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CHAPTER 12
The breeze the next
day was soft, coming a point north of true West. The Laconia
was making almost four knots on this leg. The men off duty began
gathering around the gun deck after four bells in the Forenoon
watch. Everyone on the ship knew what was to occur less than
an hour away. They observed the bo'sun mates in the waist raise
a grating up upon its ends and secure it to the lower railing
of the quarterdeck above. The marines began to gather on the
quarterdeck, loading their muskets. Finally Stokes carried a
green baize bag from his quarters and placed it on a low table
near the upturned grating.
Everyone stopped
moving as six bells rang out. Stokes called out, "ALL HANDS
TO WITNESS PUNISHMENT!"
Slowly the crew
gathered on the forecastle or on the gun deck forward of the
waist. Midshipmen and petty offices assembled the men in their
ranks. The Marines took their station against the quarterdeck
railing facing the waist, bayonets gleaming in the sun, the drummer
taking up a prominent position on the windward side. Lt. Price
came forward and spoke to the other officers. The other members
of the wardroom gathered on the stern side of gun deck. Two passengers
joined them; one in a Marine's uniform, the other in a suit of
black. Finally two men-at-arms escorted the prisoner Pyke, still
in irons, to the lee side of the waist.
Only then did the
captain of the Laconia make his appearance, in Number
Two uniform and breeches, hat on head and sword belted on waist.
"Report, Mr. Price," ordered Wentworth, standing on
the windward side of the waist.
"All crew present
and accounted for, sir." Four people were not there: two
patients in the Sick Bay, the loblolly boy and the captain's
wife.
"Very good,
Mr. Price. Bring the prisoner forward." The master-at arms
signaled to his mates; Pyke was brought to the center of the
waist. A night in irons, listening to the taunts of his crewmates,
had quite the effect upon his disposition. The man was trembling,
white with fear, and was making a low moaning sound. "Jeremiah
Pyke: You have been found guilty of the following violations
of the Articles of War, to wit: drunkenness, theft, failure to
stand your watch and striking a superior officer. Will any of
his superiors speak on his behalf?"
Midshipman Dawsey
pointedly looked away from the disgraced landsman.
"Jeremiah Pyke,
due to the dishonor you have brought upon this ship, you shall
suffer to receive a dozen lashes well laid for each of your crimes.
Master-at-arms, seize him up."
As the master-at-arms
and his mates began to remove Pyke's shirt, the prisoner cried,
"Oh, sir - have mercy! I freely admit my crimes, an' I am
heartily sorry for it! Spare me an' I will not trouble you nor
your good wife nor nobody else aboard - I swear! Please - spare
me!"
"Pyke,"
grumbled the master-at-arms, "have some courage, man."
The two mates almost carried the crying man to the upraised grating.
Working quickly, his wrists were made fast, with a lashing, to
the brass man-rope eyebolts, and his ankles to a small grating
laid on the deck. Thus standing straight up, his arms were stretched
considerably above his head.
Pyke, breathing
hard, screamed, "Don't kill me!" before the mate fastened
a gag in his mouth.
Wentworth turned
to Stokes to give him his customary orders. "Mr. Stokes,
I order you and your mates to do your duty, and not favor the
man; for he that does not do his duty shall suffer to be triced
up himself."
Stokes nodded and
turned to the bag. From it he withdrew a cat-o'-nine-tales and
handed it to his chief mate. It consisted of a wooden handle,
about fifteen inches long, covered with cloth, with nine tails
of white line about as thick as thick pack-cord, twenty inches
long, and the ends whipped, not knotted. It was about as evil-looking
a device as man could devise.
"OFF HATS!"
All the men and
officers removed their hats, save the Marines, who stood at attention
with their muskets at their sides. The drummer began a rolling
cadence.
The chief bo'sun's
mate reared back with the cat and swung it across Pyke's shoulders
as hard as he could. Pyke groaned in agony as the mate brought
the cat back for a second blow. Slowly, methodically, expertly,
the mate administered the flogging to the miscreant. After six
blows he stopped and handed the now-bloody cat to his mate. The
drum continued as the mate began his part of the distasteful
task. He was not as experienced as his fellow or as tall. His
blows, as well laid as any other, tended to land lower: across
the lower back and buttocks. By now Pyke's motions had ceased;
he hung loosely from the eye-bolts.
Another six lashes
administered, the cat was returned to the chief mate, who raised
it to begin the second dozen.
