A Flag of Truce (15 page)

‘Yet, you will have heard he was elevated to his present rank by the express orders of King George. You were present at the engagement which so impressed His Majesty, were you not?’ Gherson nodded, head down; this was not going where he wanted. ‘Did he deserve such an unusual amount of distinction?’

Gherson suddenly looked up, his eyes bright. ‘I think he has taken much credit due to others, sir. I was not alone in advising him of the course of action he subsequently employed. The captain of
HMS
Griffin
was
hors de combat,
collective decisions were taken for which Pearce subsequently took all the acclaim, took what was a joint action and made it his alone. So, sir, the answer is no. I do not believe he merits his elevation. The king, may God bless and preserve him, was duped.’

‘No further questions, sir.’

Pigot called his final witness, the accused. Ralph Barclay had prepared a long and, he thought, convincing account of his actions, a testimony that would incline the court in his favour, but was aware that Emily was behind him, knew that she would hear every word. He could not tell his version of events with her eyes boring into his shoulder blades. So he squared those shoulders, and said,

‘Sir, I am the captain of HMS
Brilliant
. I personally commanded the party that night we were out seeking volunteers. If some violence was used I was not aware of it, but such ignorance does not excuse me. My commission gives me many things, but it also gives me responsibility. You have heard from others their version of events and I feel I can add little but this. That whatever the court decides, it is on my shoulders the verdict should fall. With command goes the responsibility of a ship’s captain and I will not shrink from that.’

Pigot, who had a whole sheaf of questions to ask, looked dumfounded. He barked his next words. ‘Mr Birdutt.’

The old buffoon looked at Ralph Barclay with his wet eyes, and said. ‘I see no further point in questions, sir, I feel the case has been fully examined and to interrogate Captain Barclay would only make more uncomfortable to him what must be an extremely unpleasant affair.’

‘Very well,’ said the President, ‘you may make your closing arguments.’

When Birdutt did so, anyone listening would have been hard put to know if he was acting as prosecutor or defender, so gentle was his tone. Every charge was larded with caveats, each point he made qualified by doubts, so that when Pigot rose to make his address, the job had nearly been done for him.

‘Sir, on the night in question, Captain Barclay entrusted a task to a young man, who was not up to it. Yet this is the same young fellow who, within a week, would act on the enemy shore in a way to shame the heroes of antiquity. In short, sir, what may seem over-confidence in the young man’s abilities proved to be an underestimation of his qualities as a budding officer in the King’s Navy, a blessing, given that more senior members of the crew were either lost or badly wounded.’

Toby Burns, now sitting at the side of the court with Coyle, Kemp, Devenow and Gherson, had the good grace to blush, though he kept his eye fixed hard on the five judges and away from his aunt.

‘So,’ Pigot continued, ‘if Captain Barclay is guilty of anything it is of placing too much trust in one so young. In the dark, he could not know of the lad’s errors of navigation, nor, since he did not himself enter the tavern called the Pelican, could he see if violence, which I am sure he expressly forbade, was being employed.’

The long pause was for effect.

‘It has been attested, under oath, that every man taken from that place volunteered, and it was only after time aboard John Pearce wished to reconsider, in fact to renege on his own freely given commitment. You have heard how he tried to suborn other members of the crew to also break their oath, causing so much trouble that Captain Barclay determined to get rid of him by sending him home on the first available ship. Sirs, you are all naval officers. I ask you, are these the actions of a man who had pressed men who were unwilling? No. It is the action of an upright officer, who does not want aboard his vessel any man who does not truly want to serve his king and country.’

Pigot walked over to stand beside his client. ‘Captain Barclay is guilty.’ That got a gasp from those too stupid to see where it was leading. ‘But he is not guilty of illegal impressment. He broke the bounds of the Liberties of the Savoy in error, not as we have pointed out, his own. What did he find there? Why, men willing to serve, creatures whose
life, in such a place, must have been hell on earth. He indeed would have been seen by many as a saviour. Testimony is plentiful that by the time the ship’s boats raised Sheerness, even those who had doubts were happy to accept the King’s shilling. And then what? John Pearce, who you have heard most accurately described as a weathervane…’

He had to stop then. Emily Barclay, in standing, had noisily pushed back her chair. She glared at Pigot, then spun on her heel and marched out through a door opened for her by a servant. The President, who would have rigged the grating for any officer who had dared to do such a thing, could only offer a weak smile, seeming to be making an excuse for the gentler sex.

‘A weathervane,’ Pigot intoned, picking up where he had left off. ‘I will not rehearse again his actions, the court knows them only too well. He claims heroic status, let him live with the knowledge, for he must know, of what he did and what part others played in his good fortune. Suffice to say that released from his bond by Captain Barclay, he could have no idea that another officer would come along and press him out of that merchant vessel. I ask the court to find Captain Barclay guilty, but of indulgence, kindness, understanding and honourable behaviour.’

