An Eye of the Fleet (18 page)

‘Not a cutter, sir, but I was lately prizemaster of a schooner.'

‘Good. I hope I shall not detain you long from the King's business but I am bound for the Scilly Islands with Captain Calvert, to examine the lighthouse there. Perhaps a King's officer may find that interesting.' Drinkwater detected the flicker of insinuation in Poulter's voice. He recognised it as a device used by old Blackmore and other merchant masters who resented the navy's social superiority. To his credit he coloured.

‘To tell the truth, sir, I am greatly obliged to you for removing me from yonder guardship. Methought I might die of boredom before I saw action again.'

‘That's well,' said Poulter turning to windward and sniffing the air. ‘Plague on this damn coast. It's always raining.'

The Trinity Yacht left Plymouth two days later. August had passed into September. The rain had given way to windy, mist-laden days. But the weather had no power to depress the young midshipman's spirits. After the claustrophobic atmosphere of the guardship, service on the Trinity Yacht was stimulating in the extreme. Here was a fine little ship run as efficiently as a first-rate without the lash and human degradation prevalent in His Majesty's service.

Captain Poulter and his mate proved generous instructors and Drinkwater quickly learned more of the subtleties of handling the fore and aft rig of the big cutter than he had mastered aboard
Algonquin
.

He found Captain Anthony Calvert willing to discourse with him, even interested to hear how Drinkwater would undertake certain navigational problems. He joined the Elder Brother and Poulter at dinner one evening. Calvert was treated with as much deference as Drinkwater had seen accorded to Admiral Kempenfelt. Indeed the captain flew his own flag at the cutter's masthead, although his privileges and responsibilities were considered to be exterior to the management of the yacht. Nevertheless he proved to be an interesting and and interested man. As the cutter bucked her way to the west Drinkwater found himself recounting the story of the recapture of the
Algonquin
. At midnight Drinkwater left Poulter and Calvert to relieve the mate. It was still blowing hard, the night black, wet and inhospitable.

The mate had to bellow in Drinkwater's ear as he passed over the position and course.

‘Keep her off on the starboard tack another hour. You're well off the Wolf Rock now but keep a sharp lookout when you stand north. We should be well west of it by now but the flood's away and will be fierce as the devil's eyebrows with this wind behind it. Ye'll be well advised to use caution.'

‘Aye, aye,' replied Drinkwater, shouting back to the black figure whose tarpaulin ran with rain and spray. He was left to the night ruminating on the dangers of the unmarked Wolf. This totally isolated pinnacle of rock was, with the Eddystone, the most feared danger to mariners on the south coast of England. Continually swept by swells on even the calmest days it was to be 1795 before an abortive attempt was made to erect a beacon on it. This structure collapsed at the first gale
and it was to be a generation before a permanent seamark was finally grouted into that formidable outcrop.

It was claimed by some that in certain sea conditions a subterraneous cavern produced a howling noise and this had given the rock its name, but, howling noise or not, nothing could have been heard that night above the roar of the gale and the creak and crash of the Trinity Yacht as she drove to the south-south-west.

Poulter had put four reefs into the enormous mainsail before dark. He was in no hurry since he wished to heave to off the Scillies to observe the light at St Agnes. It was for this purpose Calvert had journeyed from London.

At two bells Drinkwater prepared to put about on to the port tack. Before doing so he went forward to inspect the headsails. The staysail was reefed down but out on the long bowsprit a small spitfire jib stood against the gale. Drinkwater had learned that to balance the huge mainsail a jib had to be kept as near the end of the bowsprit as conditions permitted. He watched the big spar stab at a wave-crest even as the bow he stood on pitched down off its predecessor. Beneath him the figurehead of a lion guardant disappeared in a welter of white water that rolled hissing away from the cutter's steadily advancing stem.

He returned aft, calling the watch to their stations, glanced at the compass then up at Calvert's flag standing out from the masthead like a board. Two men leaned against the big tiller. He shouted at them:

‘Down Helm!' They grunted with exertion.

The yacht's heel reduced, she came upright, her canvas slatting madly, cracking like thunder. The hull swooped and ducked as she met the seas head on.

