A Brig of War by Richard Woodman Read Free Book Online Page A

cannot abide a calm hereabouts,’ Griffiths growled at Drinkwater staring eastward to where, unseen below the horizon, the Gambia coast lay.
    â€˜I remember the smell,
bach
. Terrible, terrible.’ For a second Drinkwater could not understand, then he remembered Griffiths’s slaving past. ‘The Gambia, sir?’ he asked quietly.
    â€˜Indeed yes . . . the rivers, green and slow, and the stockadoes full of them; the chiefs and half-breed traders and the Arabs . . . and us,’ he ended on a lower note. ‘Christ, but it was terrible . . .’ It was the first time he had ever disclosed more than the slightest detail of that time of his life. They had often discussed the technicalities of slaving ships, their speed and their distant loveliness, but though there was a growing revulsion to the trade in Britain neither he nor Griffiths had ever voiced the matter as a moral problem. He was tempted to wonder why Griffiths had remained to become chief mate of a slaver when the old man answered his unasked question.
    â€˜And yet I stayed to become mate. You are asking yourself thatnow, aren’t you?’ He did not wait for a reply but plunged on, like a man in the confessional, too far to regret his repentance. ‘But I was young,
du
, I was young. There was money there, money and private trading and women,
bach
, such women the like of which you’d never dream of, coal black and lissom, pliant and young, opening like green leaves in spring,’ he sighed, ‘they would do anything to get out of that stinking ’tween deck . . . anything.’
    Drinkwater left the old man to his silence and his memories. He was still at the rail when Lestock came on deck at eight bells.
    In the morning a breeze had sprung up.

Chapter Four
Shadows of Clouds
September 1798
    â€˜I want him flogged, Drinkwater!’
    Drinkwater looked up from his breakfast of burgoo at the angry face of Lieutenant Rogers. ‘It is not for you to decide the punishment,’ he said coldly.
    â€˜I know Tregembo’s your damned toady, Drinkwater, and that you and the captain are close, but damn it, I threatened him with a flogging and a flogging he shall have!’
    â€˜I shall present the facts to the captain and . . .’
    â€˜Oh, devil take the facts man, and devil take your sanctimonious cant . . .’
    â€˜Have a care what you say,
Mr
Rogers.’ Drinkwater stressed the title and resisted the impulse to stand and swing his hand across Roger’s choleric face. The restraint was not appreciated.
    â€˜Flog him, Drinkwater, or by Christ I’ll bring charges against you for failure to maintain good order . . .’
    â€˜You’ll do no such damned thing, sir,’ snapped Drinkwater. ‘You will sit down and be silent while we examine precisely what happened. And, by God, you’ll address me as
mister
.’
    â€˜You fail to intimidate me
Mister
Drinkwater. Your commission predates mine by two weeks. That ain’t seniority enough to cut much ice in the right quarters . . .’
    Drinkwater sprang to his feet and leaned across the intervening table. ‘Another word, sir, and I’ll clap you in irons upon the instant, d’you hear? By God you’ve gone too far! Two weeks is sufficient to hang you!’
    Their faces were inches apart and for a long moment they remained so; then Rogers subsided, answering Drinkwater’s questions in resentful monosyllables.
    It appeared that during the middle watch Midshipman Dalziell, proceeding forward on routine rounds had stumbled over the feet of Tregembo. The Cornishman had been sleeping on deck. With the three watch system in operation and the brig in the tropics the berth space became intolerable and a number of men slept on deck. There had been an exchange between the midshipman and the able seaman which had resulted in Dalziellbringing