Pigot stood rock still for half a minute, then sat down. The President thanked him and Lieutenant
Birdutt, then asked that the room be cleared so they could consider their verdict. Once outside, the Premier informed Barclay and both counsel that refreshments were awaiting them in the wardoom.

‘Mr Burns,’ said Ralph Barclay.

‘Sir?’

‘Back to the ship with you and the other witnesses. The boat may come back for me, and be so good as to ask Mr Glaister to command it personally.’

They drank well and ate better, for there was nothing more to do, and Birdutt, no longer obliged to even pretend to prosecute, was fulsome in his praise of Barclay’s actions, and convinced the court would see it that way. They were called back within half an hour and faced their five judges, and as the President spoke, the eyes of the accused were on his sword, the point aimed at him, the sign of a guilty verdict.

‘Captain Barclay, please rise. The court has considered carefully the evidence brought before it and we feel a sense of deep disquiet that an officer of your experience should allow such a gross error of judgement be permitted.’

God, thought Ralph Barclay, I’m done for.

‘However, taking into consideration all the facts, we find that there was no malice in your actions, that you saw yourself as acting in the best interests
of the service. It is the judgement of this court that you should face a reprimand, and that no further action should be contemplated. That is the verdict we will pass to the Commander-in-Chief for confirmation.’

‘Might I enquire, sir,’ asked Pigot, ‘if you will see it as necessary to forward the case to a civil court?’

‘We will not recommend such a course, but, of course, Lord Hood may see it differently. For now, Captain Barclay, you are free to return to your ship and resume your duties.’

The Rock of Gibraltar was a welcome sight to any sailor, regardless of the direction from which it was approached, it being one of those points on a sea journey that denotes progress. Yet it was doubly so for a ship of the King’s Navy, being a beacon of the nation’s achievements, an outpost of British power that bearded the Spanish Crown and made impossible any secret egress to the Atlantic Ocean by elements of the French Mediterranean fleet. Such a body of ships, combined with those based in the Atlantic ports, would, given the Royal Navy’s commitments elsewhere, represent near parity of force, a threat to the shores of England that would be hard to contain.

Wrested from Spain in 1702, following the Treaty of Utrecht, Gibraltar was the subject of an annual demand by the Spanish court for it to be returned, and just as often that request was denied;
it was, quite simply, too valuable a strategic holding to be given up, quite apart from the fact that it had been taken by the effusion of much blood, and held through several sieges with a costly expenditure of that same commodity. There it stood, towering over the Straits, nine miles wide at the narrowest point, affording to anyone looking out from its pinnacle a good view of the African shore and the approaches from both west and east.

It was a pity that the south-easterly that had given them such swift passage to the Rock swung into the other direction, south-westerly, just a day before it was sighted. Digby, Pearce and Neame now found themselves on deck all the time, as
Faron
and her charges had to tack and wear towards their destination, working their way in a wind which carried with it fine sand, coating everything it touched.

‘It is the prevailing wind this time of year, Mr Pearce, and it do make life hard for a ship seeking to get out into the Atlantic.’

Pearce was curious; he had come through the Straits on the way out, as easy as kiss my hand. ‘How so?’

‘Current’s set dead against it, flows through strong from the west.’

‘But surely, as with all currents, it sometimes reverses itself. Water must flow out of the Mediterranean as well as in.’

‘You’se taken no account of evaporation, sir, of which there is a deal in these warm climes, and it is reckoned by those who study it that there is a deep water current going out, and it is only the surface current coming in. So to make the outward passage, you need a wind, and even then it ain’t plain sailing, you wait and see.’

‘And with the wind foul?’

‘It’s weather the southernmost point and get into Algeciras Bay, where we will lay till the wind changes in our favour.’ Then Neame shouted, calling all hands to wear ship, before adding, in a normal voice. ‘Could be stuck for weeks at this time of year and the bay is no joy, what with it being open to the south-westerly swell.’

Pearce looked out at their charges, the squadron of French seventy-fours, wondering what the folk on the Rock would make of the ships and their human cargo. That got him to thinking about being forced to lie up and wait for Neame’s wind; they would have to do likewise and that could create problems. Gibraltar was one of the few places where the rules regarding sailors going ashore were relaxed, quite simply because there was nowhere for them to run. The Spanish guarding the border at La Linea, in a time of peace, would clap them in goal before returning them; no British tar could be allowed to create dissention when they so badly wanted the Rock back. In war, a more common
circumstance between the two powers, the case did not arise. The only other option was a boat to the Musselman shore, where anyone deserting the King’s Navy could exchange life between decks for a life of rowing a Barbary galley with a whip as encouragement.

