Seaflower

Captain Fox still with the Patelle?

'He is at St John's at the same court-martial.'

'Then who is in command?'

'Patelle is under the temporary command of one of her lieutenants.'

Farrell, followed by the clerk, entered an anteroom on the ground floor, and glanced about. 'I shall set up headquarters here. Desire the Shirley Heights garrison to send an officer to attend me here for an immediate council-of-war.'

The clerk looked affronted but, at Stirk's grim look, quickly left. A sergeant of marines shortly appeared and gave a crashing salute. 'Sah!' With his local knowledge, Kydd helped to pull things together, and within the hour a captain of the Royal Scots Fusiliers was in respectful attendance.

Meanwhile, Farrell had the marine messenger busy with orders: 'To the officer commanding, Shirley Heights: 'It would be of some service to me should you see fit to begin heating shot as of this moment.'' Guns mounted on the commanding heights above the harbour could send red-hot shot among invading ships.

'My compliments to the commander of Patelle and he is to send her longboat, mounted with a swivel, to lie at grapnel in the entrance to the harbour.'

There was a small number of marines, less the usual number of sick, but the army was in some strength in forts at Shirley Heights and Blockhouse Hill. Barracks at Monks Hill and The Ridge held an unknown number of soldiers, depending on how many had fallen victims to the yellow fever. Would it be enough?

 

'Sah!'

'Yes, Sergeant?' Farrell looked up from his desk.

The man looked ill at ease. Farrell frowned. 'What is it, man?' 'Sah!'

'Yes,' said Farrell impatiently. 'Get on with it.'

'Sah, Lieutenant Powell o' the Patelle says — er, L'tenant Powell tol’ me that 'e's unable ter comply with y'r orders, sah!'

Farrell rocked back in his chair. 'Do I understand you to say that Lieutenant Powell is unable to send his ship's boat out?'

The sergeant hesitated. ‘Er, it's like this, sah. L'tenant Powell says as 'ow he, er, don't recognise yer orders, like.'

Everyone in the room froze. The dockyard clock ticked heavily.

'Where is the officer now?' Farrell asked finally.

The sergeant, still rigidly at attention, said tightly, 'Don't rightly know, sah.'

Farrell opened his mouth, but Kydd broke in, 'You mean t' say he's in the capstan house, do ye not?'

The sergeant's eyes swivelled to Kydd. 'Could be.'

Kydd went on carefully, 'Sir, seems th' l'tenant is enjoyin' an evenin' jug, didn't quite understan' y'r orders.'

Farrell gave a wintry smile. 'As it happens, I know Mr Powell.' The smile vanished. 'Send word to the master of Patelle that Lieutenant Powell is to be confined to his cabin immediately.' The sergeant saluted and left hastily.

Stirk looked meaningfully at Kydd but said nothing. Another languid sunset was on its way, but there was tension in the air. 'Have my orders been carried out?' Farrell demanded. The unknown four sail at last sighting were lying becalmed fifteen miles away; the focus of attention was now narrowing to this vexing insubordination.