The Bomb Vessel

'How have you been treated?'

'The same as all your seamen,' Edward replied with a trace of bitterness, 'I have no complaints.'

Drinkwater bit off a tart rebuke and poured two glasses of blackstrap. He handed one to Edward then went to the door. 'Mr Q, I want a bowl of hot water from the galley upon the instant.'

'A bowl of hot water, sir?' He caught the gleam in Drinkwater's eye. 'Er, yes sir.'

'Sit down Ned, sit, down.' Drinkwater closed the door. 'Your circumstances are about to change. Whether 'tis for the better I cannot say, but listen carefully to what I tell you.' He paused to collect his thoughts.

'Jex, the purser, has tumbled you. He saw a cursed newspaper report about the murder and also saw you in the Blue Fox, at Chatham. You knew of this?'

Edward nodded. 'I did not know how he had found out, but he approached me…'

'You did not…?'

'Confess? Good God no! I merely acted dumb, as any seaman does in the presence of an officer.' The ghost of a smile crossed Edward's face. 'What did you do about Mr Jex?' The anxiety was now plain.

Drinkwater sighed. 'Bluffed, Ned, bluffed. Denied you were my brother, said the name of the suspected murderer was a coincidence then gave him to understand that there might be something of a mystery surrounding the whole-affair, but that it was not his concern… come in!'

A heavy silence hung in the cabin as Quilhampton ushered in the messman with the bowl of water. Both rating and mate could scarcely disguise their curiosity. It would be all over Virago in a matter of moments that Waters, the landsman volunteer, was taking wine with Virago's commander. But Nathaniel no longer cared. Perhaps some apparent unconcern would lend credibility to what he proposed. Edward did not seem to have noticed, but waited only for the intruders to leave before bursting out:

'What the hell d'you mean you told him there was something of a mystery…'

'God damn it, Ned, I've lied for you, risked my career, abused my position of command and maybe jeopardised my whole life for brotherly bloody affection! D'you not think a flat denial would only have increased Jex's inquisitiveness. Mr Jex is not to be counted among my most loyal officers, he is seeking to avenge a grudge. But he is not stupid enough to risk his suspicions against the Articles of War, nor bright enough not to be a little confused by what I have told him. Perhaps he will work it all through and conclude I have deceived him; if that is the case his malice will be thereby increased. But by that time you will be gone.'

Edward shook his head. 'I don't understand…'

'My shaving things are lying on the cabin chest there,' he indicated the cotton roll, 'do you shave while I talk… Now, I wrote from Yarmouth to Lord Dungarth. I was employed by him some years ago in secret operations on the French and Dutch coasts. He is a spy-master, a puppet-master he calls himself, and may be able to find you some employment…'

'What the devil did you say about me for God's sake?' asked Edward lathering himself.

'Only that a person known to me was anxious to be of service to his country, had asked for my protection and spoke fluent French. That this person might prove of some value for a patriotic service in a Baltic state. His lordship is intelligent enough to draw his own conclusions…'

'Especially if he reads the newspapers,' muttered Edward as the razor rasped down his tanned cheek. He swished the razor in water and turned to his brother.

'So I am to become a puppet, to dance to his lordship's string-pulling, eh?'

'You have scant reason for bitterness, Edward,' said Drinkwater sharply, 'I would have thought it preferable to dancing on the gallows.' Drinkwater mastered his anger at Edward's peculiar petulance and poured himself another glass of blackstrap.

'I am about to land you on the Danish coast. You should acquire a horse and make for Hamburg. The Harwich packet calls fortnightly and when the Kite left for England with the envoys she carried mails. Among them was a letter to Lord Dungarth stating that the person of whom I had written earlier would take his instructions from the packet master in the name of 'Waters'.'

'And d'you think the security of these letters will be breached?'

'I doubt it. The second is hardly incriminating, the first I sent by special delivery. To be precise the Commander-in-Chief's wife.'

'Good God!'

'It is the best I can do for you Ned, for I must land you.' He had thought to say 'disencumber myself of you', but refrained.

'Yes, of course. How long must I wait in Hamburg?'

'I should give it two months… meet the Harwich packet when she berths.'

'After which this Lord Dungarth will have abandoned me much as you now wish to.' The two brothers stared at each other.

'That is right, Ned,' Drinkwater said quietly, 'And damned sorry I am for it.'

Edward shrugged. 'I need money.'

Drinkwater nodded and reached into his chest. 'You can take the money I took from you at Yarmouth, plus twenty sovereigns of mine. I should like to think that one day you were in a position to redeem the debt… as for clothes these will have to suffice.' He upturned a canvas bag. Shirts, pantaloons, shoes and a creased blue broadcloth coat fell out.

'A dead man's?'

'Yes, named Mason.'

'It seems you have thought of everything…'

Drinkwater ignored the sarcastic tone. 'You had better take his sword and his pistol. I have renewed the flint and there is a cartouche box with a spare flint and powder and ball for half a dozen rounds.' He watched Edward put on one of the shirts and try the shoes. They were a tolerable fit. 'If you are careful you have sufficient funds to purchase a horse and lodgings for your journey. I suggest you speak only in French. Once in Hamburg you must trust to luck.'

'Luck,' repeated Edward ironically, pulling on Mason's coat, 'I shall need a deal of that… and if she fails me, as she has done before, then I may always blow my brains out, eh? Nathaniel?' He turned to find his brother gone and the cabin filling with the grey light of dawn.

Drinkwater looked astern once at the dark shape of Virago as the first of the daylight began to illuminate the anchorage. A freezing wind blew in their faces as the boat, her sheets trimmed hard in, butted her way to the south eastwards, through the anchored ships. The only advantage to be had from the multitude of delays they had been subjected to in the past weeks was that a boat working through the anchorage was unlikely to attract much attention. There had been too much coming and going between the ships for any suspicions to be aroused.

The boat's crew were muffled against the cold. Beside him in the stern sat Edward, staring at the approaching shore and ignoring the curious looks of his former messmates. He had one hand on the rail and the other round Mason's canvas bag, sword and cocked hat.

The two brothers sat in silence. There had been no formal leave taking, Drinkwater having re-entered the cabin merely to announce the readiness of the boat.

Edward's ingratitude hurt Nathaniel. He could not imagine the emotions that tore his brother, how the comparison of their situations had seemed heightened by the social gulf that had divided them during Edward's short sojourn before the mast. Nor could Edward, to whom precarious existence had become a way of life, fully realise the extent to which Drinkwater had risked his all. And a man used to gambling and living upon his wits with no-one to blame but himself for his misfortunes usually casts about for a scapegoat. But this was lost on Drinkwater who charitably assumed the bleak prospect looming before his brother accounted for Edward's attitude.

Quilhampton tacked the boat seaward again in the growing light. The low coast of Zeeland was now clearly visible to the south of them and after half an hour they went about again and stood inshore where the tree-lined horizon was broken by the harder edges of roofs and the spire of Gilleleje. Drinkwater nudged Quilhampton and pointed at the village. Quilhampton nodded.

Forty minutes later they lowered the sail and got out the oars, running the boat on the sand in a comparative lee.

Drinkwater walked up the beach alongside Edward. Neither man said a word. Behind them Quilhampton stilled a speculative murmur among the boat's crew.