The Corvette (26 page)

‘Sir?'

‘Mr Bourne, my apologies. I was short with Frey when he offered the services of the doctor.'

‘ 'Tis no matter, sir, but I thought you looked unwell . . .'

‘Yes, yes, Mr Bourne, thank you for your kindness. I will see Singleton in due course. But I am more concerned with the rudder. Had you noticed the noise?'

‘Mr Hill drew it to my attention. The ship has long lost steerage way, sir. But I had no reason to doubt much was wrong, sir. She answered the helm well enough when last the wind blew.'

Drinkwater nodded, then spoke with great difficulty. ‘Yes, yes, but I fear the matter is a progressive disintegration of some sort. No matter, there is nothing to be done at the moment. You have had no sign of those ships?'

‘None, sir.'

‘Very well. That is all, Mr Bourne.'

Bourne turned away and Drinkwater hunched his shoulders into his cloak. His right shoulder ached with the onset of the damp weather, his throat was sore and his toothache seemed to batter his whole skull.

The fog lasted for four days and was followed by a south-westerly gale during which the visibility never lifted above half a mile. The air was filled with particles of frozen rain so that Drinkwater was obliged to secure the
Melusine
to a large ice floe. At the height of the gale he submitted to the ministrations of Mr Singleton and suffered a brief agony which ended his toothache by the extraction of a rotten molar. But the removal of the tooth also signalled the end of his quinsy. On the advice of Singleton he kept his cabin and his cot while the
Melusine
was alongside the ice. There was, in any case, little he could do on deck and, as Singleton pointed out, his recovery would be the quicker and he would be fitter to attend his duties, the instant the gale abated and the visibility lifted.

He did not protest. His general debility was, he realised himself, his own fault. In circumstances of such peril as
Melusine
had so often been, it was physically impossible to keep the deck permanently. His confidence in his lieutenants had not initially been high and he had found it very difficult to go below in circumstances of broad daylight. However, the days of working the ship through the ice had improved the proficiency of Bourne and Gorton. Even Rispin showed more firmness and self-confidence, while Hill and the other warrant officers appeared to carry out their duties efficiently. In addition to the worry and sense of failure at the capture of
Faithful
, his shoulder plagued him, reducing his morale and subjecting him to fits of the ‘blue devils' while the fever lasted. All the while the rudder ground remorselessly below him, like a long-fused petard waiting to explode. Despite its comparative idleness while they were secured to the floe, it continued to grind and groan as
Melusine
ranged and bumped the ice, rolling and sawing at her moorings as the gale moaned in the rigging. Meanwhile the watch stumbled about the deck, wound in furs, greygoes, even blankets, to combat the stinging particles in the air.

Ten days after the onset of the fog there came a change in the weather that was as abrupt as it was unexpected and delightful. A sense of renewed hope coincided with this change, sending Drinkwater on deck a fit man, all traces of quinsy and fever gone. He was burning to resume the pursuit of the unknown enemy ship that had
taken the
Faithful
from under his nose. The situation of the
Melusine
had been transformed. The sun shone through a fine veil of cloud producing a prismatic halo upon the horizontal diameter of which appeared two parhelia, faint false suns, the results of atmospheric refraction. This phenomena was exciting some comment from the watch on deck and had so far absorbed Mr Rispin's interest that he had neglected to inform Drinkwater of the dramatic change in the weather. It was bitterly cold. On every rope and along the furled sails the moisture had frozen into tiny crystals which were glinting in the sunshine. Drinkwater sniffed the air and felt its chill tingle the membranes of his nasal passages. The resultant sneeze recalled Rispin belatedly to his duty.

‘Oh, good morning, sir. As you see, sir, the wind has dropped and the visibility is lifting . . .'

‘Yes, yes, Mr Rispin, I can see that for myself . . .' Drinkwater replied testily. The appearance of the twin sun dogs alarmed him, not on any superstitious account, but because he recollected something Harvey had said about their appearance indicating a change of weather. That much was obvious, but there had been something said about wind. He looked at the weft on the windward dog-vane. It hung down motionless. Casting his eyes aloft he saw that the masthead pendant was already lifting to a light air from the north. He also saw the crow's nest was empty.

