William Price and the Thetis 15

 

Chapter 15

 

Taffy arrived at the great cabin door, knocking, and marching in. He had brought a man with him, an able seaman named Cruft, who had come from the ‘Endeavour’ with his original prize crew to the ‘Thetis.’

“I think he needs someone to talk to, Captain, bach, and he’s not about to tell his troubles to Mr. Gubbins.”

“Thank you, Taffy, no more on that subject,” said William.  Gubbins was a good sailor, a conscientious man, and as much full of joy as a rock in the north sea, as William had heard Walden put it. He was a dour man, and may have had compassion for his fellows, but the men under him obeyed him out of respect, but not liking.  William sympathised; he felt the same way about Gubbins, and was fairly sure the older man felt the same way about him, only in Gubbins’ case, the respect for his captain was a trifle grudging. As one-time master and commander of the ‘Nancy Beth,’ William always suspected that he resented the command of her as the ‘Thetis’ going to a man less than half his age. Even though Gubbins could have been hanged as a pirate, but had sworn he knew nothing of his flotilla leader having turned pirate until it was too late; and for having once worked for Amelia’s father, he had been given trust. He had never betrayed it, but there was no love lost between him and William.

“Tell me all about it, Cruft,” said William, kindly.

Cruft gulped, and then the tears came. William waited for him to finish his wild sobbing, and poured the man a tot of brandy.

This was a rare enough treat that, having smelled it, Cruft managed not to toss it off, but sipped, appreciatively, which helped get his distress under control.

“Me wife died, givin’ birth,” said Cruft. “An’ me sister is freatenin’ to put me kiddies on ve parish. She’s got wot money I left last time, an’ it was a fair amount.”

“She sounds a besom,” said William.

“She is,” avowed Cruft.

“Well, listen,” said William. “Next time I send despatches, I’ll have my man of business sort out a good woman to care for them until we dock, and then you may have them aboard, and one of the women here to be paid to have care of them.”

“Oh, sir, fank you, sir,” said Cruft. “An’ a gentleman’s man can get ‘em orf of ve parish, if she do put ‘em there.”

“You had prize money from the taking of the smugglers off Crail, so your fair amount certainly was; your sister won’t risk losing a share of anything else you get by putting them on the parish until she has time to coerce more out of you,” said William.

Cruft brightened.

“Well, she’s ʼad the last farving I’m ever giving ʼer,” he said. “I know you’ll see my nippers right if I stick my spoon in the wall.”

“I will; but you see you see Mr. Stackfield and write out a deposition to serve as a will and leave it with him, so I can attach a true copy to my despatches,” said William. “I’ll put my sister on it if need be, and she may be a bit preachy, but she’s a good woman.”

His man of business was actually his father-in-law’s man of business; but it made no odds.

And that was enough to make Cruft happy. It would be sorted out. He could grieve his wife without having to worry about his older children.

“Tell me about your children, Cruft,” he said.

“Oh, sir! Well, Polly is the oldest, she’s ten, and vey’d send ʼer to the mills on the parish. Ven Jacky, ʼe’s eight, ven vere’s ve twins, Matty an’ Mark, vey’re six, ven ve baby, Tommy, oh, sir, when you give us leave afore this, I got to see ʼim take ʼis firs’ steps, an’ ʼe called me dada!”

“Oh, that is a special time,” said William. “You write to Polly and Jacky, and I’ll see it goes in the next dispatches. Mr. Stackfield will help you do that, as well as to make your intentions known.”

“It’s a will, whatever you says, Mr. Price, innit?” said Cruft. “I knows. We’re gwine to ʼave a battle, an’ you can be upbeat abaht it because it’s your job, but reckon some on us will die.”

“I have to take that as a possible scenario,” said William. “I will do my best to save all the lives I can, but fate can intervene, and roundshot can take anyone’s head off.”

Cruft nodded.

“I respect you for admittin’ it, sir,” he said, with dignity.

“Cruft, how long gone was your wife? We haven’t been more than four months out of port.”

Cruft grimaced.

