Artemis(93)

'Sir, I - I—' stuttered Rowley. Powlett leant forward, piercing Rowley with his eyes. 'You, sir, are under open arrest. Get back on board this instant.' In the shocked silence, Powlett swung around to the midshipman. 'Pass the word for Mr Parry. He is to assume Mr Rowley's duties ashore.'

Haynes was dismissive of the whole affair. 'Rowley has t' be a right lobcock, thinkin' to bam Black Jack like that.' Dice clattered to the table. Although gambling was a court-martial offence, there was no chance of a petty officer's mess receiving the wrong kind of visitors without warning. Haynes peered at the dice in the light of the guttering rush dip and snorted in disgust.

Picking them up and dropping them noisily into the leather cup, Mullion gave a glimmer of a smile. 'Can't blame a man f'r wantin' a fuckle,' he said, 'an' Rowley is a man fer the ladies, right enough. Lets his prick lead the way, 'n' he follows on behind.'

His throw was vigorous, and with a grunt of satisfaction Mullion let Haynes see the result before stretching out his hand to help himself to one of Haynes's littie store of worn dried peas. Haynes's own hand flashed out and clamped over Mullion's fist, crashing it to the table. Surprised, Mullion looked into Haynes's eyes. Haynes returned the look with smouldering intensity. With his other hand he deliberately picked a pea from his own store and carefully added it to Mullion's pile, his eyes never leaving Mullion's. 'Allow me,' he grated. Slowly he released Mullion's fist and sat back.

Uneasy, Kydd broke into the savage silence. 'Shipmates,' he said, 'what's this that y' quarrel over a dish of trundlers?' He stood over the motionless pair at the mess-table until Mullion glanced up and allowed a trace of a smile to appear before relaxing back. Haynes mumbled something in his grating voice and subsided.

It worried Kydd. It was rare for shipmates to clash in this way, and now within a short space tempers had flared again.

For want of somewhere to go he went forward to the galley. Renzi was proving a difficult friend while they were at the island, and seemed to want to be alone more often than not. Around the galley were the usual crowd, enjoying a pipe of tobacco and listening to yarns and songs.

Kneeling on the deck, eyes raised to heaven in mock reverence, was a young Irishman. His round face wore a mournful aspect as he chanted an endless ditty:

Bryan O'Lynn and his wife, and wife's mother,

They went in a boat to catch sprats there together,

A butt-end got stove and the water rushed in —

We're drowned, by the holy, says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn and his wife, and wife's mother,

They went with the priest to a wake there together,

And there they got drunk and thought it no sin —

It keeps out the cold, says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn and his wife, and wife's mother

They went to the grave with the corpse all together,

The earth being loose they all then fell in —

Bear a hand and jump out, says Bryan O'Lynn.

His audience listened in happy attention, the verses following one after the other in a respectful monotone, until a slight change in tone indicated the final stanza, which was finished in a rousing climax:

Bryan O' Lynn and his wife, and wife's mother,

Resolved then to lead a new life together,

And from that day to this have committed no sin —

In the calendar stands now, sir, SAINT BRYAN O'LYNN!

Hearty chuckles met this, and Kydd felt better.

At dawn Powlett went ashore again, grim-faced and irritable. Stomping up the path he nodded curtly at bored sentries and met Parry coming from the living hut. He was drawn and haggard and moved wearily. 'Report!' snapped Powlett.

Parry pulled himself together. 'I am truly sorry to say that some of the men straggled in the night.'

'How many?' demanded Powlett. 'I'll have the skin from their backs, the rogues!'

'Twenty-nine.'

Powlett stopped, aghast. This was over half the watch. His hands twitched convulsively on his sword hilt before he turned abruptly on his heel and trudged down to the boat again. He was still silent as he climbed the side of his ship. Acknowledging the boatswain's calls as they piped the side, he disappeared into his cabin.

Later in the forenoon Lieutenant Rowley was summoned. He was seen to enter Powlett's cabin with a truculent expression. Words were heard from inside, hard and angry words. Rowley left with a set, pale face, stalking down to his cabin. The rest of the forenoon Powlett stayed behind his closed door.

The atmosphere aboard Artemis became strained and moody, radiating out from Powlett's closed door. At noon, the hands were called aft by Parry; the Captain was not present. In an expressionless voice Party told the ship's company they would revert to three watches for liberty, one of which would be retained for guard duties, the remainder having the freedom of the island. It did not need much reflection to realise that Powlett had capitulated to the situation.