The Gathering Storm (25 page)

'I cannot keep her head up!' One of the men at the wheel,
desperately.

A long, shuddering moment, and slowly the ship righted
herself.

'Sir! We must get those guns overboard!' James, gripping
Rennie's arm.

'Take your traitor's hands off, you damned scoundrel!'

James glanced around, saw only the four men gripping
the wheel – all concentrated wholly on keeping the ship's
head to the wind – and made his decision. He sucked in a
breath, swung his fist and knocked Rennie unconscious. As
Rennie collapsed, James caught him, lifted him on his
shoulder and carried him below. Rennie was a spare man,
not heavy to carry, but in the conditions James had great
trouble in getting him down to the great cabin.

Rennie's steward Colley Cutton helped to get the captain
into his sleeping cabin.

'He has fainted on deck,' James said. 'Thank God I was
there to break his fall, else he would have been swept overboard.'

'Fainted, sir?' Anxiously.

'Yes, the captain was not himself. He – he talked very
quick, and then his eyes rolled up in his head. Hold the cot
at the corner, while I get him ... that's it, thankee.' James
heaved the limp form into the hanging cot, then: 'How long
had he been intemperate in his language?'

'Intemp ... ah yes, I see, sir. Loud and daft. Well, since
ever he rose out of his bed, I should say. It's them headaches
which makes him strange, but he will not lie still when they
comes on. He must get up and drink tea with a splash of
rum to lift hisself.'

'You gave him rum?'

'He demanded rum, sir.'

'But that is the worst possible thing for a severe headache.'
Thinking that he should not have struck Rennie, after all.
Was not
that
the worst possible thing?

'Hit ain't for me to tell him that, sir. I do as I am told.'
Holding the cot as the ship rolled.

'Surely Dr Wing has forbidden him rum?'

'Dr Wing ain't his steward, sir. He ain't here when such
demands is made. Alls I can do—'

'Yes yes, very well, Cutton, thank you. I will say a word
to Dr Wing myself.' And he left the steward to attend to
Rennie, and hurried on deck to begin the arduous and
dangerous task of jettisoning the great guns. As soon as
he came on deck he heard a cry, whipped thin by the
blasting air:

'Starboard number three gun loose on de-e-e-ck!'

A rending, grinding sound forrard, and a thudding crash.
James felt the deck timbers shake under him. Another cry,
high and terrified:

'The gun is sending across the de-e-e-ck!'

Rumbling, then a further thud, and a horrible scream.

The ship yawed as she rode down the slope of a tremendous
sea. Spray flung in a drenching sheet across the fo'c's'le,
and foam seethed along the larboard rail. James lurched
forward, clinging to the lifeline. As the ship came up on
the rise of the next sea, further rumbling and grinding, a
further thudding shock. Another scream, tailing off into
nothing.

'Mr Tangible!' bawled James. 'Roman Tangible! Gun loose
in the fo'c's'le!'

James fought his way through a thunder of sea along the
gangway, and reached the fo'c's'le.

A man lay sprawled just aft of the fo'c's'le, half-submerged
in a draining flood of water, his left leg twisted and broken.
Blood leaked into the rinsing water, and the man's body slid
and nudged against the forehatch coaming. Beyond him in
the fo'c's'le the number three gun, trailing rope, lay at an
angle against the broken gunport, the breeching bolts
wrenched clear of the ship's side. The Brodie stove, long
since cold, had been struck by the loose gun, and the felled
man caught there as he tried to clap on to loose tackle. It
was nearly dark in the fo'c's'le, and James could hear the
terrified bleating of beasts in the manger forrard. He ran to
the felled man, and saw that he was dead. His chest had been
crushed.

The ship lurched to larboard, the gun lurched with it, the
trucks squealing, and abruptly plunged away from the gunport,
diagonally across the deck, directly toward James. He had a
split second to leap clear, and the gun smashed into the waist
ladder, and splintered it.

'Roman Tangible!'

'I am here, sir!' A breathless voice.

'Thank God. Party of men, Mr Tangible, to secure the
loose gun.'

'Aye, sir.'

'Bring hammocks! Hammocks to choke the trucks!'

James kept well clear of the gun, knowing that at any
moment it could again hurtle across the deck, and crush out
his life.

The boatswain returned with a party of four men, and
half a dozen hammocks.

'Four men ain't enough, we need—'

'Four men is all I could muster, sir.' Over James. 'There's
more men injured below, and these is all I have.'