“She took a job, sewin’, me bein’ stuck in ve ‘Endeavour’ afore Cap’n Mornington took over, an’ the man she sewed for made ʼer warm ʼis bed.  I don’ blame ʼer, but I resent ʼow ʼis brat took ʼer life, though I’d of brung it up as mine.”

“That makes you a better man than most, Cruft,” said William. “Don’t go after him, though, will you?”

“I… no, sir.”

“It’s an order, not a request,” said William. “If he seeks you out, and high words lead to blows, that’s something else. But I don’t want to have to bail you out if you get taken up. Understand?”

“Yessir,” said Cruft. “Fanks, sir.”

He went off, happier.

William sighed. Whilst he was waiting for darkness, he thought he might as well catch up with some paperwork. He opened his log and sat down to first check the list of men wanting to change their mess, something they might request monthly. He frowned to see that four of the new hands from the ex slaves were those who wanted to change messes. He checked out the lists of other men in the same messes. None of them were, as far as he knew, any trouble, but it was possible a man who was otherwise no trouble might have a racist streak.  Not that Adou had ever mentioned it.

William stuck his head out of the door.

“Colin!” he called.

The boy came running.

“Sir?”

“I want to speak to… Kwasi, wasn’t it? Your servant. His English is good. Also, Aeneas and Cassie.”

“Yessir,” said Colin. “Is this about the trouble in the mess hall?”

“You’d better come in and tell me about it,” sighed William.

Colin came in, and William waved him to a seat.  Colin had become very tall and gangly recently, and William had no intention of staring up at him from his own seat.

“It’s because of Koomi,” said Colin. “He’s all ‘whitey bad, this, whitey bad, that’ and he has a chip on his shoulder the size of the continent of Africa. And I understand that he’s been trying to force some of the other black lads into asking to change mess, to get an all black mess.”

“Not going to happen,” said William. “Where does Adou stand?”

“Ready to beat Koomi up,” said Colin. “I shifted Beko when I heard Koomi had threatened to break his windpipe so he couldn’t sing anymore, so he’s with Wick, and the other lads who are servants to officers, and they eat separately, and have berths near the officers too. But Koomi is working on the younger ones, Joe, Ephraim, and Yammi, who is Beko’s brother.”

“You’re worth two lieutenants to me,” said William. “Does John know about this?”

“Yes, but he said it had to go through official questioning so you’d know about it,” said Colin.

“Yes, I appreciate my officers making the ship run well, but I do need to nip this in the bud. Send Koomi, Joe, Ephraim, and Yammi to me. And Adou, to translate.”

“Sir.” Colin saluted at the slant, to avoid banging his head on the deck beams.

 

“So, you want to change messes, I understand,” said William.

“Yassah,” said Koomi. “We want mess all together.”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” William. “I need my new hands mixed in amongst the others. You want to move out of your mess, Koomi? You can go in number three mess.” This was Adou’s mess, and Adou would take no nonsense. “Joe, why do you want to change mess?”

“Ah don’ sah,” said Joe.

“Ephraim? Yammi?” asked William.

“No, sah,” they both said.

“Well, that has that little problem sorted out,” said William. “I’m not about to segregate men by colour, it’s sheer foolishness. Don’t let me hear such talk again, you can ask to be together with a friend, but not until you’re all well trained, or if anyone in your own mess is making you unhappy.”

He dismissed them, pretending not to hear Adou growl something threatening to Koomi.

Koomi could be discharged when they took their next consignment of slaves to Freetown. Unless, in the meantime, Adou had gotten overenthusiastic, and Koomi ended up marked ‘DD’ on the records, ‘Discharged, Dead’ rather than ‘D’ ‘Discharged.’

