Girl on the Orlop Deck (11 page)

‘I never knew the likes of you,’ Moll said, when the three girls were using their holystones and Marianne was pale with nausea. ‘If ’tweren’t for the fact that you en’t found him, I’d ha’ said your husband was the cause of all this retching and spewin’. Last woman I seen who was as sick as that was in the family way.’

‘Well, I en’t found him,’ Marianne said quite crossly, ‘so you’re wrong.’ But she could feel her heart shrinking with a new kind of alarm. What if that’s what it was? People
were
sick when they were carrying. She’d seen some of ’em. And she an’ Johnny had been living like man an’ wife for a good long time, she couldn’t deny it. And then there was that promise she should have kept and never did. What if this was a punishment for not keeping her side of the bargain? It could be. Now she came to think on it, she hadn’t seen her courses for an age. Not that that
signified
for they came irregular and always had. But what if Moll was right? It didn’t bear thinking about. No, no, she thought. I can’t be carrying. I won’t be. An’ I won’t think about it neither. Moll could be wrong. ’Tis a fool’s game to sit about moping, when it’s something what might never happen. Best thing to do is just get on with things the way I always done an’ not go thinking too much. I’ll write to ol’ Ma, first chance I get, an’ tell her about the battle, that’s what I’ll do, and how I seen a Spanish ship blowed up to smithereens afore my eyes. My stars but she’ll like that. ’Tis a rare ol’ tale to tell and ’twill brighten up her life considerable. They has a dull ol’ time of it in Portsmouth. But worry niggled in her mind and kept her awake at night no matter what she did.

Nelson took the reports from his captains more easily than they’d expected. He smiled benignly upon them as they sat round his table eating the breakfast he’d ordered for them, urged them to eat hearty and told them he hadn’t thought to see the Spanish put up a fight any more than they had, adding, ‘But such are the fortunes of war.’

‘They won’t take kindly to losing their revenue,’ Captain Hardy remarked, cutting into a good stout slice of ham. ‘We must expect reprisals.’

‘According to our spies,’ Nelson told him, ‘they are likely to declare war upon us within the month. However ’twill be of little consequence to us whatever they decide to do. They have a considerable army by all reports, but their fleet is small and ill prepared.’

‘Do we know how many French ships are presently in Toulon?’ the captain of the
Donegal
wanted to know.

‘Our most dependable sources tell us there are eleven of the line and eighteen frigates,’ Nelson told him. ‘And would they were at sea.’

There was a general grumble of agreement. They’d been playing cat and mouse quite long enough.

‘Here’s to our victory,’ Hardy said, raising his glass. ‘May it be granted to us soon.’

Sitting there in his familiar stateroom among his admirable captains, Nelson was regretting his decision to ask for leave. He felt he had been unwise and precipitate. But the deed was done, the request had been sent and now there was nothing he could do except wait to hear what the Admiralty were going to do about it. He hadn’t said anything to his captains, naturally – leave was a private matter – although he’d written to Emma telling her he would be home to spend Christmas with her at ‘our beloved Merton’. Now with December imminent and the weather unpredictable he was beginning to think they wouldn’t meet again until the New Year.

Marianne’s fifth letter was delivered to her mother on Christmas Eve and because it was very long and had a lot of words in it that they couldn’t make head nor tail of, she and Jack took it down to the
Dolphin
to ask the landlord if he would be so kind as to read it to them. It was read aloud, once to them and once to the assembled regulars, who all thought it was a fine thing.

‘Blowed to smithereens,’ they said. ‘My stars! That’ll show ’em. You got a fine gel there, Mrs Morris. Good as a boy she is, any day. What a tale she’ll have to tell when she comes home.’

It made Mary feel quite proud to hear such praise being heaped on her absent daughter but it didn’t stop her worrying.

‘I can’t see why she don’t come home now,’ she said to Jack, when the two of them were back in their kitchen again, full of ale and warm with their neighbours’ approval. ‘She’s done enough for ’em in all conscience, bein’ in a battle an’ all, which you can’t deny now. That
was
a battle an’ no mistake. They ought to send her home soon, surely to goodness. They can’t keep that great fleet at sea for ever, now can they? I don’t want her in any more battles. She’s only a gel when all’s said an’ done.’