Drinkwater bit his lip. She took her time passing through the eye of the wind but her crew clearly knew their business. His orders were as much for his own satisfaction as the vessel's management. As she paid slowly off to starboard the little spitfire jib was held aback. The wind caught it and suddenly it exerted its tremendous leverage at the extremity of the bowsprit. The cutter spun on her heel, the mainsail filled, then the staysail was hauled over. Finally the weather jib sheet was started and the canvas cracked like a gun before it was tamed by the lee sheet. The yacht sped away to the north west
and Drinkwater breathed a sigh of relief.

There was no opportunity to study the chart in the prevailing conditions. The deck was continually sluiced by seas coming aboard so that the two boats on chocks amidships appeared to be afloat of their own accord.

After a further hour of this the sails suddenly slatted. At once several men perceived the veering of the wind.

‘Keep her full and bye,' roared Drinkwater to the helmsmen, to which a slightly reproachful voice answered, ‘Aye, aye, but that's north, sir.'

Drinkwater checked himself reflecting that this was no king's ship and the helmsman's reply was not insubordinate but informative.

North.

He shook his head to clear away fatigue and too much of Calvert's port. With leeway and a roaring flood tide to set them east he might be setting on to the Wolf Rock! A knot of panic gripped his stomach until he mastered it with the thought that the total area of the rock was less than that of the cutter's deck. Surely the odds were impossibly against them striking that isolated spot?

A figure loomed up beside him. It was Poulter.

‘Heard her luff, cully. You'll be concerned about the Wolf.' It was not a question but a statement simply made. Drinkwater felt the load lifted from his shoulders. His brain cleared and he was able to think.

‘D'ye wish me to put about again Captain Poulter, with the shift of wind she'll hold a more westerly course, sir . . . ?'

Poulter was glancing at the dimly lit compass. Drinkwater thought he caught a glimpse of a smile in the wet darkness.

‘That will do very well, Mr Drinkwater. See to it if ye please.'

‘Aye, aye, sir . . .'

The Trinity Yacht arrived off Hugh Town later that day and remained there for several days. Calvert and Poulter had themselves pulled across to St Agnes and the crew discharged several chauldrons of coal into their boats to feed the light‘s chauffer-fires.

Ten days after leaving Plymouth Calvert pronounced himself satisfied with the lighthouse and on coming aboard from a final visit Drinkwater overheard him talking to Poulter.

‘Well Jonathan, we'll make passage tomorrow at first light
observing the cresset again tonight. I'll post to London from Falmouth and you may then proceed to the east'ard.' Calvert's words fell dully on Drinkwater's ears until he mentioned Falmouth.

Falmouth meant Elizabeth.

On arrival at Falmouth it was discovered that the yacht's second mate had recovered sufficiently to rejoin the ship. Drinkwater was therefore discharged by Poulter with a letter explaining his absence and a certificate as to his proficiency. Greatly delighted with his luck he was even more astonished when Calvert sent for him and presented him with four guineas for his services and another certificate testifying that as an Elder Brother of the Trinity House he had examined Mr Drinkwater and found him to be competent in navigation and seamanship. The document he presented to Drinkwater certified that he had passed the examination for master's mate.

‘There, Mr Drinkwater. Under the latest regulations you are now permitted to board prizes as prize-master in your own right. Good luck to ye.'

Stammering his delighted surprise Drinkwater shook hands with Calvert and was pulled ashore with the Elder Brother. Having seen Calvert off in the post chaise Drinkwater turned his steps to the vicarage.

Autumn was in the air but he strode along without a care in the world, his heart thumping at the prospect of seeing Elizabeth again.

He swung back the gate. At the door he hesitated, his hand actually in the act of drawing back the knocker. Changing his mind he moved to a side window. It was the parson's study. Peering in he saw the bald dome of the old man's head, the white locks from the sides and nape of his head falling sideways in the relaxation of sleep.

Drinkwater crept round to the rear of the house. He found Elizabeth in the garden. She was unaware of his presence and for a moment he stood watching her.

