Winds of Folly (8 page)

He clapped his eye to the glass and pretended to be observing the French positions above the town. But despite the rigidity of his stance and the gravity of the military situation, his mind remained very much preoccupied with the problem of his new charges. He watched covertly as they came aboard – were helped aboard, in fact, by an outrageous number of the ship's company, far more than was needed to bring seven fit and healthy young women up a quarter-ladder. But they were a comely crew; there was no getting away from it. A vision in satin and lace. He closed his glass with a sigh. He supposed he must be civil. After all, she was the
Commodore's particular friend and they had dined at the same table.

‘Signora Correglia,' he enthused, making an elegant bow. ‘Welcome aboard. Delighted to be of service.'

She smiled and gave him her hand, but her eye, he noted, was cold. He had, after all, kept her bobbing about in a small boat for the best part of half an hour.

‘I am so sorry to have kept you waiting,' he babbled, ‘but as you can imagine, there were certain arrangements to be made. We were not prepared for such … that is, for female company.' He was blushing himself now, for the female company was making the most of the effect it was having on its exclusively male audience. ‘However, I have made my own cabin available and I trust you will be comfortable there until … until other arrangements can be made for you. My steward will show you below.'

But Signora Correglia apparently had no desire to be shown below. She and her companions distributed themselves about the quarterdeck like visiting royalty, supervising the disposal of their baggage and conversing animatedly with each other in the local dialect.

‘This is intolerable,' Nathan informed the midshipman from
Inconstant
. ‘You would think they are embarked upon a pleasure cruise.'

He was further incensed by the amount of baggage they had brought with them. Not only a remarkable number of personal items but a great deal of household furnishings including some Turkish rugs, an extraordinary number of velvet drapes and cushions, several songbirds in elaborate cages and a parrot. And a large unwieldy crate which he was informed by the midshipman contained Signora Correglia's virginal.

He made another attempt to engage the woman in debate. ‘This is a ship-of-war, Signora,' he insisted. ‘We might be called
upon to fight an action at any time. I beg you to take your party below.'

She rewarded him with another of her dazzling smiles before turning back to her companions. Nathan recalled that on their previous encounters she appeared to have very little command of the English language. He tried again in French, even in what little he knew of Genovese, and finally managed to convey his desire that the ladies should remove themselves from the quarterdeck so he could get on with fighting a war.

They were led below by his steward, Gilbert Gabriel, who showed every appearance of complacency at this new responsibility. After a few minutes he was back.

‘They are asking if I can move out the guns, sir,' he reported with as straight a face as he could muster, ‘to make more room for their duds.'

Nathan did not dignify this request with a reply.

‘And what about your cot, sir? Shall I have that moved out, or will you be joining them later?'

Nathan rewarded him with an icy glare but Gabriel had been his father's servant before him and had known him when he was in skirts. The man was impervious to anything short of a kick up the arse, which was not to be undertaken lightly. He had been a highwayman in his youth and retained the murderous demeanour that had proved so useful in his former occupation. He was widely known – with that flair for irony not uncommon on the lower deck of a British ship-of-war – as the Angel Gabriel.

‘You may leave the cot where it is,' Nathan informed him. ‘They will be moving out before nightfall.'

Nathan was already regretting his hasty instruction to have them quartered, even temporarily, in his own cabin. He hoped rumour would not spread about the fleet that he had turned it into a bawdy house and set himself up as the Madam.

But as he had informed the purser, there were more urgent matters to consider. He returned his attention to the harbour. The
Inconstant
was standing out to sea, bringing the last of the transports with her, and as they cleared the harbour entrance a squadron of French cavalry galloped on to the mole.

‘Putting on a show for us,' Nathan murmured to the first lieutenant, for he thought he was right in assuming that the French wanted only to be rid of the vipers and parasites, as they described them in their press, who were draining the lifeblood of Italy. But the cavalry were clearly intent on putting on more than a show. It soon became clear that their target was the battery on the edge of the mole, and the Grand Duke's soldiers had no intention of contesting it with them.

