The Corvette nd-5 Read online

  'In a few years you will be bringing men to the gratings for a check-shirt for the offence your gentility has led you into. Now, Mr Glencross, the fore topmasthead for you; and Mr Walmsley the main. There you may reflect upon the wisdom of what I have just told you.'

  He watched the two young men begin to ascend the rigging. 'Mr Rispin, bring them down at eight bells. And not a moment earlier.'

  Chapter Seven

  The First Whales

  June 1803

  Drinkwater turned from the stern window and seated himself at the table. He drew the opened journal towards him. The brilliant sunlight that reflected from the sea onto the deckhead of the cabin was again reflected onto his desk and the page before him. He picked up his pen and began to write.

  The ships favouring the Spitzbergen grounds left us in latitude 72 ° North and 8° Easily longitude. Among those left under my convoy are Faithful, Capt. Sawyers, and Narwhal, Capt. Harvey. Their appearance much changed as they disdain to shave north of the Arctic Circle. It fell calm the next morning and the air had a crystal purity. Towards evening I detected a curious luminosity to the northward, lying low across the horizon. This the whale-fishers denominate 'ice blink'. Towards midnight, if such it can be described with no need to light the binnacle lamps, a steady breeze got up, whereupon the ships crowded on sail and stood to the northwards. At morning the 'ice-blink' was more pronounced and accompanied by a strange viscid appearance of the sea. There was also an eerie and subtle change in the atmosphere that seemed most detectable by the olfactory senses and yet could not be called a smell. By noon the reason for these strange phenomenae was apparent. A line of ice visible to the north and west. I perceived immediately the advantages of a 'crow's nest'. All are well on board…

  He was interrupted by a loud and distant howl. It seemed to come from the hold and reminded Drinkwater of the unfortunate and now insane Macpherson.

  … except for the surgeon, whose condition by its very nature, disturbs the peace of the ship.

  But it was not Macpherson. The knock at the door was peremptory and Quilhampton's eager face filled with excitement. 'Whales, sir, they've lowered boats in chase!'

  'Very well, Mr Q. I'll be up directly.'

  At a more sedate pace Drinkwater followed him on deck. He saw the whales almost immediately, three dark humps, moving slowly through the water towards the Melusine. In the calm sea they left a gentle wake trailing astern of their bluff heads, only a few whirls visible from the effort of their mighty tails. One of them humped its back and seemed to accelerate. A fine jet of steamy spray spouted from its spiracle. They crossed Melusine's stern not one hundred feet away, their backs marked by some form of wart-like growths. From the rail Drinkwater could clearly see the sphinctal contractions of the blow-hole as the mighty creature spouted.

  The watch, scattered at the rails and in the lower rigging were silent. There was something profoundly awe-inspiring in the progress of the three great humps, as they moved with a ponderous innocence through the plankton-rich water. But then the boats passed in energetic pursuit and Melusine's people began to cheer. Drinkwater marked Sawyers Junior, pulling the bow oar of Faithful's number two boat. He wore a sleeveless jerkin and a small brimmed hat. In the stern stood the boat-steerer, leaning on the long steering oar, the coloured flag attached to a staff with which they signalled their ship fluttered like an ensign.

  Drinkwater also noticed Elijah Pucill sweep past in Faithful's number one boat. There were more than a dozen boats engaged in the pursuit now, their crews pulling at their oar looms until they bent, springing from the water to whip back ready for the next stroke. Already the whalers were swinging their yards, to catch what breeze there was and work up in support of their boats.

  'Don't impede the whalers, Mr Hill, let them pass before you trim the yards to follow.'

  'Aye, aye, sir.'

  He looked again at the whales and saw they had disappeared. The boats slowed and Drinkwater watched a few kittiwakes wheel to the south and wondered if they could see the whales. Within a few minutes the boats were under way again, following the kittiwakes. But two boats had veered away at a right angle and Drinkwater noticed with sudden interest that they were from Faithful. He hauled himself up on the rail and, leaning against the mizen backstays, pulled out his Dollond glass.

