. HMS Britannia would have aboard a high number of seamen not trusted to come back if they ever touched dry land, some pressed, certainly. Yet such behaviour was also true of volunteers who, inexplicably, given they had taken the bounty, would run for reasons too numerous to reflect upon: a grievance, a sudden desperation to see home, a woman or just sheer devilment brought on by too much drink.

  The last thing Hotham would want, when he was already short-handed, given the fleet was hoping to sail into battle, was that he should lose men to the whim of chance or a desire to join with the Leghorn privateers. Marines were placed at intervals along the deck, though their presence was a commonplace, for in addition to preventing attempts to desert they had the task of ensuring no drink got aboard. It did, and in decent quantities: sailors were adept at deception, added to which a blind eye could be bought if there was no officer about.

  Women came out too, selling their services to needy sailors, John Holloway being the kind of captain to allow the local trollops on board. Those same marines had to ensure that when the time came they were off the ship prior to sailing, or in this case by nightfall, that too a hope never quite realised. On the larger rates of warship women sought to stay on board and once again the reasons were numerous.

  For such creatures life ashore could not be comfortable; indeed it was very often the complete opposite, given they were likely never to be far from starvation or male violence. Hiding was difficult but not impossible and sailors would often aid them, thereby gaining themselves a companion, and as long as it did not get out of hand by their being too numerous, many captains let it pass.

  As Pearce progressed through the happy throng the looks he got were far from respectful; in port an officer below was an unwelcome presence, the fear being that he would interfere with long sought-after pleasures: illicit drink, but most notably those of a carnal nature.

  As he was sighted through the throng, Peabody’s mates looked at him in anticipation but that soon switched to the taller man alongside him, changing to one filled with malice. No words were spoken, clearly none were needed, as a bit of tarpaulin under the mess table was pulled back slightly to reveal a gagged, terrified and grimy young face while at the same time one of the ex-smugglers crouched down, a blade in his hand catching the light from the lanterns.

  There was no need for Pearce to wonder if that was sharp or to see the victim in his entirety and discern if he could move: ex-smugglers were experienced seamen and much valued by the navy for that reason. They knew how to whet a knife and whatever knots they had employed to bind him would do their job. It was also true that with what was going on all over the lower decks the proposed victim would not be missed, for no one was where they would have been at sea.

  If he had mates, and the lad must, they would reckon him away seeking to enjoy himself or find something to steal, for nippers were rarely saints. Often the illegitimate offspring of serving sailors or port ragamuffins, many sought out the navy as a way to stay with a parent or hide from the law and a life of pilfering or sleeping in doorways.

  They were a valued part of the crew, for all their mischief, having vital tasks to perform that required small hands and agility, nipping the anchor cable as it was brought in board when berthing and acting as powder monkeys, running to and fro from the gunner’s magazine to keep the cannon firing in battle.

  The sight was not of long duration and in a blink all eyes were back on him, searching to sense his reaction. Pearce just spun round and glared at Peabody, then jerked his head to say he should follow as he strode off, his coat clearing a path. He declined to look back to see if he was being obeyed, instead searching for a spot where the noise would abate somewhat and being less crowded he could talk.

  ‘What is it you want?’

  Peabody looked around to see who was paying heed but they were few. A bluecoat in deep conversation with a lower deckhand was a far from common sight and none would want to come close to authority, so they were subjected to no more than fleeting and curious glances. Satisfied that none were nearby enough to hear, Peabody started speaking softly but insistently, repeating his demand for a boat. To the suggestion that Pearce could just go aloft and tell whatever officer he found on the quarterdeck what was afoot, Peabody just shrugged.

  ‘The lad will expire and afore a marine lays a hand on any one of us, an’ I swear so will you. Might be none of us sees old England again but that’s better than this hellhole.’

  Was that bluff? It was impossible to tell, so Pearce tried another gambit. ‘Do you have any notion of where you are? We are a thousand miles from the coast of England and that is by a direct route across a country full of Frenchmen. Add half as much again to avoid meeting them.’

