The Corvette

that by now the water-folk have spread the news among the men.'

'I don't doubt it. You and Mount stood seconds, did you?'

'Mount refused, sir.'

'Ahhh.' Mount's conduct pleased Drinkwater. It must have taken considerable moral courage. 'Well, Mr Germaney, your own part in it might yet be concealed if we delay no further.'

'Thank you, sir… About the surgeon, sir. It is not right that we should make a voyage to the Arctic with such a man.'

'No.' Drinkwater refilled the glasses. Germaney's explanation made him realise the extent of his task. The whale-ship captains, already delayed by government proscription pending the outcome of developments with France, had been further held up by Palgrave's dilatoriness, to say nothing of his arrogance and offensiveness. He knew from his own orders that the Customs officers would issue the whale-ships their clearances at a nod from Melusine's captain, and he had no more desire than the whalers to wait longer. Delay increased the risk of getting fast in the ice. If that happened Melusine would crack like an egg-shell.

'But there is now no alternative. We will sail without delay. Now I desire that you send a midshipman to visit each of the whale-ships, Greenlanders they call 'emselves, don't they? He is to invite them to repair on board tomorrow forenoon and we can settle the order of sailing and our private signals. And tell the young gentleman that I would have the invitation made civilly with my cordial compliments.'

'Yes, sir,' said Germaney unhappily, 'and the surgeon?'

'Tell the surgeon,' said Drinkwater with sudden ferocity, 'that if I find him drunk I shall have him at the gratings like any common seaman.'

Two hours later Drinkwater received a round-robin signed by a dozen names stating that the whale-ship commanders 'Would rather their meeting took place ashore at the Trinity House of Kingston-upon-Hull…'

Drinkwater cursed Sir James Palgrave, annoyed that he must first set out to woo a set of cantankerous merchant masters who set the King's commission so lightly aside. Then he calmed himself and reflected they had little cause to love the Royal Navy. It plundered their ships of prime seamen, usually when they were entering the Humber and after the hardships of an Arctic voyage. There was already a Regulating Captain set up in the city with all the formal machinery of the Impress Service at his finger tips. Drinkwater remembered the story of a whaler abandoned by her entire crew off the Spurn Head as the cruising frigate hove in sight to press her crew.

No, they had no cause to love the Navy hereabouts and suddenly the vague, universal preoccupation of the justice of the present war came back to him. And as quickly was dismissed as irrelevant to the task in hand.

Chapter Three The Greenlanders

 May 1803

The tie-wigged usher conducted Drinkwater through the splendid corridors of the Trinity House of Kingston- upon-Hull. His previous connections with the corporation had been with the Baltic pilots it had supplied for the Copenhagen campaign two years earlier. Their performance had been disappointing and had clouded his opinions, so that he had forgotten the Arctic connection of the brotherhood.

The usher paused for a second before a heavy door from beyond which came the noise of heated argument. Drinkwater caught the phrase 'two months late' and the angrier, 'what guarantee have we of a bounty…?' Then the usher opened the door and announced him.

Drinkwater advanced into the room. He was in full dress with cocked hat and sword. The room was lit by tall windows and rushes were strewn across the plain boarded floor. Sitting and standing round a long mahogany table about two dozen men in all shades of civilian clothing turned towards him. Their complexions varied from the effects of their diet, the privations of their calling and the present heat of their passions. He was acutely aware of a wall of prejudice and remained observantly circumspect. He inclined his head.

'I give you good day, gentlemen.'

'Huh!' A huge black bearded man who sat cross-armed and truculent upon the nearer edge of the table turned his face away. Drinkwater kept his temper.

'Thou woulds't do better to keep thyself civil, Friend Jemmett.' A man in the dark green and broad-brimmed hat of a Quaker rose from a seat behind the table. He came forward and indicated an upright chair.

'Pray seat thyself, sir. I am Abel Sawyers, master of the Faithful.' The Quaker's voice was low and vibrant.

Drinkwater sat. 'I am indebted to you, Captain Sawyers.' He looked round the circle of faces. They remained overwhelmingly hostile, clearly awaiting his first move.

'I am aware, gentlemen, that there has been disruption of your intentions…'

'Some disruption!' The big, black bearded man spoke after spitting into the straw for emphasis. 'Some disruption! We are nearly two months late, too late to qualify for the bounty, God damn it! I do not expect you to give a toss for our dependents, Captain, but by God do not you try to prevent us sailing by trading our clearances against men out of our ships.'

A chorus of agreement greeted this remark. Drinkwater knew the Melusine was short of a dozen hands but the idea of pressing men out of his charges had not occurred to him. Indeed he considered the deficiency too small to worry over. It seemed that Sir James Palgrave's iniquities extended to the venal.

'Aye, Cap'n, my guns are loaded and if you sends a boat to take a single man out of my ship I swear I'll not answer for the consequences,' another cried.

A further chorus of assent was accompanied by the shaking of fists and more shouts.

'First they reduce the bounty, then they take half our press exemptions and then they order us not to sail until there is a man o'war to convoy us…'

'Bloody London jacks-in-office…'

'The festering lot of 'em should be strung up!'

'Do they think that we're fools, Captain?' roared the bearded captain, 'that we cannot see they wish to delay us only to take the men out of our ships to man the fleet now that war has broken out again.'

'Gentlemen!' Drinkwater stood and faced them. 'Gentlemen! Will you be silent God damn you!' He was angry now. It was quite likely that all they said was true. There might yet be a frigate cruising off the Spurn to relieve the Hull whale-fleet of 'surplus men', pleading the excuse that they could recruit replacements in Shetland or Orkney as they were entitled to. Drinkwater would not have been at all surprised if the authorities had it in mind, but at least his presence made it more difficult if he refused to cooperate… 'Gentlemen…'

'Friends!' The mellow roar of Sawyers beside him seemed to carry some authority over the angry Greenlanders and they eventually subsided. 'Let us hear what Captain Drinkwater has to say. He has come hither at our request. Please continue, Captain.'

'I have been to the Custom House this morning…'

'We do not want you or your damned government orders,' said the bearded Ellerby again.

'Except in the matter of bounty, friend,' put in the Quaker Sawyers quickly, which drew a hum of 'Ayes' and showed the first split in the assembly's unanimity.

'You would sail alone, Jemmett, but I could not risk an encounter with a cruiser off the Spurn. Men have been reluctant to sail this year for fear of the press. Let us see what Captain Drinkwater says about the matter of his own complement.'

Drinkwater looked at the new speaker. Dressed in brown drab he had a heavily pocked face with thin lips and snub nose which was, despite its inherent ugliness, possessed of a certain charm, enhanced by the kindness of the eyes. He caught Drinkwater's glance and bowed from his seat.

'Jaybez Harvey, Captain, master of the Narwhal.' He smiled. 'Your colleagues are too eager to press our men and pay scant regard to any exemptions…'

Drinkwater nodded and felt the need to exonerate his service. 'There is a war…'

'If there was no wars, Captain, thou knowest there woulds't be no navies to press innocent and God-fearing