Richard Bolitho – Midshipman

7. Mr Starkie's Story

RICHARD BOLITHO clung to a stay and watched the sky brightening reluctantly across the horizon. Little more than a grey blur, but in hours it would be almost too hot to think. He felt the mast shiver and vibrate as the Sandpiper responded eagerly to her bulging sails. He wondered how the wounded were getting on, if Lieutenant Hope was better, or giving way to his injury. A few figures were just visible on the brig's narrow poop and below the mainmast. He thought he could smell food from the galley and felt his stomach contract painfully. He could not remember when he had last eaten, and found himself hating Tregorren for keeping him aloft without relief. The lieutenant had been right about one thing. When the news reached the Bolitho home in Falmouth it would have lost the unfairness and hostility of the moment. It would be seen only as Tregorren intended. That Bolitho had acted badly and with insubordination against a superior officer. He heard heavy breathing and saw Dancer hauling himself up to the crosstrees beside him. He said, 'You'd better watch out, Martyn! " Dancer shook his head. 'It's all right, Dick. Mr Starkie sent me. He's worried about our lieutenant." Bolitho looked at him. 'Mr Hope? Is he worse?' 'He is as before.' Dancer clutched at a stay as the brig heeled violently in a sudden gust. 'It is Tregorren who is causing the concern.' He grinned. 'Although I must say I can't muster much grief! ' Bolitho reached out and stretched his cramped limbs. He was aching from exposure and felt clammy with salt spray. Dancer added, 'Mr Starkie thinks that he has a fever.' They slid down to the deck together and found the master's mate by the wheel with the helmsmen. Starkie said abruptly, 'It'll be dawn soon. I can't understand it. He's like a man possessed down there. I dunno what we'll do if we run into more trouble.'

He looked away, his voice brittle. 'I can't take being a prisoner again. Not after what we've suffered, and that's God's truth! ' Bolitho replied, 'We'll go to him.' He touched Dancer's arm. 'But I'm no surgeon.' In the tiny cabin where Sandpiper's last captain had enjoyed his privacy and suffered his anxieties, they found Tregorren slumped across a table, his face buried in his arms. The cabin stank of spirits or coarse wine, and as the brig lifted and plunged across the broken water Bolitho heard glass rolling about beneath the cot, and in the glare of a solitary lantern saw that there were many such bottles in a rack against the bulkhead. Dancer murmured grimly, 'Mr Tregorren has surely found his heaven! ' Bolitho leaned over the table. Til try and rouse him. You keep clear.' He seized the lieutenant's shoulders and heaved him backwards over the chair. He had been expecting to see a man the worse for drink. Dancer exclaimed, 'In God's name, Dick, he looks like death! ' Tregorren had a terrible pallor, and more so because his normally ruddy complexion was patchy grey, and when his eyes flickered open very slowly he seemed quite dazed, like someone suffering extreme shock. He started to speak, but his speech was so thick he had to clear his throat with a series of loud retches. Bolitho asked, 'Are you ill, sir?' He saw Dancer try to hide a grin and added hastily, 'Mr Starkie was worried for you.' 'Was he?' Tregorren tried to stand but fell back in the chair with a terrible groan. 'Get that bottle! ' His fingers were like claws as he seized the bottle and took a long, desperate swallow. 'I don't know what's happening.' He was speaking in a vague, slurred voice. 'Can't control my body.' He retched and tried to rise again. 'Must get to the heads.' Bolitho and Dancer hauled him to his feet, and for a few moments the three of them swayed and reeled to the motion as if in a weird dance. Dancer muttered, 'He's done it this time! What our old doctor would call the bloody flux \ The man is coming apart! ' As they lurched through the bulkhead door Bolitho saw Eden watching from another small cabin where Hope had been since being carried below. 'Give a hand here, torn! We have to get him to the heads! ' Eden said brightly, 'He 1-looks t-terrible, to be sure.' When they reached the deck the air was like wine after the overpowering stench in the cabin. Starkie hurried from the wheel. 'Is it fever then?' Eden piped, 'H-he has the g-gout, Mr Starkie. I have been s-saying s-so all along. He h-has been taking medicine to ease the pain, but I s-suspect has over indulged.' They all stared at the diminutive midshipman who had suddenly emerged as their only source of medical knowledge. 'Well, what'll we do?' Starkie sounded lost. Eden regarded the sagging, groaning figure and replied, 'When he g-gets b-back to the ship the s-surgeon will t-take care of him. There's n-nothing we can d-do.' He grimaced. 'S-serve him right.' 