  ‘That’s as maybe and to be thought on after. We knows of now we are on a barky that will not be goin’ close to home, and we would never be allowed off even if she did. You want to see that nipper alive you get a boat and us crewing it.’

  ‘Do you think the watch officer is that stupid? I ask for one of the ship’s boats, not one of which is sitting idle, very much the opposite, and gaily row off with a quartet of pressed men? The notion he will agree to that is mad.’

  ‘It’s mad you make me, Pearce, with your shallying.’

  ‘So much so you are prepared to kill an innocent?’ Peabody did not even bother to nod; he did not have to, his eyes provided the positive response. ‘If I swear to aid you, will you let him go?’

  ‘Think we’d take your word, a man who thieved our ship from under our noses and stole our cargo to enjoy the worth of it while we scraped for a crust?’

  If the former was true, albeit Pearce could make excuses as to how it had come about, the latter part of that statement was not. He had no more profited from the cargo than had they or the men for whom they worked. At the same time as he was thinking on that he was also searching for a way out of what was an intractable dilemma and it made no difference if what Peabody wanted made little sense.

  Having been once a pressed seaman himself he had a clear appreciation of the kind of desperation that would make a man resort to any hare-brained scheme that could be contrived to get free; had he not once sought to swim from ship to shore and in the process risked drowning? Men taken up by violence were wedded to the navy for the duration and would only be granted their freedom once hostilities ceased, and that could be years away.

  ‘And don’t you go thinkin’ we’re not canny, Pearce,’ Peabody added, tapping his head. ‘If his body is found, who’s going to think a British tar would harm a nipper? But with all these here local folk aboard, and some right evil-eyed ones amongst ’em, then one being found with a bloodstained knife in his bag …? The lad will die if the sun goes down and we is still at that mess table, but we won’t pay the price.’

  With eyes locked Pearce was thinking hard. There was no way to get one of Britannia’s boats; every single one was either shipping liberty men or officers ashore to come back laden with the private purchases for the very bluecoats they were transporting. Added to that one would be in use by the marines, to patrol the waters between ship and shore to counter the possibility of deserters. But an idea did present itself that might serve and he reached for and produced the pouch that contained the remains of the monies he had been advanced in Brindisi.

  ‘You can’t buy us off, Pearce,’ Peabody snarled as he looked down at the coins being poured into a hand.

  ‘I’m not trying to. This is for you to purchase disguises.’

  Looking hard at the man, Pearce could sense his confusion; he could not comprehend what was being suggested, which marked him out as slow-witted for all his swagger. It was as well to remember that as a smuggler he had been a follower not a leader.

  ‘Buy clothing from the traders on board, of the sort that will make you look like a native, but not everything from the same one. Darken your skin, too
, for at least one of you is too fair of face to pass for a Tuscan. I will go ashore and procure a boat and bring it to your gun port at dusk, when the locals will be departing the ship. Disguised, you can slip out, though I reckon you must distract any marine that is nearby.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘I will be in the boat.’

  ‘You’d best be ’cause—’

  ‘There’s no need to tell me, Peabody!’ Pearce had barked that and turned heads because of it and he needed to drop his voice to continue. ‘But without my coat to aid you, you will be apprehended and I reckon the punishment to be a flogging round the fleet.’

  Even in the glim Pearce saw Peabody pale at the threat of that; such an outcome was as fatal as the rope but a thousand times more prolonged and painful, as the victim was taken from ship to ship to be flogged in turn by the Master at Arms of every one, so that those tempted to likewise transgress should be brought to consider the consequences.

  ‘There’s no requirement that you tell me how much you mistrust me.’

  ‘Never was it so,’ Peabody responded with a mocking tone. ‘You passed on the chance to see off the Tolland brothers for good and me and my mates with them. Man like that I reckon I can put faith in, if the stakes be right, an’ they are.’

