The man sent off could not expect to return to his own ship, and stood a good chance of rising in the service in a new vessel, but perversely, they usually preferred to return. Desperate and her ways were a known quality, with a firm but fair captain and for the most part decent officers. Who knew what the next ship would be like?
Finally, Desperate was forced to put about and head for Antigua, as miserly manned as the seediest merchantman with a skinflint for a master.
Chapter 12
There was more bustle in English Harbor when Desperate arrived. Admiral Hood and his flagship Barfleur, along with his fleet of larger ships of the line, filled the outer roads, and the port worked alive with rowing boats and supply ships.
Treghues was rowed over to Glatton to report to Admiral Matthews, and then was taken to Barfleur to dine. Forrester accompanied him, to everyone’s disgust, while Lewrie and Avery were handed the cutter and the pinnace and told to start heading for the inner harbor.
It was promising to see that all their prizes had arrived safe, anchored in a huddle of shipping far out of the way. That meant that there should be a share out of prize money soon. Maybe not the whole sum due each man, but enough pounds and shillings to make his life a little interesting, buy him a woman, some liquid refreshment, new slop clothing, tobacco, shares in some fresh meat or imported delicacies, or pay off his outstanding account with the purser, who could loan money against future pay for slop purchases.
Lewrie was also happy to note that at least half of Desperate’s missing people were still ashore waiting her arrival; happy that her most capable mates and inferior petty officers and able seamen were available once more; the ship would not be deprived of their experience any longer.
It was something of an embarrassing shock to see how happy their sojourners were to see him. He had thought they would be glad to be back aboard among their own mates, but here they were, making much of the sight of him. They sounded genuinely pleased to say hello to him and asked him joshing questions about those who had remained behind; how things stood with their acting replacements, was a certain ship’s boy bearing up and behaving, had a piece of gear been overhauled in their absence, had the goat foaled yet, asking him how he kept and had he and Mister Avery been looking after Carey, abusing Forrester … and bragging about what they had done in their free time ashore.
I don’t know these people that well, Lewrie thought, at a loss to explain the seeming affection from people in his subdivision, his watch. I know names and faces, who works and who hangs back. Maybe I’ve gotten some of them a rating and they think I’m due. I haven’t tried to be popular. Don’t tell me they have any real love for me …
He tried to be cynical about it, but it was touching all the same, running another delusion about the Navy squarely on the rocks. He had to admit that, for the most part, they were good men, able and well trained, but not the sort he’d have in for a joint and a bottle and a yarn if he were back home in London. Pressed or volunteer, one could no longer tell. But then he wasn’t back home, was he?
Lewrie soon gave up wondering about it as Desperate restocked. While the dockyard supplied most of the labor, steady men were picked to help out for extra pay in ferrying out fresh food and replacements for their depleted stores of bread, spirits and consumables.
Lewrie took Dr. Dorne and Mr. Cheatham ashore to select several bullocks for fresh meat while Desperate was in port, along with fresh flour, raisins, sugar and fixings for plenty of figgy-dowdys or duffs.
Dorne was also to make sure that Cheatham purchased cases of fresh hard-skinned acid fruit. Commander Treghues was of the opinion that the rob of lemons, limes and oranges had been the best anti-scorbutic the late Captain Cook had found against scurvy on his worldwide voyages. Dr. Dorne clung to the theory that bad air from the bilges caused scurvy. Had the rate of the disease dropped once Hales’ Patent Ventilators had been installed to air the spaces below the waterline? Yes, it had. But Dorne was not about to question a commander’s decision.
Dr. Dorne was an untidy man, though fussy about his appearance, and was one of the few men Lewrie had seen who wore a wig in the tropics as a matter of course. Perhaps because he was vain about going bald, he was never seen without his horsehair appliance. But he was considered a good surgeon, able to take off a limb in seconds, never causing unnecessary pain in the process, though he’d had little call for his skills so far. He could lance a boil, tend to rope burns, fit a truss, provide ointment for saltwater rashes and swore his fifteen-shilling mercury cure for the pox was devilish fine. He was also an easy touch for a late-night drink or a good book to read.
Cheatham, the purser, was a real puzzle. First of all, why should someone leave the Kentish fruit trade for the uncertain life of the sea where the profit margins were so low on issued stores, where any cheating beyond the Victualing Board’s fourteen ounces to the pound would be noticed by the men and complained about right smartly? Even slops at twelve percent profit could not sustain him, and Lewrie had yet to find him listing discharged men as big users of tobacco or sundry other items. Yet Cheatham always smiled, had no more complaints than most, and his books balanced nicely. He had a “lay” somewhere that was paying handsomely, or he had a wish to die poor. Only time would tell the truth.
Lewrie came back aboard littered with chicken feathers after ferrying the last major items on the gun room’s shopping lists, and was told to wash up and muster aft in the captain’s cabins at the beginning of the First Dog Watch. He was welcomed in by the officers and senior warrants. Commander Treghues’ servant was circulating with claret and pouring liberally.
“Gentlemen, I have summoned you aft to announce some good fortune that has come our way,” Treghues began, glass in hand. “Good fortune for every hand, every man-jack.”
Railsford sat nearby, already in on the secret and smiling at his ease for once now that the ship was anchored and nothing could go wrong to upset a first lieutenant’s peace—for a while, at least.
“Admiral Sir Onsley Matthews has informed me that the Admiralty Prize Court has made a determination on some of our recent prizes. In their infinite wisdom they have found time for our tawdry little affairs instead of dealing exclusively with Admiral Rodney and St. Eustatius.”
Bloody hell, quit being coy and get on with it! Lewrie had noticed that Treghues loved the sound of his own voice and wit.
“Since April we have taken two brigs, a brigantine, two schooners and two local sloops in these waters. That does not count our latest two prizes.” Treghues went on to enumerate all the various war supplies denied the rebels, all the outward-bound products, until Lewrie was ready to scream.
“My agent informs me,” Treghues said with the slightest glance to his right, which Lewrie spotted. It was Cheatham! He was the prize agent. There was five percent total in it for him. No wonder he smiled all the time. “We have amassed a total of £14,551, 8 shillings 9 pence. And … we shall receive a partial payout tomorrow … in gold!”
The tumult which resulted would have raised the hair of Mohawk Indians, and Lewrie was sure that the full news was already circulating on the lower deck barely before the words had drawled out of Treghues’ mouth.
Sir Onsley would get an eighth. Two-eighths would go to Treghues. The officers—Railsford, Lieutenant Peck, Mr. Monk, Dr. Dorne and Cheatham—split an eighth; the senior warrants, master’s mates and Admiral Matthews’ secretary split an eighth; the midshipmen, petty officers, quartermasters and their mates, the bosun’s mate and a few others took an eighth; and the rest of the crew received the final two-eighths.