Battle Fleet (2007) by Paul Dowswell Page A

work. Then he gave us our wages – over twenty pounds. It seemed like a fortune. ‘Don’t spend it all on drink and doxies,’ said the Captain. ‘And keep it well hidden about your person. Those streets are full of cut-throats and pickpockets. One final task. I want you to deliver Sydney to his new master. I think it would be best for you to take him.’
    I was happy to do him that favour. Evison was a good man and I would be proud to sail with him again. I didn’t want anyone else taking Sydney to a strange new place either. I knew he would be confused and frightened by his unfamiliar surroundings.
    We said our farewells to Mrs Evison, John Garrick, and the rest of the crew, even William Bedlington. I didn’t want to see most of them again, but I wished them well. After a bad start we had finally learned to rub along with each other. To Garrick, at least, I owed my life. We made small talk about our plans. Most were going to spend a few weeks or months ashore, regaining their strength before they took their life into their hands on another voyage. It was a precarious existence, being a sailor, but there was nothing else to rival its excitement for an ordinary working man.
    There was one last farewell to make. I went to Bel’s cabin and knocked on the door.
    ‘Who is it?’ came a sharp voice.
    ‘It’s Sam, come to say goodbye.’
    ‘Goodbye then,’ she said, without even opening the door.



CHAPTER 10
London Calling
    We marched down the gangplank both carrying a small bag of possessions. It was precious little to show for our time on the other side of the world. Sydney perched on my shoulder and I felt like a pirate. He wasn’t going to fly away in this strange town – but I had him on a long tether just in case.
    ‘First things first,’ said Richard, ‘a mutton pie and a pint of ale.’
    ‘A nice crusty loaf with fresh butter, and thin slices of beef,’ I said.
    ‘An apple and blackberry pie with custard,’ saidRichard. As we strolled along the riverside, we fantasised about all the fresh food we’d find on dry land. ‘Carrots and greens, straight from the fields.’
    We sat down in the window of a riverside tavern and I felt a great surge of joy and relief. ‘Here’s to us, Richard, and here’s to sitting here in a London tavern, rather than slaving away on Charlotte Farm for another five years.’ I shuddered to think of how our lives would have turned out if our friend, Midshipman Robert Neville, had not arranged for our pardon.
    ‘We’ve got letters to write,’ said Richard. ‘Not least to Robert and his father.’
    ‘I must write home, and so must you,’ I said. ‘But I don’t want to go back just yet, I’d like to stay here with you until you return to Boston.’
    ‘Good,’ said Richard. ‘First we need lodgings. I propose we live like gentlemen for a month or so, and spend some of our money having a wild old time.’
    ‘Done!’ I said, and we chinked our pint glasses together.
    First we had to deliver Sydney to his new owner. Captain Evison had given us directions to Bedford Square, in the district of Bloomsbury. Lord Montague lived in a grand town house there, which we reached after an hour’s brisk walk. I couldn’t believe you could walk for an hour and still be in the middle of all this bustle and mayhem. It took a few minutes to walk fromone end of Wroxham to the other.
    We rang the bell on the imposing black door to be greeted by a liveried footman. ‘We’ve brought a cockatoo for Lord Montague,’ I explained. The footman looked amused, then baffled, then severe. ‘Be gone, you urchins,’ he said and slammed the door.
    We rang again. ‘But we have. It’s from His Excellency Sir Philip Gidley King, the Governor of New South Wales. Please tell Lord Montague we’re here.’
    ‘I’ll do no such thing,’ said the footman. ‘But you may hand the creature over to me.’
    Sydney flapped and squawked and the man recoiled. ‘He’s quite nervous with people he