The Corvette

Walmsley was clearly a hurried crib of the master's log. Walmsley disappointed him. After the business of Leek, Drinkwater had thought some appeal had been made to the young man's better feelings. He was clearly intelligent and led Glencross about like a puppy. And now this disturbing story about the pair of them being drunk during the first watch. Drinkwater swore. If only Rispin had done something himself, or called for Drinkwater to witness the matter, but Drinkwater had not gone on deck until midnight, having some paperwork to attend to. One thing was certain and that was that unpunished and drunken midshipmen could quickly destroy discipline. Men under threat of the lash for the least sign of insobriety would not thank their captain for letting two boys get drunk on the pretext of high spirits. And, thought Drinkwater with increasing anger, it would be concluded that Walmsley and Glencross were allowed the liberty because of their social stations.

He was on the point of sending for the pair when he decided that, last night's episode having gone unpunished though not unpublicised, he must make an example as public as the offence. And it was damned chilly aloft in these latitudes, he reflected grimly.

'Mistah Singleton, sah!' The marine sentry announced.

'Come in! Ah, Mr Singleton, please take a seat. What can I do for you?'

'First a message from Mr Bourne, sir, he says to tell you, with his compliments, that he has sighted the Earl Percy about three leagues to leeward but there is still no sign of the Provident.'

'Thank you. I had thought we might have lost contact with more ships during the gale but these whaling fellows are superb seamen. Now, sir. What can I do for you? It was in my mind that you might like to address the men with a short sermon on Sunday. Nothing too prolix, you understand, but something appropriate to our present situation. Well, what d'you say?'

'With pleasure, sir. Er, the other matter which I came about, sir, was the matter of the surgeon.'

'Ahhh…'

'Sir, Macpherson is reduced to a state of anorexy. I do not pretend that there is very much that can be done to save him. Already his groans are disturbing the men and he is given to almost constant ramblings and the occasional ravings of a lunatic'

'You have been to see him?'

Singleton sighed. 'It seems you have carried the day, sir.'

Drinkwater smiled. 'Don't be down-hearted, Mr Singleton. I am sure that you would not wish to spend all your days aboard Melusine in idleness. If my gratitude is any consolation you have it in full measure.'

'Thank you, sir. After you have landed me you will find that the whalers each have a surgeon, should you require one. I shall endeavour to instruct the aptest of my two mates.'

'That is excellent. I shall make the adjustments necessary in the ship's books and transfer the emoluments due to Macpherson…'

'No, sir. I believe he has a daughter living. I shall have no need of money in Greenland and the daughter may as well have the benefit…'

'That's very handsome of you.'

'There is one thing that I would ask, Captain Drinkwater.'

'What is that?'

'That we transfer Macpherson to the hold and that I be permitted to use his cabin.'

Drinkwater nodded. 'Of course, Mr Singleton, and I'm obliged to you.'

The gale increased again with nightfall and Drinkwater waited until two bells in the first watch. An advocate of Middleton's three watch system he liked to know who had the deck at any time during the twenty-four hours without the wearisome business of recollecting who had been the officer of the watch on his last visit to the quarterdeck. He wrapped his cloak about him and stepped out onto the berth deck. The marine sentry snapped to attention. Drinkwater ran up the ladder.

Melusine buried her lee rail and water rolled into the waist. The air was damp and cold, the clouds pressed down on the mastheads, obscuring the sky but not the persistent daylight of an Arctic summer. It was past nine in the evening, ship's time, and in these latitudes the sun would not set for some weeks.

Drinkwater made for the lee rail, took a look at the convoy, remarked the position of the Nimrod as sagging off to leeward.

'Mr Rispin, have the midshipmen of the watch make Nimrod's number and order that he closes the commodore.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

Drinkwater took himself across the deck to the weather rail where the vertical side of the ship deflected the approaching wind up and over his head, leaving its turbulence to irritate those less fortunate to leeward. He began to pace ruminatively up and down, feigning concentration upon some obtuse problem while he watched the two midshipmen carry out the simple order. After a little he called the lieutenant of the watch.

'Mr Rispin, I desired you that the midshipmen of the watch hoisted the signal. Send that yeoman forward. How else do you expect the young gentlemen to learn without the occasional advantage of practical experience?'

The wind was strong enough to require a practised hand at the flag halliards.

Expecting a fouled line or even the loss of one end of the halliard Drinkwater was secretly delighted when he observed Number Five flag rise upside down from the deck.

'Mr Rispin!'

'Sir?'

'Have that yeoman called aft and instruct the young gentlemen in the correct manner to hoist numerals.' The exchange was publicly aired for the benefit of the watch on deck. There were a number of grins visible.

When the signal had been hoisted and Nimrod's attention been called to it by the firing of a gun, Drinkwater called the two midshipmen to him.

'Well, gentlemen. What is your explanation of this abysmal ignorance?'

'An error, sir,' said Walmsley. Drinkwater leaned forward.

'I detect, sir,' he said, 'that you have been drinking. What about you, Mr Glencross?'

'Beg pardon, sir.'

'We are not drunk, sir,' added Walmsley.

'Of course not, Mr Walmsley. A gentleman does not get drunk, does he now, eh?'

The midshipmen shook their contrite heads. Experience had taught them that submission would purchase them a quick release.

'The problem is that I am not greatly interested in your qualities as gentlemen. You will find gentlemen forward among the lord mayor's men, you will find gentlemen lolling at Bath or Tunbridge, you will find gentlemen aplenty in the messes of His Majesty's regiments of foot and horse. Those are places proper to gentlemen with no other abilities to support them beyond a capacity for brandy.

'You may, perhaps, also find gentlemen upon the quarterdeck of a British man-o'-war, but they have no right there unless they are first and foremost seamen and secondly officers, capable of setting a good example to their men.

'In a few years you will be bringing men to the gratings for a check-shirt for the offence your gentility has led you into. Now, Mr Glencross, the fore topmasthead for you; and Mr Walmsley the main. There you may reflect upon the wisdom of what I have just told you.'

He watched the two young men begin to ascend the rigging. 'Mr Rispin, bring them down at eight bells. And not a moment earlier.'

Chapter Seven The First Whales