William Price and the Thetis 6

 

Chapter 6

 

MacReady’s supplies had been raided to give Feltham, Taffy, and a couple of other volunteers an unhealthy yellow pallor using turmeric, sparingly. Emma Green came aboard with the ‘invalids’ as a genuine nurse to Taffy, and to keep Feltham dosed just enough on Laudanum to keep him mostly insensible. Taffy was made comfortable; he was a popular man, despite having earned the soubriquet, ‘the lower deck Lothario.’ This may have been because Taffy was comfortable with himself, was never aggressive in any pursuit, and was scrupulous that any partner was willing.

“Cor, it nearly got boring for the rest of us, wiv you aht of bein’ a topic o’ gossip, Taff,” said one ‘Dusty’ Miller.

“Well, it’s going to stay boring, whateffer,” said Taffy. “I realised how blessed I am, and what I could lose, so Lothario Taff is going to be pursuing a life of mahogany from now on.”

There was a long silence.

“Are you sure you mean that, Taff?” asked Dusty. “I mean, my sister-in-law goes on and on about how her sitting-room has mahogany furniture.”

“Diw! I know what I know, and I’m sticking to Adam-bach from now on,” said Taffy.

Colin leaned over the taffrail, smirking at the appropriate name.

“The word you want, Taff, is ‘monogamy,’” he said.

“Thank you, captain, sir, and I wasn’t far out,” said Taffy.

“Huh, if you have mahogany, strikes me it’d have woodworm, and you’d be living in holey mahogany,” punned Dusty. There was general laughter.

“If the church only permitted it, I’d even wear a veil,” said Taffy, with dignity.

“You’d need one, to hide your ugly mug from Peacock,” opined Dusty.

“Diw! You have no taste, whateffer,” said Taffy.

Colin was pleased; Taff was in good spirits and so were the rest of the crew.

It would be overnight when it was hardest, during the dog watch, when all fears seemed enormous, and terrors lurked like the dark shadows on the deck. However, Colin already knew this, and had every expectation that in his second experience as prize captain, he would do better, for knowing what to expect.

“Aren’t you afraid, being in charge?” asked Emma Green.

“Mr. Green!” said Colin, formally. “A captain of a ship is not permitted, under king’s regulations, to have feelings, or to be human. He is requested and required merely to perform his job as an officer, or answer to the contrary at his peril. And anyone who isn’t scared is a bloody fool. But as your captain, it is my duty not to show by word or deed that there is any cause for concern, lest the crew be concerned they will be led into danger.”

“You mean, Mr. Price isn’t always as imperturbable as he seems?” gasped Emma.

“Not by a long chalk,” said Colin. “But whilst he acts calm, it keeps everyone else calm, and that means things are more likely to go well. Him being a captain who knows what he’s doing and having to act calm, not being the source of bumblebroth, who is too pudding headed to know he ought to be scared like some do, and I never criticised one of the king’s officers.”

“Is Mr. Erskine pudding headed?” asked Emma.

“I don’t know; he doesn’t freeze in battle, but we have yet to see how he can handle command. I expect Mr. Price will give him a tried and trusted number two,” said Colin. “And I just hope it isn’t me,” he added, frankly.

“Or me,” said Emma.

“It won’t be; he’ll be keeping you girls under Amelia’s eye,”, said Colin. “For the protection of your good names.”

“I’d not have that if I ran away to sea,” said Emma.

“No, and that’s why you’re lucky to have us,” said Colin. “Go about your duties, Mr. Surgeon’s mate.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said Emma, correctly interpreting this stern admonition to be a dismissal, and an instruction not to speculate.

