A Sea of Troubles (19 page)

‘Well, Devenow, how did you?’

‘I’d not like to say, your honour.’

‘No doubt,’ Gherson advanced, his tone mocking, ‘because of a spirit of comradeship within the lower deck.’

‘Who was it, Devenow?’

‘Can’t rightly say, your honour. It were dark and it came out o’ the blue.’

Gherson surmised he was lying, he being reluctant to admit that he had been bested in a fight.

‘Just the kind of trouble, sir,’ he droned, ‘that no one wants aboard a ship of war.’

It was interesting to watch Barclay ruminating, for he was fighting an internal dispute, between obliging John Pearce, which he hated to do, as against having trouble brewing under his command, which, like every officer in the Royal Navy, he dreaded. In concert with the likes of Gherson he neither sought nor needed popularity, but he did need efficiency and between decks feuds were inimical to that.

‘What are they like as hands?’ he asked, after a long silence.

‘Mediocre, sir, I am told.’ Gherson had no idea and would not have been able to give an opinion even if he had watched them; when it came to being useless in the art of sailing he was top of the class. ‘You could enquire of their divisional officer.’

The response that such a notion was stupid nearly came out – no captain who valued his dignity would ask such a question of anyone but his premier, and having equal to his regard for his standing now, he made a great play of reading the letter again.

‘They are of insufficient interest to me to care. If Pearce wants them so badly let him have them and we will profit by it.’ Thinking perhaps that he might be giving way too easily, Barclay actually barked, ‘But the replacements better be as he says, or I’ll have his guts.’

Even Devenow, devoted as he was, seemed embarrassed by that idle boast.

‘Detail one of our mids to rig out the pinnace and take this pair up-channel to HMS
York
. Best take a quartet of marines also; we don’t want any trouble on the return journey. Now, is all in order for my journey to London?’

‘Your barge is waiting, sir,’ Gherson replied.

‘Then let us be off.’

‘I will just gather my investment portfolio, sir.’

That cheered Gherson’s employer up no end; if Ralph Barclay had possessed two hands he would have rubbed them, sure as he was that the money he had put into various projects should by now be beginning to show handsome returns.

Ralph Barclay was not the only one on the move; when it came time to take a hack to Charing Cross, there ostensibly to put Emily Barclay aboard the northbound coach, the whole trio were in a joyous mood. Pearce had gone round the hotel tipping the various people who had seen to his needs, for along with Didcot there were the maids who cleaned and made up the beds, the people in the kitchen, and even the stuck-up sod who manned the front desk, the same fellow who had presented a bill that made the recipient’s eyes water a little.

‘I do hope you will grace us with your custom again, sir.’

‘I will if I take a Spanish plate ship.’

‘Which, sir, I surely hope you do and recommend us to your fellow officers.’

Pearce was tempted to say that a recommendation from him in that quarter was likely to lead to bankruptcy, but held his tongue and he went out to the waiting hack calling out loudly their destination, that being changed as soon as they were out of sight. The hack took them to the same person from whom Pearce had hired transport to take him originally to the New Forest, with Michael riding on the box seat with the driver.

‘We are free, Emily,’ Pearce said as they passed the Bishop’s Palace at Fulham.

‘For now, John.’ Seeing his crestfallen face she took his arm and squeezed tightly. ‘Let us enjoy it while we may.’

The crew of HMS
Larcher
were mightily pleased to see him again, and given that their previous passengers had been odd no one raised an eyebrow to the fact of a woman, and a very pretty one at that, being brought aboard. Emily, if she was surprised at the paucity of accommodation, hid it well, praising it as cosy in such a way as to win the smiles of those who overheard her, that to the accompaniment of nudges, nods and winks regarding the rakish nature of their master and commander, who was brisk about his business once she was settled.

‘Mr Dorling, we will sail to Portsmouth to victual from the dockyard.’

‘And then, sir?’

‘Then we will sail down-channel, and when we are out of sight of land I will tell you where we are going.’

The Admiralty pennant was inside his coat; that would not be lifted to the masthead until no one could see it from the shore.

