Authors: Cynthia Harrod-Eagles
Tags: #Aristocracy (Social Class) - England, #Historical Fiction, #Family, #Fantasy, #Great Britain - History - 19th century, #General, #Romance, #Napoleonic Wars; 1800-1815, #Sagas, #Great Britain, #Historical, #Fiction, #Domestic fiction, #Morland family (Fictitious characters)
Because it was Africa's party, the other guests were chosen
from the youngest members of the ship's company, the
‘young gentlemen' who had come aboard rated as captain's
servants, or, as they were now officially called, Volunteers of
the First Class. They were not, of course, servants, but
officers in embryo, who would be rated midshipman as soon
as they were old enough. They lived in the Gunroom under the paternal eye of the Gunner, and were between nine and
thirteen years old.
On normal days they were Africa's playmates, but today, in
their best clothes and on their best behaviour, dining in the
captain's cabin, they were like stiff and formal strangers.
Only after dinner, when the table had been cleared, the two lieutenants had taken their leave, and Haworth had initiated
some games, did they relax a little and become more like their
usual selves. After a strangely polite game of Barley Break,
Hoodman Blind degenerated rather rapidly, and Mr
Morpurgo had just tentatively suggested a game of French
and English, when, to Haworth's relief, Angevin interrupted
them.
‘
I beg your pardon, sir, but there's a deputation here from
the crew asking to speak to you.’
Haworth stepped outside onto the quarterdeck, where four
seamen stood politely bareheaded, rather pink in the cheek
and infinitely embarrassed.
‘What's all this?' he asked sternly.
Evidently Bullen, Captain of the Foretop, had previously been nominated their spokesman, for after a little shuffling
and nudging, he spoke up, turning the end of his pigtail
nervously between his fingers as he endured the grave eyes of
his captain and the disapproving glare of his first officer.
‘
Well, sir, it's like this, sir. Me and the lads — well, all of
us, sir, what was with you in the old
Africa —
being as how
it's Miss's birthday, and, like, the same day as the battle of
the Nile, sir, what was so glorious a victory — well, sir, we
took the liberty, an' hopin' you'll forgive the same, sir, of
making some presents for Miss, an' we've got together a bit of
an entertainment, like, and hoped as how you might let us
present it to Miss in the second dogwatch, sir, if that'd be in
order, sir?’
Four pairs of eyes gazed at him with anxious humility, and
Haworth was well aware that many more were watching
covertly from other parts of the ship. It might have been a
silly attempt to win favour, but their bearing told him it was
not. They were anxious that their gifts should be acceptable,
not because they wished to impress Haworth, but because
they loved 'Miss'.
‘
Very well, Bullen. I think I can allow that. What have you
in mind?'
‘
Thankee, sir. Thankee, sir,' said Bullen in enormous
relief, while the other three grinned foolishly. 'If you'd be so
good, sir, and Miss, to be at the taffrail when the second
dogwatch is called, me and the other lads'll be on the
weatherdeck, sir, an' — an' all will be revealed, sir.’
Haworth laughed at this evidently rehearsed last phrase,
and the men shuffled away, pleased. Haworth was about to
return to the birthday party when the lookout hailed from the mizzentop.
‘Deck there! Sail on the starboard quarter.’
Angevin trained his glass on the horizon. 'Looks like a new ship joining the squardron, sir. She's flying the private signal,
but I can't read her number.’
A few minutes later Haworth could just make her out with
his naked eye, a tiny scrap of sail, pressed between the sea and
the sky.
‘
She's coming up fast, sir,' Angevin said. 'God, what
wouldn't I have for a run like that! She must be doing ten knots,’
The lookout hailed again. 'Captain, sir! I see her now. It's a frigate. I can't see her number, but she's the
Nemesis,
sir, sure
as a gun. I reckernise her.'
‘
Nemesis,
36, Captain Weston, sir,' the signals officer
translated, and Haworth smiled to himself with satisfaction.
‘
Yes, I know,' he said. She'd be bringing news from Brest,
news from home, letters, too perhaps.
‘
She's the fastest frigate in the service,' Angevin said, not
without a touch of envy. 'I wonder if she's joining us
permanently?’
It would be very pleasant to have Weston with them,
thought Haworth; but even if he were not to stay, there was
every chance that Nelson would at least take the opportunity
to have all the captains to dine with him to hear the news
first-hand . The admiral knew very well the benefits of social intercourse to blockading officers.
‘
Flagship's signalling, sir,' said the signals officer. 'All ships
— send boat.'
‘
See to it, if you please, Mr Angevin,' Haworth said, and
returned to his cabin to bring the birthday party to a decor
ous close, and send the boys about their business.