‘She en’t a gel,’ Jack contradicted, cleaning his pipe over the stove.
‘She’s a woman growed, an’ a married woman, don’t ’ee forget, an’ if you ask me she’ll go her own way an’ beggar the consequences, the way she done when she took the shillin’ in the first place.’

‘Aye,’ Mary sighed, ‘so she will, but what way is it like to be? That’s the question. What way is it like to be? She en’t found Jem an’ she can’t stay in the navy for ever and she must come home soon, surely to
goodness
. ’Tis all such foolishness.’

W
ITH AN IRONY
that certainly wasn’t lost on him, Nelson’s
long-awaited
letter from the Admiralty arrived just after dark on Christmas Day. At any other time he would have welcomed the news it contained, for his application for leave was granted and could be taken ‘
at
such time as was convenient
’ and his suggestion that Bickerton could take over command during his absence was accepted too. But it had come too late. His watchful frigates had just sent him a message that the French fleet in Toulon was embarking troops, so he knew that they’d had orders to come out and give battle at last and that after waiting so long he was about to see action. There was no possibility of taking leave now. The hour was too pressing. He set the letter aside, gave orders to Hardy to put on more sail and sent his remaining frigates with messages to the fleet to tell them to make preparations. Within an hour he was in sight of the enemy coast.

It was a clear night and he had a good view of the harbour, even with his inadequate eyesight, but it was plain that the French fleet were amusing themselves by sending up night signals and they showed no signs of sailing out of the harbour. He watched for an hour or two as blue lights were burned and rockets soared into the night sky, then, since nothing else was happening, he gave orders that a close watch should be kept and went down to his cabin to rest and prepare himself for battle.

The
Amphion
set off on her errand before he was asleep. Marianne was woken at eight bells by the speeding rhythm of the ship and knew she was under full sail. Being four in the morning it was still completely dark and the rest of her watch grumbled out of their hammocks to light lanterns and tell one another they hoped there was some good warming grub to look forward to come breakfast. But Marianne was quiet.

During the last few weeks while the
Amphion
had been sent on one
errand after another, hunting without success for any Spanish ships they could find and keeping a look out for any change of activity on the part of the French, she’d been observing some very worrying changes of her own. At first she’d tried to dismiss her growing belly as a sign of greed. She enjoyed her food too much. That was what it was. But the weeks passed and she ate no more than usual and certainly with less appetite and her belly went on growing. Now she was as sure as she could be that Moll was right and that she was carrying a child and she was so caught up in panic and shame that she hardly knew what she was doing. She went about her duties like someone in a dream, sitting back on her heels at thoughtful intervals with the holystone idle in her hands. The lieutenant of the watch had to speak to her quite sharply. But to hear someone say, ‘
Look chearly
,
boy
.
We ain’t got all day
’, was so inappropriate that it made her feel
hysterical
. She wanted to laugh and scream and lift up her jacket and show him her belly. She couldn’t, of course, so she took her feelings out on the deck, scrubbing it as hard as her diminished energy would allow. Little do ’ee know, young cock a’ the walk, she thought, keeping her head down and not looking at him, I en’t a boy. I’m a woman grow’d – an’ growin’.

But what was she going to do about it? She couldn’t stay on board much longer or someone would notice. If they’d only put into the sort of harbour where merchant ships were like to call, she could jump ship, buy herself a skirt and a bonnet and find a passage home – providing she could scrape together enough money to pay for it. But how much would it be? And which harbours were likely? And what sort of ship would be prepared to take a passenger? She’d learnt a lot about life at sea but she hardly knew anything about life ashore. I shall have to tell Moll and Peg, she decided. They been in the navy longer’n me an’ one or other of ’em will be bound to know something. Not that she had a moment to talk to them that day. They were all kept too hard at work, changing tack and unfurling sails, as the
Amphion
hunted for one of Admiral Collingwood’s ships so as to deliver Lord Nelson’s message.

They found one at the end of the first dog watch, when the three girls were supposed to be at rest and were sitting by the mainmast taking a breather. She was a frigate and she was sailing out of the straits of Messina.

‘The
Sirius
is that,’ Johnny Galley said, coming up to stand before them. ‘An’ as sweet a ship as you’re ever like to find. I sailed aboard her one time. As sweet a ship as you’re ever like to find.’

‘Is she one a’ Collingwood’s?’ Moll wanted to know.

