An Eye of the Fleet

Appleby entered the midshipmen's berth with a worried Bennett behind him. Cranston was already chafing the unconscious midshipman's wrists.

Appleby felt the pulse, 'What occurred?' he enquired.

Cranston outlined the circumstances. Appleby lifted the eyelid.

'Mmmmmm… lend a hand…' Between them they got Drinkwater propped up and the latter held some smelling salts under the patient's nose.

Drinkwater groaned and Appleby felt around the base of the skull. 'He'll have a headache but he'll mend.' Another groan escaped Drinkwater's lips and his eyelids fluttered open, closed and opened again.

'Oh God, what the…'

'Easy, lad, easy. You've received a crack on the skull and another on the jaw but you'll live. You midshipmen get him into his hammock for a little while. You'll bear witness to this?' The last remark was addressed to Cranston.

'Aye if it's necessary,' answered Cranston.

'I shall have to inform the first lieutenant. It will remain to be seen whether the matter goes further.' Appleby picked up his bag and left.

Devaux regarded the matter seriously. He was already aware of some doubt as to the exact nature of Midshipman Morris's sexual proclivities and, though he was ignorant as to the extent Morris exerted an influence over certain elements of the ship's company, he realised the man was a danger. With the prevalent sullen atmosphere on board it only needed some stupid incident like this to provoke more trouble. With the rapidity of a bush fire one such outbreak led to another and it was impossible to hush such things up. The unpunished breach of discipline in the midshipman's mess might lead to God knew what horrors. He sought an interview with Captain Hope.

He found Hope more concerned with their landfall on the coast of the Carolinas than with the future of Mr Midshipman Augustus Morris.

'Do as you think fit, Mr Devaux,' he said without looking up from the chart, 'now I pray your attention on this chart…'

For a few moments the two men studied the soundings and coastline.

'What exactly is our purpose in making a landfall here, sir?' asked Devaux at last.

Hope looked up at him. 'I suppose you had better be aware of the details of this mission since any mishap to myself necessitates the duty devolving upon yourself… we are to make a landing here…' Hope pointed to the chart.

We will rendezvous with a detachment of troops at Fort Frederic, probably the British Legion, a provincial corps under Colonel Tarleton. An accredited officer will accept the package in my strong box. In the package are several millions of Continental dollars…'

Devaux whistled.

'The Continental Congress,' Hope continued, 'has already debased the credit of its own currency to such a state that the flooding of the markets of rebel areas will ruin all credibility in its own ability to govern, and bring large numbers of the Yankees over to the Loyalist cause. I believe large raids are planned on the Virginny tobacco lands to further ruin the rebel economy.'

'I see, sir,' mused Devaux. The two men considered the matter, then the younger said, 'It does seem a deucedly odd way of suppressing rebellion, sir.'

'It does indeed, Mr Devaux, decidedly odd. But my Lord George Germaine, His Majesty's Secretary for the Colonies, seems to be of the opinion that it is infallible.'

'Ha Germaine!' snorted the indignant Devaux. 'Let's hope he exercises better judgement than at Minden.'

Hope said nothing. At his age youthful contempt was an expenditure of energy that was entirely fruitless. He took refuge in silent cynicism. Germaine, North, Sandwich, Arbuthnot and Clinton, the naval and military commanders in North America, they were all God's appointed…

'Thank you Mr Devaux.'

'Thank you, sir,' replied Devaux picking up his hat and leaving the cabin.

Morris was below when the first lieutenant summoned him. Ironically it was White who brought the message. Sensing no threat from the boy Morris swaggered out.

'Sir?'

'Ah, Mr Morris,' began Devaux considerately, 'I understand there has been some difference of opinion between you and your messmates, is this so, sir?'

'Well, er, yes as a matter of fact that is so, sir. But the matter is settled, sir.'

'To your satisfaction I presume,' asked the first lieutenant, scarcely able to disguise the sarcasm in his voice.

'Yes, sir.'

'But not to mine.' Devaux looked hard at Morris. 'Did you strike first?'

'Well, sir, I, er…'

'Did you, sir, did you?'

'Yes, sir,' whispered Morris scarcely audible.

'Were you provoked?'

Morris sensed a trap. He could not claim to have been provoked since Cranston would testify against him and that would further militate in his disfavour.

He contented himself with a sullen shrug.

'Mr Morris you are a source of trouble on this ship and I ought to break you, never mind stretching your neck under the Twenty-Ninth Article of War…' Morris's face paled and his breath drew in sharply. 'But I shall arrange to transfer you to another ship when we rejoin the fleet. Do not attempt to obtain a berth aboard any ship of which I am first lieutenant or by God I'll have you thrown overboard. In the meantime you will exert no influence in the cockpit, d'ye understand?'

Morris nodded.

'Very well, and for now you will ascend the foretopgallant and remain there until I consider your presence on deck is again required.'

Chapter Thirteen The Action with La Creole

February 1781

His Britannic Majesty's 36-gun frigate Cyclops was cleared for action, leaning to a stiff south westerly breeze, close hauled on the port tack. To windward the chase was desperately trying to escape. As yet no colours had broken out at her peak but the opinion current aboard Cyclops was that she was American.

She had the appearance of an Indiaman but cynics reminded their fellows that Captain Pearson had been compelled to surrender to Paul Jones in the Bonhomme Richard. She had been an Indiaman.

On his quarterdeck Hope silently prayed she would be a merchant ship. If so she would prove an easy prey. If she operated under letters of marque she might prove a tougher nut to crack. What was more important was that Hope wished his arrival on the coast to be secret. Whatever the chase turned out to be Hope wanted to secure her.

Devaux urged him to hoist French colours but Hope demurred. He had little liking for such deceptions and ordered British colours hoisted. After a while the chase brailed up his courses and broke out the American flag.

'Ah there! He's going to accept battle. To your posts, gentlemen, this will be warm work. Do you likewise with the courses Mr Blackmore and take the topgallants off her…'

Shortened down for the ponderous manoeuvres of formal battle, Cyclops closed with her enemy. In the fore-top Drinkwater peered under the leech of the fore-topsail.