‘Mr Rispin!'

‘Sir?'

‘Direct a midshipman aloft upon the instant to look out for any sails, then have the topsails hard reefed and loosed in their buntlines, the foretopmast stays'l and spanker ready for setting and the longboat hoisted out and manned ready to pull the ship's head off.'

Rispin's mouth opened, then closed as his eyes filled with comprehension. He might be slow on the uptake, thought Drinkwater as he forced himself to a patience he was far from feeling, but Mr Rispin certainly made up for what he lacked in intelligence by a veritable out-pouring:

‘Mr Glencross, aloft at once with a glass and cast about for sails. Bosun's mate! Pipe the watch aloft to loose topsails, topmen to remain at the yard arms and the bunts and await the order “let fall” Corporal of marines! Turn up the marines and send 'em aft to man the yard tackles. Master at Arms! Turn up the idlers below to man the stay tackles. Look lively there!' Rispin turned frantically, waving the speaking trumpet. ‘Mr Walmsley! Have the afterguard cast loose the
stops on the spanker. Fo'c's'le there! Cast loose the fore topmast stays'l!' Rispin's brow wrinkled in thought as he mentally ticked off the tasks Drinkwater had set him.

Already the dogvanes pointed north and the wefts were lifting. Drinkwater watched a catspaw of wind ripple the surface of the clear water to starboard. A low raft of ice a cable to windward seemed to be perceptibly nearer.

‘You may cut the moorings, Mr Rispin!'

‘Cut the moorings, aye, aye, sir.' Rispin's relief was noticeable. He had clearly forgotten the necessity of putting a party onto the ice and the difficult business of recovering them by boat once the ship had got clear.

Hill and Bourne had come on deck, alarmed by the bellowing at the hatchways. Drinkwater nodded to them. ‘We are about to get a blow from the north, gentlemen, I want the ship off this ice floe before we are trapped. The boat is about to be launched to pull her head off.'

Both Hill and Bourne acknowledged the immediacy of Drinkwater's alarm. There was already a perceptible breeze from the north, icy and dry after the south-westerly gale. ‘Turn up the watch below, Mr Bourne!'

The longboat was already swaying up from the waist, the marines stamping aft as they leant their weight to the yard tackles that hoisted the boat out over the side. Mr Quilhampton was standing on the rail in charge of the launching party.

‘Walk back all!' The boat descended below the rail as the last of her crew tumbled in. A second or two later she hit the water. ‘Come up all!' Marines and idlers relaxed as the tackles went slack and on the fo'c's'le Walmsley's party, having prepared the staysail, made a line ready for the boat. A carpenter's party was hacking through the moorings and in the tops Frey, Wickham and Dutfield held up their hands to indicate the topsails were ready.

A glance at the dog-vanes showed the wefts horizontal. It was not a moment too soon. There were pronounced white caps on the water to windward and
Melusine
was rubbing against the ice with some violence.

Drinkwater could feel the sensation of physical discomfort churning the pit of his stomach as his body adjusted to the state of acute worry. Ten minutes neglect by Rispin and they might remain pinned on the floe. He thought of setting sail in an attempt to spin the floe, but he had only the vaguest idea of its size. He was grasping at straws. Officers were reporting his preparations complete and he ordered the
yards braced sharp up on the larboard catharpings. The boat was attempting to pull
Melusine
's head round towards the wind and, although the bow came some six feet off the ice they seemed to be unable to increase that distance. Forward a resourceful Mr Gorton was getting out a spare topgallant yard and lashing it to prevent losing what the longboat had gained. Meanwhile Mr Quilhampton was urging his boat's crew to further efforts, but
Melusine
seemed unwilling to move. On the last occasion this had occurred they had bounced off the remains of
Narwhal
. This time they did not have such help.

‘Mr Bourne!' The lieutenant's face turned anxiously towards him.

‘Sir?'

‘Man the larboard guns, two divisions to fire unshotted cartridges alternately. The breechings to be set up tight. We'll use the recoil to throw the ship off.'

‘Aye, aye, sir! Larbowlines! Larboard battery make ready . . .!'