‘If anyone asks in Portsmouth what we are about, tell them we are casing smugglers.’

‘Could become a habit that, your honour.’

HMS
Larcher
took on board what she could from Buckler’s Hard, especially fresh provisions such as bread and greens, but there was no way they could supply salted beef and pork, as well as the quantity of peas, small beer and rum and general stores that the vessel would need for such an extended commission; that could only be found in a proper naval dockyard, likewise spare canvas and yards, which were too steep for the funds Pearce had. As soon as all was loaded that could be acquired the anchor was raised and the ship drifted down on the tide and the rudder into the Solent, where sails could be set to take advantage of the prevailing westerly wind.

The quartermaster weaved a course through the dozens of warships anchored off Spithead: 100-gun Leviathans, abundant seventy-fours as well as numerous frigates and sloops. Emily Barclay was confined to his cabin, in which he had admonished her to stay until the armed cutter was fully loaded with stores and anchored away from the
shore. The surprise for John Pearce was when Michael O’Hagan approached and asked that he be allowed to stay out of sight as well, seeing he knew the intention of where to tie up.

‘It was from here myself, Charlie and Rufus ran and I fear that the press gang you overheard might be based at Portsmouth too. Sight of me and they might just want to take me up on that warrant, and that does not speak for those in pursuit of the reward.’

‘Which I would not let them do, and I would point out, Michael, that if they know you by your description they do not know your name.’

It was a stroke of good fortune that had the Pelicans on a vessel in which they had never been mustered; it was a frigate that had rescued them from the ocean and a ship that had caught fire and sank, leaving them drifting in an open boat.

‘And since we are going to pack every spare inch of space with victuals, where would you hide?’

‘I daresay Mrs Barclay would not object to my sharing your little cabin for a while.’

‘No she would not, and if it makes you feel secure, so be it, but we will miss your muscle when it comes to shifting barrels.’

‘Port admiral’s boat approaching, your honour.’

‘Best get out of sight now, then.’

It was not, of course, the admiral in charge of Portsmouth Dockyard in that launch, but one of the officers employed by him to keep in order the busiest naval base in the world. The town sat on the best and safest anchorage on the south coast and had grown from
a small port to a sizeable conurbation entirely due to the presence of the fleet, replacing the Nore, once of equal importance and still a major base. When the Dutch had posed the greatest danger to the nation the mouth of the Medway had been the vital location for the fleet but for nearly a century the threat had shifted and stayed with the French. Not only did it provide ample space to anchor – the whole of several fleets could assemble here – it also, for the purposes of shore leave and a way to put a lid on discontent, abutted the Isle of Wight, which held the two satellite bases of Ryde and St Helen’s. As an island it was a place that allowed for shore leave.

Portsmouth might be on the mainland, but it had an added advantage: the city stood on a series of islands, was traversed in its entirety and entered and exited by a series of bridges. Given the propensity of Jack tar to desert that meant a few well-placed marines could stop the flow – necessary, for once in open country the men of the sea were hard to catch in a nation whose sympathy extended to those perceived to be oppressed. Indeed there were many old hands who boasted they could travel the length and breadth of the country and never be taken up by those seeking deserters.

The fellow who clambered aboard was, like Pearce, a lieutenant so the lift of the hat was to his commission in command of the ship rather than his rank, and he gave his name as Pettigrew. Under normal circumstances it would have been in order to offer him some refreshment, a glass of wine and a biscuit perhaps, as well as a period of conversation in which the hunt would be on for mutual acquaintances; that, with his fugitives occupying
the cabin, was not possible and for once, and against all common custom, John Pearce did not merely introduce himself by name alone.

‘You will have heard of me, I am sure, given I was assigned my rank at the insistence of King George himself.’

Pettigrew’s face took on that look folk have when they are memory searching and it was not long before enlightenment replaced the furrowed brow; the case of John Pearce had rippled through the navy with most officers deciding that such an elevation, even by royal hand, was an insult to a service which prided itself on its professionalism. That a man could be made a lieutenant by a mere stroke of the pen at the base of an Order in Council flew in the face of all precedent and it was only long-serving and getting-nowhere midshipmen who saw a possible avenue to advancement.