  Pearce walked away without replying; there was no need to say any more and time was not on his side, nor was there any doubt that he would be required to act. The notion that anyone should pay with their life for something he was purported to have done he could not abide. It was on the companionway stairs that the added fact of Emily’s pregnancy surfaced. What if she was carrying his son? The mental replacement of the grubby boy under that mess table for his own flesh and blood could not be wiped from his mind.

  ‘Mr Dinsdale, is it not?’

  He was the officer who had the quarterdeck and Pearce now found himself face-to-face with one of the members of the wardroom who had declined to speak with him on his previous visits to the flagship. Dinsdale and his ilk took their cue from the premier who ruled the roost and always looked upon Pearce as if he had just crawled out of the gutter. Normally he would have avoided the man but this was not a situation that allowed for private feelings.

  ‘All my dunnage is on HMS Agamemnon and I wish to go ashore. It will lead to a great loss of time if I have to go via Captain Nelson’s ship.’ Pearce tried a winning grin; by the blank reaction it was a dead loss. ‘The streets of Leghorn are not always safe.’

  The man would not look at him. ‘From what I am told, you would know of this more than most.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I wonder if I may borrow a cutlass and the strap to carry it. I have to attend upon Admiral Hotham on the morrow, so it will be returned. I will, of course, take the opportunity to mention to Sir William the aid you afforded me.’

  Did this fellow know how much he was hated by Hotham? It was unlikely, the admiral being too elevated and by nature not one to confide his feelings in lesser beings. The name and the possible praise did the trick and Dinsdale, still unsmiling, produced the key to unlock the chain that kept such weapons secure. The carrying strap was no more than a leather over the shoulder band with a slot for the weapon and it was unwieldy as well as sharp.

  ‘Have a care you don’t cut yourself, Mr Pearce,’ Dinsdale said, in a tone that indicated he wished for the precise opposite.

  For him there was no trouble in getting a boat: he was an officer and entitled, duty notwithstanding, to go ashore as he pleased on any still making the journey, and that was everything the flagship possessed. The anchorage was crowded with such craft going in all directions, every one possessed by the fleet employed in some errand or other, they massively outnumbered by the local wherries hired by those officers and higher-value tradesmen who would brook no delay, which added to his hope that he could pull off that which was required.

  Back on dry land he strode down the canals, heading for the small harbour that was home to the privateers. He could only hope the Senyard fellow he met would be still in the tavern; if not it would leave him hoping for a like-minded soul. In the fug of smoke from dozens of pipes it was near impossible to see anyone and that left him standing in the doorway for some time as he examined the room. It was Senyard who came to him, pushing his way through a crowd and grinning.

  ‘Have you come to enlist with one of my fellows, sir?’

  ‘Tempted as I might be, I am on another mission. I need a boat and men to row it. For the favour I will grant you a quartet of prime seamen, ex-smugglers and bloodthirsty sods, who are exactly the kind of hands your fellows need.’

  ‘Generous.’

  ‘I cannot tell you how far from the truth that is.’

  ‘I think I require more of an explanation, Mr Pearce, for the men with whom I trade are not given to kindnesses and with so many naval boats in the harbour, not to mention their warships, it might be a risky thing to venture out on such a day. The navy is not beyond the snatch, even of men with exemptions.’

  ‘Then I suggest they arm themselves.’

  Pearce’s mind was racing and it was the thought of the Pelicans, brought on again by the dimensions of this tavern and the atmosphere engendered, that came to his rescue; how many times had he gone out on a limb to rescue Michael, Charlie and Rufus? And when he spoke it was easy to be convincing, for he was telling the truth, albeit in a partial way.

  ‘These men were pressed into the navy by my actions and I am determined to get them free. I must employ my rank to bring it about in the hope that no marine will dare challenge an officer going ashore.’

  ‘Smugglers, you say.’