The guns must already have been loaded and ready, for within a very short space of time they were firing on the departing transport and its escort. Firing wild, fortunately, for being cavalry they were no great shakes as artillerymen. But they had plenty of targets to practise upon and the approaches to Leghorn suddenly became a very uncomfortable place to be. Nathan spent the next hour or so shepherding his charges further out to sea under a barrage of gunfire.

And there were more problems on the horizon, for the surviving privateers had been joined by several newcomers and there were more sails reported to the north-west. Though they kept their distance for the moment, Nathan had little doubt they would resume their attack at the first opportunity.

Help, however, was at hand. The sails to the north-west turned out to be
Captain
and
Meleager
, bringing
Bonne Aventure
and the
Unicorn
's three prizes with them. Nathan now had high hopes not only of defending the convoy but of transferring his other charges to the more commodious quarters of the flagship. But they were soon dashed. A succession of signals informed him that Nelson intended to remain off
Leghorn with
Captain
and
Bonne Aventure
while the three frigates escorted the convoy to San Fiorenzo.

Nathan began to give some thought to his personal predicament. With the wind remaining fickle, they could hardly hope to reach Corsica much before tomorrow sunset. Which raised the question of where he was to spend the night.

He sent for the purser.

‘Well, Mr McIvor, have you solved the problem?' he quizzed him with false bonhomie.

‘The problem, sir?'

‘Of the … of where to put our passengers.'

‘But you said to put them in your cabin, sir.'

‘I did, sir. For the time being. But I seem to remember expressing the wish that you find them alternative accommodation as soon as possible.' He was not sure if this was true and McIvor, judging from his expression, was certain it was not.

‘Well, as to that, sir, I am not sure there
is
any alternative accommodation.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, McIvor.'

‘Not lest we turn out the officers, sir, and give them the gunroom. Unless you wish them to berth with the hands.'

‘What about the orlop deck?'

‘You would berth them in the orlop, sir?'

McIvor might very well query it, for the orlop deck was below the waterline, a notoriously dank, airless pit where the ship's stores were kept – and the livestock – and any prisoners when they had them. And of course being closer to the bilges it smelled worse than the rest of the ship – and was a great place for rats.

‘It is not for long,' Nathan persisted, closing his ears to his conscience. ‘Just one night. And I am sure you can make it comfortable for them. Hang a few lanterns.'

‘And I suppose I am to give them hammocks to sleep in.'

‘Well, what else are they to sleep in? Damn it, man, this is a ship-of-war, not a bordello.'

And who has made it so? McIvor did not say this to his Captain's face but his expression conveyed this sentiment at least as eloquently, and he probably muttered it to himself as he left the quarterdeck, shaking his head.

Only to return a little later to report, not without satisfaction, that ‘the ladies' had spurned his offer of alternative accommodation and were intent on staying where they were for the duration of the voyage.

‘But have you not explained that it is the Captain's quarters,' Nathan demanded indignantly, ‘and that …' He sought for a convincing reason to maintain it for his exclusive use. ‘And that the safety of the ship depends upon my having instant access to it at all times?'

‘I did my best, sir,' the purser replied, ‘but there is only one of them that speaks more than a smattering of English and what she does speak, she speaks with a certain
authority
, if you take my meaning, sir.'

And to Nathan's astonishment he solemnly laid a finger against his right eye and pulled down the lid. Just as he was about to berate him for insolence, Nathan realised the significance of the gesture. It was widely known that the Commodore had lost the sight of his right eye at the Siege of Calvi. The lady in question must therefore be ‘Nelson's dolly' – Signora Correglia.

Nathan considered the problem at his leisure. He could, of course, order the Marines to clear the cabin for him, but this was fraught with complications. Injuries might occur and even if they did not, the damage to his character would be considerable. It was the kind of story that could spread. Captain Peake's heroic action in the Tyrrhenian Sea – against seven unarmed courtesans.

