Tenacious(63)

Treading carefully around three seamen who were eyeing him warily, he noted that their splicing and bolt-rope sewing had not progressed far since his and Renzi’s last turn round the deck, for this was the second occasion that the boatswain had been too ‘ill’ to take charge of his men.

It was inevitable, the toll on discipline and spirit in a harbour of such allure. Rawson and Bowden had sampled the delights together, overstayed their leave and were now confined to the ship, while Adams was refusing morosely to show his face ashore after a mysterious encounter involving a lady.

Other incidents were more serious: one seaman had been brought back by his messmates stabbed in the neck, and over fifty were unfit for work. It was proving difficult to overcome the lassitude that seemed to pervade the air after their recent extremity of effort.

With Houghton and Bryant away up country inspecting fortifications, Bampton had been left acting captain and at seven bells there was the depressingly more frequent ‘clear lower deck – hands to witness punishment’.

‘Sir, Henry Soulter has been a top-rate petty officer an’ fo’c’sle hand, always ready t’ step forward when there’s perilous duty to be done—’

‘It’s not his character that’s at question now, Mr Kydd,’ Bampton said acidly, ‘it’s his actions. Did he or did he not make threatening gestures and thereafter strike Laffin, boatswain’s mate?’

Kydd stifled a weary sigh. He had the essence of the matter from Soulter’s friends. Inflamed by unaccustomed grappa, Soulter, a gifted seaman and steady hand, had responded too readily to taunting of a personal nature from Laffin and had laid into him. Unfortunately this had been witnessed by Pringle, the captain of marines, who had thought it his business to take the matter further.

It was splitting hairs as to whether Laffin was in fact Soulter’s superior, but if it were so adjudged then it was a very serious matter indeed, requiring a court-martial and the death penalty not discounted.

‘Aye, sir. Soulter admits th’ charge, but states that it was under much provocation that—’

‘There can be no extenuating circumstances in a crime of this nature, Mr Kydd,’ said Bampton, importantly. ‘If he admits the charge…’

Kydd’s temper rose. Soulter was in his division and he knew his value, but now Bampton was playing God with them both. ‘He does,’ Kydd snapped.

‘So, striking a superior. This is a grave charge, Soulter.’

‘Sir,’ Soulter said woodenly.

Bampton let it hang, then said, ‘This should result in your court-martial, you villain. How do you feel about that?’

‘Sir.’

‘However, in this instance I am prepared to be lenient. Mr Kydd?’

‘Sir, I’m certain Soulter did not intend a disrespect t’ his superior and now regrets his acts,’ he said stolidly. Kydd knew that Bampton would never hand a court-martial to Houghton on his return and felt nothing but contempt for the show he was making.

‘Very well. Soulter, you are to be disrated as of this hour and shall shift your hammock forward immediately.’

Soulter’s eyes glowed, then went opaque.

‘And you shall be entered in the master-at-arms’ black book for one month.’

This was shabby treatment indeed: the man would revert to common seaman and Laffin would therefore have free rein to indulge his revenge. Not only that: for a month Soulter would be cleaning heads and mess-decks before all the seamen of whom he had been in charge before.

The men were dismissed and went below for the noon meal. Kydd sat at the wardroom table without appetite. It could have been worse – at least there were no lashes awarded for an act that was so predictable for top fighting seamen kept in idleness in a port of this nature. He would see to it that Soulter was reinstated at the first opportunity. Kydd brightened: he knew Soulter was a popular petty officer, fair and hard-working. By the unwritten rules of the lower deck he would have been seen to be unjustly treated and therefore would not be demeaned before the others by his impositions.

‘I’m getting t’ be a mort weary of Naples, m’ friend,’ Kydd said reluctantly. ‘It’s not a place f’r your right true shellback.’

Renzi did not hasten to offer a further run ashore. Kydd had noticed his distaste for the squalor of some streets. Renzi was no prude but Kydd had a feeling that it sat uneasily with the classical splendours that filled his head.

After a space Renzi said smoothly, ‘You wish to depart these shores? Before you have been introduced to culture of altogether a different sort, an evening of entertainment of a far more… decorous nature?’