Winds of Folly (17 page)

The doctor entered with a rush for there was a heavy sea running and the
Unicorn
's steep ascent had canted the deck sharply towards the stern; he was scarcely halfway across the cabin, however, when the frigate began to slide down the other side, and he was obliged to take several small steps backwards to maintain his balance before making a dash for the relative security of a chair. Such was the comic effect of this, and the expression of surprise on his normally unruffled features, the two officers burst into spontaneous applause and invited him to do it again, for it was as good as Astley's Circus, Nathan assured him.

‘I am happy to be a source of amusement,' the doctor declared, ‘but when you have recovered your composure a little, you might oblige me by explaining why we are reeling
about like a drunken whore in Grangemouth, for I have known the ship steadier in a hurricane.'

This was almost certainly untrue but they did their best to enlighten him.

‘It is because, like most of our ships, she is built for the long Atlantic rollers,' submitted Nathan graciously, filling his glass, ‘and has difficulty with these shorter Mediterranean affairs.'

‘Like a thoroughbred,' completed Tully, ‘that finds the fences stacked so high and so close she cannot quite get into her stride.' He demonstrated this by a kind of plunging motion with his hand. ‘But there is no necessity for alarm, Doctor. I doubt we shall founder.'

The doctor regarded him with disfavour. ‘I have survived greater blows than this without a fit of the vapours,' he assured him coldly. ‘I am only surprised to find it blowing so hard in the Mediterranean in midsummer.'

‘It is the Tramontana,' Nathan declared with a great air of wisdom, having been informed by Mr Perry before he came below. ‘From the Latin
trans montanus
meaning from across the mountains, which are, in this instance, the Alps. It often blows in the Mediterranean at this time of the year, but not often so hard, I believe.'

‘I am obliged to you, sir.' The doctor bowed ironically. ‘And I thank you for the translation. The Latin, is it? What a wonder is a classical education. I would find it very useful in my own profession, no doubt, for I have observed a great many potions and remedies to be inscribed in the tongue of Pliny – and some doctors even utilise it, I believe, to describe the condition of their patients.'

Nathan received this with a smile, for even at his most amiable the doctor's own tongue tended to the acerbic. ‘I am sorry it is distressing for you,' he remarked, ‘but it should carry us speedily to Naples, touching wood …' he touched the
table with proper circumspection, ‘though being of a northerly disposition it is not generally to be relied upon.'

‘And does it change direction in the Adriatic so it may, with the same good grace, waft us the other way?'

‘I regret it is not so obliging,' Nathan admitted, ‘for then it would not be the Tramontana. However, there is another wind which we call the Sirocco which blows from Africa and which will, if we are in luck, “waft” us as far up the Adriatic as we wish to go, even to Venice.'

He made a grab for the wine as the frigate plunged into the next trough. He felt that the wind had strengthened somewhat since he had left the quarterdeck, but Mr Duncan had the watch and was at least as capable as his Captain of taking in canvas if he considered it necessary for the safety of the ship.

‘Ah, so we
are
to go to Venice!' exclaimed McLeish in a manner that suggested rumours of this destination had been bandied freely about the ship. ‘I am very glad of that, for I have long wished to visit the
Serenissima
. To look upon the Doge's Palace and the Grand Canal and other such wonders of the world. This is excellent claret – is it your own?'

This was a pertinent remark, for Nathan had appropriated a considerable quantity of wine from the previous Captain after his throat was cut, but the supply had long been exhausted.

‘It is part of a batch I purchased in Genoa,' Nathan replied, ‘but I did not say we
were
to go to Venice, I said the wind would take us there
if we allowed it to
. However, I agree it would be more interesting than some of the places we have been obliged to visit of late.' Nathan had made subtle enquiries among his officers, but as far as he could ascertain, none of them had visited what he must learn to call the
Serenissima
, nor sailed the Adriatic – not even Mr Perry, who had travelled more widely than most. ‘I dare say you have read a great deal about the place,' he added carelessly, for McLeish was a
devoted reader of travel books and periodicals, and his reference betrayed a more than superficial knowledge.

