A Brig of War

inconsequential shrug, Wrinch and his mehari camels reached Jeddah. Here he found Yusuf ben Ibrahim, luxuriating after the sale of the prizes taken for him by the Hellebore in the action with La Torride. Wrinch kicked him out of bed and in the sambuk both men sailed north to Al Wejh, where positive news awaited them of a great French ship, lying a few leagues to the northward in a sharm, with her guns ashore. Santhonax was careening his ship, preparing her for the next stage of his campaign.

'But what I don't comprehend, Strangford, is why a careenage on the Hejaz? Surely the Egyptian coast was more sensible, where he could contact Desaix.'

'Ah, my dear fellow,' said Wrinch putting an intimate hand briefly upon Drinkwater's knee, 'You profess to know the man without quite comprehending the depths of his cunning. Certainly the Egyptian coast would appear the best, but he would be harried continuously by mamelukes. Murad Bey would never suffer him to be left in peace for long enough to cast a timenoguy over a bobstay or whatever he does,' concluded Wrinch in mock ignorance.

'But Kosseir was held by the French. He could have done it there.'

'Not so. You yourself went a-looking for him there. Certainly he could have defended himself at Kosseir but not left his ship defenceless while he carried out the necessary maintenance. No, Santhonax needed the last place you'd look, so he found an isolated careenage on the Arabian side. The sharms of the Hejaz are ideal for the purpose being the flooded ends of wadis, dry river beds that run into these shallow bays, often well protected by coral and intricate approaches to foil a surprise attack and break up the sea. The usual small village can provide some comforts for his men and the local headmen may be bribed with ease. Santhonax could lie for a month before taking alarm.' He paused, reaching for a paper beneath his galabiya. 'Now, this is my intention.'

Drinkwater bent over the sketch-map. He listened to Wrinch's words, feeling excitement coiling inside him, remembering the drawn-out council of war that had been held in the gunroom tent of 'HM sloop Hellebore', a rocky islet in the middle of the Red Sea. Most he remembered its dramatic termination.

Griffiths had been there, half conscious and lying in his cot. The worst of the fever was over and he had slept peacefully for some hours. Wrinch had presided with Drinkwater, Rogers, Lestock and Appleby in attendance. Morris had also insinuated his presence.

Lestock was against the venture from the beginning. He was unable to see the strategic consequences of allowing Santhonax to refit and escape from his careenage. Appleby would embrace almost any expedient that got his precious patients to Mocha, a point that he made at considerable length, urging that the sambuk would more properly be employed in chasing Ball and Stuart and recalling them to attack the French frigate. 'For,' concluded the surgeon, 'it is patently obvious to even a non-combatant like myself that the presence of two frigates is decidedly superior to one.'

'They were of damn-all use at Kosseir, Appleby,' said Rogers with a trace of recurring impatience.

Drinkwater agreed. 'Besides,' he added cogently, 'virtually any delay will almost inevitably result in our losing this elusive Frenchman. And I for one, have not come all this way to lose the game to Edouard Santhonax.'

'Bravo, Nathaniel,' said Wrinch. 'I think we may accommodate the dissenters,' he said urbanely. 'If, gentlemen, after say seven days we have not made our reappearance you could send Mr Lestock off in the boat you were preparing on my arrival. I will leave you a man capable of seeing you into Mocha.'

Rogers accepted the idea of an attack on Santhonax with enthusiasm, while Lestock shook his head and mumbled his misgivings to Appleby. Morris remained silent, fitter than hitherto, but still with that predatory look of a man biding his time. Then, as they fell into groups and discussed the matter Griffiths sat up, fully conscious for the first time in days. He looked haggard and old beyond his years, the flesh hanging loosely about his face. But his eyes were bright with intelligence, like those of a child, instantly awake after a refreshing nap.

'Wrinch? Good God man, is it you? What… where the devil are we? Nathaniel? Where the deuce…' Drinkwater detached himself and came over to the commander while Appleby called for water. He knelt down beside Griffiths and patiently began the long explanation. The questions Griffiths shot at him from time to time made it plain that the old man's senses had returned to him and at the end of Nathaniel's speech he threw off his sheets and rose unsteadily to his feet. 'Gentlemen, this is no longer a matter for debate. Make preparations at once. I shall command you myself, Nathaniel, pick forty able men, Mr Rogers prepare small arms… Mr Lestock, you may take charge in our absence. Mr Appleby will second you.' He swayed a trifle but, by an effort held himself upright.