"HOLD!"
The bo'sun's mate
turned at the sound and the Marine drummer's roll petered out.
Wentworth turned to the interrupter. "Why do you cry out,
Dr. Powell?" he asked formally.
"As surgeon
of this ship, I invoke my right to examine the prisoner to assure
that this punishment is not excessive, sir!"
Wentworth sniffed.
"That is your right, sir. See to it and be done."
"Dr. Maturin,
I ask for your assistance." The two medical people approached
the bleeding, broken man. His back resembled raw meat. His head
lolled about in dubious consciousness. The doctors spent several
moments looking about Pyke and conferring amongst themselves
in low tones. Dr. Powell then turned to Wentworth again. "Captain,
I must say that, in my medical opinion, this man cannot receive
any more lashes, or his life may be forfeit."
"Indeed, sir?"
"Yes, sir.
My colleague, Dr. Maturin, joins me in this diagnosis."
Wentworth lowered
his head as to consider this information. Looking up, he said,
"Just punishment this man shall receive - nothing
more, nothing less. This is a ship of law, not men. It is not
in the power of this ship's captain to suffer a man being put
to death; therefore, this sentence is hereby suspended. Master-at-arms!
Take the prisoner down and return him to his place in irons,
to await transfer to more appropriate authorities."
"Captain Wentworth,
shall he not be sent to the Sick Bay, sir?"
"Dr. Powell,
can you not attend him in the orlop?"
"I can, sir."
"Then let it
be done. I shall not inflict this…man upon our brave comrades
in the Sick Bay. Lt. Price - dismiss the men." Wentworth
placed his hat back upon his head and returned to his cabin.
"Bravo, mon
capitaine, bravo!' applauded Dr. Powell as he entered the
great cabin. He and Lt. Price were invited to have dinner with
Captain and Mrs. Wentworth and Dr. Maturin.
"I would ask
you to lower your voice, Sir," grumbled the captain. Silence,
you idiot!
Powell went on as
if Wentworth had said nothing. "Such a performance! You
could have made your mark on the Drury stage, I am sure, had
you not gone to sea, my dear Sir. I almost forgot my lines; such
was the severity in which you fixed your eye on me. It was quite
a start, eh colleague?"
"Captain Wentworth
was every inch the annoyed commanding officer," Stephen
granted, while giving a look of sympathy to Wentworth.
William Price looked
about the table with a shocked expression. "I beg your pardon
- are you saying that the events at six bells was an act? That
it was planned out beforehand?"
Wentworth's face
reddened, but it was Powell who answered. "But of course.
A cleverer way out of such a sticky wicket I challenge you to
discover."
Stephen, noticing
the distressed expression on the captain's face, stepped in.
"It was done at my suggestion, Mr. Price. The captain realized
that the sentence to the man Pyke was excessive after I discussed
my general impressions of the prisoner's health. It was I who
conjured up the performance you observed this morning. It was
I who overcame the captain's objections to the plan."
Wentworth found
his voice. "Mr. Price, I regret the necessity of not informing
you of our…intentions…"
"You could
not, Captain," injected Maturin. "We needed your officers
to respond naturally."
"I see,"
said Price stiffly.
"Dr. Powell's
participation and assistance was essential…" Otherwise
I would have never spoken to the fool.
"Of course,
doctor. I hope I played my part as you anticipated?" Price's
biting tone was painful to Wentworth's ears.
"Mr. Price,"
answered Anne. "These gentlemen found their way out of an
unfortunate situation, a situation I placed the captain into…"
"Mrs. Wentworth!"
"No, Captain
- I will speak the truth. Had I used the escort you assigned
to me, the events of two nights ago never would have happened."
William hid his
true feelings. And instead of appearing weak and vacillating
to the crew, the captain now shows himself to be strong yet flexible.
Brilliant, as long as one is willing to use one's officers.
"Mrs. Wentworth, forgive me but you take too much onto yourself.
Captain, I now understand the need for…concealment. A ruse
de guerre, was it not? No different from flying a false flag."
"Mr. Price…"
William smiled.
"Nothing more needs to be said, Sir. Shall we speak of other
things? Mrs. Wentworth, have you found the time to play your
pianoforte?"
The conversation
continued in an agreeable manner. Inwardly, however, William
was disturbed. He respected Wentworth as a good officer and brave
commander. He thought he was a friend, as well. He now doubted
that. The captain has changed. Is it because of Mrs. Wentworth?
