The Beothuk Expedition (9 page)

This alarmed me very much and the more so because there was nothing I could do for him. I was now convinced that his strange illness was not related to scurvy, for his body had recovered entirely from that disease. What caused him such anguish might have been mental or nervous in nature, but all I could do was hope that this latest trial would pass. I turned to the others, who were watching with the air of a funeral party. “I will take the watch, Mister Bolger,” I said. “Hail the others and send them aft.”

“Aye, aye, sir. You there, Greening. Send the
Liverpool
s along and turn in yerself. Look lively now.”

The young sailor went forward and I stood with the two warrant officers, looking down at Froggat.

“Can ye say what it is, sir?” Bolger asked.

I shook my head. “I cannot. Have either of you ever seen these symptoms?” Before they could answer, we were interrupted by the sudden return of Greening, who appeared anxious to tell us something.

“Well?” Frost demanded. “What is it, then?

“They isn't there, Mister Frost.”

“What do you mean, not there?” the boatswain fairly shouted. “Who's not there?”

Greening swallowed hard and plucked up his courage. “Grimes and Rundle, Mister Frost. Their hammocks is empty, though Jenkins is there and fast asleep.”

Frost let out a roar that could have roused the very fish on the flakes. “By God, I'll have their gizzards!” His face had turned a fiery red. “They must've swam ashore. Permission to go and find the blackguards, Mister Squibb.”

“Go,” I said. “And go with him, Mister Bolger. Find them before Cartwright does or we'll have the devil to pay.” I was tempted to go as well until I remembered my orders. The thought of the lieutenant returning to find three parts of his crew absconded was not a pleasant one. As the warrant officers rowed into the darkness that lay around us I turned to Greening. “Bring Jenkins to me.”

The boy wore a defiant look when he was brought aft. He was tousled and without a shirt, having been roughly hauled from his hammock. “Where have they gone?” I demanded. He refused to answer at first but his brazen exterior soon dissolved under my glare. That simple mind was in anguish, I could tell, as he weighed his chances between Grimes and myself. He did not possess the ability to be artful and after a moment he mumbled something about not having heard them leave the forecastle.

This very nearly caused me to lose my temper, as I do not take kindly to being played the fool. It was clearly something that he'd been coached to say, for the crew slept head-to-toe in the forecastle and a man could not fart without waking the others. “Perhaps your hearing will improve when the boatswain returns,” I said ominously.

Although I detest gratuitous punishment, I am not averse to the threat of it to get at the truth. This is not always effective, of course, as many men become hardened to the lash and make no more of a flogging than of pricking a finger. Among the younger hands, however, there is often a great reluctance to meet with the cat. Having witnessed or even heard of such punishments, they are left with the greatest horror of it. In this instance my threat worked admirably and young Jenkins sang like a canary.

In a voice that was thin with fear, he told me that the others had swum ashore late in the first watch when Bolger and Greening were checking the bilge. Grimes had gone in search of drink, he said, and had taken Rundle with him. They planned to return before the next watch, in hopes that no one would be the wiser. I was not surprised to hear this, considering what I'd observed of Grimes. That he and Rundle might be attempting to desert had also entered my mind, though it would be a fool's bid on such an isolated island. The greater puzzle to me was that the petty officer possessed ready money to purchase spirits, just as he had at Bonavista. It was a rare thing for a seaman to have coins in his pocket while at sea. His basic needs were met and the greater portion of his pay was withheld until the voyage ended and the ship paid off.

I said nothing of this but as punishment for his complicity, I ordered Jenkins to stand watch for the remainder of the night. It was a lenient sentence and I believe it surprised him, for how could he know that my motive was to win him to my side? I reasoned that in the days and weeks to come I would need every thread of loyalty that I could cultivate. The truth is that I was beginning to have the gravest doubts about the future of this expedition. Mr. Cartwright had yet to inspire me with confidence and many in our party seemed unfit for what lay ahead.

