The Beothuk Expedition by Derek Yetman Read Free Book Online Page B

remain where he is.

Jonah Squibb
    I was more than a little chafed at Lieutenant Cartwright’s refusal to have the ailing midshipman brought on board the shallop. To leave a fellow sailor to die in such a remote place, and at the hands of such a charlatan, would be unpardonable. All the same, I held my tongue, owing to the weather continuing wet and cold throughout the night. With nothing more than a lantern to heat the fore and aft cabins of the boat, it was just as well that the lad remained at the surgeon’s house for the time being, especially as the surgeon was away and incapable of doing further harm.
    As for Lieutenant Cartwright, he had taken up residence in the merchant’s premises, accompanied by his brother George, Reverend Stow and old Atkinson, the brother’s cadaverous servant. They were to reside there as guests of Mr. Street while I remained on board with the crew. The arrangement served me well enough, as I wished to put our vessel into an improved state of order and comfort. I thought little of the fact that I had not actually been invited to stay at the house.
    The evening’s work began with the makeshift canopy, which was taken down and rigged to better effect until it kept most of the rain off our heads. I then sent Bolger to find something fresh for our dinner and he returned with two enormous codfish and a quantity of their tongues. He knew of my fondness for tongues and, despite his disgust, he’d done me a great kindness in getting them. The fish we boiled on the boat’s stove and the men ate it with biscuit and a plum duff, all the while eyeing me doubtfully as I floured and fried my cod tongues in lard. Only Greening would accept the offer of a few on his plate, saying that he was more partial to the cheeks himself.
    Next I set about ordering the messes, assigning the forecastle to the seamen and claiming the aft cabin for the use of the warrant officers and myself. I had no doubt that Lieutenant Cartwright would change the arrangement when he returned from his comforts, though for now, the men were happy enough. To refer to the enclosed spaces fore and aft as cabins is perhaps to exaggerate their size. There was barely width or length for three men to sling their hammocks side-by-side, and just enough height to sit on low benches when the hammocks were stowed. Even when seated, the tallest amongst us, who happened to be me, had to be mindful of the beams. We managed to pass the night in reasonable, if chilly, comfort, the men serving in two watches under the warrant officers.
    The next morning the weather continued poorly and I issued the first ration of rum early, so as to put a cheerful light on the day. I was not pleased, however, to observe petty officer Grimes gulping down his grog before demanding a share from his fellow Liverpool s. By then, I’d had some time to take the measure of these three, and I did not like what I saw. Grimes was a swaggering, thick-necked tar whom I’d already pegged for a tyrant. To quote Smollett, whom I’d been reading the day before: “He had all the outward signs of a sot; a sleepy eye, a rubicund face, and a carbuncled nose. He seemed to be a little out at the elbows, had marvelous foul linen, and his breeches were not very sound; but he assumed an air of importance.” The other two sailors, a wizened Cornishman named Rundle and a near-idiot lad named Jenkins, were bullied by the petty officer at every turn. Jenkins, a slack-jawed and glassy-eyed youth, seemed to take the greater part of the abuse.
    A short time after the incident with the grog, I saw Grimes approach the boatswain and heard him ask for leave to go ashore. Had he known our Mr. Frost better, he would never have committed such folly. Or else he would have been suspicious of the pleasant manner in which the boatswain asked the reason for his request. Grimes, suspecting nothing, told him of a widow who sold rum in the parlour of her house and that he