It took several minutes, much longer than if the men had been at their stations for action. But there was no-one on deck, except perhaps Meetuck, who was not seaman enough to appreciate the nature of their situation. Hill was dragging a pudding fender aft to heave over the larboard quarter.

‘Well done, Mr Hill . . .'

Drinkwater watched the dog-vanes, his stomach churning. He felt his isolation from the comforting expertise of the whale-ship masters acutely. It prompted him to hail the mainmasthead.

‘Masthead there!'

Glencross's head appeared. ‘D'you have anything in sight?'

‘No, sir! There seems to be clear water to leeward of this floe, but no sails, sir.'

‘Very well.' Drinkwater directed his thoughts to the fate of the
Faithful
. In which direction should he chase once he got clear of their present situation? He tried not to think of the possibility of their failing to clear the floe.
Melusine
was not fit for such work in these latitudes. He began to see the weaknesses of St Vincent's reforms undertaken in a mere temporary truce, while the protagonists of this great war caught their breath. But he had no time for further considerations. Bourne reported the guns ready.

‘Very well. Forward battery to fire first and to reload as fast as possible. Fastest guns' crew will receive a double tot of rum. But no rolling fire, Mr Bourne, half broadsides only, to make best use of the recoil.'

‘Aye, aye sir. I took the liberty of double-loading . . .'

‘Have a care then, one round only doubled, Mr Bourne. See to it yourself and open fire without delay.'

Drinkwater clasped his hands behind his back with anxiety as Bourne ran along the deck. It would certainly make the ship recoil, double charging the guns like that. But it might also blow the chambers of the guns . . .

‘Fire!' The forward division of guns jerked back against their lashed breechings and their crews leapt round them, swabs and rammers plied as
Melusine
trembled. Drinkwater leaned over the side to see the rope to the longboat curve slightly.

‘Pull, Mr Q! Pull!'

He saw Quilhampton wave as a sea swept over the bow of the boat. The after division of the larboard battery roared, the guns leaping against the capsquares on the restrained carriages.

Drinkwater strode to the larboard side and looked overboard. There was a slight gap between the
Melusine
's tumblehome and the ice edge. He raised his glance forward to see Gorton rigging out another foot of spare spar. They would not lose what they had gained. He must remember to congratulate Gorton on his initiative.

‘Fire!' The forward division of six pounders roared again and this time Drinkwater saw the sloop move, her head falling off as Gorton rigged out his spar a little more. Aft, Hill let the fender down so that the larboard quarter could set in on the ice, increasing the angle with the floe. If they could achieve an angle of two points, twenty-two and a half degrees, they might theoretically sail off, but in practise a greater angle would be required, for they would fall back towards the ice as they got the ship underway. The after division fired a second time.

There was no doubt that they were gaining on the wind! But that too was increasing. The forward division fired a third time.

Gorton's spar jerked out again, but Drinkwater could see the strain it was bearing.

‘Mr Bourne! Hold the after battery and reload the forrard. All guns to fire simultaneously!'

‘Tops there! Let fall the instant the guns discharge!' The three midshipmen acknowledged. ‘And, Mr Hill, direct the sheets to be hove to the yardarms the instant the buntlines are slackened!'

‘Very well, sir!'

Drinkwater was sweating with excitement despite the numbness of his hands. Quilhampton's boat was a liability now, but he dare not cast it off just yet.

‘Ready sir.'

‘Very well, Mr Bourne. Fire!'

Melusine
shuddered throughout her entire length. Somewhere amidships an ominous crack sounded. But it was not the spar. Gorton's party grunted and swore with effort as their yard, hove out with an extempore tackle at its heel, took up two feet of increased gap. Astern
Melusine
's larboard quarter ground against the pudding-fender.

Above his head the sails creaked and cracked with ice as the men at the sheets hove down on the frozen canvas.

‘Hoist away fore and aft!' The staysail rose from the fo'c's'le head and behind him the spanker was hauled out upon its gaff and boom.

‘I can't hold her, sir!' Gorton cried from forward. Drinkwater's heart thumped with anxiety as
Melusine
gathered way.

‘No matter, Mr Gorton . . .' The last words were drowned in the splitting crack that came from Gorton's breaking topgallant yard.
Melusine
's head fell back towards the floe, but she was already gaining speed.