Read Online A Divided Command by David Donachie - Free Book Online
Authors: David Donachie
Tags: Historical fiction, thriller, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Action & Adventure, Crime, War & Military, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, War, Contemporary Fiction, Sea Adventures
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business to return on your way out.’
CHAPTER FIVE
John Pearce was re-examining his logs prior to their transfer to the flagship, not least those covering his detour to Leghorn, to make sure that they met the requirements of the service. The worry that they would not was a bane that plagued every captain of a King’s ship in the navy, for these ledgers were not just a record of his course, speed and location, with details of sails set as well as the prevailing wind, tide and sea states: other books listed everything that had been used since he had sent the previous set in from Buckler’s Hard to the commanding admiral at Portsmouth.
The powers that ruled placed little faith in the honesty of their officers, which was just as well given the lengths many went to in an attempt to circumvent the restrictions placed on them for private gain. The master and commander of
HMS Larcher
was well aware of his lack of the kind of nautical knowledge acquired from serving for years at sea; he was even more acutely conscious of his ignorance when it came to the art of capperbar: the ability to compose logs in a way that hid from the admiraltyclerks – they being the final examiners – things that could be justifiably lost in the maze of figures.
It was bad enough just having to account for what had been properly consumed: beef, pork and peas in the barrel, small beer and rum, as well as the wear on sails, cables and rope. God help you if you lost an anchor and it was reckoned as carelessness! Even if you had engaged in a successful action, as he had off the coast of Portugal, the amount of powder and shot he had expended, accounted for to him by the gunner, as well as the timber, canvas and cordage needed to repair any damage, would be pored over to ensure he was not gilding it and selling that dishonestly claimed on to the first merchant captain he encountered.
The banging of the distant gun that penetrated into his tiny cabin was only remarkable when it was repeated, that deep boom bringing home to him that it was not a recognition signal being fired – too common to be remarked upon – but a main armament weapon. Standing up he stopped short of hitting his crown on the low deck beams above, this based on much previous experience of the sharp pains induced by too much haste, just as Michael O’Hagan knocked and entered, his smile broad and his green eyes alight.
‘There’s a frigate – that captured Frenchie
Lutine
I am told – coming up hell for leather, John-boy, and firing away like it were a royal birthday.’
Still crouching, for the doorway was even lower than the cabin roof, Pearce followed O’Hagan out on to the deck, to find the side lined with most of the crew, all gazing to the north and the headland that formed the western arm of San Fiorenzo Bay. For a moment he considered ordering them back to whatever duties they had left uncompleted but to doso, when they were at anchor and nothing could be said to be pressing, would be churlish.
‘The flags
HMS Lutine
has aloft, Mr Dorling?’
‘Enemy has struck her colours, Capt’n, which I take leave to mean that Calvi has fallen, her being part of Captain Nelson’s squadron. Wouldn’t make no sense otherwise.’
Overheard by those closest, which on such a vessel meant a goodly number of the crew, the beginnings of a hurrah began to sound out, which Pearce killed off with a sharp command to belay.
‘It wouldn’t do to tempt providence, lads, best wait till you are sure of the good news before we start cheering.’
‘Permission to send a boat alongside, sir, and gather that in?’
‘Granted,’ Pearce replied, again on the grounds it could do no harm, ‘though I must go back to my damned logs.’
Which he did while the boat was launched and it was not alone; nearly every captain in the fleet was agog to hear the news and too impatient to wait for it to be disseminated from
HMS Victory
. John Pearce heard the noise, as the boat was hauled alongside and
CHAPTER FIVE
John Pearce was re-examining his logs prior to their transfer to the flagship, not least those covering his detour to Leghorn, to make sure that they met the requirements of the service. The worry that they would not was a bane that plagued every captain of a King’s ship in the navy, for these ledgers were not just a record of his course, speed and location, with details of sails set as well as the prevailing wind, tide and sea states: other books listed everything that had been used since he had sent the previous set in from Buckler’s Hard to the commanding admiral at Portsmouth.
The powers that ruled placed little faith in the honesty of their officers, which was just as well given the lengths many went to in an attempt to circumvent the restrictions placed on them for private gain. The master and commander of
HMS Larcher
was well aware of his lack of the kind of nautical knowledge acquired from serving for years at sea; he was even more acutely conscious of his ignorance when it came to the art of capperbar: the ability to compose logs in a way that hid from the admiraltyclerks – they being the final examiners – things that could be justifiably lost in the maze of figures.
It was bad enough just having to account for what had been properly consumed: beef, pork and peas in the barrel, small beer and rum, as well as the wear on sails, cables and rope. God help you if you lost an anchor and it was reckoned as carelessness! Even if you had engaged in a successful action, as he had off the coast of Portugal, the amount of powder and shot he had expended, accounted for to him by the gunner, as well as the timber, canvas and cordage needed to repair any damage, would be pored over to ensure he was not gilding it and selling that dishonestly claimed on to the first merchant captain he encountered.
The banging of the distant gun that penetrated into his tiny cabin was only remarkable when it was repeated, that deep boom bringing home to him that it was not a recognition signal being fired – too common to be remarked upon – but a main armament weapon. Standing up he stopped short of hitting his crown on the low deck beams above, this based on much previous experience of the sharp pains induced by too much haste, just as Michael O’Hagan knocked and entered, his smile broad and his green eyes alight.
‘There’s a frigate – that captured Frenchie
Lutine
I am told – coming up hell for leather, John-boy, and firing away like it were a royal birthday.’
Still crouching, for the doorway was even lower than the cabin roof, Pearce followed O’Hagan out on to the deck, to find the side lined with most of the crew, all gazing to the north and the headland that formed the western arm of San Fiorenzo Bay. For a moment he considered ordering them back to whatever duties they had left uncompleted but to doso, when they were at anchor and nothing could be said to be pressing, would be churlish.
‘The flags
HMS Lutine
has aloft, Mr Dorling?’
‘Enemy has struck her colours, Capt’n, which I take leave to mean that Calvi has fallen, her being part of Captain Nelson’s squadron. Wouldn’t make no sense otherwise.’
Overheard by those closest, which on such a vessel meant a goodly number of the crew, the beginnings of a hurrah began to sound out, which Pearce killed off with a sharp command to belay.
‘It wouldn’t do to tempt providence, lads, best wait till you are sure of the good news before we start cheering.’
‘Permission to send a boat alongside, sir, and gather that in?’
‘Granted,’ Pearce replied, again on the grounds it could do no harm, ‘though I must go back to my damned logs.’
Which he did while the boat was launched and it was not alone; nearly every captain in the fleet was agog to hear the news and too impatient to wait for it to be disseminated from
HMS Victory
. John Pearce heard the noise, as the boat was hauled alongside and
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