A Sloop of War Read online

  Chapter 9

  Convoy

  ‘Back home at last,’ said Appleby. He spread his arms wide as if to embrace all of his fellow officers gathered around the wardroom table. The sailing master of the Rush had long arms and he seemed to fill the space as if a large bird had suddenly opened its wings. To his fellow officers it served only to emphasise how cramped and dark their accommodation was when compared to the rooms they had now relinquished in the Moro Castle.

  ‘Back home, and yet soon to be on our way, to judge from the armada gathered in the bay,’ said Faulkner. ‘Do you have any more intelligence for us yet, John?’ Sutton looked up from the game of backgammon he was playing with Macpherson and shook his head.

  ‘None yet, but I trust I shall have some soon. The captain is away at a conference on board the flagship now, and with the Rush fully restored I hope we shall shortly play our part in whatever is afoot.’

  ‘Do you have any notion to which part of St Lucia we will be heading?’ asked Macpherson, rattling the dice in the cup and spilling them onto the board. ‘Ah, double four. Excellent.’

  ‘All I know for certain is that we are to operate alongside the Agrius, Tom,’ replied Sutton. ‘Beyond that I have no certain knowledge. My turn I believe.’

  ‘Yet the arrival of all those troop ships from Jamaica in the night must signify a departure of some immediacy?’ persisted Faulkner.

  ‘Perhaps, Charles, but if so the captain has not yet taken me into his confidence. Seven again for me, Tom.’ Several turns of backgammon passed in companionable silence, before Faulkner spoke again.

  ‘I am intrigued by this game you play,’ he said, indicating the board. ‘Tell me, when does one place a wager?’ The two players exchanged glances.

  ‘This is principally a game of skill, Charles,’ Macpherson replied. ‘It needs no pecuniary element to give it savour.’

  ‘You don’t say?’ said Faulkner. ‘Yet the main activity would seem to be the casting of dice. Surely it is therefore also a game of hazard?’

  ‘There is a degree of chance, for sure,’ conceded the Scotsman. ‘But over a run of games that will even itself out. In backgammon the more skilful player almost always wins.’

  ‘I regretfully have to agree,’ said Sutton. ‘Tom soundly beats me eight times out of ten. I for one am pleased we play only for honour. Have you loaded these dice, Tom? I have thrown yet another seven.’

  ‘Does it lose its interest for you if it is not played for money, Charles?’ asked Macpherson. Faulkner looked a little awkward at this.

  ‘Not entirely, no,’ he replied. ‘Although I will concede that I have found that a financial risk does add materially to the ability of a game to divert.’

  ‘Did Sir Richard not say that you are a member at Whites?’ asked Sutton, his eyes fixed on the board as he moved his counters.’

  ‘I was once a member, but that was some time ago. I have not been back there for several years,’ said Faulkner. Appleby whistled at this from his end of the table.

  ‘From reputation they game with some proper lucre there. Did you ever witness any fortunes change hands, Charles?’ he asked. The purser was about to answer when Linfield came in to the wardroom, carrying his large straw hat.

  ‘Ah, Jacob,’ said Faulkner. ‘Have you made yet another visit to Melverton? You must prepare yourself for them to cease. The captain is aboard the flagship with Admiral Caldwell as we speak, doubtless learning of our fate.’

  ‘No, not this time, Charles,’ said Linfield. ‘With our departure imminent I was making some calls to friends here in Bridgetown. I did have coffee with Mr Robertson at Milton’s, however.’

  ‘How did you find him?’ asked Sutton.

  ‘He is very well, thank you, John,’ said Linfield. ‘He had a most unexpected visitor this morning. A fellow plantation owner by the name of Walker came to call. Apparently he was so ashamed by the manner in which the company treated the Robertsons at the governor’s ball that he has decided to renew contact with the family. Is that not splendid?’

  ‘That is very good news. And was Mr Robertson accompanied by the lovely Miss Emma?’ asked Sutton with a smile.

  ‘Regrettably not,’ replied the surgeon.

  ‘Is that the lady you spent most of the night of the ball dancing with, Jacob?’ asked Appleby.

