know you, sir?’
‘You do indeed,’ said Pearce, lifting his hat. ‘Have we not served together?’
Digby lifted his hat too, but his eyebrows seemed to go higher. ‘It cannot be you, Pearce?’
‘It is.’ Digby’s eyes took in his coat, his breeches, even his shoes, the whole so plainly the garb of a fellow lieutenant. ‘I feel it would be in order to explain.’
‘Move your arse, lads. Admiral’s got a quill scratcher waiting.’
The loud voice made Pearce glance round, and Digby looked over his shoulder for the same reason, to see their old shipmates, three Pelicans and that swine Gherson, being shepherded to another part of the admiral’s quarters.
‘Michael,’ Pearce shouted.
The Irishman turned, grinned, and shrugged his shoulders. Rufus waved, Charlie Taverner gave him a queer look, and Gherson glowered as they were ushered through a small, glass-paned door. The rasping voice made them attend to the other man approaching; Digby tipped his hat, Pearce fingered his sword.
‘Mr Digby,’ said Ralph Barclay.
‘Sir,’ Digby replied, ‘it seems I am to be subject to no end of surprises today.’
‘I will not address the person you are with.’
‘You will address me one day, Barclay, over any weapon you choose.’
Digby was shocked at the way Pearce addressed their one-time captain, still confused that someone he had last seen as a common seaman was now of the same rank as he, as well as wondering what it all portended, but at that moment he was called into the Admiral’s day cabin. Barclay followed, leaving Pearce standing alone, unable to decide whether he was happy or fuming.
He went to the door through which the four seamen had been ushered, and looked into the small glass panes to see Hotham’s under-secretary with quill, and a candle to light his papers, taking notes on the other side. Impulse made him open the door, which earned him a furious look from the scribe.
‘Do you mind, sir. I am taking depositions from these men pending the forthcoming court martial of Captain Barclay.’
‘Sorry,’ Pearce replied, immediately shutting the door.
So he was going to get Barclay in the dock! That thought pleased him mightily, and, much as he wanted to put a sword or a ball though him, John Pearce decided that the ruin of him must come first. Only when he had been shredded of his naval dignity would he challenge Barclay to the duel in which he would pay for the insults he had heaped on him.
‘Mr Digby, you are to take command of the vessel captured by HMS
Weazel
, now renamed HMS
Faron
, your duty to escort four French seventy-fours , and some five thousand seamen, to the Atlantic ports from whence they came. They are a bunch of revolutionary vermin, who will not accept orders from their commander. You are to have no consort with them or their officers, your duty is merely to see them into their home ports and returnhere with all despatch. You will be seconded by Lieutenant Pearce and your crew will be made up with drafts from HMS
Brilliant
and HMS
Leander
. You will, of necessity, be short-handed, given that we need here every man who can be spared, but since I anticipate no action that will not be a burden. In fact, it may make sure you are not tempted to go prize-hunting.’
Digby had seen a great deal of Hotham; he had for a short time, before being shifted to serve under the now dead Benton, been one of the eight lieutenants on this very ship, though given the superior attitude of his fellow officers, not least the Premier, it had been a far from happy experience.
‘I must point out, Mr Digby, that this is a temporary appointment. You will know from your own date of commission that you lack the seniority for such a position, yet Captain Barclay here has told me you are a competent officer.’
Digby had to nod his thanks to Ralph Barclay, but he wondered at the words. He had the impression that he was not much liked by the captain of HMS
Brilliant
, as well as the knowledge that
‘You do indeed,’ said Pearce, lifting his hat. ‘Have we not served together?’
Digby lifted his hat too, but his eyebrows seemed to go higher. ‘It cannot be you, Pearce?’
‘It is.’ Digby’s eyes took in his coat, his breeches, even his shoes, the whole so plainly the garb of a fellow lieutenant. ‘I feel it would be in order to explain.’
‘Move your arse, lads. Admiral’s got a quill scratcher waiting.’
The loud voice made Pearce glance round, and Digby looked over his shoulder for the same reason, to see their old shipmates, three Pelicans and that swine Gherson, being shepherded to another part of the admiral’s quarters.
‘Michael,’ Pearce shouted.
The Irishman turned, grinned, and shrugged his shoulders. Rufus waved, Charlie Taverner gave him a queer look, and Gherson glowered as they were ushered through a small, glass-paned door. The rasping voice made them attend to the other man approaching; Digby tipped his hat, Pearce fingered his sword.
‘Mr Digby,’ said Ralph Barclay.
‘Sir,’ Digby replied, ‘it seems I am to be subject to no end of surprises today.’
‘I will not address the person you are with.’
‘You will address me one day, Barclay, over any weapon you choose.’
Digby was shocked at the way Pearce addressed their one-time captain, still confused that someone he had last seen as a common seaman was now of the same rank as he, as well as wondering what it all portended, but at that moment he was called into the Admiral’s day cabin. Barclay followed, leaving Pearce standing alone, unable to decide whether he was happy or fuming.
He went to the door through which the four seamen had been ushered, and looked into the small glass panes to see Hotham’s under-secretary with quill, and a candle to light his papers, taking notes on the other side. Impulse made him open the door, which earned him a furious look from the scribe.
‘Do you mind, sir. I am taking depositions from these men pending the forthcoming court martial of Captain Barclay.’
‘Sorry,’ Pearce replied, immediately shutting the door.
So he was going to get Barclay in the dock! That thought pleased him mightily, and, much as he wanted to put a sword or a ball though him, John Pearce decided that the ruin of him must come first. Only when he had been shredded of his naval dignity would he challenge Barclay to the duel in which he would pay for the insults he had heaped on him.
‘Mr Digby, you are to take command of the vessel captured by HMS
Weazel
, now renamed HMS
Faron
, your duty to escort four French seventy-fours , and some five thousand seamen, to the Atlantic ports from whence they came. They are a bunch of revolutionary vermin, who will not accept orders from their commander. You are to have no consort with them or their officers, your duty is merely to see them into their home ports and returnhere with all despatch. You will be seconded by Lieutenant Pearce and your crew will be made up with drafts from HMS
Brilliant
and HMS
Leander
. You will, of necessity, be short-handed, given that we need here every man who can be spared, but since I anticipate no action that will not be a burden. In fact, it may make sure you are not tempted to go prize-hunting.’
Digby had seen a great deal of Hotham; he had for a short time, before being shifted to serve under the now dead Benton, been one of the eight lieutenants on this very ship, though given the superior attitude of his fellow officers, not least the Premier, it had been a far from happy experience.
‘I must point out, Mr Digby, that this is a temporary appointment. You will know from your own date of commission that you lack the seniority for such a position, yet Captain Barclay here has told me you are a competent officer.’
Digby had to nod his thanks to Ralph Barclay, but he wondered at the words. He had the impression that he was not much liked by the captain of HMS
Brilliant
, as well as the knowledge that
Similar Books
