The Bomb Vessel by Richard Woodman Page B

pages. The hand-writing was large and blotchy, the pages wrinkled from damp.
    â€˜They were rescued from the wreck of the
Hellebore
, sir,’ offered the midshipman.
    Drinkwater nodded without looking up, stifling the images that rose in his mind. He took up a later book. The calligraphy had matured, the entries were briefer, less lyrical and more professional. A drawing appeared here and there:
The arrangement of yards upon a vessel going into mourning
. Drinkwater smiled approvingly, discovering a half-finished note about mortars.
    â€˜You did not complete this, Mr Q?’
    â€˜No sir. Mr Tumilty left us before I had finished catechising him.’
    â€˜I see. How would you stow barrels, Mr Q?’
    â€˜Bung up and bilge free, sir.’
    â€˜A ship is north of the equator. To find the latitude, given the sun’s declination is south and the altitude on the meridian is reduced to give a correct zenith distance, how do you apply that zenith distance to the declination?’
    â€˜The declination is subtracted from the zenith distance, sir, to give the latitude.’
    â€˜A vessel is close hauled on the larboard tack, wind southwesterly and weather thick. You have the deck and notice the air clearing with blue sky to windward. Of what would you beware and what steps would you take?’
    â€˜That the ship might be thrown aback, the wind veering into the north west. I would order the quartermaster to keep the vessel’s head off the wind a point more than was necessary by the wind.’
    â€˜Under what circumstances would you not do this?’
    Quilhampton’s face puckered into a frown and he caught his lip in his teeth.
    â€˜Well, Mr Q? You are almost aback, sir.’
    â€˜I . . . er.’
    â€˜Come now. Under what circumstances might you not be able to let the vessel’s head pay off. Come, summon your imagination?’
    â€˜If you had a danger under the lee bow, sir,’ said Quilhampton with sudden relief.
    â€˜Then what would you do?’
    â€˜Tack ship, sir.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜Pass word for the captain, sir?’ Quilhampton suggested hopefully.
    â€˜The captain is incapacitated and you are first lieutenant, Mr Q, you cannot expect to be extricated from this mess.’
    â€˜Make a stern board and hope to throw the ship upon the starboard tack, sir.’
    â€˜Anything else?’ Drinkwater looked fixedly at the midshipman. ‘What if you fail in the stern-board?’
    â€˜Anchor, sir.’
    â€˜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 prudentman, 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.
    â€˜Only in general principle, sir.’
    â€˜Make it your business to discover the matter in detail. Now, how is a topmast stuns’l set?’
    â€˜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.