'Very well. We must make do. Now then, lads! On the
next rise, when the gun runs away from us, we must follow!'

'Follow a loose gun, sir?' Mr Tangible, aghast.

'I saw this same thing my first commission. The only way
we could secure the damned thing was to choke the trucks
with hammocks, then haul on the tackles and lash the gun
fore and aft to the side. We must do the same—'

'Look out, sir! It is running wild again!'

Again James had to leap clear as the gun lumbered, not back
the way it had come, but slewing in a semicircle, and plunged
laterally, smacking against the hatch coaming, and spinning
heavily away.

'Christ Jesu ...' Roman Tangible. 'We must send ropes
over it, somehow.'

'Nay, the hammocks will answer!' Seizing two hammocks.
'Follow me!'

It was only after the rogue gun had been secured – braked
and choked off by hammocks under the trucks, and hauled
and lashed up alongside the gunport, a further five men
having been summoned from the hold to aid the original
four – that James saw the futility of his plan to jettison all
of the great guns. He had not the means to do it. The emergency
crew that had secured one loose gun were now urgently
dispersed. Five had returned to the hold, the other four to
the pumps. To heave guns overboard efficiently required
careful assembling of tackles and men, and he had neither.
He was even more short-handed than before the storm. Men
had broken bones falling, men were seasick, and there could
be no proper system of watches, now.

The position was desperate.

Pacing on the water-blown, wind-lashed deck, clinging to
the lifeline, he had to make the most terrible decision. He
could keep the ship's head to the wind, and continue to defy
the storm. Or he could bring the ship about, and attempt
to run before the wind. Either way he risked everything.

Lifting his head, half-blinded by flying spray, he saw his
purpose:

'Reefed forecourse, and reefed driver. And we may by the
merest glimmer of providence survive this night.'

Turning his head from the blasts of wind and water, sucking
a breath:

'Mr Ta-a-angible! Stand by to go about! Hands to make
sa-a-ail!'

Presently the call, snatched at and made ghostly by the
storm, and a handful of able men answered.

Half a glass, and moments of pure terror as the ship wore,
heeling and heeling, the sea boiling up round her stern,
seething up along her side. Her masts tipped, as if like falling
trees, everything creaking and groaning and grinding, cables
and ropes dangling, a block swinging wild, and at last she
lifted herself, wallowed and wallowed and lifted herself ...
and was running free.

Mr Tangible, clinging to the rail at James's side:

'Oh Christ's love, sir ... oh by God, I thought we was
done ...'

Another half-glass, and Bernard Loftus on deck. 'We have
secured most of the casks, I believe. And the pumps are
holding at four foot and a half.'

'They have gained, then? That is well ... that is well ...
thankee, Bernard.' Glancing about. 'Where is Mr Abey ... ?'

'I could not say – I have been below all the time.'

'Take the con, will you? I must go below and see the
captain.'

James went below, and found Rennie awake.

'Who is that? Where the devil is my steward? Cutton!'

'He is fetching you some tea, sir.'

'James? By God, I could not see who it was. Why are we
not beating west, into the storm? We are running before,
now, ain't we? What has happened?'

'Yes, sir, we are running before. You fainted on deck, sir,
and were carried below. It was my judgement that—'

'Your judgement? You ordered the ship about?' Frowning
at him.

'I did, sir, yes. Else we should have foundered. The—'

'Foundered? What fucking nonsense is this! I gave no such
order! Ohh ...' Clutching his head.

'A gun broke loose in the fo'c's'le, sir. It was touch and
go before we could secure it. Casks had broke loose in the
hold at the same time, and the pumps were unable to gain
against the leak.' All very quickly and forcefully, before
Rennie could interject again.

'Loose gun? Leaks? Why was I ... why was I not kept
informed? Ohh ...' Rubbing his head.

'We have survived, sir. The storm continues, but the immediate
danger has passed, and we are no longer in dire peril.'
Firmly.

'Well well – I do not like it.' Swinging his legs to the
deck, and lurching. James took his arm and aided him to
keep his feet as the ship rolled heavily, yawing as she righted
herself.

'Kindly don't attempt to coddle me, so y'may soften me
toward your conduct.' Pushing James away, and immediately
falling down. James helped him up on his legs. 'Did not ye
hear me!' Again angrily pushing James away. 'We are heading
east, direct for France, when we should be westing!'

'In fact not due east for France. We are running before
the wind, nor'-east and a point east – sir.'

'D'y'mean to contradict me, sir? Hey!' Glaring, his face
deathly pale.

