An Eye of the Fleet by Richard Woodman Read Free Book Online Page B

Domingo and the escapees, De Langara’s squadron had fallen into Rodney’s hands. It was a bitter blow to Spanish naval pride, pride that had already suffered humiliation when late the previous year the treasure flota from the Indies had fallen to marauding British cruisers.
    Now the great ships lay at anchor. Fenix was to become Gibraltar and others were to be bought into the British service. Their presence boosted the morale of General Elliott’s hard pressed garrison and forced the besiegers to stop and think. Behind the fleet the convoy had arrived safely and the military dined their naval colleagues. Midshipmen, however, at least those of Cyclops dined aboard, on hard tack, pease pudding and salt pork.
    During her stay at Gibraltar Cyclops became a happy ship. She had come through a fleet action with distinction and the experience had united her crew into a true ship’s company. Her casualties had been light, four dead and twenty-one wounded, mostly by splinters or falling wreckage. Every morning as the hands turned up there was not a man among them who did not cast his eyes in the direction of the Santa Teresa. The Spanish frigate was their own, special badge of honour.
    The men worked enthusiastically repairing the damage to Cyclops. It was a task that fascinated Drinkwater. The elements of seamanship he already knew were augmented by the higher technicalities of masting and rigging and when Lieutenant Devaux turned his attention to the Santa Teresa his knowledge was further increased. The first lieutenant had taken a liking to Drinkwater after their sojourn together on the captured frigate. Revived from his faint Devaux had found him an eager and intelligent pupil once his stomach had been filled.
    Cyclops’s crew spared no effort to efface as much of the damage their own cannon had done to the Santa Teresa so that the frigate presented as good an appearance as possible to the prize court. Presided over by Adam Duncan, Rodney’s Vice-Admiral, this august body was holding preliminary hearings into the condition of the fleet’s prizes before despatching those suitable back to England. Once this intelligence had been passed to the hands they worked with a ferocious energy.
    The intensive employment of Cyclops’s crew meant that the midshipmen were often absent and rarely all on board at the same time. For the first time Drinkwater felt comparatively free of the influence of Morris. Occupied as they all were there was little opportunity for the senior midshipman to bully his hapless juniors. The anticipation of vast sums of prize money induced a euphoria in all minds and even the twisted Morris felt something of this corporate elevation.
    Then, for Drinkwater, all this contentment ended.
    Cyclops had lain in Gibraltar Bay for eleven days. The repairs were completed and work was almost finished aboard the Santa Teresa. Her spars were all prepared and it was time to send up her new topmasts. Devaux had taken almost the entire crews of Cyclops over to the Spaniard to make light of the hauling and heaving. Topmen and waisters, marines, gunners, fo’c’s’le men were all set to man the carefully arranged tackles and set up the rigging.
    Captain Hope was ashore with Lieutenant Keene and only a handful of men under the master kept the deck. The remainder, off-duty men, slept or idled below. A drowsy atmosphere had settled over the frigate exemplified by Mr Blackmore and the surgeon, Appleby, who lounged on the quarterdeck, their energies spent by recent exertions.
    Drinkwater had been sent with the launch to pass the convoy orders to a dozen transports in the outer bay. These ships were bound for Port Mahon and Cyclops would be escorting them.
    As he returned to Cyclops he passed Santa Teresa. The sound of O’Malley’s fiddle floated over the calm water. Signs of activity were visible, the creak of tackles lifting heavy weights clearly audible as two spars rose up the newly erected masts. Drinkwater waved to