Read Online Under Enemy Colors by Sean Thomas Russell, Sean Russell, S. Thomas Russell - Free Book Online Page B

had done everything possible, Griffiths motioned to Hayden and the two stepped outside the sick-berth. Leaning, one against the bulkhead of thin deal-board, the other against the ladder, they pitched their voices low so as not to be overheard.
    “Tawney looks to be a broad-chested, well-made fellow,” Hayden said. “I should say that he was not so badly beaten by one man—unless there is a veritable giant aboard, with a cruel disposition.”
    “You are right, Mr Hayden. I should guess that such a beating would take four men or more. Tawney is nine and twenty, or perhaps eight, strong as the proverbial ox. I should have said he was well thought of among the crew.”
    “Did someone say he is a foretop-man?”
    “I believe that is so.”
    “His mates won’t be liking this, I should think.” Hayden shook his head. The top-men were commonly the strongest, most experienced seamen—the cocks of the walk among the foremast hands. “I will have you inspect the crew after breakfast. A beating like that will leave some bruised hands, maybe a broken knuckle or two.”
    “If they employed their fists. By the damage I would say he was cudgelled.”
    Hayden shifted his weight against the stair. “One man murdered, another beaten half to death…As I worked today, raising the sheers, I sensed among the men such ill will. I have never witnessed so unobliging a spirit, so many little things done to impede another’s efforts. It is imperative that a ship’s crew pull together, for their own safety if for no other reason…Has this fractious mood arisen since Captain Hart departed? Certainly it cannot have been so when you were at sea?”
    The doctor removed his spectacles and massaged each eye in turn with the heel of a hand. “It has, perhaps, become more pronounced since the captain quit the ship and the first lieutenant the service, but it is by no means new to the Themis .”
    Hayden waited for the doctor to say more and, when he did not, said: “I have never seen the like, Doctor. How an officer would take a ship from anchor and get under way with such a crew is a mystery to me. How do the officers tolerate it?”
    The doctor shrugged. For a moment he remained silent, but then leaned closer to Hayden. “You were asking earlier about Penrith. I cannot tell you who was responsible for the man’s death, but on the night he went missing I overheard one of the hands say to some others, ‘They’ve done for Penrith,’ or words to that effect. Before the finger was found the next morning members of the crew already seemed to know it was a murder, though it was initially thought by the officers to have been misadventure.”
    “Who said this, Doctor?”
    “I know not. It was dark, most of the crew were too ill to stand, and we were caught in the most dreadful gale. I confess, my thoughts were elsewhere. I was frightened and not thinking clearly.”
    Ariss, his mate, rounded into view at the moment. “If you please, Doctor; Tawney has taken to convulsing again.”
    With a perfunctory nod, Griffiths disappeared back into his lair. For a moment Hayden stood dumbly, then climbed the stair and slipped silently into the gloom of the gunroom, where he found Barthe in the light of a single candle, alone at table, staring fixedly at a glass of wine set out before him.
    Hayden was not sure what to say, or even if he should acknowledge what he saw. But the sailing master tore his gaze away from the glass and regarded Hayden, apparently unembarrassed.
    “No doubt you are wondering what I am about…?” Barthe whispered hoarsely.
    In truth, Hayden was not—the master was apparently drinking.
    “I am testing my will.” He nodded to the full glass, the wine lead-dark in the dim light. “I must do this from time to time—face the temptation. Today I could hardly focus my thoughts for want of drink, and now I must make my penance. I know it must seem passing strange, but I have been sober these seven years and have my own way of