The Rape of Venice (23 page)

‘What happened?' Roger snapped out the question. ‘Did he go back on his agreement with you? If so, I'll wring his neck and throw him overboard.'

‘Be careful!' she whispered. ‘Keep your voice low or someone will overhear us. No; he did not attempt to break his word. On the first night he could not have, even if he had had a mind to. After we had dined with the Marais he became drunk as a hog and was incapable of even undressing himself.'

‘You must blame me for that,' Roger murmired. ‘I feared that the excitement of having you to himself in a bedroom for
the first time might prove too much for him; so I laced his drink at the reception. After that it was odds on that, unless he stuck to water with his dinner, more wine would bowl him over.'

‘Then I'm grateful to you. It saved me during the first night from anything more unpleasant than his being sick on the floor, then snoring till morning like a grampus!'

‘But what of the second?'

‘I have survived it, so I beg you not to worry; but it was a hideous experience. He maintained, fairly I suppose, that my bargain with him that we should not consummate our marriage for a year did not debar him from kissing me, and taking other liberties. I submitted for a while with the best grace that I could, then evaded his further unpleasant attentions by pretending I had the vapours. But it is his habits I find so repulsive. He slobbers, belches and-conceals nothing of himself, maintaining that a husband and wife when alone should be natural with one another.'

‘Clarissa! This cannot be allowed to continue.' Roger's blue eyes had gone a shade darker than usual, and his finger nails were digging into the palms of his hands. ‘I feel such shame for this business as I have never felt before in my whole life. How we ever allowed ourselves to get into such a ghastly tangle, I cannot think.'

‘It is my fault. I should never have pursued you onto the
Minerva?

‘In the first place, yes. But I am the man of the party, and am supposed to have some brains. I should never have let matters come to this.'

‘You could not help it. You offered to marry me before we landed in Cape Town. You could not have done more.'

‘I could have disclosed the truth to Winters, then sworn to cut his gizzard out if he breathed one word of it. Had he known your reason for accepting him he would have backed out of his engagement. I wish to God I'd thought of that.'

‘Well, as you didn't, I've made my bed and must lie on it.'

‘No! There's a way out yet. It's not too late for us to land again in Cape Town. I'll see Captain Finch and pay him what ever he asks to have a boat lowered to take us back there.'

‘Roger, no! That would indeed be madness. I am Mrs. Winters now. The scandal you have so long sought to avoid would be ten times as great as if we had been discovered as lovers before my marriage. It would stink to high heavens, and
we'd never live it down. Should you do as you suggest, I'll refuse to come with you. For me the worst is already over. I'll not have to share a double bed with him again. Things will be easier for me now we'll occupy a cabin and sleep in separate bunks. I warn you, I won't come, I swear it.'

At that moment Winters came waddling up to them, bringing an abrupt end to their private conversation.

After a few days, life on shipboard settled down to normal. Clarissa's old admirers soon got over the shock they had sustained by their divinity's strange choice of a husband, and once more clustered around, discreetly flirting with her as they would have with any other pretty young married woman. Winters looked on, beaming with self-satisfaction and the pride of ownership. Roger, too, frequently joined the group. Previously he had been ultra cautious from fear that an unguarded word or glance might arouse suspicions that he and Clarissa had some secret understanding; but now she was just married such an idea would have been so preposterous that he felt it safe to spend much more time in her company.

Having rounded the Cape, the
Minerva
spent close on a fortnight beating up the east coast of Africa and through the Mozambique Channel. After clearing the northern tip of Madagascar she altered course to north-east, in order to pick up the favourable south-west winds that would carry her in the direction of Ceylon; but now, for the first time during the voyage, she met with really rough weather.

For two days she battled against a heavy cross-sea. The buffet of each great wave made her shudder from stem to stern, and she rolled atrociously so that any article left unsecured, even for a few moments, fell and smashed, or was flung across the cabins. At times there were downpours of torrential rain, which blotted out from view the other heaving ships in the convoy. Captain Finch took charge himself and was almost permanently up on the poop. The food at his table deteriorated sadly to snacks of cold meat and ship's biscuits, for those who could still keep food down.

