them from his messmates for much of the time.
Herrick said quietly, 'Duff has reported that most of the fresh water is undrinkable, sir.' He swallowed under Bolitho's stare. 'He was doing his usual inspection and has just reported to the ship's corporal.'
Triphook was murmuring fervently, 'In all my days. Never, never have I seen the like!'
Bolitho beckoned to the cooper. 'Well, Duff, I am waiting. What is this find which you have discovered?'
Duff blinked at him through the oval glasses. He looked like a grey-haired mole.
'Me usual inspection, sir.'
He grew smaller as they crowded round him. Soames had come from his own cabin, and loomed over Bellairs' shoulder like a cliff.
Duff continued shakily, 'The casks was all good 'uns, I saw to that, sir. First thing I always looks for. I learned me work under a fine old cooper in the Gladiator when I first took on, sir, an'-'
'For God's sake, Duff!' Herrick sounded desperate. 'Tell the captain!'
Duff lowered his head. 'Most of the casks is foul, sir. They 'as to be.'
Sergeant Coaker stepped forward, his boots creaking as the ship tilted in a sudden trough. He was holding a small bundle, but keeping it away from his tunic as if it were alive.
'Open it.'
The sergeant unfolded the parcel very carefully, his face set like stone.
Bolitho felt the deck, soaring violently, tasted the vomit clawing at his throat. Screwed up, as if at the instant shock of amputation, it was tL human hand.
Soames choked, 'In the name of Christ!'
Duff said in a small voice, 'In all of 'em, sir. 'Cept the last two casks by the bulk'ead.'
Triphook said heavily, 'He's right, sir. Bits of flesh.' He trembled violently, his face breaking out in sweat. 'The work of a demon!'
There was a sharp cry of horror, and Bolitho stepped in front of the cooper as Mrs. Raymond gasped, 'I'm going to be sick.' He saw her leaning against the marine sentry, her face like chalk as she stared fixedly at the group by the wardroom.
Bolitho snapped, 'Get rid of that object!' To Noddall's hovering shadow he added, 'Call that damned maid and attend to the lady!' His mind was reeling from Duff's gruesome discovery. What it meant, and what he now had to do. 'Fetch the surgeon.'
Bellairs dabbed his lips with a handkerchief. 'Carry on Sar'nt Coaker. Pass the word for Mr. Whitmarsh.' He glanced at the others. 'Though I doubt he will be able to assist, what?'
Herrick asked, 'Would you care to come in here, sir?' He stood aside to allow Bolitho to enter the wardroom.
It was small and compact, the table laid for a meal, and at odds with the twelve-pounders which were lashed at each open port. Bolitho sat down heavily on a sea chest and stared through the nearest gun port. The fair wind and dancing water held no more attraction. Danger was within the ship. His ship.
Herrick prompted, 'Some wine, sir.'
When he turned Bolitho saw the others watching him. Soames at the top of the table. Bellairs and Triphook seated on the opposite side. In those fleeting seconds he recalled his own life as a junior lieutenant in a frigate. The wardroom was the place you shared not merely your food and your life, you shared your doubts, and drew on your companions for help whenever it was needed. Aft, behind his bulkhead, the captain had been a remote, godly character beyond reach. At no time that he could recall had he imagined a captain required anything but obedience.
It even felt different here. Pistols in a rack. Some shirts hanging to air which the wardroom servant had just washed. The smell of something simmering in a pot.
He replied, 'Thank you. I would relish a glass just now.'
They relaxed slightly and Soames said, 'It will mean turning back, sir.' He thought about it. 'Or making for the African coast mebbee.'
Feet creaked outside the door and then Mudge pushed his way' into the wardroom, his grey hair sprouting as he threw his hat into a corner.
'God blast me eyes, but what's this bloody deed I've bin told?' He saw Bolitho and muttered, 'Beggin' yer pardon, sir. I was not expectin' to discover you in 'ere.'
Herrick held out a glass. 'Some Rhenish, sir.' He did not smile, but his eyes were calm. Almost pleading. 'Still fairly fresh, I think.'
Bolitho sipped it gratefully. 'Thank you.' He tasted the sourness in his throat. 'After what I have just witnessed…' He swung round as the surgeon lurched through the door, his shirt unbuttoned, his gaze bleary.
'You have been told the news, Mr. Whitmarsh?'
He watched the effort he was making to focus his eyes, the growth of stubble on his chin. Whitmarsh had been quietly making up for all the time he had stayed with his patients.
'Well?'
Whitmarsh groped his way to a gun and leaned on it with both hands, sucking air through the open port like a drowning man.
'I heard, sir.' He retched. 'I heard.'
Bolitho watched him impassively. 'As the water casks were fresh when stowed aboard at Spithead, it would seem likely that these human fragments came from your surgery.' He waited, feeling pity for the man, but knowing the need for haste. 'Would you agree?'
'I expect so.'
Whitmarsh lurched to the table and poured a large measure of wine.
Bolitho said sharply,. 'If you drink that, Mr. Whitmarsh, I will see to it that you do not get another drop while you are under my command.' He stood up. 'Now, think, man! Who could have done this?'
Whitmarsh stared at the glass in his hand, his body swaying badly, despite the easy motion.
'I was kept busy. They were in a poor way, sir. I had my loblolly boys and my mate to assist me.' He screwed up his red face in an effort to remember, the sweat dripping off his chin like rain. 'It was Sullivan. I gave him the job of clearing amputated limbs and the like from my sickbay. He was very helpful.' He nodded vaguely. 'It's all coming to me now. Sullivan.' He turned and stared fixedly at Bolitho. 'The manyou had flogged, sir.'
Herrick said harshly, 'Don't be so bloody impertinent to the captain!'
Bolitho found he was suddenly very calm. 'In your opinion, Mr. Whitmarsh, will the casks be any further use after this?'
'None.' The surgeon was still glaring at him. 'They must be scoured at once. The contents thrown overboard. A mouthful of that water, after gangrenous flesh has been in it, and you'll have a raging fever aboard! I've known it happen. There's no cure.'
Bolitho placed his glass on the table very slowly. Giving his mind time to steady.
'It seems that you are not the only one who wishes to turn back, Mr. Herrick. Now take hold of Sullivan and guard him before he does some other mischief.' He turned to Whitmarsh. 'I have not finished with you yet!'
Feet clattered on the quarterdeck ladder and Herrick reappeared in the doorway.
'Sir! That fool Sullivan is aloft on the cro'jack yard! He's raving mad! Nobody can get near him!'
Then Bolitho heard men shouting, more feet pounding overhead.
He said, 'I will go up.'
He found the gangways crowded with seamen and marines, while Don Puigserver and his Spanish lieutenant had joined
The Work of a Demon 8 5
Davy by the quarterdeck rail to watch a bosun's mate who was clinging to the mizzen shrouds and trying to reach Sullivan.
The seaman was perched on the yard, 'totally indifferent to the great billowing sail at his back and the hard sunlight which lanced across his body. He was completely naked, but for his belt, where he carried the broad-bladed dirk which had brought about his flogging in the first place.
Davy said anxiously, 'I did not know what to do, sir. The man is obviously moonstruck or worse.'
The bosun's mate bellowed, 'Now yew get down on deck, or by the livin' Jesus I'll pitch you there meseif!'
Sullivan threw back his head and laughed. It was a shrill, unnerving sound.