As the dinner party
was breaking up, Wentworth said causally, "Mr. Price, a
moment of your time, if you please."
Anne read the look
in Frederick's eye. I am getting better at it. "I
believe I will rest a bit in the sleeping quarters. Captain -
Lt. Price - please excuse me."
When they were alone,
Frederick turned to William. "Mr. Price, I believe something
disturbs you. Would you like to talk to me about it?"
"I have no
complaints, Sir."
Polite conversation
is not going to answer, I see.
"Damnation, something should! I would have complaints aplenty
should my commanding officer use me thusly!" William was
taken aback, as Frederick intended. Good - let us see if that
shakes something loose.
"I…permission
to speak frankly, sir?"
"Granted."
"Sir…I
speak for the entire wardroom… We feel that we have somehow
lost your confidence. May I ask how?"
Damn - I knew
it. "Let me guess…
You are troubled because you were not informed of our change
of destination until after we sailed, is that right?"
"Yes sir."
"You do not
know why I ran from that unknown sail on the second day out,
do you?"
"Sir! We don't
think that you ran!"
"Don't treat
me like a fool, Price - of course I ran!"
"I…I am
sure you had an excellent reason, sir."
"Actually,
I did - and it had nothing to do with Mrs. Wentworth." William
colored. Ha - that got him! "Do you recall the summons
to London? I am carrying an important packet of information for
Commodore Aubrey. Dr. Maturin is my excuse to go to Madeira -
he knows nothing of this. When we arrive in Funchal he shall
be handed this packet as he is rowed to the commodore's pendant
ship. Then we are off to Bermuda as planned."
"I…I see,
sir."
"William, I
am sorry I could not tell you beforehand - London was very insistent
on my secrecy and my discretion. The packet has to get through
- I was to avoid engagement if it were all possible. It sits
ill with me, I will tell you that."
William smiled.
"I would imagine so, sir."
"We'll get
through these next few days and things will be back to normal,
eh?" He put his arm around the younger man's shoulder. "I
have to ask you to keep this between ourselves, mind."
William flushed.
"Of course, sir! I won't breathe a word!"
"I know you
won't, William. I know it's been hard on the crew. I have something
planned for them…"
As he outlined that
afternoon's activities, Wentworth stomach turned sour at the
look of total dedication and trust on Price's face. The story
he told his lieutenant was just true enough to trick the man.
Although he no longer blamed Dr. Maturin for his predicament,
he had plenty of ill-feelings for Sir Joseph. How many lies
must I tell on this voyage?
At the beginning
of the First Dog, the crew was reassembled. This time Mrs. Wentworth
accompanied her husband. The two looked over the gathered throng
from the quarterdeck.
"Are you ready,
my dear?" whispered the gentleman.
"Are you certain
that this is necessary?" the lady replied in the same hushed
tones.
"A few words,
and it is all over."
"That is a
remarkably easy observation for you to make, sir. You
do not have a blackened eye."
"They all know
of it. There are few secrets aboard ship."
"That declaration
that does little to sooth my nerves, Captain."
Frederick smiled
and stepped to the railing. "Officers and men of the Laconia!
Shipmates! You are gathered here at this time for a special ceremony.
As you are aware, two nights ago, there was the most unpleasant
incident below decks. The perpetrator was apprehended and has
received his just punishment earlier today. Justice is swift
and fair in His Majesty's Navy, and so is reward. While I doubt
not that all of you know your duty, I must single out a most
intrepid group of men. I call on Lt. Greengard, Royal Marines,
Midshipman Dawsey, Royal Navy, and Able Seamen Radle, Eades and
Lauck of Gun Crew 26 to step forward."
The five men stood
in line, the officers in their best uniforms, the sailors in
clean shirts. Anne then stepped forward. There was a slight murmur
among the men, many seeing for the first time the effects of
Pyke's assault.
"Gentlemen,
since I first came aboard the Laconia, I have met many
fine and upstanding men. Two nights ago, I was in need of protection.
In my dark hour, it was you five gentleman who came to my aid.
I have been told that you had sensed my need and were in search
to render me assistance. I doubt not that you have saved my life.
Please know that my gratitude, and that of Captain Wentworth,
knows no bounds. You have done me good service, and I shall remember
it all of my days. There is no reward I can grant you that can
sufficiently recompense what my family owes you. I beg that you
will accept these small trinkets in recognition of your courage
and resourcefulness.