Colin went back to his cabin, leaving Walden on watch. Colin was busy making a copy of Feltham’s charts of the little fishing village, Puerto de las Nieves. Colin had no Spanish but he had enough French and Latin to wonder why a place so subtropical as the Canary Isles should have a place called ‘Port of the Snows.’ He carefully marked a single rock close to the cliff of the shoreline, known as ‘Dedo de Dios,’ the finger of God. The stack was 98 feet high, a good navigational aid to sail into the harbour,  which was protected by a nice, secure little mole,  the sea stack adding to the ease of plotting a course even for a ship with a deep keel. Not that they had to worry about this, but although Scully had made a copy for the ‘Thetis,’ Colin wanted copies of any odd charts he might come across for his own collection. He had a good map of Scapa Flow, which the Navy would probably be horrified to know, if he had mentioned it, since it was Ordnance Survey quality and covered more than might be expected for any chart issued to most captains. Colin had learned a fascination with maps from Mr. Maxwell, the Navy-Board surveyor, and was determined to have as many charts as he could, for when he, one day, might be a captain. He knew William copied charts and sketches from the logs of sailing masters, and Colin was determined to have a watercolour of this Finger of God rock. He still had the chart of the Irish fort where they had been chasing rebels with stolen Congreve rockets; a chart Colin had redrawn with legible and accurately spelled labels. He had blushed to see his original workings, and was grateful anew to Scully for taking pains with his spelling, and Mrs. Grierson, Molly’s mother, for showing him ways to work out the differences between ‘b’ and ‘d’ which seemed to wobble about when he looked at them. Colin knew he still had to work at his penmanship, but making charts he could be proud of would be a good incentive for that to improve.

Emma ran in.

“Mr. Price’s compliments, sir, and could you pass within hail,” she said.

Colin put away his charts, little knowing that Emma though he looked very competent, and like a real captain, studying charts. He ran onto deck.

“I thought you’d want me to call the men aloft to pass within hail, sir?” said Walden.

“Yes, quite so,” said Colin. “You’ll need to come up a point, too we have a distressing drift to larboard.”

“Rudder’s twisted,” said Walden. “But so long as we’re aware, we won’t be in trouble, and we can repair it when we make a proper landfall. It’s no great problem.”

“Well, it’s good to know what’s wrong.  Pass within hail.”

“Aye aye sir,” said Walden.

Colin leaned out with the speaking trumpet to his ear. He heard William’s voice, thin on the wind.

“I calculate that we will make the pirate base around sunset with this excellent wind; stand by to execute your orders when we anchor there, and be ready to take us in tow in about four hours.”

“Take in tow, four hours aye,” shouted Colin, made a face at his foolishness, and repeated it through his own speaking trumpet.

William raised a hand in acknowledgement.

They drew apart again.

“Dusty!” called Colin. “Pass the word to whoever is serving as cook to come up with an early dinner in two and a half hours’ time. Make it a good one, we’ll be in battle two hours after that.”

“’E’s a cool little blighter,” opined Dusty Miller to his comrades.

“It’s the Nelson touch, like wiv Mr. Price,” opined one ‘Curly’ Barnett. “I’ll go see wot we got shipped aboard an’ I’ll do our little blighter prahd.”

 

Curly was no pastry cook, but he managed a ragoo of canned mutton with a variety of dried peas and beans, spiced according to the traditions of his mate, Sanjay Chatterjee, known to his shipmates as ‘Rajah,’ for being born of a high caste in his native country, who had joined the British Army in India, and had deserted for the sea the moment he had seen, and fallen in love with a ship. He had wisely brought rare and expensive spices with him, to make sure he had some capital, and was accounted well off by the standards of the lower deck. Colin had no objection to spicy food; he had survived Ado’s Jamaican cookery, which Amelia enjoyed.

“Ah, that will put some heat in us for battle, boys,” said Colin, heartily. He had so few hands that they all ate together in one mess, Colin considering it foolish to eat separately, when there was enough for his men to do, without waiting on the nominal officers. He made a nod to seniority for himself, Emma, and Walden by eating at a different table aft of the rest of the men. It allowed the men enough privacy to hold quiet conversations that their officers could not readily overhear.

It also made Colin feel better to be eating with the men rather than in solitary splendour in his stateroom, and on some level, the men understood and appreciated that, indulging a favoured young gentleman. Colin also had a bottle of wine at his table, rather than the beer the men preferred.

 

oOoOo

 

 

The ‘John and Betsy’ limped into the anchorage with the supposed ‘Nancy Beth’ under tow, wallowing like a sea cow, and looking as if she might sink any moment, listing heavily to starboard.

