An Unwilling Alliance

by Lynn Bryant

  “And I’m guessing that’s where your commanding officers are as well, Major!” he snapped. “What gives you the right to stand there sneering at the Royal Navy because of one bloody mistake by a greedy bastard trying to make money out of our crew shortage? Do you think Lord Cathcart would be any more interested if I’d wandered in to a barn full of dying infantrymen who got shovelled into the army because their lands were enclosed and they’d a stark choice between starving to death or getting their heads blown off at the pleasure of His Majesty? Are you always this much of an arrogant twat, or am I getting a special performance?”

  There was a long silence. The blue eyes regarded Hugh through the dim light and Hugh glared back, not looking away. Suddenly, surprisingly, Major van Daan’s mouth quirked into a smile.

  “Well it’s not a good day, but if you asked my officers and men they’d probably tell you that this is fairly standard. Come up top, it’s hard to breathe down here. Are those all the dead men, Mr Swanson?”

  “I think so, sir.”

  “Right, do as the Captain says and get them laid out on the top deck. And get yourself out of here, if you go down with this illness because of an over-developed sense of responsibility I’m going to shoot you myself. Captain, can we get your marines down here to take over?”

  “Yes,” Hugh said, slightly thrown by the sudden shift from furious taunting to intelligent cooperation.

  “Will you do it, please, I’d like my lads to get a break? And you’re right, this is not army business, I’ve no right to be here at all. We’d like to help, though, my men can stay up top and help get the men down into the boats, some of them will have to be lowered down.”

  “Where are the hammocks?” Hugh said looking round.

  “Still stowed, I think.”

  “We can use some of them to lower the men down and as stretchers ashore to convey them to this barn of yours. Is there somebody there to show us the way?”

  “I’ll send Mr Swanson over with the first boat. He’ll need to bathe and change his clothing after this.”

  “Yes, nurse,” Swanson said meekly, and his commander turned blue eyes upon him with brows drawn together.

  “It’s an order, Lieutenant. If I find you’ve disobeyed it, I’m throwing you in the Sound. And it’s bloody cold.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good lad. And Carl, when you get there, make sure Johnny has sent for Dr Norris, I’d like him in charge of this.”

  “We have a ship’s surgeon,” Hugh said feeling his hackles rise again. “These men are the responsibility of the navy, they should be in the care…”

  “Captain, it’s entirely up to you. I’ve known Adam Norris since I served in India, he’s probably the reason I can still walk and he’s already stationed on shore. But if you’re happy to leave your own ship without a trained surgeon, that’s your choice, you’re in command here.”

  Hugh was caught and he knew it. The sheer frustration of it made him long to punch the other man and something of his irritation must have shown in his face, because Paul van Daan gave a grin.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he said unexpectedly. “You’re right, I am being an arse. And it’s not fair to you; you’re clearly as pissed off about this as I would be if a navy man had caught the army with its trousers around its ankles. Which it often has, by the way. Why not let Norris have a look at them since he’s there and in the meantime work out with your commanders what you want to do about a doctor?”

  Disarmed again, Hugh gave a reluctant smile. “Christ knows how anybody works with you,” he said. “And what about your commanders, Major? Does Lord Cathcart know what you’re up to?”

  “No, sir. I’ll need to report to Sir Arthur Wellesley. You were right, he’s dining with the commanders at present, but I will have to send him a message.”

  “I’ve seen General Sir Arthur Wellesley in a bad mood already,” Hugh said with some malice. “I’m not sure he’ll be pleased with you, Major.”

  “He’ll be bloody furious,” Paul van Daan admitted, leading the way up the companion ladder. “You’d think he’d be used to me by now, but it still surprises him. What do you want doing with the crew? I imagine they’ll have sobered up a fair bit by now.”