She was picking fruit from a tree whose gnarled boughs were bent under a load of russet apples. As she stretched out to pluck the fruit her face was in profile. The lower lip was caught in her teeth in an expression he recognised as one of concentration. There was something sweetly pastoral in the scene to one whose eyes had become accustomed to the monotony
of the sea.

He coughed and she started, losing hold of her apron. A cascade of apples ran out on to the grass. ‘Oh! . . . Nathaniel . . . !'

He laughed, running over to help pick them up. ‘I'm sorry to have startled you.'

She smiled at him. Kneeling, their faces were very close. He felt her breath on his cheek and was about to throw caution to the winds when she stood, brushing a wisp of hair behind her neck.

‘I am glad that you have come. How long can you stay?'

Drinkwater had not given the matter much thought. He shrugged.

‘How long would you have me stay . . . ?' he smilingly asked.

It was her turn to shrug. She laughed, refusing to be drawn, but he could tell she was pleased.

‘I ought to return to Plymouth tomorrow . . . well I
ought
to return today but . . .' he shrugged again, ‘well let us say I am recuperating . . .'

‘The New York packet is due and there'll be a post leaving soon, stay till then?'

‘Well, er, I, er . . .'

‘Father will be delighted, please stay . . .'

She uttered the last words pleadingly, so that Nathaniel had little choice and less inclination to choose. He looked into her brown eyes. They waited for his reply anxiously . . .

‘Would you wish it that I stayed?'

She smiled. She had given away too much already. She gathered the last of the apples and moved towards the house.

‘Do you like apple pie, Nathaniel?' she called over her shoulder.

The day passed delightfully.
Cyclops
, Morris and the anxieties and fears of the past months might have been the experience of another person, a callow frightened youth compared with the vibrantly energetic young man.

As his daughter had said the old parson was delighted to entertain the midshipman. He took great pride in showing Drinkwater his library and it was clear that the collection of books constituted practically the whole of Bower's possessions, since the artefacts of the house were the property of the absent clergyman. Closer acquaintance with Isaac Bower revealed him to be a man of considerable learning who had not only brought
his daughter up but educated her himself. She was, he told Nathaniel with an air of confidentiality, the equal to most men and the superior of many in her knowledge of mathematics, astronomy, Greek and Latin, while her literary tastes encompassed those French authors who did not abjure the existence of God. Had there been any doubts about Elizabeth's talents in other directions these were swiftly dispelled at dinner when a roasted chicken was followed by an apple pie of generous proportions.

After dinner Drinkwater found himself alone in a darkening room with a bottle of port that Bower had unearthed in his host's cellar. He had drunk two glasses when the old man came into the room. He threw some logs on to the fire and poured himself a glass.

‘I, er, had a little news the other day . . . after you had left. My Lord Bishop of Winchester had appointed me to a parish near Portsmouth. It is a poor parish, I believe, but . . .' the old man shrugged resignedly, ‘. . . that is of no matter. At least,' he continued on a brighter note, ‘. . . it will bring us nearer you brave naval fellows and, I trust,' he looked pointedly at Nathaniel, ‘I trust you will continue to visit us there.'

Warmed by the wine Nathaniel replied enthusiastically. ‘I shall be delighted, sir, absolutely delighted . . . After my last visit I found the prospect of reacquainting myself with you and Eliz . . . Miss Bower most comforting . . .'

Bower asked him something of his own circumstances and he told the parson of his widowed mother. Elizabeth joined them for a while before she announced she was retiring and the conversation was relaxed and informal. After she had left Nathaniel said, ‘I am, sir, very grateful for your kindness to me . . . it has meant a great deal to me . . .'

The two men drained the bottle. Nathaniel's remark unsprung the older man's greatest fear. ‘My boy, I do not expect to remain much longer in this world. I have no fortune to leave after me but my daughter and on her account I am oppressed in spirit . . .' he coughed a little self-consciously.

‘I would have her left with one friend, for I fear she has had no opportunity to establish herself anywhere whilst following me upon my travels . . .' he paused diffidently, then, with a note of firmness in his voice he said. ‘D'ye take my meaning . . . ?'