'Be that as it may.' Starkie watched Dancer clinging to the lieutenant's coat to stop him from falling clean across the bulwark. 'We're going to need him shortly.' Dancer stared at him. 'I don't see that. We can signal Gorgon and the captain will know what to do.' Starkie regarded him bleakly. 'You've not noticed. The wind has shifted to the nor'-east. It'd take your ship all day to beat up to this position, that is even if your cap'n knows what's happening.' Dancer persisted, 'Then what is to stop us from running down on her?' Starkie said, 'I'm only a mastj, r's mate, and one right glad to be safe and free age in, but I know the Navy, and I know captains. Sandpiper is well placed to head off the enemy, or at least follow her to her hiding place.' He shrugged. 'But without an officer, I'm not so sure. You get no reward for empty heroics, and that's for certain in any navy.' They looked at Eden as he said in a small voice, 'We're not going to the Gorgon?' Bolitho noticed that he had even lost his stammer in his anxiety. He said quietly, 'Come over here, torn.' He took the boy's arm and asked calmly, 'What did you do to Mr Tregorren?' Eden stared at the deck, his hands moving in agitation. 'I knew he was t-trying to t-treat himself by p-putting medicine in his w-wine. I s-saw it on a flask in his c-cabin. Vin Antim, like my f-father uses in m-matters of g-gout.' He added wretchedly, 'So I p-put a large m-measure in one of his b-bottles. He must have d-drunk all of it, and a full b-bottle of b-brandy as well.' Bolitho stared at him. 'You might have killed him! ' 'B-but I thought we were rejoining the sh-ship, you see. I just w-wanted him to s-suffer for all the things he s-said to you, and to m-me.' He shook his head. fAnd now you s-say we'll not be joining Gorgon r-right away?' Bolitho breathed out slowly. 'So it seems.' Dancer steadied the lieutenant as he staggered away from the bulwark. 'Get some men to help this officer to the cabin! ' Bolitho said, 'What now, I wonder?' As if in answer he heard the lookout yell, 'Deck there! Sail on the lee bow! ' They ran to the nettings but the sea to leeward was still in deep shadow. Starkie said bitterly, 'So the devil's downwind of us. He stands between us and safety.' 'How well d'you know this coast?' Bolitho's question seemed to come out all on its own. 'Good enough.' Starkie peered at the compass as if to gather his thoughts. 'It's a bad one to try and outpace a frigate.' Bolitho thought of the Gorgon to the south of their position. Maybe the captain did not even know they had cut out the Sandpiper, and believed she had fled with the frigate. Starkie was saying, 'We'd been searching for pirates for months, and Cap'n Wade got some information from a Genoese trader that there was one such vessel in these waters. At the time, the cap'n thought there was only a small ship, and probably not much of a craft at that. But this pirate is no fool, believe me. They say he is half-French and half-English, but one thing is certain, he's thrown in his lot with some Algerine corsairs who have come from the Mediterranean to prey on slavers and honest traders alike.' Bolitho looked at Dancer and asked softly, 'Are there many of them?' 'Enough. They were short-handed when they took Sandpiper, but new men are joining their ranks every day. It doesn't matter what race or country they come from. I'm told that if they swear allegiance to Islam they can be anything they like. The frigate was Spanish before they took her off Oran, and she is commanded by this Jean Gauvin. A madman, if ever I saw one, and without fear. The corsair who forced some Senegalese traders to open the fortress for him is Rais Haddam. He put our officers to death. Slowly, and in front of our people. It was terrible to see and hear it.' Nobody spoke, and as Bolitho watched Starkie's tanned features he could see him reliving the horror as if it had just happened. 'We anchored just off the fortress. It was a fine day, and the people were in high spirits. And why not, for we were going home in a month more or so. The frigate lay near us, wearing Spanish colours. The fortress too was flying a trading company flag.' He gave a shudder. 'I suppose Cap'n Wade should have known or suspected. But he was only a lieutenant, no more'n twenty-three. We lowered the boats and went ashore to meet the governor of the island. Instead we were surrounded, and the fortress battery put down a few balls around the Sandpiper just to let the watch know they had no chance.' After the killing and the torture was over, this Algerine corsair, Ra'is Haddam, spoke to the rest of us. Told us that if we worked the ship for him we might be spared.' He looked away. 'Gauvin was there too, and when one of the midshipmen tried to protest it was Gauvin who ordered him to be killed. They burned him alive on the foreshore! ' Dancer whispered, 'My God! ' 'Aye.' Starkie stared past him into the shadows. 