  ‘Yes, that was Miss Emma, although I might not term it quite like that. We danced not above six or seven times,’ replied Linfield evasively, twisting the straw hat in his hands. Sutton and Appleby continued to look at Linfield, waiting to see if he would say any more. A dry cough sounded from the other side of the table.

  ‘I believe it is your turn, John,’ said Macpherson, the game very much shaping in his favour. Sutton picked up his cup and had begun to shake the dice when there was a knock on the wardroom door.

  ‘Come in,’ he called. The door opened and Midshipman Preston stepped into the wardroom.

  ‘Mr Wardle’s compliments, sir, and the captain’s barge has just shoved off from the flagship,’ he said. ‘Mr Wardle also asked me to say that he believes the boat is making for the larboard side of the ship, so that no ceremony will be required to greet his return.’

  ‘Please give Mr Wardle my compliments, and tell him that I will be up directly,’ replied Sutton. ‘Mr Appleby, you had better come too. If he has orders he will want a course to be laid off for sure. My apologies, Tom, we will have to carry on our game some other time.’ The two officers hurried out, followed shortly after by Linfield who needed to see how his few patients were doing in the sick bay. That left Faulkner and Macpherson as the only two officers in the wardroom.

  ‘Perhaps I might take Mr Sutton’s place in the game?’ asked Faulkner, moving across into the vacant chair opposite the marine officer.

  ‘By all means,’ said Macpherson. ‘But let me set the board up afresh. I would not wish my worst enemy to adopt the hopeless position that the good lieutenant has got himself into.’ With practiced ease the Scotsman swept up the pieces, and arranged them again on the board. ‘Shall I acquaint you with the manner of play, Charles?’ he asked.

  ‘If you will,’ said Faulkner. ‘I have had the benefit of watching you and Mr Sutton, but I have doubtless missed much.’ Macpherson paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, but when he spoke it was not to explain any rules.

  ‘You recall that earlier I implied backgammon is not played for money,’ he said. ‘I was not being entirely truthful with you, for it can be. Perhaps it might have been more accurate if I had said that I no longer choose to play the game for money. Oh, I could do right enough, and doubtless I would make a handsome return playing against the likes of Mr Sutton, but alas, I know it would not end there.’

  ‘I see,’ said Faulkner. ‘So I collect that have you have played the game for money in the past?’

  ‘I have, Charles,’ the marine officer said, ‘obsessively so at one time. I have found in my life that there are certain persons who have appetites that can never be fully sated, no matter how they may gorge themselves. There are plenty in the service who have such a weakness for drink, for example. My brother serves in a John Company regiment in India, and tells me there are many among his men who are quite enslaved to the milk of the poppy. The indulgence that once had possession of me was playing backgammon for money. But now that I know from bitter experience that I cannot restrain myself within modest and temperate limits, I am resolved not to wager a farthing. I now play purely for pleasure.’

  ‘Thank you for your candour with me, Tom,’ said Faulkner.

  ‘I am not candid with you for any desire to confess my failings, Charles,’ said Macpherson. ‘I do so because I believe you and I may be fellow travellers.’ Faulkner looked at him with surprise.

  ‘Is it really so obvious?’ he asked.

  ‘Aye, I think that it is,’ said Macpherson. ‘It has always been clear from your demeanour and your dress that you are not the normal run of purser to be found in the service. Add to that the rat
her indiscrete manner in which Sir Richard greeted you at his ball, and the rest is not difficult to fathom. No the really interesting question is not the detail about your past, but why you have chosen to make such a secret of it?’

  ‘Can you not tell?’ asked Faulkner. ‘It is not chiefly that I feel any shame in my past, although that is part of it. You have me at a disadvantage where candour is concerned, Tom,’ Faulkner said. ‘Such a failing as you describe might be tolerated in a marine officer rather more easily than in a purser, with responsibility for the financial running of a man-of-war.’

  ‘That is true,’ conceded the Scotsman. ‘Is it that which the creature Windham holds over you?’

  ‘How the damned hell do you know...’ the purser stuttered. Macpherson chuckled at his discomfort.

  ‘Do you not know that marine officers are worse than old wives upon the village green when it comes to their love of gossip?’ he said, holding up a reassuring hand. ‘And William Munro of the Agrius is a particular friend of mine.’ There was an awkward pause while Faulkner took all this in, after which Macpherson carried on.