"Lt. Greengard:
This pin has been in my family for four generations. It is my
family's crest. I ask that you wear it as a token of my esteem
and gratitude, and as a talisman against harm from storm or foe.
"Mr. Dawsey:
This book is a copy of Homer's Odyssey. For twenty years
Odysseus sailed the world, overcoming all manner of enemies and
obstacles, to return home to his loved ones. May you find the
same inspiration in it that I have in the years to come. As you
read it during your travels around the world, I hope you will
remember my appreciation of your service to me.
"Able Seamen
Radle, Eades and Lauck. I have neither book nor broach to give
you, for they would not be reward enough for you. In the days
of old, a lady would choose a champion from amongst the knights
of the court, and that champion would proudly wear, as a sign
of his courtly love and devotion, that lady's colors into games
and war. The days of King Arthur are long since past, the Round
Table dust, Excalibur returned to the lake. But chivalry is not
dead - it beats in the heart of all true Englishmen, and none
harder than in you three good yeomen. I therefore name you my
Heroes and Champions and request that henceforth, as long as
we sail together, that you wear my colors." With that, Anne
gave each man a length of red ribbon with "Laconia"
stitched upon it.
As she handed the
ribbons to the embarrassed seamen, someone in the crowd shouted,
"THREE CHEERS FOR THE QUEEN OF THE BARKY!"
Anne's head jerked
around as the crew joined in: "HIP HIP HURRAH! HIP HIP HURRAH!
HIP HIP HURRAH!" By the third cheer, the officers had joined
in.
"But,"
Anne continued, "there is one champion missing. Where is
Lucky?" To general cheers the dog was brought forth. She
knelt down and fastened a ribbon around her neck, then gave the
dog a kiss upon her head. Lucky returned to her master, looking
very pleased with herself.
Anne was not yet
done. Captain Wentworth escorted the lady down to the gun deck
to the Number 26 cannon, named "Thunderbolt." Its gun
crew gathered around as she intoned, "I ask Providence to
bless this gun and all who serve her. May she shoot straight
and true, in service of our gracious king, and may her crew be
protected from harm." She took a cup of drinking water and
poured it along the length of the barrel. She then shook her
hands with Radle and the rest of the gun crew. Lastly, she turned
to Frederick and kissed his cheek, an action that resulted in
cat-calls from the crew.
"That wasn't
in the script," he whispered.
Her eyes twinkled.
"I know," and she kissed his other cheek. To renewed
cheers she waved at the crew and retired, with the captain, to
the great cabin.
"Mr. Stokes!"
Price called out. "An extra ration of grog for the crew,
complements of the Captain."
If anything, the
cheers grew louder.
Radle turned to
Eades. "How do yer spell 'Anne'? With an 'e'?"
"I thinks so.
Why?"
"'Cause we
gots a new name for the gun, that's why! The 'Lady Anne'!"
Frederick and Anne
sat together on the low lockers under the stern gallery, looking
out at the moonlight dancing in the ship's wake. Frederick leaned
against far side of the window's frame in shirt sleeves and trousers.
Anne was comfortably enwrapped in his arms, her back against
his chest, head on his shoulder, dressed in her nightgown and
robe.
"'Queen of
the Barky'," he murmured. "They love you now - every
weather-beaten tar out there would lay down his life for you.
Quite the conquest."
"Oh Frederick,
I do not wish for anyone to die for me."
"Including
Pyke…?" he said in a low voice.
"Do not ask
me that, please. You must do what you must."
"But if it
were your choice?"
"Even he…is
a human being. Oh, forgive me for my sentimental feelings."
"Hush, my love…
It is one of the many reasons I love you."
"Oh…?
You have others…?"
His hands caressed
her arms and abdomen. "As you know very well. Do you think…?"
She placed her hands
on his, resting on her belly. "I do not know, Frederick.
Do you truly wish for a child?"
He kissed her brow.
"Anne, I love you. I would die very happy if it was God's
will that it remain only the two of us. But…yes, I would
like a child."
"It would mean
that I would no longer sail with you."
"Perhaps, for
a while - until the child becomes old enough. There is always
the packet."
"Follow you
from station to station?"
"Does that
distress you? Would you prefer a home in England? Say but the
word…"
"Hush, Frederick.
There is much of the world I would like to see. Besides, would
you not like to be an Admiral?"