‘Well, I would not say I have made a particular study,' the doctor confessed, ‘but I am acquainted somewhat with its history and architecture – and other of its attractions.'

‘I have heard that it has degenerated somewhat in recent years,' Nathan remarked in the same casual tone, ‘in terms of its moral standards.'

‘The journals that I have read do not, alas, provide an insight into the facilities provided by your average Venetian brothel, if that is what you mean,' replied McLeish, who had dealt with too many cases of the clap and the implausible reasons for it to have the wool pulled over his eyes. ‘But I have heard that the city does offer all manner of diversions to those of a licentious nature and has, for that reason, become a popular destination upon the Grand Tour.'

‘They must be interesting diversions indeed for people to travel so far in the hope of experiencing them,' Nathan persisted. ‘If, that is, you mean people from our own shores.'

‘Englishmen primarily. Germans, too, I believe, of a certain inclination. I can probably find you a more detailed description, if this is of particular interest to you.'

‘Not at all, I merely … Well …' Nathan shot a glance at Tully, who was observing him with a curious regard. ‘It is just that I was advised by His Excellency the Viceroy that if we
were
to visit the city I should be wary of letting the young gentlemen ashore, lest they become corrupted.'

‘I fear it is too late for that, in most cases,' McLeish countered with a harsh laugh. ‘However, if His Excellency told you this, I am sure it would be wise to follow his advice. I personally would let your “young gentlemen” have the run of the place, for I believe corporal punishment is one of the delights widely on offer, not only in the bawdy houses, but even in the convents
and monasteries. Indeed, I cannot think of a more salutary lesson for the little scrotes than to have them thrashed to within an inch of their lives by a hefty nun and make them pay for the privilege.' He neatly caught the decanter as it slid across the table and topped up his glass with what was left of the claret. ‘But I perceive that I have embarrassed you, or stimulated your own fantasies to an extent that might require bleeding.'

‘Not at all,' Nathan assured him, heaving himself upright. ‘Indeed, I wish we could continue the discussion but I fear I must temporarily abandon you to attend to my duties.' For that last lurch had persuaded him that Mr Duncan was taking a greater risk with the spars than he was prepared to tolerate. ‘But pray take your ease until I return and I will send Gabriel in with another bottle.'

He emerged upon the quarterdeck to find a monstrous sea marshalling its forces at their stern and a heavy rain sweeping the decks. He looked instantly aloft to see the topmen taking in sail, for it had, as Mr Duncan kindly informed him, come on to blow a bit.

There were further signs that the first lieutenant had taken every precaution – and possibly more than was necessary – to meet this condition. The topgallant masts had been struck down upon the deck, anchors and boats secured and, rather more surprisingly, the guns aligned fore and aft and lashed across the ports, a measure which usually presaged a very serious blow indeed. Nathan lurched over to the weather rail and screwed up his face as he peered into the rain. It swept the sea like grapeshot, reducing visibility to not much more than a mile, but he could see the
Bonne Aventure
at their stern and though she was making heavy weather of it he could not find fault with the trim of her sails or the amount of canvas Lieutenant Compton had allowed to remain aloft. He personally found the rain quite exhilarating after the sweltering heat of
San Fiorenzo, but it was as wet and cold as it had no business to be in the Mediterranean in midsummer. He had known better days in the Bay of Biscay in November.

Mr Perry came stomping aft, having finished instructing the topmen, water streaming from his hat and a look as near to satisfaction as his leery features would ever present to the world. They were now running under topsails and staysails alone and there was an immediate improvement in the
Unicorn
's gait. She still resembled Tully's thoroughbred with the jumps stacked against her, but she was taking them more in her stride. The wind had shifted a little to nor'-nor'-east and was now about two points off their stern, which was near their best point of sailing.

‘Perhaps you would oblige me by casting the log, Mr Duncan,' Nathan requested, for he was curious to see what progress they were making. Then he might return to his cabin with an easy conscience, he thought, and see if he could prevail upon the Angel Gabriel to indulge him with one of his famous Welsh rabbits to go with the claret.

The log ship disappeared into the white race of water without a splash and they watched the line move swiftly astern.