'Haddam has gathered the scum of the earth to his banner.' Bolitho nodded. 'Rais Haddam. I have heard my father and his friends speak of him. He has raided the Algerian coast for years, and is now looking elsewhere for his corsairs.' He glanced at the paling sky. 'I never expected to meet up with him! ' Starkie said bitterly, 'There is no time left to prepare a defence.' Bolitho looked at their faces, sensing despair and defeat. Dancer was too new to the Navy to know anything different. Starkie was still too stunned by his captivity to offer advice. Bolitho said quietly, 'Then we must prepare an attack.' He thought of Tregorren, filled with pain and drink because of Eden 's ruse. Of Hope, barely breathing, a musket ball in his shoulder. Of their seamen, some bewildered at their sudden releases and others quite exhausted from the savage fighting on this same deck. Starkie exclaimed, 'Gauvin's ship mounts twentyfour guns to our fourteen little squeakers! ' no Dancer asked, 'When Sandpiper was used to seize the barquentine, what happened to her crew?' 'Over the side.' Starkie looked grim-faced. 'Gutted like pigs.' Bolitho said, 'So much for the bad side. Now, what can we do against Gauvin?' He walked to the weather side, feeling the spray pattering across his face and hands. 'He'll know that Gorgon is to the south'rd.' Dancer had joined him. 'And will expect us to try and rejoin her.' Bolitho glanced at Starkie, wondering if his memory could be trusted. 'If we come about, Mr Starkie, how close could we weather the headland?' Starkie's eyes widened with alarm. 'Back to that damned island, y'mean?' 'Towards it. There is a difference.' 'It's dangerous. You should know that, if you rounded the headland under oars. There are reefs a'plenty, many not even marked on the charts.' Bolitho said half to himself, 'Off Cornwall there are some islands called the Scillies. A Bristol trader was being chased by a French privateer in the last war. The trader's master had no chance of outpacing the enemy, but he knew his islands well. He sailed right across one reef and the Frenchie followed him. Ripped out his keel. There were none saved.' Starkie stared at him with amazement. 'You want to steer a course through the reef? Is that what you're asking me to do?' A weak ray of sunlight lanced across the upper in rigging and made the topgallant yard glitter like a crucifix. 'Do we have a choice?' Bolitho watched him gravely. 'Captivity, and possibly death to make another example, or…' The word hung in the air. Starkie nodded firmly. 'We'll probably die anyway, but God, it's a chance I'd rather take.' He rubbed his rough hands together. 'I suggest we call the hands and shorten sail to come about. If the wind goes against us we'll end up on a lee shore.' He chuckled suddenly, dropping the years from his lined face. 'By God, Mr, whatever your name is, I'd hate to serve under you when you're a cap'n. My nerves would give out afore long! ' Bolitho smiled sadly as more light opened up the deck to display the dull stains where men had fought and died, the jagged splinters left by the swivel gun. He looked at Eden. 'See how Mr Hope is. Try and get him to take some brandy.' He saw the boy flinch. 'Not Mr Tregorren's bottle, if you please.' As Eden started for the companion he added, 'And try to find a flag. I want this pirate to recognize Sandpiper under her rightful colours today.' Dancer watched him in silence. Then he said to Starkie, 'I have never seen such a mood in him. He means to fight. It's no deception.' The master's mate walked to the lee rail and spat on to the creaming wash. 'Well, m'lad, when Gauvin sees the flag, that'll do it right enough. It's not a sight he's very fond of.' Eden reappeared carrying a roll of bunting. 'Found one, Dick. Hidden under the b-brandy b-bottles in the cabin." 'How are the lieutenants?' Starkie spoke sharply, perhaps still hoping that someone else would appear to take over responsibility. Eden pouted. 'M-Mr Hope is breathing a 1-little better. Mr Tregorren is in a filthy s-state.' Starkie sighed. 'Very well. Pipe the hands to the braces. No point in delaying things any more.' Bolitho gripped the poop rail and watched the seamen hurrying to braces and halliards, their movements jerky, as if they were still shocked and uncertain. It was like a dream. Of pirates, and brave young men fighting their country's enemies. But it was fast becoming a nightmare. Only the first part was right, he thought. A little brig, a demoralized company, and some boys to lead them. He thought of his father, and of Captain Conway, grave-faced and confident behind their guns and their seamanship. He said, 'Run up the colpurs, Mr Eden.' Even the formality surprised him. 'Then stand by to come about.'