ancestors, Jud talked to his progeny.
‘How are you, boy?’ he called to the wind.
‘Boy, you have a bigger eye than me. Show us how to find that French ship, boy. Help your old man.’
Standing on the quarterdeck on the forenoon watch, Jud looked at the southern sky as he talked to his son and, spotting a trace of a storm cloud, he asked, ‘Boy, what you blowing my way? Is your Ma angry today, boy? Is that your Ma’s temper I see rising like brimstone and smoke?’
Chapter Ten
RENDEZVOUS
The Huma grew restless as morning passed, rising, dipping, lifting on swells, crashing down into the troughs. Overhead , the sky remained cloudless, the sun a yellow blot high on a blue bowl, but all around the frigate the sea churned and thrashed, becoming a greenish-grey murk.
Looking southeast across the bows from the quarterdeck, Horne watched a bank of dark clouds rising on the horizon, forming like a dust storm on a plain. Looking towards the wheel, he saw Groot—a blue peaked cap set back on his tow-blond hair—keeping a wary eye on the clouds.
Jud moved towards Horne. ‘The storm might move to the east of us, sir.’
Horne felt the wind behind him. ‘Or we’re going to blow straight into it.’
‘Sir, shall we close-roll the topsails?’
Horne remained silent, concentrating on more than wind stretching the canvas; he was listening to the sounds of the ship, her cries, her groans, how supple she was under the growing storm waves. Like people, each ship weathered differently and, as this was Horne’s first storm watch for the Huma, he was anxious to learn the frigate’s each and every eccentricity.
Jud offered, ‘Sir, why don’t I go aloft and send down the pirate?’ He and the other Marines referred to the men from the Huma ’sformer crew as ‘the pirates’, calling hands recruited from Company ships ‘Company jacks’ or ‘jacks’, and the new sailors from Madagascar coastal villages, ‘the lubbers’.
The wind pitched the Huma more violently, driving herprow into the rollers, intensifying the roll and pitch pattern.
Horne raised his eyes. ‘It’ll be a wild ride up there, Jud.’
‘Sir, we need a lookout. There’s a pirate up now and this weather could toss him over.’
Horne agreed. A lookout was necessary, especially so close to the Agulhas current. He knew, too, that Jud enjoyed riding a storm, and would think of any excuse to scale the ratlines.
Lowering his closely shaved head, Jud confessed, ‘It’s this push under my feet, too, sir. A storm troubles me, sir. I’d rather be—’ he raised his eyes, ‘—up top.’
Sea turbulence made the deck rise against a man’s feet, creating an uneasy feeling. Smiling, Horne waved Jud fore, ordering, ‘Change course and gallants!’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Jud was gone, half-running along the gangway to the foremast, shouting to the pirates, jacks and lubbers.
Horne gripped the quarterdeck rail, noticing men moving from the ship’s waist, drawn by the sudden shift in weather, curious to see the change in the sky, the way clouds rose and sped with the wind, their shapes altering quickly as the wind accelerated.
A boiling sea, too, aggravated sea-sickness, and Horne looked to see if any men moved towards the scuppers, doubled over to lose their breakfast.
But the Marines, as well as the new crew, seemed readily reconditioned to sea travel, including the men whom Governor Spencer had gleaned from the Malagasy fishing villages. Horne was less concerned about the ship’s provisional crew, however, than he was about the welfare of his Marines.
Neither Groot nor Babcock showed any recurrence of their sickness, nor had it spread to any of the other Marines. Perhaps Babcock had been right. Perhaps Groot’s cooking had poisoned them.
The one thing which Horne was most grateful for was that his men were not quarrelsome.
Dissension amongst crew was dangerous. Arguments and fights had been known to sink ships, sow mutinies. Horne had insisted
‘How are you, boy?’ he called to the wind.
‘Boy, you have a bigger eye than me. Show us how to find that French ship, boy. Help your old man.’
Standing on the quarterdeck on the forenoon watch, Jud looked at the southern sky as he talked to his son and, spotting a trace of a storm cloud, he asked, ‘Boy, what you blowing my way? Is your Ma angry today, boy? Is that your Ma’s temper I see rising like brimstone and smoke?’
Chapter Ten
RENDEZVOUS
The Huma grew restless as morning passed, rising, dipping, lifting on swells, crashing down into the troughs. Overhead , the sky remained cloudless, the sun a yellow blot high on a blue bowl, but all around the frigate the sea churned and thrashed, becoming a greenish-grey murk.
Looking southeast across the bows from the quarterdeck, Horne watched a bank of dark clouds rising on the horizon, forming like a dust storm on a plain. Looking towards the wheel, he saw Groot—a blue peaked cap set back on his tow-blond hair—keeping a wary eye on the clouds.
Jud moved towards Horne. ‘The storm might move to the east of us, sir.’
Horne felt the wind behind him. ‘Or we’re going to blow straight into it.’
‘Sir, shall we close-roll the topsails?’
Horne remained silent, concentrating on more than wind stretching the canvas; he was listening to the sounds of the ship, her cries, her groans, how supple she was under the growing storm waves. Like people, each ship weathered differently and, as this was Horne’s first storm watch for the Huma, he was anxious to learn the frigate’s each and every eccentricity.
Jud offered, ‘Sir, why don’t I go aloft and send down the pirate?’ He and the other Marines referred to the men from the Huma ’sformer crew as ‘the pirates’, calling hands recruited from Company ships ‘Company jacks’ or ‘jacks’, and the new sailors from Madagascar coastal villages, ‘the lubbers’.
The wind pitched the Huma more violently, driving herprow into the rollers, intensifying the roll and pitch pattern.
Horne raised his eyes. ‘It’ll be a wild ride up there, Jud.’
‘Sir, we need a lookout. There’s a pirate up now and this weather could toss him over.’
Horne agreed. A lookout was necessary, especially so close to the Agulhas current. He knew, too, that Jud enjoyed riding a storm, and would think of any excuse to scale the ratlines.
Lowering his closely shaved head, Jud confessed, ‘It’s this push under my feet, too, sir. A storm troubles me, sir. I’d rather be—’ he raised his eyes, ‘—up top.’
Sea turbulence made the deck rise against a man’s feet, creating an uneasy feeling. Smiling, Horne waved Jud fore, ordering, ‘Change course and gallants!’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Jud was gone, half-running along the gangway to the foremast, shouting to the pirates, jacks and lubbers.
Horne gripped the quarterdeck rail, noticing men moving from the ship’s waist, drawn by the sudden shift in weather, curious to see the change in the sky, the way clouds rose and sped with the wind, their shapes altering quickly as the wind accelerated.
A boiling sea, too, aggravated sea-sickness, and Horne looked to see if any men moved towards the scuppers, doubled over to lose their breakfast.
But the Marines, as well as the new crew, seemed readily reconditioned to sea travel, including the men whom Governor Spencer had gleaned from the Malagasy fishing villages. Horne was less concerned about the ship’s provisional crew, however, than he was about the welfare of his Marines.
Neither Groot nor Babcock showed any recurrence of their sickness, nor had it spread to any of the other Marines. Perhaps Babcock had been right. Perhaps Groot’s cooking had poisoned them.
The one thing which Horne was most grateful for was that his men were not quarrelsome.
Dissension amongst crew was dangerous. Arguments and fights had been known to sink ships, sow mutinies. Horne had insisted