  ‘Running from Gravelines into the Kent coast. I suspect I do not have to relate to you how dangerous that can be and the kind of men needed to ensure it is profitable.’

  ‘On which vessel?’

  ‘Britannia.’ That got a raised eyebrow. ‘It is my aim to remove them as the sun goes down and the traders and entertainers are sent packing, which they will be so that the vessels can get ready to take in their stores. The women will be removed as well, and it is my hope they will scream, which will be good for distraction.’

  Senyard pondered for a moment in a very deliberate manner before speaking again. ‘It may be that I can personally oblige you, but I must warn you, sir, that if this is some subterfuge there will be a price to pay and a high one.’

  Pearce was wondering what Senyard would want with four seamen, until it dawned on him that such men, prime hands, were as much a commodity as pork in the barrel. He would find for them a captain willing to pay a bounty for their recruitment and no doubt it was he who would provide false exemption certificates.

  ‘I am not fool enough to think it otherwise.’

  ‘Then I bid you wait, sir. Will you take some wine while I arrange to meet your needs?’

  ‘No, but I thank you. This needs a clear head, but if you can oblige me with an unopened bottle I would be grateful.’

  As Pearce reached to pay for it, Senyard held up a hand. ‘Allow me to treat you, sir.’

  ‘I would have the cork removed and jammed back in, if I may.’

  That got a look of deep curiosity that Pearce did nothing to satisfy.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Never gifted with much in the way of patience, Pearce was doubly troubled by the time Senyard took to sort out what was needed: the sun was dipping fast at this time of year and there was scant time left to act. Finally he appeared with two strongly built men, with heads that melded into necks with no discernible join, so scarred and brutish in appearance they made Peabody and his lot look like saints. Both were armed with heavy-handled short swords and had a pair of pistols stuck in their belts, though Pearce reckoned them not to be loaded and more for show than use.

  The names were proffered but at such a distance and in such a clamour of talk, echoing off the walls and low ceiling of the tavern, Pearce did not catch them; not that he cared, they were sailors by their garb and just what he required. Senyard led them all out of the Go
lden Hind along one of the quays to where a boat was tied up to the painter of a sleek-looking barque. One of his villains stretched out to haul it in before indicating that Pearce should board, an offer declined given he wanted his rowers in place first. A shrug met that suggestion and the pair obliged.

  ‘I think you will observe, Mr Pearce, that my associates are not the type to be trifled with. They are adept at the use of the weapons they carry and ruthless in their execution.’

  Pearce, now in the boat, did not reply immediately, removing his borrowed cutlass as well as the holder and placing them at his feet, the bottle he was carrying now clasped between his knees. ‘As you can see, sir, I am now entirely at their mercy.’

  That got a wolfish grin from the trader. ‘Not a position I would wish to share.’

  ‘What have you told them?’

  ‘The bare bones.’

  ‘That is enough. I can instruct them in whatever might arise.’

  ‘That will not be easy, given they have no English, though you might surprise me by saying you have their tongue.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Bulgar, though they respond to the argot of the Turk.’

  Almost as if he wished to brag of the facility, Senyard addressed them in what Pearce reckoned to be the latter tongue, which got a bit of a grunt in response.

  ‘And if I wish to direct them?’

  ‘I suggest you point.’

  As soon as they were clear Pearce dipped the tiller and the boat headed out of the harbour into the wide anchorage. He did indeed point but most of the steering was down to him and they headed past the first of the ships of the line, the side of which was a mass of boats of all shapes and sizes, while from out of the gun ports came the sound of much music and merriment.

  Looking at the pair as they dipped the oars he observed eyes that had a dead quality. That lack of expression applied to the broad faces too, and did not alter as he tried a smile. He had a sudden feeling that he might have jumped out of a frying pan into the fire, given he hardly knew Senyard and the man might, despite his protestations and explanations, suspect him of seeking to play a trick regardless of the outcome.