Shortly before dawn, while I was preparing my excuses for the first lieutenant, Bolger and Frost appeared alongside with the two culprits. Grimes was plainly under the influence of drink and had consumed enough to acquire a belligerent courage. He cursed and threatened Frost for his rough handling, though I saw no evidence of cuts or bruises upon him. I had expected to see them in worse condition and I threw the gunner a questioning glance.

“We thought it best not to mark 'em, sir,” he said, “lest Mister Cartwright know what was up, like. We reckoned ye'd want to deal with 'em yourself.” I nodded my approval, when in fact I was at a complete loss as to what I should do. I could order a punishment, except it would have to be severe enough to match the offence and that would be impossible to hide from the first lieutenant. Or perhaps a more subtle approach was called for. Grimes and Rundle had formed a tight little knot that was in need of splitting if we were ever to have peace on this vessel. And perhaps I had just the means of bringing it about.

The two men sat on the deck where they'd fallen, the petty officer drunkenly brazen while the others awaited my judgment. “Mister Bolger,” I said, “prepare this man for punishment.”

The gunner dragged the snarling Grimes to his feet. “Wilkes and liberty!” he slurred as Bolger stripped him of his shirt. “No justice, no King!”

So that was it. Recent events in England had already begun to infect the fleet. John Wilkes was the editor of
The North Briton
and his radical ideas of freedom and justice had inflamed the lower classes over the preceding months. He had offended many powerful men and had even been wounded in a duel with the secretary of the treasury. Once a colonel of militia and a member of parliament, he had been charged with sedition, libel and obscenity after attacking the authority of the King and the House of Commons.

I was certainly aware of the man's influence upon the idle and dissolute of England, but I was surprised to hear a sailor espouse his cause. London's poor had rioted at Wilkes' trial in April and had shown more interest in looting than in the principles of social justice. They had tried to free him from King's Bench Prison and when the army was ordered up a number of the mob had been shot dead in St. George's Fields. This had led to more violence, with the rioters attacking the houses of the Lord Mayor and the Prime Minister himself. As for Wilkes, he'd been sentenced in June to two years' imprisonment and that was the last I'd heard of him. Until now.

All of this went through my mind in an instant as Grimes was being seized to the barrel of the nearest swivel gun. With his shirt removed, it was clear that he was no stranger to the lash. The scars on his back told as much of his past as any court martial record. Greening could not hide his pleasure at tying the man's arms, his grin provoking Grimes to swear even louder. When the task was done, the crew stood back and waited. I cleared my throat and adopted what I hoped was a grave and official voice:

“Nehemiah Grimes of His Majesty's Ship
Liverpool
—” The men were silent, their faces expectant. “You are to be punished for willfully disobeying the lawful orders of the commander of this vessel. My judgment is that your ration of spirits will be stopped from this moment on. You will also take a dozen lashes in the bargain.” The warrant officers exchanged looks of dismay. So light a sentence was unheard of. “Bring the cat, Mister Frost,” I said.

“Aye, sir.” The instrument of discipline was brought out, its tarred grip tapering to nine strands of yard-long, tightly plaited leather. The boatswain flexed his arm in preparation, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“Seaman Rundle. On your feet.” Assisted by Bolger's grip on his ear, the man rose quickly. He was small and dark and one eye was clouded with cataracts. The good eye looked at me with half-hearted defiance. “Hand him the cat, Mister Frost,” I said. “Rundle will administer the dozen.” The astonished man's mouth moved wordlessly as the boatswain thrust the whip into his hand and spun him around.

“Now then,” I said. “For every lash that Mister Frost deems too lenient, you will earn an additional two for yourself. Do I make myself understood?” He nodded weakly as Grimes renewed his torrent of threats and abuse, this time directed at his shipmate. Rundle laid the first stroke across his back and Grimes roared, more in outrage than pain. The boatswain judged it to be the stroke of a kitten and added two to Rundle's own punishment. He did not make the same mistake twice and this time Grimes had reason to howl. He continued to howl until the dozen were given and then the petty officer savagely administered the twelve and two that were Rundle's reward.

