A Brig of War Read Free

maintopsail and summoned
Hellebore
’s boat.
    â€˜How is Elizabeth, my dear fellow?’
    â€˜She goes along famously, Richard, and would have asked to be remembered to you had she known we might meet.’
    â€˜When were you gazetted, Nat?’
    â€˜After Camperdown.’
    â€˜Ah, so you were there. Damn! That still gives you the advantage of one fleet action to boast of ahead of me,’ he grinned. ‘D’you have many other old Kestrels besides Griffiths on your brig?’
    â€˜Aye, Tregembo you remember, and old Appleby . . .’
    â€˜What? That old windbag Harry Appleby? Well I’m damned. She looks a long-legged little ship, Nat,’ he nodded at the brig.
    â€˜She’s well enough, but you still have the important advantages,’ replied Drinkwater, a sweep of his hand including
Victory
, the puissant personages upon her deck and alluding to White’s rapid rise by comparison with his own. ‘Convoy work ain’t quite the way to be made post.’
    â€˜No, Nat, but my bet is you’re ordered up the Mediterranean, eh?’ Drinkwater nodded and White went on, ‘that’s where Nelson is, before Toulon, Nat, and wherever Nelson is there’s action and glory.’ White’s eyes gleamed. ‘D’you know St Vincent sent him back into the Med after we evacuated it last year and a month ago he reinforced Nelson with Troubridge’s inshore squadron. Sent the whole lot of ’em off from the harbour mouth before Curtis’s reinforcements had come up with the fleet. And the blasted Dons didn’t even know the inshore squadron had been changed! What d’you think of that, eh? No,’ he patted Drinkwater’s arm condescendingly, ‘the Med’s the place, Nat, there’s bound to be action with Nelson.’
    â€˜I’m only escorting a convoy in a brig, Richard,’ said Drinkwater deprecatingly.
    White laughed again and held out his hand. ‘Good fortune then Nat, for we’re all hostage to it, d’you know.’
    They shook hands and Drinkwater descended to the boat where Mr Quilhampton, two years older than Mr Lee, but with a fraction of the latter’s experience, overawed by the mass of
Victory
lumbering alongside his cockleshell cutter, made a hash of getting off the battleship’s side.
    â€˜Steady now, Mr Q. Bear off forward, put the helm over and
then
lower your oars. ’Tis the only way, d’you see,’ Drinkwater said patiently, looking back at
Victory
. Already her main topsail was filled and White’s grin was clearly visible. Drinkwater looked ahead towards the tiny, fragile
Hellebore
. The cutter rose over the long, low Atlantic swells, the sea danced blue and gold in the sunshine where the light westerly wind rippled its surface. He felt the warmth in the muscles of his right arm.
    â€˜
Hecuba
and
Molly
to accompany us into the Med, sir, to Nelson, off Toulon. We’re to proceed as soon as possible.’ Drinkwater looked at Griffiths who lent heavily against the rail, gazing at thestately line of the British fleet to the eastward. ‘
Prydferth, bach
, beautiful,’ he muttered. Drinkwater stared astern at the convoy, their topsails aback in an untidy gaggle as they waited to hear their fate. Boats were bobbing towards the brig. ‘I’ve sent for their masters,’ Griffiths explained.
    â€˜How’s the leg today, sir?’ Drinkwater asked while they waited for the boats to arrive. The old, white-haired Welshman looked with disgust at the twisted and puffy limb stretched stiffly out on the gun carriage before him.
    â€˜Ah, devil take it, it’s a damned nuisance. And now Appleby tells me it’s gouty. And before you raise the matter of my bottle,’ he hurried on with mock severity, ‘I’ll have you know that without it I’d be intolerable, see.’ They grinned at each other, their relationship a stark contrast