The Corvette

'Aye, aye, sir.'

Drinkwater paced aft, ignoring the stream of superfluous orders with which Mr Rispin conducted the affairs of the deck. He was tempted to conclude the young officer hid his lack of confidence beneath this apparent efficiency. It deceived no-one but himself. But in spite of misgivings about his lieutenants Drinkwater was well satisfied with the ship. Melusine handled like a yacht. He stared aft watching a fulmar quartering the wake, its sabre wings rigid as it moved with astonishing agility. He eased his shoulders beneath his coat aware that he could do with some exercise. There were other compensations besides the qualities of his former French corvette. Mr Hill, the master, had proved an able officer, explaining the measures taken in the matter of stores for the forthcoming voyage. Furthermore his two mates, Quilhampton and Gorton, seemed to be coming along well. Drinkwater was pleased with Hill's efficiency. He seemed to have assumed the duties of both sailing master and executive officer, and not for the first time Drinkwater regretted the system of patronage that promoted a man like Germaney and denied a commission to Stephen Hill.

Drinkwater turned forward and began pacing the windward side of the quarterdeck. Since they had returned Sawyers to his ship off the Spurn lighthouse the wind had held at west-northwest and they had made good progress to the north. Four more whalers had joined them from Whitby and this evening they were well to the eastward of the Firth of Forth, the convoy close hauled on the larboard tack and heading due north.

Drinkwater stopped to regard the whalers as the sun westered behind him. He could see a solitary figure on the rail of Narwhal. Taking off his hat he waved it above his head. Jaybez Harvey returned the salute and a few seconds later Drinkwater saw the feather of foam in the whaler's wake jerk closer to her stern as Harvey's men pulled in the cask at which Melusine's gunners had been firing.

It had been a good idea to practise shooting in this manner. He had been able to manoeuvre up to, cross astern of and range alongside the cask, making and taking in sail for a full six hours while Harvey maintained his course. Finally to test both their accuracy and their mettle after so protracted an exercise, he had hauled off and let the hands fire three rounds from every gun, before each battery loosed off a final, concussive broadside.

The Melusines were clearly pleased with themselves and their afternoon's work. There was nothing like firing guns to satisfy a British seaman, Drinkwater reflected, watching the usual polyglot crowd coiling the train tackles and passing the breechings. He took a final look at the convoy. One or two of the whalers had loosed off their own cannon by way of competition and Drinkwater sensed a change of mood among the whale-ship masters. It was clear that preparations were under way for the arrival at the fishing grounds and he fervently hoped the differences between them were finally sunk under a sense of unanimous purpose.

He had stationed the Hudson Bay Ships at the van and rear of the convoy where, with their unusual ensigns, they gave the impression of being additional escorts, while Melusine occupied a windward station, ready to cover any part of the convoy and from where all her signals could be seen by each ship. He turned forward and looked aloft. The topmen were securing the topgallants and he could see the midshipmen in the fore and main tops watching over the furling of the courses. He considered himself a fortunate man in having such a proficient crew. Convoy escort could frustrate a sloop captain beyond endurance but the whalers, used to sailing in company and manoeuvring with only a handful of men upon the deck while the remainder were out in the boats after whales, behaved with commendable discipline. They were clearly all determined to reach the fishing grounds without delay. Even Ellerby seemed to have accepted his humiliation off the Spurn in a good grace, although it was at Nimrod that Drinkwater first looked whenever he came on deck.

'Beg pardon, sir.'

'Mr Mount, what is it?'

'I should like to try my men at a mark, sir, when it is convenient.'

'By all means. May I suggest you retain the gunroom's empty bottles and we'll haul 'em out to the lee foreyard arm tomorrow forenoon, eh?'

'Very good, sir.'

'Have the live marines fire at the dead 'uns,[1] eh?' Mr Mount's laughter was unfeigned and, like Hill, he too inspired confidence.

'Are there any fencers in the gunroom? Mr Quilhampton and I have foils and masks and I am not averse to going a bout with a worthy challenger.'

The light of interest kindled in Mount's eye. 'Indeed, yes, sir. I should be pleased to go to the best of…'

A scream interrupted Mount and both men looked aloft as the flailing body of a seaman fell. He smacked into the water alongside. Drinkwater's reaction was instantaneous.

'Helm a-lee! Main braces there! Starboard quarterboat away! Move God damn you! Man overboard, Mr Rispin!' Mount and Drinkwater ran aft, straining to see where the hapless topman surfaced.

'Where's your damned sentry, Mount?'

'Here, sir.' The man appeared carrying a chicken coop. He hove it astern to the fluttering, squawking protest of its occupants.

'Good man.' The three men peered astern.

'I see him, sir.' The marine pointed.

'Don't take your eyes off him and point him out to the boat.'

Melusine was swinging up into the wind like a reined horse. Men were leaping into the quarter-boat and the knock of oars told where they prepared to pull like devils the instant the boat hit the water. Mr Quilhampton, holding his wooden hand out of the way as he vaulted nimbly over the rail, grabbed the tiller.

'Lower away there, lower away lively!'

The davits jerked the mizen rigging and the boat hit the water with a flat splash.

'Come up!' The falls ran slack, the boat unhooked and swung away from the ship, turning under her stern.

'Hoist Princess Charlotte's number and 'Man overboard'.' Drinkwater heard little Frey acknowledge the order and hoped that Captain Learmouth would see it in time to wear his ship round into Melusine's wake. The marine was up on the taffrail, one hand gripping a spanker vang, the other pointing in the direction of the drowning man. He must remember to ask Mount the marine's name, his initiative had been commendable.

'Ship's hove to, sir,' Rispin reported unnecessarily.

'Very well. Send a midshipman to warn the surgeon that his services will be required to revive a drowning man.'

'You think there's a chance, sir… Aye, aye, sir.' Rispin blushed crimson at the look in Drinkwater's eye.

Everyone on the upper deck was watching the boat. Men were aloft, anxiety plain upon their faces. They could see the boat circling, disappearing in the wavetroughs.

'Can you still see him, soldier?'

'No sir, but the boat is near where I last saw 'im, sir.'

'God's bones.' Drinkwater swore softly to himself.

'Have faith, sir.' The even features of Obadiah Singleton glowed in the sunset as he stopped alongside the captain. The pious sentiment annoyed Drinkwater but he ignored it.

'Do you see the coop, soldier?'

'Aye, sir, 'tis about a pistol shot short of the boat… there, sir!'

Drinkwater caught sight of a hard edged object on a wave crest before it disappeared again.

'What's your name?'

'Polesworth, sir.'

'Oh! May God be praised!' Singleton clasped his hands on his breast as a cheer went up from the Melusines. A man, presumably the bowman, had dived from the boat and could be seen dragging the body of his shipmate back to the boat. The boat rocked dangerously as willing hands dragged rescued and rescuer inboard over the transom. Then there was a mad scramble for oars and the boat darted forward. Drinkwater could see Quilhampton urging the oarsmen and beating the time on the gunwhale with his wooden hand.

The boat surged under the falls and hooked on. Drinkwater looked at the inert body in the bottom of the boat.

'Now is the time for piety, Mr Singleton,' he snapped at the missionary as the latter stared downwards.

'Heave up!' The two lines of men ranged along the deck ran away with the falls and held the boat at the