The immediate result of this was just as I'd hoped. The two offenders were in a rage at each other, in equal parts because of the pain and the humiliation. The warrant officers were impressed and Greening was delighted. I was somewhat pleased myself, having driven a wedge not only between Grimes and Rundle but between them and young Jenkins. I had also punished them effectively without the excessive force that would have disabled them from working. In short, I was wonderfully proud of myself, having sat in judgment with all the wisdom of Solomon. Or so I thought. In hindsight, I am able to see clearly the vanity of my assumptions. But is that not the province of every young man? As a junior officer I had much to learn about my own nature, to say nothing of the nature of those whom I had the misfortune to command.

George Cartwright

I declare that I am most impressed with these enterprising countrymen of mine. At Bonavista and here at Fogo I have encountered a good many fellows who seem to be making tidy fortunes for themselves. I only agreed to accompany my brother on this voyage for the excellent shooting to be had, but now my mind has turned firmly to the subject of trade. I have observed that the area is exceedingly rich in salmon and furs, and only a handful of traders are exploiting these opportunities. In fact, there are surprisingly few individuals involved in this harvest, apart from a few local planters and the agents of wealthy men in Poole.

The cod fishery, on the other hand, is quite profitable but overly crowded. My brother tells me the French have some 450 vessels and 15,000 men on their shore, while we have nearly 20,000 men of our own. The two fleets are expected to take a million quintals this year, which is more than one hundred million pounds of salted fish! By contrast, only a half-million pounds of dried salmon are produced, even though it fetches a handsome price on the European market. The same may be said of the fur harvest, the numbers being quite small compared to what exists for the taking.

I have been casting my eye about for a promising venture since leaving Minorca. The army was all well and good during the war, with hardly a dull moment, but in peace it holds few attractions for a man of my parts. Great events are taking place throughout the empire and the time was never better for a man to make his mark. I have heard that Samuel Hearne, the former Navy chap, is about to begin a two-year trek from Hudson's Bay to the Arctic Ocean in search of the Northwest Passage. A Scot named James Finlay has reached the Saskatchewan River far to the west of Canada and has established his own trading post. And of course my brother has been cracking on about this fellow Cook. Great adventures are afoot and here in Newfoundland there is room for a man to test his mettle. Or perhaps in Labrador, where trade is still in its infancy.

The biggest drawback would appear to be our poor relations with the Indians and Esquimaux. I am told that in Labrador they are most intractable and we have had only limited success in convincing them to barter. Brother John informs me that just this summer past they were bold enough to plunder a fishing station near Fort York. Of course, Lieutenant Lucas of the garrison there quickly taught them a lesson, killing twenty of the thieves and capturing several others. Captain Palliser also had the foresight to send three of the prisoners to England. They will soon learn that the great tribe of Englishmen is too numerous and powerful to oppose, and that they would do well to trade with us in peace.

It seems that on the island we have even less to show after nearly two centuries of coming here. Captain Palliser is of the opinion that trade with the natives will never progress unless we establish a peaceful coexistence with them, and I am inclined to agree. I have learned a good deal about these savages since coming to Fogo. The people here often encounter them in the neighbouring islands. They call them Red Indians because they daub their bodies and clothing with red ochre clay—most curious, to be sure. One man has seen them travelling by canoe in search of eggs and shellfish and he says they are elusive creatures. I have a romantic notion of them silently paddling their boats of birch bark like wraiths in the mist of an evening. It is a singular, almost incredible fact, told to me by several people, that they journey as far out to sea as Funk Island, which is fully forty miles from the coast. They have been observed expertly spearing fish in the rivers, and in archery they are said to have an unerring hand. I am convinced that, with such skills and knowledge of the country, the Red Indians would make ideal partners in trade.

In reflecting upon this, I have struck upon a scheme that would advance such a goal. I envision the establishment of a royal reserve, a place that would give the Indians the protection they require, while allowing them access to the land. They would then be able to supply their own needs as well as our demand for furs. This seems to me a capital solution and one that I intend to propose to Governor Palliser at the earliest opportunity. And if I were to become the agent or custodian of this royal reserve, then so much the better! My fortune would be made, to say nothing of the excellent hunting to be had.