  “They can stay where they are for now. We’ve no way of knowing if any of them have contracted this illness so for the time being I’d like to keep them separate. My marines will see to them, don’t worry. I understand you’ve taken charge of the ship’s logs and records. I’ll need them, please then I’ll make sure they’re buried under their proper names and their families can be notified. They’ll be owed a small amount of pay; I’ll make sure they get it.”

  Surprisingly Paul van Daan saluted. “Yes, sir. I’ll get them.”

  Hugh surveyed the younger man. He could not decide whether to be furious or amused at his complete disregard for the difference in their respective ranks. A navy captain and an army major were a long way apart and Van Daan must have known it. Hugh wondered how this arrogant young officer managed to cope with the army hierarchy.

  The fresh cool early evening air was intoxicating after the fetid horror of the hold. Hugh took a deep breath of it and realised that Van Daan was doing the same.

  “Once we’ve got all the men off I’ll send my first lieutenant over to take charge and he will see to it that the crew scrubs this ship to its last filthy corner. There’ll be an enquiry about this although they can hardly court martial a dead man and the rest of this lot were only following orders which is what they get paid for. Who takes over command of the ship and what it does next is down to the Admiral.”

  “And the healthy men?”

  “We’ll need to keep an eye on them for a bit in case any of them develop signs of illness. I’ll organise supplies for them and I’m going to send over my mate to get them signed up to the crew of the Iris.”

  Unexpectedly the young major laughed aloud. “Now that’s opportunism!” he said. “Might as well make the best of it when you’re short of crew.”

  Hugh gave a reluctant smile. “They’re not going to pat them on the head and send them home with a prize, Major. Sick or well, these are pressed men, they’re in the navy now. Were you hoping to get them into the army? You got a recruitment problem?”

  “Yes, but it’s not bad enough for me to want to take this pack of walking skeletons,” the major said frankly. “They’re all yours, Captain. I’ll have enough to do for the next twenty four hours trying to persuade Wellesley not to send me to a court-martial for causing an international incident with the navy in the middle of a campaign. I’m looking forward to that, I must say.”

  “Why did you do it, Van Daan?” Hugh asked curiously. Now that his temper had cooled and the major’s appeared to have done the same, he remembered that at their previous brief meeting at the inn he had rather liked Paul van Daan.

  “Those bodies washing up were driving me mad,” Van Daan said. “Couldn’t work out where they were coming from, but it was clear from the way they’d been shrouded that they were from the navy. I’ve seen more than a few men sewed up in their hammocks in my day. But these lads hadn’t been properly weighted down, either because the crew was permanently drunk after the lieutenant died, or because they were giving the job to the new hands who didn’t know what they were doing. I happened to be there when they found the first one. After that the pastor came to me.”

  “Could be either,” Hugh said. “So you went to whom?”

  “I spoke to one of Captain Popham’s lieutenants. He was very uninterested, told me it was none of my business. Something wasn’t right. A couple of local fishermen explained the tides to me so it wasn’t hard to work out which direction they were coming in from. I got them to row me out. It was pretty obvious at that point; once I got close enough I could smell it. Reminded me of a slaver I once boarded.”

  “I thought the same,” Hugh said, and met the other man’s eyes in a moment of shared distasteful memory. “Did you go back to Captain Popham?”r />
  “I couldn’t get aboard the Flight, they’d sentries set, wouldn’t let me beyond the deck. I tried to see Admiral Gambier but I was getting nowhere with that. Sir Home Popham’s easier, he’s a bloody fidget, never stays where he’s supposed to be and is constantly hanging around trying to find out what the army is doing in case he can stick his somewhat long nose in. I have met the Pophams of this world before, Captain Kelly, in both the army and the navy. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist finding out what I was after. It was clear he had no intention of intervening. He told me, very correctly, to piss off and attend to my own affairs, stopping briefly to emphasise my very junior position in the grand scheme of this campaign. After that, of course, I was never going to leave it alone.”

  He smiled and Hugh smiled back, unable to help himself. He had a very strong feeling that if he had the young major under his command for more than an hour or two he would shoot him, but it was hard not to like Paul van Daan once he had stopped yelling.

