The Bomb Vessel

institutions and divisions that man imposed upon man that corrupted the metal. It was his belief that mankind could be redeemed by a few wise men, that the dissenting tradition of his grandfather's day had paved the way for the unleashing of the irresistible forces of the French Revolution.

Drinkwater had been right, Lettsom was a Leveller and a lover of Tom Paine. He did not share Drinkwater's widely held belief that the aggression and excesses of the revolution put it beyond acceptance, holding that man's own nature made such things inevitable just as the Royal Navy's vaunted maintenance of the principles of law, order and liberty were at the expense of the lash, impressment and a thousand petty tyrannies imposed upon the individual. A few good men…

He stopped playing his flute, lost in thought. If Jex had discovered the truth, Lettsom feared for Drinkwater. Despite their political differences the surgeon admired the younger lieutenant, seeing him as a man with humanist qualities to whom command came as a responsibility rather than an opportunity. Jex's evidence, if it was accurate, appeared to Lettsom as a kind of quixotic heroism in defiance of the established law. Drinkwater had hazarded his whole future to assist his brother and Lettsom found it endearing, as though it revealed the lieutenant's secret sympathy with his own ideals. With the wisdom of age Lettsom conduded that Drinkwater's subconscious sympathies lay exposed to him and he felt his admiration for the younger man increase.

He took up the flute again and began to play as another thought struck him. If the new landsman-volunteer was indeed Drinkwater's brother then Lettsom would not interfere and to hell with Jex. He did not find it difficult to condone such a crime of passion, particularly when it disposed of a marquis, one of those arrogant parasites that had brought the wrath of the hungry upon themselves and destroyed the peace of the world.

'Flag's signalling, sir.'

'Very well.'

'Number 107, sir.' There was a pause while Quilhampton strove to read the signal book as the wind tore at the pages.

'Close round the admiral, as near as the state of the weather and other circumstances will permit.'

'Very well.' The circumstances would permit little more than a token obedience to Parker's order. Since the early hours of Monday, 16 March, a ferocious gale had been blowing from the west south west. It had been snowing since dawn and become very cold. The big ships had reduced to storm canvas and struck their topgallant masts. At about nine o'clock the fireship Alecto had reported a leak and been detached with the lugger Rover as an escort.

Drinkwater ordered an issue of the warm clothing he had prudently laid in at Chatham as Lettsom reported most of the men afflicted with coughs, colds or quinsies. His own anxiety was chiefly in not running foul of another ship in the snow squalls that frequently blinded them. The fleet began to fire minute guns.

'Do you wish to reduce sail, sir?' asked Easton anxiously, shouting into his ear.

Drinkwater shook his head. 'She stands up well, Mr Easton, the advantage of a heavy hull.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

Virago was a fine sea-keeper, bluff and buoyant. Though she rolled deeply it was an easy motion and Drinkwater never entertained any apprehension for her spars. Although at every plunge of her bowsprit much of it immersed she hardly strained a ropeyarn.

'She bruises the grey sea in a most collier-like style, Mr Easton, how was she doing at the last streaming of the log?'

'Six and a half, sir.'

'Tolerably good.'

'Yes sir.'

Two hours later the wisdom of not reducing sail was borne out. In a gap in the snow showers the London was again visible flying Number 89.

'Ships astern, or in the rear of the fleet, make more sail!'

'Aye, very well. We've no need of that but I wonder if those in the rear can see it.' Half an hour later Parker gave up the struggle.

'Number 106, sir, 'Wear, the sternmost and leewardmost first and come to the wind on the other tack'.'

'Oh, my God,' said Rogers coming on deck to relieve Easton, 'that'll set the cat among the pigeons.'

'That'll do Mr Rogers,' said Drinkwater quickly. 'At least the admiral's had the foresight to do it at the change of watch when all hands should be on deck.'

And so the British fleet stood away from the Danish coast in the early darkness and the biting cold, uncertain of their precise whereabouts and still with no specific orders for the Baltic.

The cold weather continued into the next day while Parker fretted over his reckoning and hove-to for frequent soundings.

'I'll bet those damned pilots aboard London are all arguing like the devil as to where the hell we are,' laughed Rogers as he handed the deck over to Trussel who as senior warrant officer after the master kept a deck watch. It was eight in the morning and the gale showed little sign of abating, though the wind had veered a point. It was colder than the previous day and cracked skin and salt water boils were already appearing.

'Hullo, that's a new arrival ain't it Mr Rogers?' asked Drinkwater coming on deck. He indicated a seventy- four, looming out of the murk flying her private number and with a white flag at her mizen. Rogers had not noticed that the ship was not part of the fleet as they stood north east again under easy sail, the ships moving like wraiths through the showers.

'Er, ah… yes, sir,' he said flushing.

'Defiance, sir,' volunteered Quilhampton hurriedly, 'Rear Admiral Graves, sir, Captain Richard Retalick.'

'Thank you Mr Q.' Quilhampton avoided the glare Rogers threw at him and knew the first lieutenant would later demand an explanation why, if he was such a damned clever little wart, he had not informed the officer of the watch of the sighting.

The forenoon wore on, livened only by the piping of 'Up spirits', the miserable file of men huddled in their greygoes, their cracked lips, red-rimmed eyes and running noses proof that the conditions were abysmal. The only fire permitted aboard a vessel loaded with powder was the galley range and the heat that it dissipated about the ship was soon blown away by the draughts. The officers fared little better, their only real advantage being the ability to drink more heavily and thus fortify themselves against the cold. Mr Jex, whose duties rarely brought him on deck at all, took particular advantage of this privilege.

Edward Drinkwater had received an issue of the heavy-weather clothing that his brother had had the foresight to lay in against service in this northern climate. He had found it surprisingly easy to adapt to life below decks. A heavily built man who could afford to lose weight, his physique had stood up well in the few days he had been on board. His natural sociability and previous experience at living on his wits inclined him to make the best of his circumstances, while his connections with the turf and the stud had made him familiar with the lower orders of contemporary society as well as 'the fancy'. The guilt he felt for what he had done had not yet affected him and although he was periodically swept by grief for Pascale it was swiftly lost in that last image of her in life, her face ecstatic beneath her lover. He relived that second's reaction a hundred times a day, snatching up the sword and hacking it down in ungovernable fury in the turmoil of his imagination.

The rigorous demands of his duties combined with the need to be vigilant against exposing his brother, and hence himself, had left him little time to ponder upon moral issues. When turned below, his physical exhaustion swiftly overcame him and the fear of the law that had motivated his flight to Yarmouth evaporated on board the Virago. From his messmates he learned of the numbers of criminals sheltering in the navy, and that the service did not readily give up these living dead, could not afford to if it was to maintain its wooden ramparts against the pernicious influence of Republican France. Edward had relied upon his brother with the simple trust of the irresponsible and Nathaniel had not let him down. He did not know the extent to which Drinkwater had risked his career, his family, even his life. From what Edward had seen of the Royal Navy, the captain of a man of war was a law unto himself. He was fortunate in having a brother in such a position, and delivered his fate into Nathaniel's capable hands.

As to his altered circumstances, Edward was enough of a gambler to accept them as a temporary inconvenience. He was certain they would not last forever and from that sense of impermanence he was able to