‘Turn!' yelled Mr Lamb as the ribbon crossed the rail and Mr Anson promptly turned the 28-second timer and held it up to his eye until the last grain of sand ran by. ‘Stop!'

Mr Lamb nipped the line between finger and thumb, measured the distance from the last knot and raised his voice to convey the result to his waiting superiors.

‘Nine knots and three fathoms, sir.'

‘Very good, Mr Lamb,' Nathan responded formally. ‘Thank you, Mr Duncan, for obliging me. We may see Vesuvius be— before we die.'

He had been about to say before noon tomorrow, and being
of a superstitious nature even his later estimate seemed to be an outrageous temptation to fate. Sure enough, the words were scarcely out of his mouth when a cry from the foretop alerted them to the presence of a sail a point or two off their starboard bow. Nathan could see nothing from the deck and felt no great desire to go aloft. A sail in these waters was unlikely to indicate anything more intriguing than a merchantman, he told himself, most likely a neutral turned away from Leghorn by Nelson's blockade. But the first lieutenant had already sent Mr Lamb swarming up the ratlines to make a more substantial report.

Nathan watched the young midshipman as he swung into the maintop and then, after a moment's observation, proceeded up into the crosstrees where he hung, a hundred feet or so above the deck, with the glass glued to his eye. The mast swayed through an arc of some 30 or 40 degrees, and the rain and the wind lashed and clawed at him with malign intent, but he maintained this position for several minutes, scanning the heaving seas to windward, before sliding shut the glass and availing himself of the backstay to return to the deck. He had taken the precaution of securing his hat to his head with a Barcelona neckerchief, his face was flushed with wind and wet with rain, and he looked, Nathan thought, like a tearful child with the toothache. He had passed thirteen on his last birthday but his voice had not yet broken.

‘Please, sir, she is a ship-of-war. A corvette, I believe.'

‘A corvette?' Nathan's tone was doubtful.

‘A large corvette, sir, almost as big as a frigate. She is in and out of the waves, sir, and I cannot see if she is flying any colours.'

Nathan nodded thoughtfully. The corvette was an exclusively French class of vessel, something between a sloop and a frigate. Fremantle had captured one of them – the
Unité
– off Algiers earlier this year. Twenty 9-pounders on her main gun deck;
four 6-pounders on her quarterdeck. She had been renamed the
Surprise
and classed as a frigate in the British Navy, but it could not be her, for she had been sent off to the Caribbean some months since. He supposed
Sardine
was a possibility for she, too, had been a French corvette until her capture off Tunis. They had left her at her mooring in San Fiorenzo with the rest of the squadron, but there was a slim chance she had been sent after them with a message and missed them in the rain. However, the likelihood was that she was French.

‘Could you tell how far off she is?'

‘About half a league, sir.'

That would be the very limit of visibility in this weather, even from the maintopmast. Nathan subjected the young midshipman to a speculative regard. He looked very sure of himself but then he often did and frequently without cause. He had adopted a new policy in chess of clearing the board with reckless abandon in the hope that he could force a draw, or make Nathan so irritated by the tactic he would make a fatal mistake and lose the game.

‘Very well, thank you, Mr Lamb.' He looked to Perry who knew what he was going to ask.

‘We might chance the fore course, sir,' he conceded doubtfully, ‘with a reef or two. But if it comes on any harder …'

‘Very well, Mr Perry, let us live dangerously for once.'

Mr Perry's smile was as painful to behold as it almost certainly was for him to contrive. The moment they loosed the sail it had an immediate effect, though Nathan was not at all sure it was the one he had desired. The
Unicorn
heeled several degrees further to leeward and the following sea gave her a strange corkscrew motion as she pitched and rolled through the troughs. But now he had to look to his cannon for they were no use where they were, tethered cow fashion across the ports. It would be a devil of a job to unship them, though, and
then rig them again with the sea that was running. And he'd look a damn fool if she turned out to be the
Sardine
, or a neutral merchantman. Dear God, he thought, there was no helping it – he had to make sure the midshipman was right in his estimate.