  “All right, Major van Daan, you can stand down,” he said quietly. “I get why you were so angry but we both know who is in charge now. Earlier on I wanted to strangle you, but I’m bloody glad you’re as stubborn as a Manx mule or we’d possibly have lost all of them. Why don’t you head off to shore with your lieutenant and make sure he gets rid of those clothes; they’re covered in filth and I agree with you that you’ve no wish to lose a lad with the courage to do what he’s been doing down there. I’m going to send back for the rest of the boats from the Iris and we’ll ferry the men across and then your lads can get them up to this farm of yours.”

  Paul van Daan nodded. “Yes, sir. And thank you. I am sorry. I lost my temper earlier.”

  “So did I,” Hugh admitted. “Are you sure there’s not somewhere else you ought to be? I’d hate to add desertion to the list.”

  The major grinned. “When there’s a fight, I’ll be there,” he said. “Not much to do in the meantime other than help the navy dig itself out of a hole.”

  Hugh regarded him steadily. “Don’t push it, Major.”

  The younger man saluted smartly making Hugh want to laugh again. “Certainly, sir,” he said. “See you on dry land.”

  The transfer of sick and recovering men to the boats and then across to the shore took some time. Back on dry land, Paul van Daan inspected the men of his light company who had worked aboard the ship and then sent them off with Lieutenant Swanson, giving strict instructions about washing and changing clothes. Hugh sent a message to the Iris for help and within the hour the rest of his marines had arrived at the farm along with Dr Brown.

  At the end of two hours the ship was clear of sick men. Hugh stationed a small crew aboard under his first lieutenant with strict instructions to remain on deck and to eat and drink nothing that they had not taken with them. He left the drunken crew members to the tender mercies of Mr Durrell and he sincerely hoped that Durrell was at his most unbending.

  With two doctors supervising the sick men and his marines organising food and bedding for them, Hugh went to find Major van Daan.

  “I’m going back to the Iris,” he said. “I’m leaving Lieutenant Ward here in charge of the marines and Dr Brown. Probably time you got your men out of here, Major, they must be exhausted.”

  “I will. I should report to…”

  “No, you shouldn’t, Major. And in case you’re wondering, that is an order. Get yourself back to your billet, clean up and get some sleep. I’ll report to the Admiral tomorrow and I suppose you’ll be speaking to Sir Arthur Wellesley.”

  “I will. Looking forward to it, I must say.”

  Hugh studied the younger man and shook his head. “Major, they are going to nail your arrogant young arse to the wall for this, and you must know it. It hardly matters what you or I say. Popham is going to be furious that you ignored his instructions to leave it alone and the Bosun is going to make hay with the fact that you pointed a gun at a Warrant Officer of His Majesty’s Navy. If you get out of this without a court martial I will be very surprised.”

  “I know, sir,” the major said steadily. “That’s all right, not your problem. But I am sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier. Genuinely.”

  Hugh shook his head again, tiredly. “Go to bed, Major,” he said. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Arriving back on the Iris in darkness, Hugh went through into his cabin and found Brian putting clean laundry into his chest.

  “Sir.”

  “What the devil are you doing still up, Brian? You should be asleep.”

  “I waited for you, sir. Thought you might need something.”

  Hugh smiled. “You are a thoroughly good lad. Reckon there’s any hot water left in the galley?”

  “Warm, at least, sir. Range is doused for the night but it’ll still be warm. I’ll bring it.”

  “Thank you.” Hugh was conscious of a longing to wash after the horrors aboard the Flight. He thought of the young lieutenant toiling quietly with his men and of Major van Daan helping to lower the sick men down to the boats and he wondered suddenly if he should have tried to get hold of the Admiral or Popham tonight. He realised he could not stand the thought of Van Daan getting into trouble over his extraordinary intervention.