'Perhaps I might remind you, Commander Griffiths, that I am now fit enough to take command in your absence.' Morris spoke for the first time. Drinkwater opened his mouth to protest but Morris quickly added, 'After yourself I'm the senior officer.' His eyes met those of Drinkwater and the latter read the satisfaction of a small scoring over his enemy.

'Oh, very well, Mr Morris, you may command the invalids and cripples. The rest of us will prepare ourselves to catch Reynard in his den.'

Drinkwater did not let his mind dwell on the possible consequences of leaving Morris in charge of the island. He already had the amusing company of Dalziell, now perhaps he would exert his influence upon the scared rabbit Bruilhac or worse, the convalescing Quilhampton. There were also the ship's boys and, for added diversion, Catherine Best. Through her he might gain an advantage over Appleby, also a party to his former disgrace. Foreboding clouded Drinkwater's mind as he fought to concentrate on Wrinch's words. There had been a strange quiescence in Dalziell since Mr Morris came aboard. Drinkwater watched Wrinch's face, aware that he shared some of Morris's tastes, though to a less perverse degree. But what he found offensive in one, Nathaniel scarcely thought of in the other, associating Wrinch's peccadillo with his way of life.

'So you see, Nathaniel, we shall observe the three basic principles of warfare. First simplicity of purpose, second detail in preparations, hence the galabiya with which I perceive you are not yet familiar, and thirdly the advantage of surprise in execution.'

They reached Al Wejh after nightfall and anchored. A small boat was hauled over the side and Wrinch and Yusuf slipped ashore. Yusuf's men sat in a huddle and smoked hashish while Drinkwater briefed the Hellebores, explaining in detail what was to happen. Among the forty men selected for the enterprise were Tregembo and Kellett, together with most of the topmen, Mr Trussel and a party of the best gun captains. Mr Rogers was also there. Quilhampton had begged to come but Drinkwater had forbidden it. Instead he had entrusted a bundle of letters to the midshipman, 'in case of contingencies not, at this moment, envisaged.'

He went below and found Griffiths sleeping quietly in a hammock. At the moment of the final attack he hoped Griffiths would remain aboard the sambuk for he would be little use for anything else, weakened by the fever as he was. In the interim Drinkwater was glad to see him sleeping so peacefully. He returned to the deck and lay down. But he was restless and sat up, leaning against the bulwarks while the stars wheeled slowly overhead, aware that the smells of Al Wejh were unrelievedly noxious. He thought of Elizabeth and her child, curiously he could not think of it as his until he had seen it. He wondered if it were a boy or a girl and what Elizabeth had called it. In the darkness he whispered her name, very low, but loud enough to give it substance, to convince himself that somewhere a lady of this murmured name actually lived, and that reality was not Nathaniel Drinkwater sitting on the deck of a dhow dressed like an Arab horsethief, but a brown-haired woman with a child at her breast. Thinking thus he dozed.

He woke at the sound of a boat bumping alongside. Wrinch had returned and they weighed anchor. In the calm of the night four sweeps propelled the dhow closer inshore and soon they secured alongside a stone pier. Striking the hold open they swung the great lateen yards round and laboured to gingerly lift each of the three six- pounders out of the hold and on to the waiting carts. It was dawn before the last gun had gone, followed by Mr Trussel and his gunners who departed with their powder and shot on a fourth cart.

Wrinch came to say his farewells. He addressed Griffiths who was still in his huge nightshirt. 'It is all arranged Madoc. I had sufficient gold. Your artillery was a powerful persuader. Nathaniel is fully aware of the precise nature of my intentions. As for yourself, Madoc, I entreat you not to be quixotic. That you have come is sufficient. Let Nathaniel here lead the attack.'

'I am a naval officer, not a mawkish schoolgirl to be cozened,' growled Griffiths. In a milder tone he added, 'be off with you. Give us your blue light when y're ready and you'll not find us wanting.' He held out his hand.

'Let us hope that we may toast our success in this Santhonax's cabin stores before long.' Wrinch extended his hand to Drinkwater.