Read Online An Eye of the Fleet by Richard Woodman - Free Book Online

and tossing. ‘They’ll shorten sail soon,’ he muttered to himself struggling into his tarpaulin as he emerged on deck. The night was black and chilly. A patter of spray came aboard, stinging his face. He relieved Beale who gave him a friendly grin.
    At a quarter after four the order came to double reef the topsails. Drinkwater went aloft. He thought little of it now, nimbly working his way out to the place of honour at the yardarm. After ten minutes the huge sail was reduced and the men were making their way to the backstays, disappearing into the darkness as they returned to the deck. As he came in from the yardarm and transferred his weight to a backstay a hand gripped his wrist.
    â€˜What the hell . . . ?’ He nearly fell. Then a face appeared out of the windtorn blackness. It was the good-looking topman from the main top and there was a wild appeal in his eyes.
    â€˜Sir! For Christ’s sake help me!’ Drinkwater, swaying a hundred feet above
Cyclops
’s heaving deck, yet felt revulsion at the man’s touch. But even in the gloom he saw the tears in the other’s eyes. He tried to withdraw his hand but his precarious situation prevented it.
    â€˜I’m not one of them, sir, honest. They make me do it . . . they force me into it, sir. If I don’t they . . . kick me, sir . . .’
    Drinkwater felt the nausea subside. ‘Kick you? What d’ye mean?’ He could hardly hear the man now as the wind whipped the shouted confidences away to leeward.
    â€˜The bollocks, sir . . .’ he sobbed, ‘For Christ’s sake help me . . .’
    The grip relaxed. Drinkwater tore himself away and descended to the deck. For the remainder of the watch as dawn lit the east and daylight spread over the sea he pondered the problem. He could see no solution. If he told an officer about Morris would he be believed? And it was a serious allegation. Had he not heard Captain Hope read the 29th Article of War? For the crime of sodomy the punishment was death . . . it was a serious, a terrible allegation to make against a man and Drinkwater quailed from the possibility of being instrumental in having a man hanged . . . and Morris was evil, of that he was certain, evil beyond his own perversion, for Morris was allied to the huge physical bulk of Able-Seaman Threddle and what would Threddle not stop at?
    Drinkwater remained in an agony of fear for himself and helplessness at his inability to aid the topman. He felt he was failing his first test as an officer . . . Who could he turn to?
    Then he remembered Tregembo’s remark. What was it he had said? He dredged the sentence out of the recesses of his memory: ‘It shouldn’t have to come to that.’ To what? What had Tregembo said before his final remark . . .’
    â€˜You don’t have to worry.’ That was it.
    Meaning that he, Drinkwater, did not have to worry. But another doubt seized him. He had only expressed regret that the seaman had been flogged for fighting. Then he realised the truth. Tregembo had been flogged for fighting Threddle and had said the midshipman did not have to worry. Tregembo must, therefore know something of what had gone on. ‘It’should not have to come to Drinkwater himself worrying? Would the lower deck carry out its own rough justice? Had it already passed sentence on and executed Humphries?
    Then Drinkwater realised that he had known all along. Threddle’s eyes had blamed his flogging on Nathaniel and subconsciously Drinkwater had acknowledged his responsibility for Tregembo’s pain.
    He resolved that he would consult Tregembo . . .
    It was the second dog watch before he got Tregembo to one side on the pretext of overhauling the log for Mr Blackmore.
    â€˜Tregembo,’ he began cautiously, ‘why did you fight Threddle?’ Tregembo was silent for