  ‘Charles, you have not asked for my counsel, but if it’s not too overbearing I would give it to you anyway,’ he said. ‘You are a fine purser. Your record in the service is good. As far as I can see, you no longer gamble. If you could bring yourself to be a wee bit more frank with the captain and your brother officers, I believe you might well find that this Windham fellow would lose much of the grip he has upon you.’

  *****

  On the deck above Faulkner and Macpherson’s heads, Clay took off his heavy full dress coat with relief. He handed it together with his hat and sword to Yates, and sank into the chair behind his desk. Opposite him in the main cabin of the Rush sat Sutton and Appleby, both eager to discover the outcome of his meeting on board the flagship. Through the spread of glass behind their commander’s back they could see the waters of Carlisle Bay, quite full of shipping now. Long lines of troopships swung at anchor close in to Bridgetown. Farther out was a single row of warships, a combination of hulking ships of the line, their big rounded hulls squat and heavy, and graceful frigates with tall, delicate masts. Dotted across the bay were many small, insect-like boats, moving between the various vessels.

  ‘It was quite the gathering,’ said Clay as he leafed through his notes. ‘I cannot recall when I last saw so much gold braid in one place. Besides the admiral and Captain Miller, Parker and myself, there were the captains of the Princess Charlotte, the Majestic, the Beaulieu, the Madras, Totty of the Alfred plus a couple of others. As for the army, there were even more of them. General Abercromby freshly arrived from Jamaica of course, together with a veritable herd of colonels and majors, all of them spoiling for action. Oh, and Sir Richard with some of his aides. I tell you for crowds, Bartholomew fair ain’t in it.’

  ‘So are we on the move against St Lucia at last?’ asked his lieutenant.

  ‘Indeed we are, Mr Sutton,’ confirmed Clay. ‘We set sail at dawn tomorrow. And if Mr Appleby would be good enough to spread out that chart, I will outline the plan of action.’ He moved the inkstand from his desk to one side, making enough space for the master to unroll the map.

  ‘Now, here is our friend St Lucia, of course,’ he said, indicating an egg shaped island about thirty miles north to south, and perhaps half that wide. ‘There are only two places that are fortified to resist assault. The first is the principal city, Castries, up here on the northwest coast. It will be to the attack on Castries that the bulk of the expedition will direct itself. The admiral and most of the squadron will descend on the coast and land the army, who will then invest the city, while the fleet bottle up the seaward side. Is that all clear so far?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir,’ said Sutton. Appleby nodded in agreement.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Clay. ‘Now to our part in the enterprise. The second fortified place is right down here on the southern coast, the bottom of the egg if you will. Do you see this peninsula here?’ Clay tapped the chart with his finger, and both men leant forward to look at the map more closely.

  ‘Vieux Fort,’ read Appleby out loud. ‘I am no scholar of French but I deduce that means old fort?’

  ‘Bravo, Mr Appleby,’ said Clay. ‘At the end of the promontory is a small fortress that dominates the town of Vieux Fort at its feet, and the waters to either side of the peninsula. We will operate under the command of Captain Parker of the Agrius, and we will escort a small force there under the command of a Colonel... ah Gordon,’ he concluded, referring to his notes.

  ‘What manner of force does Colonel Gordon command, sir?’ asked Sutton.

  ‘I do not have the particulars here, Mr Sutton,’ said Clay, ‘but I do know its general character. It is a mixed force of infantry and some engineers, together with a small siege train. It has all been fitted into four of the transporters, so I doubt that it can be much above a thousand men.’

  ‘Do we know the detail of our role yet, sir?’ asked Appleby.

  ‘We are to escort our four troop transporters to St Lucia, enter the bay the lies to the west of the Vieux Fort peninsula where there are suitable beaches convenient for the landing of troops,’ replied Clay. ‘Once the army are established on shore, our task then will be to provide what support Colonel Gordon deems he may require that will tend to the success of the expedition. Perhaps our marines, a shore party to help with the siege and I have pledged some gunners to man the siege train. When we have seized Vieux Fort, and the general has captured Castries, the rest of the island should capitulate as easy as kiss my hand. Any further questions?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Sutton. ‘That all seems clear for now. The primary step is for us to be ready for a prompt departure.’