‘I don’t suggest that the French sailors be allowed ashore, sir. Some of them would be bound to try the Spanish lines, but I wonder about the officers, if they give us their parole. It would, after all, be a courtesy I think they would extend to us.’

Digby toyed with his wine glass, keeping a firm grip on the stem to ensure that the contents stayed within the confines of the bowl, with the ship bucking about on a heavy sea. Pearce could see that he was possibly amenable to the idea, yet not wholly convinced.

‘I foresee a problem of perception, Mr Pearce. We now know, because of contact, the men we have dealt with are not so different from ourselves.’ What a difference eight days makes, Pearce thought; at the outset of their voyage the men aboard those ships had been die-hard Jacobins to a man. ‘Yet this is not an opinion vouchsafed to those in command at Gibraltar. It may be they already know of Lord Hood’s plan, given the number of vessels bearing despatches which pass through this station. In which case they will think of them as rabid dogs, to be shot on sight should they snarl. I
doubt the Governor will take kindly to folk like that roaming his bailiwick.’

‘You and I could disabuse them of that notion, sir.’

Digby produced one of those throat-clearing coughs which were used to cover his embarrassment. He did not want to say that any recommendation from the likes of John Pearce would, if his name was known, likely have precisely the opposite effect to that sought.

‘I have been told by Mr Neame that Algeciras Bay is an uncomfortable anchorage on this wind.’

‘I will ask, Mr Pearce, but I cannot say that I can guarantee acceptance. Strange things are said to happen to those stationed at the Rock, something to do I suppose with the constrained nature of the posting. I have noticed it induces in them a level of hatred of the enemy that is exceptional in its vehemence. And when we are at war with Spain…’ Digby raised wonder-filled eyebrows to denote that the Rock’s inhabitants, in those circumstances, became quite mad. ‘Now, Mr Pearce, I think it is time you and I returned to your numbers.’

It was Pearce’s turn to inwardly groan. Digby had undertaken to help him with his geometry and the like, Mr Neame his previous tutor being too busy on this wind, and he could not decline. Yet he knew very shortly he would answer some gently put
enquiry like an idiot, and the feeling that induced would not be ameliorated by an understanding look in his captain’s saddened eye.

‘Do you have any money, Michael?’

‘A bit, which I got from that bastard Taberly for doing his bidding with my fists.’

‘Rufus?’ the boy shook his head, and Charlie spoke before he was asked. ‘Not a pot to piss in, Pearce.’

‘Nor yet a window to throw it out of,’ Pearce added, finishing the mantra that Charlie Taverner was so fond of. He reached into his coat for his purse. ‘Then I shall provide.’

‘My, Pearce,’ exclaimed young Rufus, which had O’Hagan looking around to see, due to the lack of respect in that remark, they were not being overheard. ‘You are well found.’

It was money that he had been given to go ashore when Toulon was still in French hands, an advance from Hood’s secret funds. Since no one had asked for it to be returned, and he had used so little, he now considered it no more than his due for that hazardous excursion. He tipped them two guineas each, amused at the way Charlie seemed able to palm it and make it disappear, but then he had been a sharp before being pressed, a man who lived off the gullible who flocked to London to see the sights. Rufus jingled the coins in his hand, leaving Pearce
to wonder if he had ever held so much money before; perhaps, as a bonded apprentice to a
tight-purse
master, he never had, and that was why he had run to the Liberties.

Michael O’Hagan just grinned; he would have seen such sums and more, being a highly rated man with a shovel in a world being everywhere dug up; canals, foundations, drainage channels and cellarage for new buildings, hewing for coal, and the hardest task of all, a sinker of wells and mine shafts. Michael had done them all: what he had never managed to do, as far as Pearce could tell, was to hang on to what he earned. He was a man to whom it came easy, so he was a person to see it go easy, as well. He worked to drink and he drank or charmed a wench with his earnings, though he was inclined to turn contentious under the influence. Pearce could recall him that first night they had met; drunk, a bellowing bull who had tried to knock his block off, which had him wonder if what he had just done was a good idea.

‘Don’t get into trouble, any of you.’ Pearce insisted, articulating the concern. ‘Remember I will be part of the authority forced to punish you if you do.’

‘Sure, John-boy,’ Michael said with a grin, ‘would we be after embarrassing you?’

Peace returned the grin. ‘I bet you can’t wait, Michael.’