This had been achieved by the expedient of moving every other larboard cannon back, held on ropes, and ready to be returned to their proper position by loosing the ropes on their  cascabels, and hauled by blocks back into position, every part well-greased to minimise squeaking. All pumps seemed to be going to keep the ingress of water from a supposed breach at bay, which pumping was, in fact, from the inlet pump dangling in the sea at the stern.

This duty of pumping was being undertaken by teams, changing surreptitiously, and gave those below something to do other than wait. William well knew that waiting around could lead to accidental noises which would reveal all.

William was wearing a knit stockinet cap over his blond curls, since, apart from his colouring, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Feltham’s former purser, a man who, initially captured, had subsequently passed comments on seeing Amelia, which had led to his apparent accidental demise, whilst distracted, falling into the sea whilst belabouring himself with a belaying pin. The ‘Thetises’ disliked their surgeon being disparaged. Not that William knew this, as ‘fell overboard when trying to escape,’ was what had been logged regarding the man. And if William suspected any further, he was wise enough not to ask questions to which he would not like the answers.

Colin would, perhaps, have been comforted to know that William suffered from the cold, sour feeling in his belly, too, perhaps more so, since he was the commanding officer who had given the orders for this ruse, and because he was wondering if one might go to the well too often.

And then, they were coming past the Finger of God rock, Colin not alone in surreptitiously sketching it, and as hastily putting it away in his satchel, to be ready to bring the ship in to dock. William also made a quick sketch for his own records. The pirates had their own part of the quay, and as they wallowed in, William counted the pirate ships.

Three of them he knew from Feltham’s description to Scully were at anchor, two brigantines of around sixty and eighty tons, and a schooner, a little smaller than the ‘Thetis.’ These should be the ‘Firefly,’ the ‘Arbella,’ and the ‘Beauteous Belle.’

And then his heart sank, for beyond these three was a large brig, which appeared to be in the final stages of being refitted. It was a good 300 tons, and William almost considered aborting the mission, having a boat rowed out to Colin to tell him to slip away as the tide turned. It being a crescent waxing moon, that would be in just a couple of hours.

“That could be a challenge,” said Scully. “Mind, they have to notice us leaving, and get enough men aboard to pursue.”

“Yes, true,” said William. “We can but carry on, but I’m not going to try to take that as well.”

“A trifle too much for us,” said Scully. “Colin is dragging heavily to larboard, I wonder if it’s a ruse or a problem.”

“Ado reported a twisted rudder when he went to examine the keel, but so long as he can get away, we can always scuttle the damn lugger later,” said William.

“Well, Colin is docked, let us make a to-do of dropping anchor, whilst I go get the kedge anchor out with a spring on it to take advantage of the tide’s turn,” said Scully.

 

“Where’s Feltham?” called a peremptory voice from the brig.

“Black vomit!” called Colin. “We lost half the crew to it, and we’d already taken casualties taking the schooner! He’s as sick as a dog!”

“Why didn’t you scuttle it?”

“Not enough of us to carry the bullion,” said Colin, sticking to the story that had been set in the paper. “I’m damned glad to be docking, I can tell you; wake me up and tell me my share in about three days’ time.”

The man – presumably Peter Snow, the leader of the pirates – laughed.

“You’re a cheeky whelp.”

“Daddy says you have to be, to get anywhere,” said Colin. “Can you let us have some medicines?”

“Tough luck, kiddy; if your daddy makes it, he’ll be immune to it, but if not, it’s the luck of the draw.  I never knew Feltham had kids!”

“Well, nor did I until he turned up and recruited me,” said Colin. “Matt Pond is in charge of the schooner.”

“I’m sure he already has all our shares calculated to a nicety,” said Snow. “Now you bloody well stay on your ship, and make sure everyone else does, too, until you’re all dead or recovered, and bend on the ruddy plague flag. Why aren’t you flying it?”

“There’s a plague flag? Nobody told me anything about that,” said Colin, mentally cursing himself for forgetting it.

“Matt Pond has his flying, a yellow square,” said Snow.  Colin thought wryly that of course Mr. Price thought of everything. Well, if he was supposed to have been recruited as the son of the master and commander, it would not only be believable, it would be a point in his favour as a bit clueless.

“Get that plague flag bent on, one of you!” he called, letting his childish treble overcome the trained officer’s voice.