‘She is, an’ as sweet a ship as you’re ever like to find.’

‘Aye, so you keeps a-sayin’,’ Moll said.

‘En’t you got work to do?’ Johnny said, and skipped out of her way before she could kick out at his legs.

‘Blamed fool,’ she said, when he was out off earshot.

Marianne looked across at the
Sirius
and sighed.

‘You’ll find him one day,’ Peg said. ‘You see if you don’t.’

Marianne sighed again. ‘I wasn’t thinkin’ a’ my Jem,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve give up thinkin’ of him long since. I don’t reckon I shall find him now. He could be anywhere.’

‘You got a face as long as a wet week,’ Moll said. ‘If it ain’t Jem, what is it?’

It was a good moment. There was no one around to hear what they were saying. They were all too busy looking at the
Sirius
. ‘You know what you said about me bein’ sick an’ all,’ she said. ‘Well, you was right.’

‘I knew you was carryin’,’ Moll said. ‘Only had to look at ’ee to see that. So who’s the father? It’s that Johnny Galley, ain’t it?’

Marianne felt so miserable she could only nod.

‘How could ’ee’ve been so foolish?’ Moll said. ‘You might ha’ know’d no good’ud come from that one. Love ’em an’ leave ’em is Johnny Galley, an’ he won’t be a blamed bit a’ use to ’ee now.’

Peg was much more sympathetic. ‘What will you do?’ she asked, blue eyes concerned. ‘You’ll have to jump ship, won’t you? Course. An’ if you’ve got any sense you’ll do it first port we come to. Gibraltar maybe. There’s ships a-plenty in Gibraltar what’ud tek ’ee home. Or in Malta, only we don’t seem to go into Malta nowadays. We allus stay at sea. ’Twould do for ’ee if we did, only we don’t. Anyways, you can’t stay in the navy. That’s a certain sure thing. Cheer up. You can jump ship easy. We’ll look after you. Least you ain’t being sick no more.’

It wasn’t much comfort to Marianne, for a swollen belly was more obvious than sickness. But at least she now knew the sort of ports she ought to be aiming for. ‘Thank ’ee kindly,’ she said to Peg, and did her best to smile. I should ha’ stuck to looking for Jem, she thought, an’ not gone along with Johnny. I should ha’ kept my promise an’ that’s the truth of it. But love was sweet, there was no denying it. If only it didn’t lead to trouble. An’ I did try to find him. I tried an’ tried.

Jem had run up on deck as soon as the
Sirius
hove to and he and Tom were standing by the rail chewing tobacco, enjoying a spot of idleness and watching the
Amphion
as she rocked on a grey swell a few hundred yards away. Her longboat was being rowed across with its message and Tom was entertaining them by guessing what it was going to be, each guess being more preposterous than the last.

‘We’re to set sail for the West Indies,’ he said.

Jem laughed at him. ‘With the Frenchies in Toulon?’

‘Well then, we’re to have double rations a’ grog an’ double pay till the end a’ the voyage.’

‘Double rations a’ grog could be likely. I’ll grant ’ee that. But I en’t sure about the pay.’

‘Well then, ’tis orders for us all to go home for the New Year. How would that suit?’

Jem made a grimace. ‘It’ll be a deal more serious than that,’ he said.

‘An’ what’s more serious than going home, pray?’

‘Not goin’ home,’ Jem told him.

He sounded so decided about it that Tom was intrigued. ‘Don’tcher want to go home?’ he asked.

Jem shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not partic’lar. There en’t nothing for me there. They’ll have forgot all about me by now.’ Then, because thinking about it was making him feel uncomfortable and homesick again, he changed the subject. ‘Look at them three idle great lumps a’ boys,’ he said. ‘Sittin’ by the mainmast. See ’em? They been there ever since we hove to. En’t they got no work to do?’

‘We’re as bad,’ Tom pointed out, spitting a long stream of tobacco into the sea. ‘We been a-standin’ here since we hove to.’

‘That’s different altogether,’ Jem said. ‘We en’t boys.’

They weren’t going home either as they discovered as soon as they set sail again and the news that the Frenchies were out was spread from station to station. It caused a predictable stir and much bravado. ‘We’ll blow ’em out the water, won’t us, boys? ’Twill be a battle an’ a half.’