‘I would invite you to take a glass of wine with me, Mr Pettigrew, but—’

The other man cut across him. ‘I would have to decline, sir, as I have too many other duties to perform.’

Since Pettigrew would not meet his eye it was probably a lie, but having achieved his aim, Pearce could allow himself to look hurt, which produced on the other man’s face a hint of satisfaction; he would be able to tell his contemporaries, and quite probably his superiors, that he had put the upstart John Pearce in his place. For all he had set out to produce that result, there was still the temptation to reverse matters and that could not be put aside, which led to a very pointed and long look at the city of Portsmouth all the way down the shore to Southsea.

‘A nice safe billet you have here, Mr Pettigrew, not much chance of being required to face shot and shell in a safe anchorage. Tell me, what kind of interest does it require to get you such a comfortable posting?’

‘Your orders?’ the man snapped, holding out his hand.

These were passed over to be examined in a manner that implied they might be forgeries, which told Pearce just how successfully he had got under Pettigrew’s skin, then followed the list of stores Pearce required and that got a lift of the eyebrows.

‘Where are you off to with all this?’

‘I am not obliged to respond to that, sir.’

‘I do think my superiors will want to know.’

‘Then, sir,’ Pearce said, ‘I will decline to tell them.’ The face changed yet again to a ‘you would not dare’ look. ‘Now please be so good as to advise me at what point I can berth alongside the storerooms and load.’

It could only have been malice that brought the reply, as well as the sneer that accompanied it. ‘I do not think an armed cutter warrants a berth at an overworked dockside where vessels are queuing to load. No, you anchor at a buoy and we will send out hoys from which you can take your stores.’ Spinning round he pointed to one of the farthest from the actual shore in any direction. ‘There, number forty-seven seems a likely spot.’

That angered Pearce for it would make the task for his crew ten times as hard – loading when afloat was much harder – and for those doing the supplying it would be even worse. They would not be pleased to have to get a flat-bottomed hoy loaded with supplies out so far into the anchorage. There were none so spiteful for anything
that engendered effort as dockside labourers, and Pearce had heard too many tales of their ways of taking revenge on sailors to just let this pass. There was a very strong chance he would get meat long in the cask and closer to rotting than fresh, and that would be before he was supplied with short cables and poor canvas.

‘Please wait there a moment.’

‘Whatever for?’

That got him a held-up hand as Pearce disappeared into his cabin, a finger to his lips to induce silence and, despite his words to Dorling about secrecy, he took from a casement locker the red and gold Admiralty pennant. Back on deck he showed it to Pettigrew unfolded.

‘You will find me a dockside berth, sir, for if you do not your intransigence will be reported to the very Board itself and, if I have my way, to the King. In short, consider your career, sir, and if your superiors ask why you have been so kind as to advance my place in any queue you may tell them that you were overwhelmed by my charm. What you will not do, on pain of censure, is mention this pennant.’

There was a moment, in fact several, while Pettigrew calculated the loss of self-respect in acceding but his career won out and he nodded, though he spoke through pursed lips. ‘Word will be sent to you as soon as I have cleared a space.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant,’ Pearce replied, lifting his hat as the man spun and went over the side.

The loading, when it took place, was done with the ship tied head and stern using shore derricks and a long gangplank, that traversed by a veritable stream of willing
hands and every item checked aboard by Dorling. Pearce, having sent a couple of hands in a wherry over to HMS
York
, made his way to the Port Admiral’s offices to extract from Pay Office the wages due to his crew, which had not been forthcoming for months even on home service. He demanded their money as well as his own, all listed, submitted and signed for – though not without a series of laments from the Revenue Officer doling out the coin regarding the lack of available specie – to make what he insisted upon, a cash transfer. Pearce had declined to accept chits that local traders would take as a discount.

‘Have you any idea, sir, what it takes to get gold and silver enough sent down to pay the fleet?’