Moreau and his fellow commanders had been through these straits before, and they required no orders to make a good southing so as to round Punta Europa. Pearce got a good idea of what Neame meant just by how long it took all five ships to tack and wear through the narrows, before they could give themselves enough sea room to put up their helms and clear into Algeciras Bay. The town after which that was named lay across the harbour from the Rock, and even if there was peace, even if Spain was at this time an ally, there would be no traffic between the British and the Andalusians on mainland soil. The flags that flew on Gibraltar, which could be seen through a long glass from Algeciras, were like salt on an open wound.

‘It’s a damn good thing that the Dons are with us, Pearce,’ said Digby. ‘I think if they were not we would be unable to leave five thousand sailors in view of temptation. We would have to anchor them right inshore and put a guard ship with loaded cannon on their weather beam.’

‘Boat’s ready, your honour,’ said Dysart, who was acting as Digby’s coxswain.

‘Mr Harbin to accompany me, Dysart.’ Then he turned to Pearce. ‘I will leave you to take young Farmiloe ashore, Pearce, after I have seen the admiral. It will give you a chance to get to know him better and perhaps lay some ghosts.’

That was the first time Digby had alluded to the
fact that Farmiloe had been part of the press gang that had taken him up. Had he been watching them; his Pelicans, himself and Farmiloe, and noted that even after he had been reassured the boy still maintained a distance? On the one occasion Digby had invited the two mids to dine, the still bandaged Harbin, once having consumed a glass or two, had been all volubility. Not Farmiloe; he had sipped quietly, spoken little and stopped if he saw that Pearce wanted to speak. If Digby had spotted the reserve, and discerned the reason without asking, he was showing an acute sense of atmosphere.

‘I know,’ Digby added, as Harbin ran to change into his best coat, ‘that this is a short commission, yet I sense the ship to be reasonably content. I would, if possible, have it fully so.’

‘I will do my very best, sir.’

‘I know you will, Mr Pearce, for if I thought otherwise, I would not have presumed to mention it.’

‘When can we give some shore time to the hands, sir?’

‘When I have done my duty to the flag officer, and have his permission.’ Seeing the implied question in Pearce’s reaction he added, smiling, ‘Never fear, he will not withhold it. The tavern keepers and whorehouse madams of the Gut would have his intestines if he denied them their customers.’

‘Then I look forward to taking Mr Farmiloe ashore, and showing him the sights.’

‘For the sake of the Lord, Pearce, don’t get the lad poxed.’

‘Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,’ gasped Harbin, lifting his hat to show an ugly red scar.

‘You are keeping an admiral waiting, boy, not me.’

The shock of Harbin’s freckled face made Digby burst out laughing and he patted him on the back as an encouragement to make for the gangway. Watching them go, Pearce thought it was indeed a happy ship, and the man responsible had just gone down into the cutter.

‘Disputes, sir, I fear disputes. I am plagued with them on this station, which I put down to the wind, which is not only constant, but can be hot like the hobs of hell one day, and like Arctic ice the next.’

‘Admiral Hartley, I agree with you about guard boats for the crews. I merely ask that the French commissioned officers be allowed some freedom.’

‘I would gift it them, man, but I can tell you that in an instant they would be atop the Rock at dawn, facing some bad-tempered bullock. You have no idea what service on Gib does for soldiers. They are a dammed nuisance in any case, but stationed here brings out their very worst traits. I swear the apes behave better.’

‘If we were to provide escorts, sir.’

Hartley was a fat little fellow, a perfect officer for a shore appointment, and probably damned glad to have it, given the only other option was a yellow flag and enforced retirement. As a sea-going officer he had struggled to gain respect, yet he had interest, the kind of connections that kept him from mouldering in the country or shrinking and losing money at the baths and card tables of some spa. Right now, he was rubbing one of his several chins, and musing on what had been proposed.

‘Do you have a commitment to get every one of these rogues to Biscay?’

The implication of that question was obvious; if one of them got speared or struck down by a musket ball, would Hartley suffer for it?

‘Not as individuals, sir.’

‘Officers with officers?’

‘I think we could do even better than that, sir. An officer and a chosen party of hands as escorts should keep them from mischief.’

‘Very well, Digby, but ration them their time ashore, and make sure if the wind shifts they are not lost in the arms of some trollop. I want then out of my command as soon as possible.’

Pearce came on deck as soon as Farmiloe informed him that
Faron
’s cutter had put off from the shore, so it was only idle curiosity that had him looking to
the west when he sighted the familiar rig of a ship he knew well, the Postal Packet
Lorne
, and if that was the case it was almost certain that her
Ulster-born
captain, Mr McGann, was conning her at that very moment. Such a sight lifted his spirits, not that he was in any way down, but McGann was a man he esteemed, a fine sailor loved by his family of a crew, who had shown him a degree of kindness on the way out from Portsmouth to the Mediterranean that had made a task, which he saw as a duty, a pleasure.