  Hugh sat down on the chair before his writing desk to pull off his boots and saw, staring up at him accusingly, the two letters from Josiah Crellin. He remembered his intention of opening them when he returned from his pursuit of the Kronborg and realised that in the activity of the past few days he had forgotten again. Suddenly the ridiculousness of his behaviour was too much and he picked up the first of the letters, tore it open and began to read.

  He put it down a few minutes later, staring at the second one. There had been no mention of Roseen Crellin’s marriage. Her father had written a heartfelt apology for her behaviour and reiterated his hope that it would not cause a breach between them but there was no information about his daughter’s wedding and Hugh supposed it had not taken place at that point. He sighed, picked up the second letter and opened it just as Brian entered with a heavy jug of water. He took it to the wash stand and poured some of it into the bowl as Hugh began to read.

  “My dear Captain Kelly

  “I write with both grief and fear, begging your help upon a matter dear to my heart. I am shamed to ask for it but you are the only man I know who might expedite this matter.

  “My daughter is gone, snatched away at sea by the Impress Service. In foolishness and great disobedience to my orders, she went aboard a fishing vessel with some friends of childhood, as she was wont to do as a young girl, and to make it less conspicuous she dressed herself in male clothing.

  “I know this must shock you and cause you to think ill of her, but I know my girl and she meant no harm by it. A short voyage and I might have known nothing of it if the vessel had not been overhauled by a navy schooner. They took three good Manx men and when one fought back and my girl intervened they knocked her unconscious and carried her aboard, taking her I know not where.

  “I fear for her life and her virtue so alone and so far from my care and protection. I can get no word of where she has been taken and no man has written to me to tell that she has been found and is being sent back which gives me great sorrow since I fear the worst. Letters to the Admiralty take time and are often ignored. I plan to travel myself on the packet when I have set all here in order but I wonder if you might have the means to make enquiries faster than my journey to London.”

  Hugh dropped the letter, not bothering to read the last paragraph. His cabin boy was staring at him.

  “Sir, are you all right? Do you need…?”

  “Get the boat out, I’m going to shore,” Hugh snapped, reaching for his discarded boots. “My compliments to Lieutenant Jager, he has command of the ship.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It was full dark on the water, his way lit by a half moon and by the lanterns hanging from the various ships. Arriving on shore it was easy e
nough to trace the route taken to the farm which Major van Daan had commandeered for the sick men because there were ruts in the unpaved track recently made by carts. Hugh followed them on foot and the low thatched buildings of farmhouse and outbuildings came into view in around half a mile.

  The farm was neatly laid out; a traditional Danish longhouse with thatched roof and two storeys, painted white with green shutters over small windows. There were several barns nearby all of similar design but it was obvious which one housed the sick men from the Flight. Two of Hugh’s marines stood guard at the door while a third was carrying water from the well, situated in the centre of the farmyard. Hugh nodded to him and went to the door and the marines saluted, looking surprised.

  “Captain. Sorry, sir, didn’t realise you were still here.”

  “I wasn’t,” Hugh said briefly. He realised that he had completed the journey in a daze of horror. The scenes on the Flight, sickening enough before, took on a new dimension now that he knew that Roseen could have been there. Had she been one of the bodies washed up on the shore near here?

  “Is Major van Daan about?” he asked.

  “No, sir. He went back to the inn about twenty minutes ago. I think Mr Swanson is, though.”

  Hugh went through into the barn. Already it had the look of a temporary sick bay with men neatly laid out along the walls. His marines had created beds of straw to lie them on and all were warmly covered with blankets. Hugh wondered where the blankets had come from.

  “Captain Kelly.”

  Hugh turned to find Lieutenant Ward, who commanded his marines, approaching. He stopped and saluted. “Thought you’d left, sir.”

  “I did. Are these all the men?”

  “All the sick men, sir. There were seven others, either managed not to get it or are getting over it. Mr Swanson has bribed the farmer into letting us put them into the feed shed over there. Dr Brown has checked them over; he reckons they need food and rest as much as anything.”