Jem wasn’t at all sure how he felt about being in a major sea battle. He was a bit too well aware that the
Sirius
could be blown out of the water just as easily as a French ship. Not that there was anything he could do about it. They were all locked aboard with no hope of escape and they must sail on and accept their fate, whatever it was and however soon it came.

The great fleet gathered despite the fact that the weather was foul and made progress difficult; the ships took on supplies – but never once from a place that was any use to Marianne – and made sure they had plenty of water and lemons, for a battle is thirsty work; the gunners fired their cannon every first watch, timing and improving their speed. They ate well and drank deep and waited. But it wasn’t until 19 January when the
Victory
was in Agincourt Sound, that the
Active
and the
Seahorse
finally arrived flying the signal they were all waiting to see.
The enemy is at sea
.

‘Now,’ they told one another, ‘we can get on with it. ’Tis just a matter of finding the beggars.’

It was the worst possible time of year for tracking down an enemy fleet. For a start, there was a gale blowing up from the west-north-west, so that leaving the Sound was difficult. The entire fleet knew that a passage through the Straits of Bonifacio was impossible and that they would have to manoeuvre through a narrow and dangerous passage between the Biocian and Sardinian rocks. But they set off in good spirits following the
Victory
and keeping a weather eye out for the light at her stern. As darkness fell she burnt a blue light and another ten minutes later and fifteen minutes after that the fleet was clear of the Straits and the hunt had begun.

Marianne worked automatically, obeying orders but not thinking about them. If they were hunting the French they’d hardly be likely to take shelter in any sort of harbour now, and once they found them she would be in the middle of a battle whether she would or no. Her mind went round and round like a rat in a trap, but for all its scrabbling anxiety she couldn’t think of anything she could do.

‘Cheer up, my hearty,’ Johnny Galley said, when they gathered for their dinner. ‘Don’ look so down. We got good work to do.’

‘Blow ’em out the water, so we will,’ her mess mates told her.

She didn’t answer them, for what could she say? She just sat amongst them and ate her plum duff and thought what fools they were to be talking so loud and bragging so much. And the ship ploughed on towards the battle, dragging her fear and anxiety with it.

Next day a storm blew up and they were hard put to it to make any progress at all. It battered them mercilessly for the next five days as they struggled to stay upright under storm staysails, and by the time the wind
finally dropped, they were all tired out. But they were still no further on and they hadn’t seen any sign of the enemy.

Nelson was in a fever of impatience, writing in his journal that he had ‘
neither ate
,
drank
,
or slept with any comfort
’ for the last five days. He was miserably seasick, as he usually was in rough weather, and torn by the knowledge that he might have made the wrong decision when he gave the order to head for Sardinia. His spies had sent him two contradictory reports, one that the French fleet was heading towards the southern end of Sardinia, and would then proceed to Naples, Sicily and Egypt, the other – which was acknowledged to be mere rumour but was
nevertheless
a rumour strong enough to be reported – was that they had received orders to evade the British squadrons that were blockading Cadiz and to head west across the Atlantic to the French arsenal at Martinique. Sailing to protect Naples or Sicily or Egypt, meant that he had left the way clear through the Straits of Gibraltar, but if he’d stayed to guard the Straits he would have left Italy and Egypt open to attack. Like so many decisions at sea it was fraught with difficult possibilities.

The next morning the
Seahorse
returned to the fleet, flying the signal that she had something to communicate and when Captain Boyle came aboard he reported that he had seen an enemy frigate off Pula. The weather had been so thick he hadn’t been able to follow it, but it was sailing in the expected direction. It was a sign, but, as Nelson was well aware, not a particularly strong one. One frigate was not the same thing as a fleet especially as the French admirals used their frigates as scouts and messengers in exactly the same way as he did. Nevertheless he acted on the information and dispatched two of his own frigates to Palermo and Malta with letters to Sir John Acton and Admiral Ball to warn them of the
situation
. Then he continued his pursuit, dividing his fleet in two, sending the
Donegal
and two attendant frigates to the southern coast of Sicily and taking the rest of the fleet through the Straits of Messina himself.

Marianne came up on deck as the
Amphion
entered the Straits and the first thing she saw was a great mountain shooting flames into the air.

‘My dear heart alive,’ she said to Peg, who had followed her up on deck ‘They’ve set fire to the mountain.’