  There was a flurry of activity among the boats to the south. One had struck and its flag was up as the whale began to tow it. The other boats set off in pursuit. Drinkwater swung his glass back towards Sawyers and Pucill. They were no more than eight cables away and Drinkwater could see both men standing up in the bows of their boats while the crews did no more than paddle them steadily forward.

  Then there was a faint shout and Drinkwater saw the whale. He saw a harpoon fly and Sawyers's boat steerer throw up the flag. Pucill had dropped his harpoon and jumped back to his oar as Sawyers's boat began to slide forward. A faint cloud of smoke enveloped the harpoon and Drinkwater remembered the bollard and a snaking line. He could see the splash of water from the piggin and then the rushing advance of the whale stopped abruptly and it sounded. Pucill's boat came up alongside Sawyers's and lay on its oars. Through the glass Drinkwater could see Pucill stand up again, both he and Sawyers hefting their lances. They stayed in this position for several minutes, like two sculptures and Drinkwater began to tire of trying to hold the glass steady. He lowered it and rubbed his eye. He was aware now of a cloud of seabirds, gathered as if from nowhere over this spot in the ocean. He could hear their cries and suddenly the whale breached. For a split second he saw its huge, ugly head with its wide, shiny portcullis of a mouth and the splashes of whitened skin beneath the lower lip that curled like a grotesque of a negro's. The lances darted as the boats advanced and there was a splashing of foam and lashing of fins as the head submerged again and the back seemed to roll over. Then the tail emerged, huge, horizontally-fluked and menacing the boats as they back-watered. The crack as it slapped the water sounded like artillery, clearly audible to the watching Melusines. They saw the pale shape of a belly and the brief outline of a fin as the boats closed for the kill. The lances flashed in the sun and the beast seemed to ripple in its death flurry. Then Drinkwater was aware that the sea around the boats was turning red. Mysticetus had given up the ghost.

  We passed into open pack ice, Drinkwater wrote, shortly before noon on 13th June 1803, in Latitude 74° 25' North 2° 50' East. We have sighted whales daily and taken many. The masters speak of a good year which pleases me after our previous melancholy expectations. In light winds the watch are much employed in working the ship through the ice. The officers have greatly benefitted from this experience and I have fewer qualms about their abilities than formerly. Mr Q. continues to justify my confidence in him while I find Mr Hill's services as master indispensable. I believe Mr Germaney to be unwell, suffering from some torpor of the spirits. Singleton will say little beyond the fact that he suspects Germaney of suffering from the blue devils, which I conceive to be a piece of nautical conceit upon his part to deceive me as to the real nature of G's complaint.

  The people have been exercised at cutlass and small arms drill by Mr Mount and recently, when we had occasion, in the manner of the whale-ships, to moor to a large icefloe, they played a game of football.

  There has been a plentiful supply of meat for the table, duck in particular being very fine. Seal and walrus have also been taken. While flensing, the carcases of the whales are frequently attacked by the Greenland Shark, a brown or grey fish some twenty odd feet in length. It is distinguished by a curious appendage from the iris of its eye. It makes good eating.

  We have observed some fully developed icebergs. Their shapes are fantastical and almost magical and beggar description. In sunlight their colours range from brilliant white to a blue of…

  Drinkwater paused. The strange and awesome sight of his first iceberg had both impressed and disquieted him for some reason that he could not fathom. Then it came to him. That pale ice-cold blue had been the
colour of Ellerby's eyes. He shook his head, as though clearing his mind of an unpleasant dream. Ellerby was two hundred and fifty miles to the north-east and could be forgotten. He resumed his journal: …impressive beauty. We have used them as a mark for exercising the guns which delights the people who love to see great lumps of ice flying from their frozen ramparts.

  Drinkwater laid down his pen and rubbed his shoulder. Frequent exercise with the foil had undoubtedly eased it, but the cold became penetrating in close promixity to the ice and his shoulder sometimes ached intolerably. Palgrave's decanter beckoned, but he resisted the temptation. Better to divert his mind by a brisk climb to his new-fangled crow's nest. He pulled the greygoe on and stepped out of the cabin. As he came on deck his nostrils quivered to the stimulating effect of the cold air. Swinging himself into the main shrouds he began to ascend the mainmast.