  ‘Precisely so, Mr Sutton,’ said Clay. ‘Mr Appleby, kindly have the relevant sailing instructions prepared for tomorrow. Gentlemen, we are part of a powerful strike force, we have a prime crew, and at long last a ship with a creditably clean hull. The French on St Lucia will shortly be in receipt of what I trust shall be the rudest of shocks.’

  *****

  In all the excitement of the expedition’s departure, Clay had forgotten that the next day was a Sunday. But not withstanding their captain’s memory, the rhythm of the ship swept on as steady and predictable as the motion of the planets. Because it was Sunday, the crew of the Rush, along with every other crew throughout the navy, had plum duff for lunch; and because it was Sunday, they had ‘make and mend’ in the afternoon that followed. The bare minimum of hands that were needed to sail the ship, which was a much easier task now that her newly coppered hull slipped so readily through the water, had been posted after lunch. They had only to keep her on station exactly two cables distance behind the Agrius, and watch for the approach of any enemy. The four heavily laden troop transporters could be seen by anyone who cared to look, wallowing along in an untidy gaggle close under the lee of the two warships. The rest of the fleet had diverged from them all morning, and was now only visible as a distant forest of mastheads, the hulls of the ships having slipped below the horizon.

  All of which left the rest of the men free from duty. The afternoon sun was warm, the trade wind fresh. As a result the forecastle of the Rush was as crowded and as noisy as an Arabian bazaar. The foremast rigging was alive with clouds of drying clothes, while most of the men had also taken the opportunity to unwind their pigtails, and wash their hair too. Trevan was the owner of a much admired head of hair, the pigtail of which reached to his waist. Freed from its normal constraint, it billowed free in the wind.

  ‘You still be teaching Able his letters there, Rosie?’ he asked, looking up from the piece of scrimshaw he was working on.

  ‘That I am, Adam,’ replied Rosso. ‘And he is making very pleasing progress. He may even pass for a scholar by the time I have finished with him.’ Trevan looked at the piece of paper Rosso and Sedgwick were bent over, and puffed his cheeks out in wonder.

  ‘How you make any sense of all them squiggles is beyond me,’ h
e said, his head angled to one side like a chicken. ‘I can make out them letters as is in my name, like, but all the other ones? God bless my soul, no!’

  ‘I could teach you too, you know, Adam, if it was something you wanted,’ suggested Rosso to his friend.

  ‘A vynn'ta y skrifa Kernewek, Rosie?’ he asked in his native Cornish. ‘Now, let me see you set that down in a right and proper fashion.’

  ‘All right, Adam, you win,’ said Rosso laughing with him, before returning to his more willing student.

  ‘Now then, Able, let’s try some simple words,’ he said, looking about himself for inspiration. The mass of multi-coloured clothing flapped over his head. The blue sea stretched away in every direction. Behind Trevan’s back was the side of the ship, the interior painted a dull red.

  ‘How about some colours?’ he suggested.

  ‘All Right,’ agreed Sedgwick. He pointed towards the sea. ‘How do you write blue?’ Rosso showed him, and Sedgwick traced the shape of the letters several times to fix them in his mind. ‘Is it the same word for the wind?’ he asked. ‘The wind blue?’

  ‘Eh, actually no,’ admitted Rosso. ‘We set that down thus.’ He wrote “blew” on the sheet. Sedgwick looked confused, but faithfully copied out the new word.

  ‘That’s very good, Able,’ enthused his teacher. ‘Pick another colour.’ Sedgwick pointed at the ship’s side behind Trevan. ‘Red’ he said.

  ‘That’s my name! Rosso means red in Italian. Oh, but don’t you go worrying about Italian just yet,’ he added. ‘Let’s stick with a right Christian tongue like English. See, R E D - red.’ He wrote down the letters, and Sedgwick traced them again.

  ‘Rosie,’ he asked, once he had finished. ‘Red also means something to do with reading, yes? When I joined the ship I was “red” in?’

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ muttered Rosso. ‘It does, but that’s not set down the same way either.’ He wrote down “read”, and swivelled the paper towards Sedgwick, who looked at the new word for a moment.