Roger was not among them. Quite early in the storm, seasickness overcame him and for the next few days he lay wretchedly ill in his bunk. On the second day most of the passengers, including Winters, who had stuck out the first night also succumbed. Clarissa was one of the few who remained unaffected. She was something more than a splendid sailor, she actually enjoyed a storm at sea. During a hurricane
on the way to the West Indies, she had had herself lashed to a stanchion on deck, so that she could feel the wind tearing at her hair and the rain driving into her face. Now, she staggered from cabin to cabin, doing what she could to look after her husband, Roger, the Beaumonts, the Armitages and one of the sailors who had missed his footing on a ladder, fallen and broken his leg.

It was on the third day that tragedy overtook them. In mid-morning a sudden squall, more violent than any they had yet encountered, snapped off the main top-gallant and it came crashing down on the poop. By the most evil chance it smashed in the left side of the Wheel House, demolishing the wheel, injuring the Quartermaster and killing Captain Finch. Thus, at one stroke, the ship was put temporarily out of control and deprived of her most capable officer.

Immediately, she began to veer round sideways on to the great white-crested waves. It was the watch of the First Mate, Mr Evans. In a gallant attempt to save the situation he ran towards the emergency steering wheel at the stern of the vessel. For many hours no one had been able to move about the deck without using a succession of hand-holds. Evans paid the penalty of his rashness. He was flung off his feet and fractured his skull against a chicken coop.

The Third Mate then took charge. Having sent another Quartermaster to the stern, he had all hands piped on deck and ordered the taking in of the remaining sails with which the ship had been fighting the storm. But by now the
Minerva
had swung right round; the sails went slack then suddenly billowed out again with reports like cannon. Two of them were rent from top to bottom and their canvas flapped wildly on either side like streaming banners in the howling wind.

A moment later there came an awful rending sound. The foremast had snapped off low down. It fell across the fo'c's'le, its yards, spars and rigging forming an incredible tangle, and killing or injuring another half-dozen sailors.

A part of the crew managed to haul in the mainsail, while the rest strove to clear the fallen mast. Its upper part dragged in the water, giving the ship a terrifying list to port; but the troops were called up to help. Under the direction of the Second Mate, Mr. Garner, who had now come on deck, and the boatswain, a hundred desperate hands wielding axes, cutlasses and knives managed to hack through scores of ropes.
The huge broken column of timber slid overboard and the ship righted herself.

She was now running before the storm under bare, broken masts, and soon all the other ships in the convoy were lost to view. Her emergency wheel in the stern was manned, but no use could be made of it until the storm lessened and it was safe to attempt to turn her back onto her course by hoisting sail again. There were now a dozen casualties in the sick-bay and wreckage still littered all the fore part of the deck. During the afternoon it was gradually cleared, but the tempest showed no sign of abating and the weighty foretop had stove in the port side of the fo'c's'le. From time to time waves broke over the bow and the water rushed down the gaping hole, rendering the crew's quarters untenable, and necessitating the manning of the pumps.

That night Mr. Garner, who was now acting Commander, told the army officers and the few civilian passengers who were not helpless in their cabins from seasickness, that the position was dangerous but not desperate. The ship was being driven at great speed north-westwards, back towards the coast of Africa, but it was still several hundred miles distant, so there was no risk of her being driven ashore. Efforts to get a sail over the wrecked section of the fo'c's'le had failed, so water was gaining in the fore hold, but not to an alarming degree. He had hopes that the storm would have blown itself out by morning, and, if so, all would be well.