  The crow's nest had been built by the carpenter and his mate. It was a deep box, bound with iron and having a trap in its base through which to enter. Inside was a hook for a speaking trumpet and a rest for a long-glass. Turning the seaman on duty out of it from the top gallant mast cross trees, Drinkwater ascended the final few feet and wriggled up inside.

  'Nothink unusual, yer honour,' the lookout had reported as they passed in the rigging. Settling himself on the closed trap Drinkwater swept the horizon. He could see open water to the south and a whaler which he recognised as one of the Whitby ships. The drift ice closed to open pack within a mile of them and he counted the whalers still inside the ice within sight of the ship. Reckoning on visibility of some forty miles, he was pleased to identify all his charges and to note that most had boats out among the floes. One ship's boats were engaged in towing a whale, tail first, back to their ship while two vessels were engaged in flensing.

  A number of tall, pinnacled bergs could be seen three or four miles away, while one huge castellated monster lay some ten miles off to the north-north-eastward.

  Satisfied he lifted the trap with his toe by the rope grommet provided and eased himself down. Nodding to the waiting seaman at the cross trees. 'Very well, Appleyard, up you go again.'

  'Aye, aye, sir.' The man scrambled up to the relative warmth of the nest and Drinkwater noted the scantiness of his clothing. He descended to the deck where Bourne, the officer of the watch, saluted him. Drinkwater was warmed by the climb and in a good humour. 'Mr Bourne, I'd be obliged if you and your midshipmen would join me for dinner.'

  He went below and sent for the purser. When Mr Pater arrived Drinkwater ordered an issue of additional warm clothing at his own expense to be made to topmen. Then he sent for Mr Mount.

  'Sir?' Mount stood rigidly to attention, promptly attentive to Drinkwater's summons.

  'Ah, Mr Mount, I wish you to take advantage of every opportunity of taking seal and any bears to fabricate some additional warm clothing. Mr Pater informs me our stocks are barely adequate and I rely upon your talents with a musket to rectify the situation. See Mr Germaney and take a boat this afternoon. The signal for recall will be three guns.'

  'Yes, sir, with pleasure.'

  'I perceived a few seals basking about two miles to the east.'

  'Thank you, sir. I'll take a party and see what we can accomplish.'

  Drinkwater watched the hunting party leave. Fitting out the cutter for the expedition as if for a picnic Mount, Bourne, Quilhampton and Frey had been joined at the last minute by Lord Walmsley and Alexander Glencross. Mr Germaney had relieved Bourne of the deck and Mount had ensured the seamen at the oars each took a cutlass as a skillet for butchering the meat. Drinkwater toyed with the idea of watching their progress from the crow's nest but rejected it as a pointless waste of time and advised Germaney to keep a sharp watch for the onset of a fog and fire the recall the moment he thought it possible.

  In the still air he heard an occasional pop through the open window of his stern lights as he recorded the air temperature and dipped a thermometer into the sea. Closing the sash frame he sat, blew on his hands and wrote:

  Sawyers sends to me that he is confident this will be a good season. The sea is of a rich, greenish hue which he says indicates a plentitude of plankton and krill, tiny forms of life upon which Mysticetus feeds. He states that his men took a Razorback, an inferior species offish which contains little oil and sinks on dying. There is a strange remote beauty about these regions and they seem far from the realities of war. I begin to think my Lord St Vincent too sanguine in his expectations.

  Drinkwater snapped the inkwell shut and leaned back in his chair. Five minutes later he was asleep. He was woken by a confused bedlam of shouts that persuaded him they were attacked. He had slept for several hours and was stiff and uncomfortable. The sudden awakening alarmed him to the extent of reaching the door before he heard the halloos and the laughter. Muttering about the confounded hunting party he slumped back into his chair, rubbing his shoulder.

  'Pass word for my coxswain!' he bawled at the sentry, listening to the order reverberate forward. Tregembo knocked and entered with the familiarity of a favoured servant. 'Coffee, zur?'

  'Aye, and a bath.'

  'A bath, zur?'

  'Yes, God damn it! A bath, a cold bath of sea-water! You've seen three boats of whale-fishers upset in it and it'll not kill me.'

  'Aye, aye, zur.' Tregembo's tone was disapproving.

