the very thing he deplored. He did not think that waterfront gossip in Hull would examine his motives deeply enough to appreciate the rough justification of his action. But it was not local opinion that he was worried about.
He had collected all his scattered parties now, after the weary voyage home from Greenland. Aboard Melusine the watches had been reduced to the drudgery of regular pumping and Drinkwater himself had slept little, his senses tuned to the creaks and groans of the jury steering gear, every moment expecting it to fly to pieces under the strain. But it had held as far as Shetland where they had again overhauled it as the rest of the whalers prepared to sail south, and it would hold, God-willing, until they reached the Nore.
They passed Faithful as they stood out of the anchorage. She was already getting under way and Drinkwater raised his hat in farewell to Sawyers on his poop. The Quaker stood to make a small fortune from the voyage now that the 'salvage' of Nimrod and Conqueror could be added to his tally of profits on baleen, whale oil and furs. Drinkwater wished him well. He had given an undertaking to drop a few judicious words to any of the Hull ship-owners who sought to press the Government for reparation for the excessive zeal of a certain Captain Drinkwater in pressing their crews. Drinkwater was aware of the benefit of a precedent in the matter.
But there were other matters to worry Drinkwater. Sawyers's reassurances now seemed less certain as Melusine stood out to sea again. It was true Drinkwater had spent nearly two days in composing his confidential despatch to the Secretary of the Admiralty. In addition he had sent Mr Quilhampton to Hull on board the Earl Percy to catch the first London mail, a Mr Quilhampton who had been carefully briefed in case he was required to answer any question by any of their Lordships. Drinkwater doubted there would be trouble about the pressing of the whalemen. The Admiralty were not fussy about where they acquired their seamen. But what of Waller? Supposing Drinkwater's decision was misinterpreted? What of his leaving to their fate those pitiful French 'invalides'? The Admiralty had not seen their condition. To the authorities they might appear more dangerous than Drinkwater knew them to be. As for Singleton, what had appeared on his part of an act of tragic courage, might now seem oddly fatuous. Drinkwater had carried a letter from Singleton to the secretary of his missionary society and had himself also written, but God alone knew what would become of the man.
'She's clear of the Spit, sir.'
'Very well, Mr Hill, a course for The Would, if you please.'
Drinkwater turned from contemplating the play of light upon the shipping anchored at the Nore. He had been thinking of the strange events of the voyage and the clanking of Melusine's pumps had reminded him of his old dream and the strange experience when he had been lost in the fog. He came out of his reverie when Mr Frey reported the approach of a boat from Sheerness. Instinctively Drinkwater knew it carried Quilhampton, returning from conveying Drinkwater's report to Whitehall. He sat down and settled a stern self- control over the fluttering apprehension in his belly.
The expected knock came at the door. 'Enter!'
Mr Quilhampton came in, producing a sealed packet from beneath his boat cloak.
'Orders, sir,' he said with indecent cheerfulness. Drinkwater took the packet. To his horror his hand shook.
'What sort of reception did you receive, Mr Q?' he asked, affecting indifference as he struggled with the wax seals.
'They kept me kicking my heels all morning, sir. Then the First Lord sent for me, sir. Rum old devil, begging your pardon. He sat me down, as polite as ninepence, and asked a lot of questions about the action in Nagtoralik Bay, the force of the Requin, sir… I formed the impression he was judging the force opposed to us… then he got up, paced up and down and looked at the trees in the park and turned and dismissed me. Told me to wait in the hall. Kept me there two hours then a fellow called Templeton, one of the clerks, took me into the copy-room and handed me these,' he nodded at the papers which had suddenly fallen onto the table as Drinkwater succeeded in detaching,the last seal.
'It was rather odd, sir…'
'What was?' Drinkwater looked up sharply.
'This cove Templeton, sir. He said, well to the best of my recollection he said: 'You've smoked the viper out, we knew about him in May when we intercepted papers en route to France, but you caught him red-handed'.' Quilhampton shrugged and went on. 'Then he asked after Lieutenant Germaney and seemed rather upset that he'd gone over the standing part of the foresheet…'
But Drinkwater was no longer listening. He began to read, his eyes glancing superficially at first, seeking out the salient phrases that would spell ruin and disgrace.
The words danced before his eyes and he shuffled the papers, looking from one to another. Quilhampton watched, uncertain if he was dismissed or whether further intelligence would be required from him.
With the silent familiarity of the trusted servant Tregembo entered the cabin from the pantry. He held a filled decanter.
'Cap'n's got some decent wine, at last, zur,' he said to Quilhampton conversationally. 'Happen you've a thirst since coming from Lunnon, sur…'
Quilhampton looked from the Cornishman's badly scarred face to the preoccupied Drinkwater and made a negative gesture.
'Give him a glass, Tregembo, and pour me one too…'
It was not unqualified approval. St Vincent considered Waller should have been handed over:
Bearing in mind the political repercussions upon the sea-faring community of Kingston-upon-Hull I reluctantly endorse your actions, acknowledging the extreme measures you were forced to adopt and certain that service in any of His Majesty's ships under your command will bring the man Waller to an acknowledgement of his true allegiance…
Drinkwater was aware of a veiled compliment. Perhaps Dungarth's hand was visible in that. But he was not sure, for the remainder of the letter was pure St Vincent:
It is not, and never has been, nor shall be, the business of the Royal Navy to make war upon sick men, and your anxieties upon that score should be allayed. The monstrous isolation which the Corsican tyrant has condemned loyal men to endure, only emphasises the nature of the wickedness against which we are opposed…
Drinkwater relaxed. He had been believed. He picked up the other papers somewhat absently, sipping the full glass Tregembo had set before him.
…I am commanded by Their Lordships to acquaint you of the fact that the condition of the sloop under your command being, for the present unfit for further service, you are directed to turn her over to the hands of the Dockyard Commissioner at Chatham and to transfer your ship's company entire into the frigate Antigone now fitting at that place…
'Good Heavens, James. I am directed to turn the ship's company over to the Antigone! Our old prize from the Red Sea!'
''Tis a small world, sir. Does that mean Melusine is for a refit?'
Quilhampton's anxiety for his own future was implicit in the question. Drinkwater nodded. 'I fear so, James.'
'And yourself, sir…?'
'Mmm?' Drinkwater picked up the final sheet and the colour left his face. 'God bless my soul!'
'What is it, sir?'
'I am posted to command her. Directly into a thirty-six gun frigate, James!'
'Posted, sir? Why my heartiest congratulations!'
Drinkwater looked at his commission as a Post-Captain. It was signed by St Vincent himself, a singular mark of the old man's favour.
'About bloody time too, zur,' muttered Tregembo, refilling the glasses.