But as the hours wore on, it increased in fury. All through the night the helpless ship was rushed up mountainous waves to crash through their tops and come slithering down into seemingly bottomless gulfs. Each time she breasted one its spume hissed through her rigging, and now and then a following sea curled right up over her poop to come cascading down into her well, filling it for some moments waist high with water. Her timbers groaned, her rigging screamed, the hundreds of tons of water hit her decks with a boom like thunder. It seemed to all the passengers, and the wretched troops crowded vomiting on the lower deck, that every time the ship plunged downward would be the last, and that she could not possibly survive till morning.

Yet, when morning came, she was still afloat and the tempest had perceptibly moderated. The waves were no longer white-crested; a heavy swell now made them look like vast rolling downs, with a blue-green glassy surface; the wind had ceased
to tear wildly at severed ropes and the remnants of torn sails. But things were far from well with the
Minerva
.

During the night she had shipped a great deal of water, three of her boats had been stove in and some of her cargo had shifted. She was much lower in the water than she should have been, again had a list to port, and was down at the head. All through the forenoon, relays of men worked frantically at the pumps while others laboured feverishly lashing together gratings and spars to form rafts. Despite all efforts, the level of the water in the holds rose steadily.

The officers came to the conclusion that the cargo which had come adrift must have struck the ship's side with such force that she had sprung a leak, but the water had now risen in the holds to a height that made it impossible for the carpenters to get at the seat of the trouble.

It was shortly after one o'clock that the
Minerva
gave a sudden lurch. More of the cargo had shifted, and increased her list to port by several degrees. Mr. Garner realised that the position was now critical and that with little warning she might dive bows first to the bottom. Calling his officers together, he told them to pass the word that he intended shortly to give the order to abandon ship.

When Clarissa heard the news, she was with the Captain's cook collecting packets of cold meat and biscuits to take down to her invalids who, with the abating of the tempest, were beginning to show signs of recovery. Stuffing all the packets of food into the capacious pockets of her cape, she ran along to Roger's cabin. Throwing open the door, she cried:

‘Get up! Get your clothes on! The ship may go down at any moment!'

Roger tumbled from his bunk, staggered slightly owing to weakness from his three days of sickness, then pulled himself together and muttered: ‘So it's come to that, eh? Last night I would have been pleased rather than otherwise at the idea of being swiftly carried down to Davy Jones's Locker. But now I feel better, I've no mind for a watery grave. How is Winters showing in this emergency?'

‘He's been near as ill as you,' she replied quickly. ‘I haven't told him yet, and I've no need to. The stewards are knocking on every cabin door warning people to get ready. Whatever may betide I'll not now risk being separated from you for a moment.'

‘I'll not let you be until I've got you into a boat. With Captain
Finch gone there may be panic and fighting up on deck. Mr. Cruishank told me that with troops aboard there are never enough boats to take off everybody. The ships haven't the space to carry them.'

‘Three have been smashed by the waves last night; but the men have been making rafts this morning.'

‘It takes a lot of rafts to make up for a boat. Unless the discipline proves better than one can expect, there will be a horrible scrimmage for a chance of survival. As a woman you are entitled to a first place in a boat; but if there is a panic the rush may deprive you of it.'

‘In any case, I'd not take it unless you could come with me.'

Roger shrugged. ‘There are few women aboard; so I'd have as much right to a place beside you as any other man. But in such circumstances, boats are liable to become dangerously overcrowded. I believe we'd stand a better chance on a raft, especially if we could get one to ourselves.'

‘I'll do whatever you think best; but hurry! Hurry!'

He had been swiftly pulling his clothes on. Having buckled on his sword, he snatched his pistols from a drawer and thrust them into the pockets of his coat. As he did so he muttered, ‘At least, being in tropical waters we'll be in no danger from the cold.' But, all the same, he swung his heavy cloak round his shoulders. Quickly, he collected all his papers, put them into a large waterproof wallet made of fish-skin, with which he travelled in case of emergencies, and strapped it round his waist. Lastly he grabbed a flask of cognac, and another of powder for his pistols; then they ran from the cabin and up to the upper deck.