  'And find out what happened to Mr Mount's huntin' party.'

  Despite his desire for invigoration the bath was unbelievably cold. But in the flush of blood as he towelled himself and put on the clean under-drawers laid out by Tregembo, he felt a renewal of spirits. What he had not written in his journal but which had taken root in his mind and filled it upon waking in such discomfort, was the growing conviction that Melusine's services in the Arctic were going to be purely formal. The strange beauty of the ice and sea did not blind him to the dangers that a fog or storm could summon up, but the necessity of endangering his ship for such a needless cause, for working his crew hard to maintain their martial valour to no purpose, set a problematical task for their captain.

  He drew the clean shirt over his head as his steward brought in the coffee.

  'Thank you, Cawkwell, on the table if you please, and pass word to Mr Mount to come and see me.'

  'Sir,' whispered Cawkwell, a shadow of a man who seemed in constant awe of everybody. Drinkwater suspected Tregembo of specially selecting Cawkwell as his servant so that his own ascendant position was not undermined.

  'I told Mr Mount to wait until you'd had your bath, zur,' he waited until Cawkwell had left the cabin, 'when you was less megrimish.'

  Drinkwater looked up. 'Damn you for your insolence, Tregembo,' Tregembo grinned, 'you should try a bath, yourself.' Tregembo sniffed with disapproval and the knock of Mr Mount put an end to the familiarities.

  'Enter!'

  Mount, wrapped in his great-coat, stepped into the cabin. 'Ah, Mr Mount, what success did you have, eh?'

  'A magnificent haul, sir, eleven seals and,' Mount's eyes were gleaming with triumph, 'a polar bear, sir!'

  'A polar bear?'

  'Yes, sir. Mr Frey discovered him asleep alongside a seal that he had partly eaten. He got the scent of us and made off into the water but, I suppose conceiving himself safe after putting a distance between us, clambered up onto another floe. Quilhampton and I both hit him and he made off, but we called up the boat and I got a second ball into his brain at about sixty paces.'

  Drinkwater raised his eyebrows. 'A triumph indeed, Mr Mount, my congratulations.'

  'Thank you, sir.'

  'Now we will butcher the seals but have a party skin them and scrape the inside of the skins. I asked Mr Germaney to determine whether any of the people were conversant with tanning.'

  'Yes, sir. Er, there's one thing, sir.'

  'Yes? What is it?'

  'We brought back an eskimo, sir.'

  'You did what?'

  'Brought back an eskimo.'

  'God bless my soul!'

  After this reve
lation Drinkwater could no longer resist inspecting the trophies. The eskimo proved to be a young male, who appeared to have broken his arm. He was dressed in skins and had a wind-tanned face. His dark almond eyes were clouded with fear and pain and he held his left arm with his right hand. Mr Singleton was examining him with professional interest.

  'A fine specimen of an innuit, Captain, about twenty years of age but with a compound fracture of the left ulna and considerable bruising. I understand he resisted the help of Mount and his party.'

  'I see. What do you propose to do with him Mr Singleton? We can hardly turn him loose with his arm in such a state, yet to detain him seems equally unjust. Perhaps his family or huntin' party are not far away.' Drinkwater turned to Mount. 'Did you see any evidence of other eskimos?'

  'No, sir. Mr Frey ascended an eminence and searched the horizon but nothing could be seen. He is very lucky, sir, we were some way from the ship and returning when we happened to see him. If he had not moved we would have passed him by'

  'And left him to the polar bears, eh?'

  'Exactly so, sir.'

  Singleton had reached under the man's jerkin and was palpating the stomach. Curiously the eskimo did not seem to mind but began to point to his mouth.

  'He's had little to eat, sir, for some time,' Singleton stood back, 'and I doubt whether soap has ever touched him.' Several noses wrinkled in disgust.

  'Very well. Take him below and get that arm dressed. Give the poor devil some laudanum, Mr Singleton. As for the rest of you, you may give me a full account of your adventure at dinner.' He turned aft and nearly bumped into little Frey. 'Ah, Mr Frey…'

  'Sir?'

  'Do you think you could execute a small sketch of our friend?'

  'Of course sir.'

  'Very good, I thank you.'