Nathan's youth made him overly conscious of his dignity, and such an incident could make him a laughing stock throughout the fleet. Already he was aware that the officers and crew awaited his next move with interest. Of course, it would be easy enough to take over one of the officers' cabins for the remainder of the voyage, but he felt this would not enhance his reputation as a fighting Captain. He had yet to win the ship's approval for his skills as a seaman, or a disciplinarian – too soft on the cat, was the general opinion – but he did have some standing as a strategist. Surely he could devise a strategy for this particular occasion.

It had still evaded him by six bells in the afternoon watch, the time when he usually had his dinner – in his cabin. He was saved from going hungry, or the embarrassment of eating on the quarterdeck, by an invitation from the first lieutenant to dine with the rest of the officers in the gunroom.

He accepted with alacrity, but the atmosphere would have been more cheerful, he felt, without his presence. No one felt at liberty to raise the subject uppermost in their minds and an uncomfortable silence fell upon the company, which was broken, with an air of desperation, by the first lieutenant.

‘Caught any rats of late, Mr Lamb?' he enquired of the youngest officer present who, as such, was frequently the butt of his humour. Mr Lamb's exploits as a ratcatcher could always be relied upon as entertainment, for though young, he was not shy of putting himself forward.

He replied at length. He had caught six of the creatures during the last twenty-four hours, with a new method he had perfected, and they were now hanging in a cage – two cages, in fact – in the midshipmen's berth where they were in the process of being fattened with ship's biscuit. Midshipmen, being composed for the most part of growing boys, were invariably hungry and none too fussy about what they ate. Rats, fed on
ship's biscuit, were much prized as a supplement to the ship's diet.

Prompted with further questions, Mr Lamb was prevailed upon to describe his patent methods of entrapment and where, in his opinion, the most prominent ‘rat-runs' were situated. In this he revealed an impressive knowledge of both rodent behaviour and the more obscure regions of the
Unicorn
, but Nathan had stopped listening. He was recalling a similar conversation some months earlier when he had described his own custom as a midshipman of cooking them spatch-cocked – split open and skewered – with a bread sauce. Somehow this story had reached the ears of the Commodore, who had asked Nathan to repeat it for the amusement of the assembled company when next he dined on the flagship.

It happened to be one of those occasions when Signora Correglia was presiding as hostess, and as he told the story Nathan had noted the brief look of disgust on her lovely features. He concluded that she was not as ignorant of the English language as she would have it supposed – and that she had a natural aversion to rats.

The recollection of this gave him the germ of an idea. When dinner was concluded he took Mr Lamb aside for a quiet word.

‘These rats of yours,' he began. ‘What would you take for them?'

The midshipman gazed at him in some surprise. ‘Take for them, sir?' he repeated foolishly.

‘Yes, take for them, sir. Clear enough, ain't it?' He thought of one possible reason for misunderstanding. ‘In coin.'

The midshipman still appeared bemused. ‘You want to buy them from me, sir?'

‘Yes, Mr Lamb, I want to buy them from you.' The boy was an idiot. ‘Would six shillings suffice?'

A small pause. ‘Each, sir?'

Clearly not that much of an idiot.

‘For all six,' replied Nathan severely.

‘I think ten would be a fairer price, sir. With the cages.'

‘I don't want the cages, sir, I just want the rats.' But this was becoming undignified. Nathan sighed. ‘Very well, Mr Lamb, ten it is. With the cages.' He counted the coin into the midshipman's grasping hands and in a short while he reappeared upon the quarterdeck and held the cages up for his Captain's inspection. Six gibbering rats glared furiously out upon him.

‘You want me to kill 'em for you, sir?' enquired Lamb obligingly. ‘Or would you like to do it yourself?'

‘I'll tell you what I want you to do, Mr Lamb.' Nathan lowered his voice significantly. ‘When I give the word, I want you to lower yourself over the lee rail and distribute them through the gunport of my cabin. Taking care that you are not observed in the process, do you understand me?'