Read Online A Flower for the Queen: A Historical Novel by Caroline Vermalle, Ryan von Ruben - Free Book Online
Authors: Caroline Vermalle, Ryan von Ruben
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any future one. “I am not entirely sure, Captain. Mr Forster asked if I would give up some space under my bunk for one of his specimens. I admit that I did not have the opportunity to look at it before—” He gestured towards the cabin as another clatter and series of screams erupted. All eyes turned to Reinhold Forster.
Forster cleared his throat and, with as much condescension as he could muster, replied, “Are we not entitled to collect specimens, Captain?”
Cook’s countenance grew so dark that it appeared to Masson that he might very well explode. With no small effort, he turned to Masson and said in a very slow and measured voice, full of menace, “Mr Masson, as it is your cabin, I would normally hold you and you alone responsible for its contents. However, given the circumstances, I sense that would be unjust.” He gave Forster a withering look. “Mr Forster, please recapture the beast immediately and then bring it up to the foredeck where Lieutenant Clerke will have assembled the entire ship’s crew, so that I may explain a few things.”
As swiftly as he had arrived, Captain Cook turned on his heel and left the three men alone at the door as his lieutenants began shouting instructions.
***
The assembled group left a clear space in the centre of the deck around the capstan, where Forster and Masson now stood, looking up at Cook who glared down at them from behind the wheel on the quarterdeck. Forster had recaptured the monkey, which was once again in a sack hanging from his hand. In the melee and in an attempt to resist capture, the animal had grabbed hold of Forster’s wig, leaving the scientist scratched and dishevelled, his bald and sweating pate glimmering in the sun.
Cook began his lecture. “Some older men amongst you will remember a time when a ship was lucky to reach port with only half her crew dead or suffering from some dreaded disease. Fortunately, it is now the case that Royal Navy ships lose fewer men to sickness than any other naval fighting force in the world. But decks must be scrubbed, clothes and bodies washed and ruthless discipline applied to all matters pertaining to hygiene.” At this point, Cook pointed to the still-moving sack. “We will be facing dangers enough from the elements without creating unnecessary risks for ourselves, and I expect that once an order is given, it is followed to the letter. If any man doubts my resolve, then I will be happy to demonstrate the point by setting an example here today.” Cook turned his gaze to Forster. “Mr Forster, would you please advise us, from a scientific point of view, what the most suitable course of action should now be to remove any threat of contagion?”
Forster, looking wretched, mumbled an inaudible reply whilst staring at the planks beneath his feet.
“I am afraid I did not catch that, Mr Forster. Could you please repeat it for the benefit of all the men whose lives have been put at risk today?”
“Throw it overboard!” Forster shouted back.
“Mr Masson, would you please do the honours?” Cook asked. Masson turned to Forster and held out his hand for the bag.
“In your own time, Mr Forster,” Cook said, with a look that implied otherwise.
Like a small child relinquishing a stolen sweet, Forster gave up the bag to Masson, who walked to the gunwale railing and, with the entire crew looking on, flung the sack over the side and into the passing waves.
The crew cheered as it hit the water with a muffled splash and as every pair of eyes was watched on, Forster’s wig then floated to the surface, resulting in a further round of guffaws and rough laughter as it tumbled amongst the froth of the ship’s wake. Masson saw Forster steeped over in wretched humiliation and almost felt sorry for him — until he saw that unlike the rest of the crew, who craned to see any last sign of the monkey, Forster’s gaze was fixed on Masson, and carried with it a current of pure and undisguised hatred.
***
Masson returned to
Forster cleared his throat and, with as much condescension as he could muster, replied, “Are we not entitled to collect specimens, Captain?”
Cook’s countenance grew so dark that it appeared to Masson that he might very well explode. With no small effort, he turned to Masson and said in a very slow and measured voice, full of menace, “Mr Masson, as it is your cabin, I would normally hold you and you alone responsible for its contents. However, given the circumstances, I sense that would be unjust.” He gave Forster a withering look. “Mr Forster, please recapture the beast immediately and then bring it up to the foredeck where Lieutenant Clerke will have assembled the entire ship’s crew, so that I may explain a few things.”
As swiftly as he had arrived, Captain Cook turned on his heel and left the three men alone at the door as his lieutenants began shouting instructions.
***
The assembled group left a clear space in the centre of the deck around the capstan, where Forster and Masson now stood, looking up at Cook who glared down at them from behind the wheel on the quarterdeck. Forster had recaptured the monkey, which was once again in a sack hanging from his hand. In the melee and in an attempt to resist capture, the animal had grabbed hold of Forster’s wig, leaving the scientist scratched and dishevelled, his bald and sweating pate glimmering in the sun.
Cook began his lecture. “Some older men amongst you will remember a time when a ship was lucky to reach port with only half her crew dead or suffering from some dreaded disease. Fortunately, it is now the case that Royal Navy ships lose fewer men to sickness than any other naval fighting force in the world. But decks must be scrubbed, clothes and bodies washed and ruthless discipline applied to all matters pertaining to hygiene.” At this point, Cook pointed to the still-moving sack. “We will be facing dangers enough from the elements without creating unnecessary risks for ourselves, and I expect that once an order is given, it is followed to the letter. If any man doubts my resolve, then I will be happy to demonstrate the point by setting an example here today.” Cook turned his gaze to Forster. “Mr Forster, would you please advise us, from a scientific point of view, what the most suitable course of action should now be to remove any threat of contagion?”
Forster, looking wretched, mumbled an inaudible reply whilst staring at the planks beneath his feet.
“I am afraid I did not catch that, Mr Forster. Could you please repeat it for the benefit of all the men whose lives have been put at risk today?”
“Throw it overboard!” Forster shouted back.
“Mr Masson, would you please do the honours?” Cook asked. Masson turned to Forster and held out his hand for the bag.
“In your own time, Mr Forster,” Cook said, with a look that implied otherwise.
Like a small child relinquishing a stolen sweet, Forster gave up the bag to Masson, who walked to the gunwale railing and, with the entire crew looking on, flung the sack over the side and into the passing waves.
The crew cheered as it hit the water with a muffled splash and as every pair of eyes was watched on, Forster’s wig then floated to the surface, resulting in a further round of guffaws and rough laughter as it tumbled amongst the froth of the ship’s wake. Masson saw Forster steeped over in wretched humiliation and almost felt sorry for him — until he saw that unlike the rest of the crew, who craned to see any last sign of the monkey, Forster’s gaze was fixed on Masson, and carried with it a current of pure and undisguised hatred.
***
Masson returned to
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