It happened to unpopular seamen, and a wise captain regretted, but did not investigate too closely, because a bully could make an already hard life at sea into something literally intolerable. And it was easy for a man to fall from aloft, and the difficulty of seeing what exactly went on meaning that two other sailhandlers who swore blind they tried to help him were, in their own minds swearing that they helped him atone for being trouble. Indeed, William had heard of one lower-deck bully, a man who had coerced others into playing cards with him, and cheated, forcing them into debt to him, and making them do his duties, who had supposedly ‘Run,’ the other way a man’s name on the log might be closed, with ‘R’ beside it. And the only one the navy cared about, as those who had ‘run’ might expect heavy penaties if caught. His messmates swore that he had tied all of them up and boasted that he had made a small boat in which he had rowed away. As they had been a good two hundred miles from land, it seemed deeply suspicious, and William had always thought that someone had hit him too hard by mistake, and they lit on this idea to cover up what would be treated as murder, with the cook, who was also in debt to him, coerced or persuaded into theft of vittles, which probably vanished into the collective hands of those responsible, to make it look as though… Nettles, that had been his name, and singularly appropriate, too… had taken them, and doubtless the cook tied them up as well. William, a midshipman at the time, did not think he wanted to know any details, and had kept quiet. There was a lot of sea to fall into.

William sighed, and went back to writing up his log. As always, what he wrote would determine very much whether he would be court martialled or not if a plan failed, so it was important to write out every detail of what he hoped to achieve.

 

 

As the sun sank, William saw the men into their boats on the seaward side of the ship.[1] He wanted to go with them, but that was not what the captain did. He bade them good luck and smiled, though he worried about all of them. And made himself walk back to the cabin in a calm fashion.

Here, the boy Kwasi served him a cool drink made with limes and canned, evaporated milk. It was surprisingly refreshing.

“Don’ you worry, Cap’n, sah, my Mistah Colin is off wid dem lubbers, an’ he can do mos’ anything,” assured Kwasi.

“He is a remarkable lad, indeed,” William agreed, making Kwasi beam with pleasure, and potter off with his beverage to serve the surgeon and the sailing master. It would be a good drink to introduce to the men, thought William, with the goodness of milk, and the limes to preserve them from scurvey.

 

oOoOo

 

 

John Scully was in charge of the mission, on the rudder and in command of the boat he was in, and leading the little flotilla of boats. He knew William was wishing he was in the thick of it, and was glad he did not have to tell his friend that he was not expendable, and was therefore, not going. They would have to judge the situation as they found it, which is why Scully was in charge, not staying on the ship leaving it to Erskine.  The darkness fell rapidly, and they skirted the mangrove swamps nervously, smelling of lemons from Amelia’s own concoction of mosquito repellent cream, currently also mixed with soot to darken their faces.

There were lights ahead, and Scully stiffened.  As they came up the river, there appeared to be a party on shore, with plenty of light, and men feasting. Were they then still waiting for the slaves?

Colin’s boat came up beside Scully’s.

“John…if they aren’t on board, will we just burn it to the waterline?” said Colin.

“Aye,” said Scully. “Scum of the earth, look at them, drinking, and no lookout.”

“They probably have someone watching ‘Thetis’ in the village who will warn them,” said Colin, and let Scully draw ahead again.

By common consent, Adou was in Colin’s boat – and therefore also the truculent Koomi -  and the big sailor went up the chain to scout out the slaver.

He was back down just as Scully was wondering where he had got to, materialising out of the night, and making Scully jump.

“Dem slaves is in de hold, Mistah Scully, sah, an’ mos’ of dem crew ashore, carousing’ an’ waitin’ for de las’ few slaves.”

“Very good; those who are boarding, board.  We’ll have the tow lines presently. If the last slaves come, stand by to fight, if not, by the time we are ready, we’ll leave without them,” decided Scully.

He went up the ladder provided by Adou, following Colin and Walden, who would ply their lockpicks below. A team already chosen got on the capstan bars to weigh the anchor, in total silence, without the usual song to help their efforts. The river was shallow, however, and would yield the anchor without too much trouble. And the cable was not as filthy and fouled as the pirates had permitted their anchor cable to become, presumably, thought Scully, because the mud of the swamps here was so foul there was an incentive to wash it off. This theory was proved with the stench of the last few feet of the cable, and the sailors hissed disgust under their breath. They had a bucket or two of water to rinse it off, and it might be properly cleaned later.

Scully was prowling around the ship, looking out for trouble on the shore, and keeping an eye to those with designated tasks, when he saw Koomi creeping up behind Adou with a drawn knife, raised menacingly.

 

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[1] If it seems like they are taking a lot of slavers, each ship in the West Africa squadron routinely took in an average of one slaver a month.