A Brig of War

Hellebore ain't under my command. I suppose I may represent that in this affair she was operating under my orders even though you exceeded your damned authority in sending her.'

Wrinch merely smiled while the admiral weighed Wrinch's impertinence against the gains to be made upon the fulcrum of his own dignity. He appeared to make up his mind.

'Well her damned commander's dead and so it seems I owe that popinjay Nelson a favour after all, eh?'

Wrinch nodded. 'French power is no longer a factor in the Red Sea, sir.'

'What did you make of that damned cove Santhonax?' asked the admiral recollecting his duty together with the fact that Wrinch had interrogated the French officer.

'He was quite frank. Had no option as we had captured his papers entire. He was to have carried a division to India this year, then Bonaparte invaded Syria and Murad Bey tied down Desaix in Upper Egypt and he was ordered to wait. He decided to careen on the coast of the Hejaz, as we know, and was in the process of collecting his squadron before seeking out Your Excellency. Had we arrived two days later he might have achieved his aim. After all he had secured Kosseir and Ball's attempt to dislodge his men failed somewhat abysmally, I believe…' Wrinch went no further, aware that the admiral had had the Kosseir affair represented in a somewhat more flattering light.

'Ha h'm. Well we have a handsome prize to show for our labours, eh Strangford?' Wrinch smiled again. The admiral would make a tidy amount in prize money, despite the loss of Annette. He would receive one-eighth of the Antigone's value if she were purchased into the Royal Navy.

'We had better get Antigone home without delay, eh?' Wrinch inclined his head in agreement. 'And we'll disburse a little more than you claim to those Arabs, they're well-known for their rapacity.' The admiral grinned boyishly, 'you and I split the difference, what d'you say, eh?'

Wrinch shrugged as though helpless. 'Whatever you say, Your Excellency.'

'Good.' Blankett looked pleased and Wrinch reflected he had good reason. Without stirring from his anchorage at Mocha he had enriched himself considerably by the capture of the Antigone and the embezzlement of public money that would be officially disbursed to contingent expenses. Furthermore his subordinates had removed all threat of French expansion to India and, at least from Captain Lidgbird Ball's account of it, his squadron had taken part in a highly creditable bombardment of Kosseir. That this had been rendered significant more by the capture of Santhonax and his ship than the six thousand rounds of shot picked up by the French upon the foreshore was of no consequence to the admiral. While all this excitement had been going on he had been enjoying the voluptuous pleasure of two willing women. All in all Blankett's circumstances were most satisfactory.

'Whom will you appoint to command the prize home, sir?' enquired Wrinch.

The admiral screwed his face up. 'Well there's young what's his name on the Bombay station to be given a step in rank, but I think one of my own officers… er, Grace, the commander of Hotspur could be posted into the ship; but ain't she only en flûte?'

Wrinch nodded, 'Only six main-deck guns mounted, sir.'

'Hmmm, I doubt Grace'd thank me if I posted him into a sitting duck for a Frog cruiser…' Blankett rubbed his chin which rasped in the still, hot air. 'No, we'll give a deserving lieutenant a step to commander. If he loses the prize on the way home then there's one less indigent on the navy list. Now let me see…'

'Surely the honour should go to the officer whose exertions secured the prize? Isn't that the tradition?'

Blankett waved the assumption aside. 'Well 'tis tradition, to be sure, but sometimes a little done for one's friends… you know well enough, Strangford.'

'True sir, but I thought myself,' Wrinch laid a little emphasis on the pronoun to indicate his was a position of some influence, 'that the officer most deserving was Drinkwater. His efforts have been indefatigable.' Wrinch met the eyes of the admiral. 'I am sure you agree with me, sir, now that Griffiths is dead, that you will see eye to eye in the matter.' Wrinch's voice had an edge to it which changed abruptly to a tone of complicit bonhomie, 'As of course we have over so much lately: your accommodation at my house with its attendant comforts, the matter of the disbursement to my Arab friends at Al Wejh…' he trailed off, allowing the significance of his meaning to sink in.

But Blankett was unabashed and shrugged urbanely. 'Perhaps, Strangford, but Mr Morris is a pressing candidate, he has some clout with their Lordships though why he is only a lieutenant I cannot guess. I shall consult Ball upon the matter. At all events I am obliged to hold an enquiry into the loss of the Hellebore, the more now that their Lordships are screaming out for her speedy return home.'

The court was convened aboard Leopard on 1st October 1799 under the chairmanship of the rear-admiral. The members of the court were Captain Surridge of the Leopard, Ball and Stuart of Daedalus and Fox, and Commander Grace of the Hotspur, the sloop that had brought Morris out from England.

In his capacity as British consular agent Strangford Wrinch, having some formal knowledge of the law, sat as judge advocate. He wore European clothes for the purpose.

In the absence of her commander, Drinkwater was called first. His deposition as to the brig's loss was read out. In it he outlined his own misgivings about the accuracy of their assumed position. It was followed by that of Mr Lestock, a cautiously worded and prolix document which said a great deal about Mr Lestock's character and little in favour of his abilities. It called forth a sotto voce comment from the admiral that the master seemed very like his 'damned namesake', referring to an Admiral Lestock who had failed to support his principal in battle half a century earlier.

Rogers's statement was then read out to the court who were by this time finding the heat in Leopard's cabin excessive, packed as it was by so many officers in blue broadcloth coats. Rogers was called to the stand.

'Well, Mr, er…'

'Rogers, sir.'

'… Rogers,' said the admiral whose wig was awry above his florid face, 'this ain't a hanging offence but it does seem that you presumed a great deal, eh?' On either side of him three post-captains and the commander nodded sagely, as if men of their eminence never made errors of judgement.

'It was hardly 'a misfortune' that breakers turned out to be over a reef, sir, is it, eh? Stap me, where else d'you expect to find 'em? Had you hove-to and found two hundred fathoms and made yourself the laughing stock of the whole damned squadron you could hardly have been blamed. It would certainly have made more sense.'

Drinkwater watched the colour mount to Rogers's face and felt sorry for him. He knew the loss of the brig had been acutely felt by Rogers. It had tempered his fiery self-conceit into an altogether different metal. Blankett whispered to the officers on either side of him. Drinkwater noted Commander Grace seemed to be making a point and looking in his direction. Blankett passed a napkin across his streaming face and addressed the court.

'Very well gentlemen, I see there are mitigating factors. Captain Grace reminds me of Mr Drinkwater's observations about refraction and adds he has been making a study of the phenomena. In the circumstances the court take cognizance of these factors, though these do not relate directly to Mr, er, er the lieutenant's conduct on the night in question.' He looked round at his fellow judges and they each nodded agreement.

'It is the opinion of this court of enquiry that the loss of His Britannic Majesty's Brig-of-War Hellebore upon the night of 19th August last was due to circumstances of misadventure. But it wishes to record a motion of censure upon Lieutenant…'

'Rogers,' put in Wrinch helpfully.

'Rogers, as to the degree of care he employs while in charge of a watch aboard one of His Majesty's ships of war.' The sweat was pouring down Blankett's face and he wiped it solemnly. 'That I think concludes our business.'

The admiral rose heavily and withdrew as the court broke up. Drinkwater found himself approached by Grace who wished to see his figures on refraction while Rogers hovered uncomfortably. When Grace had been satisfied Drinkwater turned to Rogers. 'Well Sam, 'twasn't too bad, eh?'

'Is that it? Does that mean there will be no formal court-martial?'

'I think not. Griffiths is dead and the navigation of the Red Sea intricate enough to mollify this court. By the time the admiral's secretary has dressed up the minutes of these proceedings for the consumption of a London