Cut and Run: The Fourth Book in the Fighting Sail Series (36 page)

      
“I must caution you again, you know little of what you do,” Keats said, when Manning had left the room. The surgeon regarded Langlois seriously as he wiped his hands on some cotton waste. “Opium is a powerful drug. I concede that without its attributes, and your knowledge, Mr Nichols must surely have perished. But no good will come of such indulgence for pure pleasure; anyone foolish enough to think otherwise can only expect damaged countenance, poor constitution and an early death.”

      
“It is something I have heard before, doctor.”

      
“Then I am telling you again,” Keats continued. “It is a dangerous game that you play; one that will likely do you the ultimate harm.”

      
“Death is something that worries me little,” Langlois replied, equally sincere. He tapped his pocket, which was growing agreeably warm, and met the surgeon's gaze with equanimity. “Life offers few pleasures, and I am sadly denied one of the greatest; so you will pardon me if I take others where I may.”

* * *

      
“I wish to talk with your master,” Drayton told Luck, Rogers’s servant.

      
“I believe he is resting sir,” the man replied, with only the slightest hesitation.

      
“Perhaps you will ask?” It was in Drayton's mind to barge past and force his way into the room, but this interview was intended to settle matters, and that might not have been the ideal start.

      
Luck returned almost immediately, and Drayton noticed the look of relief on his face. “Very good, sir. Please to enter.”

      
The roundhouse cabin appeared very much as before, except for a small print of King George which was missing from the larboard bulkhead. Rogers was sitting at his desk, although he did not seem settled in any way; it was almost as if he had just placed himself there.

      
“Sir, we need to speak.”

      
Rogers regarded the man with moderate interest. “There seems little to say, but if you wish it so, then pray be seated.”

      
Drayton sat opposite, his body angled slightly in a manner that was intended to be non-confrontational.“Matters regarding this ship have yet to be consolidated,” he said. “There are still a number of points we must consider, and I hope to have these settled before we sight land.”

      
Rogers affected a look of unconcern. “I am no longer captain, sir, so am at a loss how they might affect me.”

      
Drayton nodded. “Very well. I asked to speak with you in private, but if you wish it, then I must communicate with the court of directors.”

      
There was no perceivable reaction from Rogers. Drayton continued. “A situation such as this does no one credit. I am certain the Company's wish will be to keep details as private as possible, and assume that you are of a similar mind.”

      
“Difficult to deprive a captain of his command and say naught about it,” Rogers mused, while examining his fingernails. “I'd chance that plenty of folk will be interested in the whys and wherefores.” The sudden smile was one of defiance, and Drayton felt his body tense slightly. But he was prepared for some degree of obstinacy, and careful to show no change in his expression.
 

      
“That is your prerogative, sir, if you so wish. Sure the newspapers will be only too pleased to make a cheap story; but you will not be seen well, that I can promise you.” Of course Drayton cared little how Rogers might be perceived; in the scale of things he was a complete nonentity. But the good name of the East India Company, the
Honourable
East India Company—that was of far greater concern.

      
The Company prospered, and men like him grew rich because of its reputation for sound business sense. A bad apple like Rogers could do incalculable harm to both the organisation and foreign trade in general. Public confidence would fall, and even those in government might take a slightly different view in future dealings. With Britain at war, a great deal of leniency was being extended to what was basically a private concern. Expansion in both India and China had been left very much to them and their armies. Closer inspection by civil servants could only cramp future developments and might even endanger the valuable monopoly that was the centre of the Company's wealth and its very
raison d'être
. And Drayton would be damned if Rogers endangered either.

      
The two men considered each other as poker players might when the stakes were rising uncomfortably high.

      
“I had considered my father to be husband of this ship,” Rogers said, taking an unexpected turn.

      
“Indeed, we agreed that you should be so told.”

      
“And why? Why was I deceived? Why must I find I cannot trust my own parent?”

      
Drayton could tell that Rogers was about to embark on a personal tirade of injustice and self-righteousness and quickly replied.

      
“Because he, in turn, felt that his son was not to be relied upon.”

      
There was another silence while this was considered, and Drayton felt that Rogers’s face had blanched slightly. “This might be better said by him,” he continued, straightening himself in his chair until he faced the man directly. “But since you have chosen to put me in such a position, I shall tell you myself. Suffice it to say that your father has reached the end of his tether as far as you and your care are concerned.”

      
There was no reaction, and Drayton continued.

      
“Though not exactly the closest of friends, we have been business associates for many years, and I have been very aware of the efforts he has made on your behalf.” Rogers’s stare remained constant. It was as if he were slightly disturbed by what was being said, yet too intrigued in the outcome to interrupt. Drayton was strangely reminded of his own reaction when his granddaughter began to tell outlandish stories about her younger brother.

      
“We will not list them now, but you have taken advantage of all his endeavours, yet repaid nothing. He confided in me that this ship, and the arrangements he made for your command, were to be the last.”

      
“I had it that
Pevensey Castle
was purchased on my behalf.”

      
“That was not the complete truth. Your father certainly invested in her, but there are other shareholders, apart from myself. I was unanimously voted her husband, and it was a condition of my associates’s involvement that I should accompany you on your first trip. It happened that I was due a visit to several factories, and…”

      
“So you are telling me that he lied?” Rogers interrupted. His face was alight with indignation, and he brushed Drayton's comments aside like an annoying fly.