The boat sent to the flagship returned with
Cetus's mail
bag,
and two letters to the captain from the admiral. The
first, written by a secretary, contained the information that
the
Nemesis
had arrived with despatches, and would be
returning the following day to Brest; and that she had
brought out fresh food from Gibraltar for the squadron, and
would deliver
Cetus's
share the following morning, and would
collect any letters for England at the same time.
The second was written in Nelson's own hand. 'My dear
Captain Haworth,' it said. 'Once again the anniversary of the Battle of the Nile has arrived, and all of us who took part in
that glorious victory must remember it with pride, and with
humble gratitude to our Maker who guided our endeavours
that day. But I do not forget that you have another cause for
celebration, and I therefore beg to offer my sincere felici
tations to your daughter on her birthday, and enclose a small
memento of the occasion which I hope will be acceptable.’
It was a medal, enamel on gold, depicting an English battle
ship in full sail on a blue sea, with the letters round the rim
‘Battle of the Nile August 1st 1798' on the obverse; while on
the plain gold reverse were engraved the words, 'presented by
Lord Nelson of Brontë and the Nile'. There was a ring at the
top of the medal so that it could be hung on a chain and worn
as an ornament. It was typical of Nelson's painstaking kind
ness, he thought, that he should remember that it was
Africa's birthday, and that he should go to the trouble of
writing, and sending a gift; and it was typical of him in
another way, that the gift should commemorate himself as
much as her.
The presentation by the crew duly took place at the
beginning of the second dogwatch. Haworth had a shrewd
idea as to what was behind it. Most of Africa's toys had been made for her by the crew of her first ship, and amongst them she counted as her greatest treasure a large wooden camel on wheels, which she had been used to tow about at the end of a
length of cord all day, and even, unless prevented, take to bed
with her at night. The crew of the
Cetus
was extremely
jealous of the crew of the
Africa,
even though there were
many old
Africas
amongst them. Haworth was sure they had
determined Africa should have birthday gifts that would
entirely eclipse the camel in her regard.
They proved well designed for the purpose. Under a host of
eager eyes, the deputation headed by Bullen presented Africa
firstly with a large, soft toy lamb which some member of the crew, skilled with needle, had cut out from a piece of brown
velvet and stuffed with old rags. It had embroidered blue
eyes, and a long tail and ears, and was exactly suited to cuddling
in bed.
The second gift was a Noah's Ark made of wood. It was
about three feet long, the hull being beautifully polished, the
superstructure brightly painted in red, white and blue. One
glance told Haworth that it would sail perfectly; and that the
builder had drawn heavily on his experience of warships for
its design. It had bluff bows and a long bowsprit, a raised
poop, and a considerable tumble-home to its sides, and gave the impression that it had only just escaped having gunports,
too.
‘
The roof comes off, you see, miss,' Bullen explained and,
with a glance at Haworth for permission, he knelt down on
the deck and shewed her how the bright-red roof was
cunningly rebated to lift off completely. Inside, to Africa's
patent and flattering delight, was the entire Noah family,
carved from wood and painted, and a menagerie of animals.
‘
Nearly everybody had a hand in it, miss, sir,' Sullen
explained, unable to prevent himself from grinning with his pleasure as Africa began lifting out the animals and examin
ing them with cries of excitement. 'All different people made
the creeturs, and others did a bit of painting and so on.’
Some of the animals were carved out of wood, others of
bone, whale- or shark-tooth, even shell and stone, yet others
cut out of cork or pinched from clay. Africa's immediate
favourites were a cedar-wood lion with a handsome curly
mane and a little bone unicorn whose features had been
delicately carved by some scrimshaw expert amongst the
crew.
It was the sort of plaything that even a rich child on shore
would be delighted to have, and was made even more valuable to Africa by having been made especially for her, by her friends.
Now Bullen asked permission to present the entertainment.
‘
It's by way of a concert, sir, what we'd got up, begging'
your pardon, sir. If you and Miss was to seat yourselves, sir,
just here —’
Canvas chairs were brought, and the other off-duty officers
gathered along the taffrail, while the concert was presented
down below. The sun was setting over a calm sea, and the
warm, still air carried up the sounds to them along with all
the other ship noises they had long grown accustomed to, the
creaking of the timbers, the singing of the rigging, and the
chuckle of the water under the pintles.
Music was provided by old Hudson on the fiddle, MacAfee
on the tin-whistle, and Oldroyd on the fife, while O'Neill,
Captain of the Fo'c'sl, joined in with his bagpipes to accompany the dancing. Hornpipes and reels were performed with
the accomplished agility of ballet dancers, and Price, the
brawny holder, did a sword dance, his bare, horny feet
patting the deck boards between the shining blades with
astonishing delicacy.