'In course I do not wish it. I merely—'

'Then why d'you talk over me, like a damned impudent
middy that has took too much wine!' Clutching at his hanging
cot, and wincing as his head gave him further pain.

'I am very sorry, sir.' Stiffly.

'You ain't, though, by God. I see it in your eye, and in
the cast of your mouth, too. You wish that I had not woke
and found you out. That is what you wish, sir. Well well, I
have woke, and I have found you out. Who has the deck?
Mr Abey?'

'No, sir. Bernard Loftus. I do not know where Mr Abey
is, at present. I have not seen—'

'Ah, yes. Yes, I sent him below when I came on deck
myself. He was not fit for duty.'

'Not fit, sir?'

'Do you wish to contradict me again, damn you! I will go
on deck, and we will go about. The ship will go about, and
beat west.' Staggering as the ship rolled and pitched.

'Are you quite well enough, sir?' James, in near despair.
He could not strike his captain again, for fear of causing him
severe injury. As it was, he had been guilty of a mutinous
act, an act punishable by death – should he have been discovered
in it. How could he prevent Rennie from going on
deck and undoing all the healing work that had lately saved
the ship?

'What d'y'mean, am I well enough?' Rennie peered closely
at James. His breath was stale, James noticed. 'And when
you say I fainted on deck, what d'y'mean by that? Hey?'

'I was obliged to carry you below, sir.'

'Because I fainted?'

'Indeed.'

'How did I faint, exact? Did I slip from consciousness
very sudden, like a scullery maid with the vapours? Or did
I groan, stagger, and so forth, and then slump down slow?
Which?'

'You went down very sudden. I caught you, and carried
you below – sir.' Affecting indignation now. 'I thought I was
doing right, aiding a fellow sea officer.'

'Fellow sea officer!' A huff of stale breath. 'You are merely
a lieutenant, sir. I am a senior post.'

'Indeed.' Icily polite.

'And I think that I did not "faint", as you are pleased to
describe it. I think I was
felled
.'

'I do not understand you, sir.'

'Don't ye? Don't ye?' Glowering. 'Well well.' A near-contemptuous
sniff. 'If I thought for one instant that you
had allowed a falling block to strike me, or some other loose
object flying about the deck, and then had pretended—'

'Ship's lights ahe-e-e-ad! Two points to starbo-o-o-ard!'

A cry from the deck.

Both Rennie and James ran on deck, all differences
forgotten. As they came up into the rushing air and flying
spray of the storm they saw the lights, very near on the starboard
bow.

'Starboard your helm! Hard over!' bellowed Rennie at
once. Running aft to the wheel. 'Starboard your helm, d'y'-hear
me!'

Four strong men at the wheel, and the ship answered as
the wheel was spun, heeling and yawing as the lights ahead
ran closer and closer, and became in the glimmering darkness
a looming shape – the shape of the French frigate,
beating into the teeth of the wind, and clearing
Expedient
with only a few feet to spare.

'By Christ, the bugger has chased me right into the heart
of the storm!' Rennie, astonished. Recovering, and growing
fierce as he stared after the retreating lights in the blackness:
'So he really does intend to smash and destroy me,
does he, God damn his soul! I will show him what that
entails, the fucking blackguard! I will catch him by the arse,
and blast him to Kingdom Come! –
Stand by to go about!
'

The only thing James could do was clap on to a stay and
stand appalled as the command was obeyed, and all his work
of bringing the ship to a safe course, and the greater probability
of survival, was dashed to pieces.

'God help us. God help us all.' As the sea battered the
turning bow, surged over the lee rail, and swept aft in a
swirling flood.

*

Within moments of going about
Expedient
fell on board the
French frigate. That ship had also begun to turn in pursuit,
and the two commanders, intent on destroying each other,
thus nearly achieved their design without firing a shot.

Expedient
struck the French frigate amidships on the starboard
side. A heavy, grinding crash and shudder, and
Expedient
's bowsprit speared at an angle across the French
ship's waist. Her cutwater smashed into the wales and
gunports. Shards of timber splintered away and dropped
into the boiling sea. Netting hung torn. Both ships lost
momentum and began to be carried by the wind and waves
nor'-east with the storm. The French frigate had been weakened
by the shock of the collision, and had sprung serious
leaks below. Her light, lean lines were ill-constructed to withstand
such a thudding impact.
Expedient
– oak-built at
Chatham – was a sturdier, stouter sea boat, and she withstood
the concussion better, but not unscathed. Already
damaged and limping before the storm, she was now in mortal
danger. Both ships would founder if they did not extricate
themselves from this awkward, tangled embrace. Already the
French frigate was swinging beam on to the full fury of
the storm, and as she was brought to the full peril of this
condition she would likely – if she foundered – drag down
Expedient
by the head.

