Read Online Baltic Mission by Richard Woodman - Free Book Online Page B

braces aft as the main- and mizen-yards spun round on their parrels.
    â€˜Pull together there, damn you!’ Comley roared, his rattan active on the hapless backs of a gaggle of men who stumbled along the larboard gangway.
    â€˜That’s well with the main-braces! Belay! Belay there!’
    â€˜Fore-braces! Leggo and haul!’ The fore-yards swung and
Antigone
gathered headway on the starboard tack.
    â€˜A trifle more on that weather foretack there! That’s well! Belay!’
    Hill stepped up to the binnacle then looked at the shivering edge of the main-topsail. ‘Full and bye now, lads,’ he said quietly to the four men at the frigate’s double wheel, and the overseeing quartermaster acknowledged the order.
    â€˜She’s full an’ bye now, so she is.’
    â€˜Very well.’ He turned to Drinkwater. ‘She’s holding sou’ by east a quarter east, sir.’
    â€˜Very well. Mr Q! Do you shorten down for the night. We’ll keep her under easy sail until daylight.’
    â€˜Aye, aye, sir!’
    Drinkwater watched patiently from his place by the weather hance, one foot on the little brass carronade slide that he had brought from the
Melusine
. The big fore-course, already reefed down, was now hauled up in its buntlines and secured, forty men laying out along the great yard to secure the heavy, resistant canvas. When they came down it was almost dark. They were waiting for the order to pipe down.
    â€˜Mr Quilhampton!’
    â€˜Sir?’
    â€˜Pass word for Mr Comley to lay aft.’
    â€˜Aye, aye, sir.’ The lieutenant turned to Walmsley. ‘Mr Walmsley, cut along and pass word for the bosun to lay aft and report to the Captain.’
    â€˜Aye, aye, sir.’
    Lord Walmsley made his way along the lee gangway to the fo’c’s’le where Mr Comley stood, the senior and most respected seaman in the ship, at his post of honour on the knightheads.
    â€˜Mr Comley!’
    â€˜Mr Walmsley, what can I do for you?’
    â€˜The Captain desires that you attend him on the quarterdeck.’
    â€˜Eh?’ Comley looked aft at the figure of Drinkwater, shadowy in the gathering gloom. ‘What the devil does he want me on the King’sparade for?’ he muttered, then nodding to Walmsley he walked aft.
    â€˜You sent for me, sir?’
    Drinkwater stared at Comley. Hitherto he had never had the slightest doubt that Comley’s devotion to duty was absolute. ‘Have you anything to report, Mr Comley?’
    â€˜To report, sir? Why . . . no, sir.’
    â€˜The four men at the lee main-brace, Mr Comley – Kissel, Hacking, Benson and Myers, if I ain’t mistaken – are they drunk?’
    â€˜Er . . .’
    â€˜Damn it, man, you’d do well not to try and hide it from me.’
    Comley looked at the captain, his expression anxious. ‘I, er, I wouldn’t say they was drunk, sir. Happen they slipped . . .’
    â€˜Mr Comley, I can have them here in an instant. They are all prime seamen. They didn’t slip, sir. Now, I will ask you again, are they drunk?’
    Comley sighed and nodded. ‘It’s possible, sir. I . . . I didn’t know until . . . well when they slipped and I got close to ’em. I could smell they might be in liquor, sir.’
    â€˜Very well, Mr Comley.’ Drinkwater changed his tone of voice. ‘Would you answer two questions without fear. Why are they drunk and why did you not report it?’
    Even in the twilight Drinkwater could see the dismay on Comley’s face. ‘Come, sir,’ he said, ‘you may answer without fear. And be quick about it, the watch below are waiting for you to pipe ’em down.’
    â€˜Well, sir, beggin’ your pardon, sir, but the men ain’t too happy, sir . . . It’s nothing much, sir, we ain’t asking no favours, but