‘I do, sir; it is the need to find enough folk to transport it without they charge a fortune for the task.’

‘That sir, would be a fine contract to possess, one and one half of a per cent of the value of the specie carried.’

Pearce could not resist it; he leant forward and whispered, ‘Would you, sir, like a guaranteed way to be able to secure such a contract?’

‘I most certainly would.’

‘It’s easy,’ Pearce responded in a louder voice, ‘just grease well the palm of a man called Henry Dundas and it will be yours, for that is how those who presently make a killing get their payments.’ With that, his muster books and a bag of money, Pearce walked out, calling over his shoulder, ‘You’ll find the grasping wretch in Whitehall.’

When he returned to HMS
Larcher
it was to find an impatient Pettigrew harrying his crew and the dockies – he had a ship of the line and an irate post captain waiting for the berth. His ship lay very low in the water, so many
stores loaded that some meat barrels had to be lashed to the deck under tarpaulins, and still the last item, water, was being pumped into the ’tween decks where the carpenter, Kempshall, was filling and sealing barrels – given such a small vessel did not run to a dedicated cooper – while others in the crew struggled to move and stack such heavy receptacles.

Going halfway down the companionway Pearce called out, ‘Never mind that sod shouting at you on the dock, lads, take what time you need. I saw a man killed doing what we are about now and I do not want that repeated on this ship.’

Then he went to find the men he had sent on his errand, his heart lifting when they told him the result. Next it was to Dorling to get from him a list of those men it would be safe to let ashore. ‘With the caveat that I cannot afford to lose any to tardiness or an attempt to run.’

‘There are one or two I would not trust, sir, but I would hazard they are such lazy sods as to be no loss.’

‘I still need a boat crew.’

‘There’s enough men serving of a religious nature, your honour, who see Beelzebub as residing in such places as Portsmouth. They would not go ashore if offered, lest it was to a chapel.’

‘Then find me a pair.’

‘Word from my brother, sir, he reckons if we take on much more in the hold we’ll be supping sea water.’

‘Very well, Mr Kempshall, stop the pumps. Mr Dorling, I then want the men assembled for I have their pay.’

‘By the mark, Mr Pearce, that will lift them.’

Pearce pulled a face. ‘Since they are going ashore it is more likely to debauch them than lift them. The elevation will go to the whores of Portsmouth.’

‘Only some of them, sir,’ Dorling replied with a grin. ‘We ain’t owed that much pay.’

‘Then prepare to cast off,’ Pearce responded, before calling, ‘Buoy number, Mr Pettigrew?’

That had the lieutenant making an over-obsessive look full of worry at the board he had in his hand. The number that came back was twenty-four, which Pearce assumed was the closest one he had free to the shore. The lines were taken from the quayside bollards fore and aft, the gangway slipped onto the hard and sweeps used to open a gap before the boats took up the strain on the cable that, lashed to the stern of the cutter, towed the ship out to its buoy. This meant Michael could make an appearance, which he did to many a jibe about the way he had skipped the labours of the rest, by which it was time to pipe the crew to their dinner, food taken by Emily and Pearce in his cabin, with a couple of planks over his sea chest serving as a table.

‘We shall raise sail at first light, Emily, and then you can come on deck. I am sorry your confinement has been so long but I fear with my reputation there might be those come down to the shore to use a long glass to espy the ogre.’

‘It was not all arduous, John. I had Michael for company and he was most informative about you.’

That got her a wry smile. ‘I am not sure that you should be quite so curious as to ply people for facts about me, finding out for oneself is so much to be preferred.’

‘You would not say that if you had heard his paeans to your character.’

‘We are fond of each other and I suspect he over-praised.’

‘John, it is more than that. I do not think you know how much you have gained in respect for your never giving up in your fight for the rights of others and not just your own.’

‘A burden it would be good one day to put aside.’

‘I think you will never do that, for if you would scarce admit it, you have too much of your father in you.’

‘To hear you say that, were he here, would shock him. We used to argue a great deal about his notions of the way matters could be improved for the poor.’