This did not happen.

The force of the wind swung the French frigate with such
surging power that
Expedient
began to be carried astern, and
this movement caused her to wrench clear. She lost her spritsail
yard, her figurehead and her boomkins, and her hawse
holes were torn open on the starboard side. A great part of
her beak and her cutwater were severely mauled. But she
was free.

Expedient
staggered away, staggered into a fortuitous
wearing movement, pitching and sluggish, and Rennie and
Hayter – gifted a moment of pure good fortune – bellowed
instructions fore and aft, and succeeded in making chance
into deliberate action.
Expedient
wore, and again ran before
the wind. Astern of her the French frigate lay wallowing and
crippled, beam on to tremendous seas. Within a few moments
she disappeared in the darkness, and
Expedient
was again
alone in the storm. A last, desperate wail came from far
astern, borne on the rushing air.

'They are calling for help, sir.' James, cupping his hand
to his mouth.

'I hear nothing.' Rennie, turning his face to the wind,
beads of water flying from his cloak.

'They will founder ...'

'There is nothing can be done for them, Mr Hayter. We
must save ourselves, now.'

'Aye, sir.' And to himself: 'Thank God, thank God.'

'Five foot of water in the well, sir!' Bernard Loftus, ducking
his head as he came on deck to make his report. 'I do not
reckon the pumps can keep up! She has sprung a further
leak forrard with the force of the impact, and she is by the
head!'

'The pumps must keep up, Mr Loftus! The pumps will
keep up! We will all stand our turn, every man that is on his
legs! Half a glass each man, Mr Hayter, turn and turn about!
You will go with Mr Loftus and take your turn immediate!
Both of you! Jump!'

Neither man thought to object or bridle at this instruction.
To tell an officer to jump was a fundamental breach of
sea etiquette, but etiquette was not the question now. The
question – pounding and echoing in every man's head – was:
'Will I survive? God's love, will I live through this night?'

Hours of frantic, exhausting toil at the pumps, and below
in the hold Mr Adgett and a small crew did their utmost
to plug and caulk and seal. The water in the well rose to
six foot, six foot and a half – and then slowly began to fall.
Expedient
was deeply by the head, dangerously so as the
following sea lifted her stern and pushed her damaged bow
below the surface. She was sluggish in answering the helm,
but she was alive. And slowly as the pumps gained, the
storm drained itself of all its ferocity and strength, and blew
itself out.

At dawn the sea was a rolling grey wilderness, but it was
no longer gale-whipped and terrifying. The grey sky, low
overhead, added nothing of cheer to the scene, but in least
there were no flashes of lightning, no crashing broadsides
of thunder. Cloud scudded and roiled over the heaving dulled
sheen of the sea.
Expedient
dipped and sluggishly rose under
triple-reefed topsails, and ran on.

On the quarterdeck a pale, unshaven Rennie glanced aloft,
then turned and stared at the riding sea astern. Presently:

'We can bring her home, now. She will swim to England,
now.'

James wiped his sleeve over his forehead and face. Scarcely
above a whisper:

'Aye, sir. Home again.'

Three long and difficult days and nights followed, the pumps
clanking and sluicing by the hour, and bone-weary men
growing so exhausted they fell down stupefied and numb,
and had to be carried below to Dr Wing. The lighter wind
continued, and on the morning of the fourth day
Expedient
sighted the Isle of Wight. She rounded the Foreland and
sailed into Spithead just after noon. Rennie made his signals
but ignored the responding signalled instruction to take up
a mooring number. Instead he sailed right on into the harbour
and the dockyard, fearful that if he remained far out at
Spithead his ship would sink under him.

He was fortunate in that the tide was favourable, a dry
dock was available – a seventy-four having just been released
into the Great Basin – and
Expedient
was floated in, was
secured, and the work of dismantling her rigging begun. Sick
and injured men were sent over to Gosport and the Haslar
Hospital in boats. The remainder – the pitiful remainder –
of the people went ashore. Captain Rennie and Lieutenant
Hayter made their way to the port admiral's office to make
their duty to him, and finding him absent repaired to the
Marine Hotel in the late afternoon.