      
“If you wish to take it that way,” Drayton replied simply. “Although I might guess that it is probably the only lie you have ever heard from him. Though not, I fear, the other way about.”

      
Drayton had long ago decided that Rogers was not the fastest of thinkers, but upwards of a minute went by before any reaction could be detected, apart from a blank stare that seemed to focus somewhere in the middle distance. Then the face cleared slightly, and a more genial look appeared.

      
“The ship is not taken,” Rogers said, as if registering the fact for the first time. “She is whole and intact, apart from a little dampness in the hold—the fault, I might add, of someone other than myself. We should make Gibraltar safely and ought to be restocked, re-victualled and ready to meet with the next southbound convoy within the month.”
 

      
A smile was forming, which Drayton purposefully did not meet as Rogers continued. “And we have acquired a valuable prize into the bargain!” The look now developed further, and his stare was fixed hard on Drayton in an endeavour to make it infectious. “In no time we could be turning turtles off Ascension.” His expression reached its zenith and Rogers was positively beaming. “Frankly, sir, I fail to comprehend the enormity of my crime.”

      
Drayton resisted both the look and the temptation to close his own eyes. There was little point in continuing; the man was clearly mad or disillusioned. In a moment he would be blaming someone else for surrendering, and doubtless bringing charges against those rash enough to spill their blood on his decks.

      
“Mr King saved your ship,” he said, with an air of finality. “The likelihood of the cargo remaining sound is small. We have yet to reach Gibraltar; if we do, it will be the task of the courts to decide the ownership of the
Espérance
. Should that occur, I hardly think your part in the recapture will make a very good impression.” He opened his mouth to say more, then closed it again, suddenly sick of an undertaking that he had feared would end in frustration. The silence hung between them once more, before Drayton spoke again, although the words were almost to himself. “It is indeed a pity,” he said, not bothering to meet Rogers’s eyes. “I was to suggest an amicable solution, one in which both parties might be satisfied.”

      
Another pause, then Rogers showed a flicker of interest. “How so, sir?” he asked.

      
It was Drayton's turn to examine his nails. This was a distasteful business, but he was determined to recover what was salvageable, even though any arrangement with this bumptious fool went against the grain of common decency.

      
“Mr Paterson is currently acting as captain. After we call at Gibraltar his position will be made permanent for the remainder of
Pevensey Castle
's voyage. I have already spoken with Mr Willis, who agrees that he is not yet ready for command and has expressed a wish for service in another vessel. I have given my assurance that his position within the Company will not be affected by this decision. Mr Nichols, should he be spared, and Mr Langlois will serve as chief and second mates, with Mr King eventually acting as third. Further officers can be recruited at Gibraltar.”

      
“Little appears to have missed your attention.” Rogers who had been watching in mute astonishment, stirred slightly. “I assume you have made similar provisions for myself; may I ask what they might be?”

      
“We continue with you, disabled from command due to injury. On arrival at Gibraltar you will resign as a captain in the East India Company's service on grounds of ill health. The injury to your eye should prove reason enough; it was acquired while on duty. There will be no public investigations or contact with the press on either side. You will relinquish any claim on income from the prize which, if granted by the court, shall become the ownership of the consortium that funded this venture.”

      
Rogers continued to stare at him, and for a moment Drayton wondered if he understood a word of what had been said. Then the cunning look returned, to be replaced almost immediately by a damp smile.

      
“Go on, sir,” he urged, sitting forward in his chair.
 

      
“There is little more to say.” Drayton met the expectant look with one left intentionally blank. “Obviously there are fine details to be addressed, but I think you have it in essence.”

      
Rogers’s eyebrows lowered. “But what benefit do I gain with such an arrangement?”

      
Drayton knew that the effort in keeping his countenance neutral would soon prove too much. The man was expecting an actual advantage from what he must surely understand to be the only available alternative to personal disaster.

      
“You retain your integrity, sir,” he said bluntly. “Or at least, that is how it will appear to most. What agreement you reach with your father is of your own concern, but the general public will view the matter simply as the recapture of a prize combined with the heroic taking of a privateer. It will be greatly regretted that the captain, sadly disabled by injury, was shortly afterwards forced to relinquish his command, but no more need be said. The honour, prestige and standing of all parties shall remain unsullied.”

      
Rogers continued to consider the proposition, his eyes unfocused and mouth slightly ajar. Then Drayton found himself the subject of his stare once more.

      
“Nothing more?” he asked. “I am to gain in no way?”

      
“You are being dealt with leniently, sir.” Drayton replied. “A gentleman should be pleased to escape so lightly.”

      
Strangely, Rogers appeared to find some sort of compliment in the remark. The confused expression relaxed, to be replaced by the same sickly smile. “Then it is an offer I am pleased to accept,” he said with a hint of victory, while his right hand rose gingerly to his face. “Indeed, I think it to be the better solution; in truth, my eye has been troubling me greatly of late.”

* * *

      
They made poor progress. By the morning of the second day the coast of Portugal still lay some distance beyond the horizon and was likely to remain so for a good while.
Pevensey Castle
was barely making steerage way as she beat against the weather. The wind turned contrary almost from the start, forcing them to tack and tack again to claim any degree of easterly progress. It was an exhausting business, and men made weary by recent events grew tetchy and quarrelsome. A respite, one small piece of good news, or even the promise of better to come was sorely needed, and it was later that same morning when providence provided and Nichols began to rally.