"It is many
a Post-Captains' dream to rise to the heights of the Naval pyramid.
As for me… You know this is my last voyage aboard the Laconia."
"It is? Why
is that?"
"I am a senior
Post-Captain, my dear. My next ship, should it come, will be
a two- or three-deck line-of-battle ship. No more independent
commands for me! No, it is escort duty or showing the flag, always
in a squadron under a Commodore or Admiral. Two cable lengths
distance from your neighbor, mark you, or watch for squalls."
"Of course,
it may be you that is the Commodore. Would you be a stern one,
sir?"
"I'd be a regular
Terror of the Seas!" he laughed. "No, it is more likely
I would be Flag Captain under some admiral. No joy there - responsible
for the ship, but never truly in command, with his highness standing
behind you."
"And your wife?"
"Cooped up
in some port town - Gibraltar or Cape Town or Port Royal…"
"Or Bermuda."
"Ha ha…yes,
like Bermuda. Anne, I cannot say I look forward to hoisting my
flag - becoming an Admiral, that is. The money is good - no denying
that. But there has not been a great fleet action since Trafalgar.
Your admirals now, the ones who aren't 'yellowed', are mainly
administrators - clerks - diplomats. Can you just see me bowing
down to some heathen pasha?"
"No…"
she chuckled. "But 'yellowed', did you say? What is a yellowed
admiral?"
"When a Post-Captain
is promoted to Admiral - it is automatic, you know - he is usually
given a squadron, and that is signified by a color, designating
the Admiral's rank. Blue - White - Red; in that order. It is
a proud day when a man finally raises his flag, blue at the mizzen,
showing the world that he is a Rear Admiral of the Blue Squadron,
and must receive an Admiral's salute. As he continues to climb
the ladder, the color changes - first to White, then to Red.
Then the mast changes: foremast for Vice Admirals; mainmast for
Admirals; and the colors start again. Nelson was a Vice Admiral
of the White, you know; only half way up the pyramid. If a man
lives long enough, and all above him do not, he is Admiral of
the Fleet, and flies the Union Jack at the main.
"But not all
captains should be admirals in the Admiralty's eye - they that
have not sufficiently distinguished themselves, or they that
have no influence, or they that have offended the wrong people.
In those cases the man is promoted without assignment to a squadron
and pensioned off - in the service we refer to him as being 'yellowed',
though there is no such flag."
"Do you fear
being yellowed, Frederick?"
He chuckled. "Having
not been in Parliament, I have not had the opportunity to make
many enemies. Pellew and Croft have been good friends and patrons,
so I have allies in high places; Croft has some influence, even
though he is retired. I have won my share of battles. I suppose
when the time comes, should I not ground my ship or get knocked
in the head, I shall join the exalted ranks, should I choose
to do so.
"As for being
painted yellow - I should not care one way or the other; though
I would like to be recognized for my service and leave the Navy
or not at my will, and not at the will of others."
"Frederick,
no matter what happens, no matter what choice you make about
your career, no matter how many children we have, I want to be
with you."
"But your family…your
friends…"
"The only family
I have is within these arms."
He thought back
to the ungracious manner in which the Elliots treated Anne. "I
am sorry for that…you have deserved better from your own
people."
"It matters
not, now that I am with you - and here I will remain."
"You cannot
know what that means to me, Anne."
"I think I
do, a little. I recall my conversation with Captain Harville."
"As do I. It
was the saving of me, I think."
"I keep your
letter - your proposal - close to me. It is my great treasure."
"You have it
here?"
She nodded. "In
my trunk. But Frederick, as I was saying, I recall the pain in
Captain Harville's voice as he spoke of leaving his family, for
months or years at a time. That is a hardship I do not wish to
endure, if it be in my power."
"You are generous,
for it is I who will reap the reward of your goodness. Here,
for a short time, in your arms, I can be just plain Frederick
Wentworth."
Anne pulled his
arms about her more tightly. "Teach me to be a good sea-wife,
Frederick."
"That is not
so easy, for I have never had one before."
"Good."
She kissed his hand.
"I have not
been a husband before either. Will you help me - have patience
with me?"
"Of course
- but all of this is new to me, as well."
"We shall learn
together. Here, in the great cabin, alone - we are just Frederick
and Anne."
"Our sanctuary."
"Yes…our
blessed sanctuary….my Queen of the Barky." He reached
to kiss her.
"And you are
the captain of my heart."
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