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Authors: David Donachie
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sir.’
‘You mustn’t interrupt me,’ his uncle insisted, though in a tone less abrupt. He was slim, like his nephew, and shared in some measure the Suckling gentleness of feature, which made it hard for him to sustain outrage. ‘Being blood makes no odds.’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘And try to remember the correct form of response to a superior. You’re supposed to say, “Aye, aye, sir.”’ Nelson complied immediately, just as his uncle was about to continue, which earned him a searching stare. The older man was clearly wondering if the boy was baiting him. ‘How am I going to explain to your father the condition I find you in?’
It was lucky that his uncle Maurice couldn’t see the bruises that covered his body and legs. They were well hidden by his breeches and blue uniform jacket. But the marks on his face bore ample testimony to the beating he had taken. Every time the youngster moved his tongue he could feel the extra thickness of his lips and rock the tooth that had come loose on one side. He had a black eye that was turning yellow at the fringe, plus a prominent lump on his forehead, the result of Rivers’s most telling punch.
Captain Suckling was no fool. He had been a midshipman himself once, so knew what a bear pit the berth could be, even if he was careful of the quality of the youngsters who occupied his. He wondered if that word ‘youngsters’ was accurate. Those aboard Raisonable ranged from a pair of children of even more tender years than his nephew, to Dobree and Rivers who were so long serving that they had grown to be men of eighteen.
‘Am I to be granted an explanation, sir?’ Suckling demanded.
Nelson hesitated, partly because he had no idea of what to say but more because he was so struck by his uncle’s looks. Take away the wig and replace it with a cap, add a touch more flesh, though less colour, to the cheeks, and he might have been facing the wrath of his late mother.
‘Well, boy?’
‘I f-fell down a companionway, sir. It was an accident.’
There was no doubting the nature of the family likeness as Suckling digested that, and Nelson saw the rage coming long before his uncle delivered his response. ‘Fell? Do you take me for an idiot, nephew?’
‘No, sir,’ he replied.
‘Then you will explain to me who is responsible for this. And I will point out to you that I command here and that every member of the berth you occupy is here because I have taken them on.’ His fingers clicked loudly. ‘I can have any one of you off this ship in an instant.’
Horatio Nelson didn’t know much about the Navy as yet, but he knew that that was stretching the truth. Maurice Suckling had filled his mid’s berth with the relatives of people to whom he either owed a favour or from whom he sought one. Even if one or two were no-hopers, who might sit the lieutenant’s examination till Doomsday without passing, he was obliged to keep them on his books, so that their relatives or patrons would look favourably on any request the captain of Raisonable put forward. In his own case, he prayed that the family connection would exert too much pressure on his uncle for him to take any precipitate action.
‘It is, sir, the truth.’
Suckling responded slowly, his voice a good octave deeper than it had been previously. ‘How long have you been aboard my ship, nephew?’
‘This is my third day, sir.’
‘And has anyone had the presence of mind to point out to you the masthead?
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then you will oblige me, Mr Nelson, by making your way to that station, and you will stay there until I call you down. I would advise you to contemplate the folly of your response, and reflect that with a father who is a clergyman, and myself as your relative, I have the right to expect from you the complete truth.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
Suckling observed the stiff way his nephew turned and left the cabin. He knew little of the boy. Given the size of the Rector’s brood occasional visits
‘You mustn’t interrupt me,’ his uncle insisted, though in a tone less abrupt. He was slim, like his nephew, and shared in some measure the Suckling gentleness of feature, which made it hard for him to sustain outrage. ‘Being blood makes no odds.’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘And try to remember the correct form of response to a superior. You’re supposed to say, “Aye, aye, sir.”’ Nelson complied immediately, just as his uncle was about to continue, which earned him a searching stare. The older man was clearly wondering if the boy was baiting him. ‘How am I going to explain to your father the condition I find you in?’
It was lucky that his uncle Maurice couldn’t see the bruises that covered his body and legs. They were well hidden by his breeches and blue uniform jacket. But the marks on his face bore ample testimony to the beating he had taken. Every time the youngster moved his tongue he could feel the extra thickness of his lips and rock the tooth that had come loose on one side. He had a black eye that was turning yellow at the fringe, plus a prominent lump on his forehead, the result of Rivers’s most telling punch.
Captain Suckling was no fool. He had been a midshipman himself once, so knew what a bear pit the berth could be, even if he was careful of the quality of the youngsters who occupied his. He wondered if that word ‘youngsters’ was accurate. Those aboard Raisonable ranged from a pair of children of even more tender years than his nephew, to Dobree and Rivers who were so long serving that they had grown to be men of eighteen.
‘Am I to be granted an explanation, sir?’ Suckling demanded.
Nelson hesitated, partly because he had no idea of what to say but more because he was so struck by his uncle’s looks. Take away the wig and replace it with a cap, add a touch more flesh, though less colour, to the cheeks, and he might have been facing the wrath of his late mother.
‘Well, boy?’
‘I f-fell down a companionway, sir. It was an accident.’
There was no doubting the nature of the family likeness as Suckling digested that, and Nelson saw the rage coming long before his uncle delivered his response. ‘Fell? Do you take me for an idiot, nephew?’
‘No, sir,’ he replied.
‘Then you will explain to me who is responsible for this. And I will point out to you that I command here and that every member of the berth you occupy is here because I have taken them on.’ His fingers clicked loudly. ‘I can have any one of you off this ship in an instant.’
Horatio Nelson didn’t know much about the Navy as yet, but he knew that that was stretching the truth. Maurice Suckling had filled his mid’s berth with the relatives of people to whom he either owed a favour or from whom he sought one. Even if one or two were no-hopers, who might sit the lieutenant’s examination till Doomsday without passing, he was obliged to keep them on his books, so that their relatives or patrons would look favourably on any request the captain of Raisonable put forward. In his own case, he prayed that the family connection would exert too much pressure on his uncle for him to take any precipitate action.
‘It is, sir, the truth.’
Suckling responded slowly, his voice a good octave deeper than it had been previously. ‘How long have you been aboard my ship, nephew?’
‘This is my third day, sir.’
‘And has anyone had the presence of mind to point out to you the masthead?
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then you will oblige me, Mr Nelson, by making your way to that station, and you will stay there until I call you down. I would advise you to contemplate the folly of your response, and reflect that with a father who is a clergyman, and myself as your relative, I have the right to expect from you the complete truth.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
Suckling observed the stiff way his nephew turned and left the cabin. He knew little of the boy. Given the size of the Rector’s brood occasional visits
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