The Bomb Vessel by Richard Woodman Page A

had a danger under the lee bow, sir,’ said Quilhampton with sudden relief.
    ‘Then what would you do?’
    ‘Tack ship, sir.’
    ‘You have left it too late, sir, the ship’s head is in irons
    ‘ Drinkwater looked at the sheen of sweat on the midshipman’s brow. There was enough evidence in the books beneath Drinkwater’s hands of Quilhampton’s imagination and he was even now beset by anxiety on his imaginary quarterdeck.
    ‘Pass word for the captain, sir?’ Quilhampton suggested hopefully.
    ‘The captain is incapacitated and you are first lieutenant, Mr Q, you cannot expect to be extricated from this mess.’
    ‘Make a stern board and hope to throw the ship upon the starboard tack, sir.’
    ‘Anything else?’ Drinkwater looked fixedly at the midshipman. ‘What if you fail in the sternboard?’
    ‘Anchor, sir.’
    ‘At last! Never neglect the properties of anchors, Mr Q. You may lose an anchor and not submit your actions to a court-martial, but it is quite otherwise if you lose the ship. A prudent man, knowing he might be embayed, would have prepared to club-haul his ship with the larboard anchor. Do you know how to club-haul a ship?’
    Quilhampton swallowed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing round his grubby stock.
    ‘Only in general principle, sir.’
    ‘Make it your business to discover the matter in detail. Now, how is a topmast stuns’l set?’
    ‘The boom is rigged out and the gear bent. Pull up the halliards and tack, keeping fast the end of the deck sheet. The stops are cut by a man on the lower yard. The tack is hauled out and the halliards hove. The short sheet is rove round the boom heel and secured in the top.’
    Drinkwater smiled, recognising the words. ‘Very well, Mr Q. Consequent upon the death of Mr Mason I am rating you acting master’s mate. You will take over Mason’s duties. Please take your journals with you.’
    He waved aside Quilhampton’s thanks. ‘You will not thank me when the duty becomes arduous or I am dissatisfied with your conduct. Go and look up how to club-haul in that excellent primer of yours.’
    Drinkwater picked up his pen and returned to the task he had deliberately interrupted by summoning Quilhampton.
    Dear Sir, he began to write, It is with great regret that my painful duty compels me to inform you of the death of your son
     
    Explosion and the rest of the squadron came into Yarmouth Roads during the next two days to join the growing number of British men of war anchored there. Most of the other bomb vessels had been blown to leeward and Martin merely nodded when Drinkwater presented his report. The fleet was reduced to waiting while the officers eagerly seized on the newspapers to learn anything about the intentions of the government in respect of the Baltic crisis.
    A number of British officers serving with the Russian navy returned to Britain. One in particular arrived in Yarmouth: a Captain Nicholas Tomlinson, who had been reduced to half-pay after the American War and served with the Russians at the same period as the American John Paul Jones. He volunteered his services to the commander-in-chief. Admiral Parker, comfortably ensconced at the Wrestler’s Inn with his young bride, refused to see Tomlinson.
    No orders emanated from either Parker or London. It was a matter that preoccupied the officers of Virago as they dined in their captain’s absence.
    ‘Lieutenant Drinkwater is endeavouring to discover some news of our intentions either from Martin or anyone else who knows,’ explained Rogers as he took his place at the head of the cabin table and nodded to the messman.
    ‘I hear the King caught a severe chill at the National Fast and Humiliation,’ said Mr Jex in his fussy way, ‘upon the thirteenth of last month.’
    ‘National Farce,’ corrected Rogers, sarcastically.
    ‘I heard he caught a cold in the head,’ put in the surgeon with heavy emphasis.
    ‘At all events we must wait until either Addington’s kissed hands or Parker