Colleen McCullough - Morgan’s Run

Richard frowned. “I thought the captain was master of his own ship and had the final say.”

“Not when ye’re in partnership with the Royal Navy. Walton’s want to do more of this transportation work-that is why Captain Francis Walton, one of the family, is master of Friendship. Esmeralda Sinclair is a partner in Walton & Company. Ye’d find, if ye looked hard enough, that almost all the masters of the transports and storeships are shareholders in their companies.” Donovan gave a shrug. “If the Botany Bay experiment is a success, there will be a brisk trade in shipping convicts.”

“It is nice to know,” Richard grinned, “that we miserable wretches bring prosperity to some people.”

“Especially to people named William Richards Junior. He is the contractor-and the one ye have to thank for the food ye get, God rot the bastard to Hell forever. And, God, send us a fish or two!”

The line in Richard’s hand jerked. So did the one Donovan was holding. A whoop went up from a sailor farther astern; they had come into a huge school of albacore, and hauled the big fish in at such a rate that those standing watching were put to baiting hooks so the lines could go down again before the fish were gone. By the end of this exhilarating spurt of activity there were over fifty large albacore flipping and flapping around the deck, and sailors and marines were sharpening their knives to clean and scale and fillet. A task not allowed to convicts, devoid of knives.

“Chowder aplenty tonight,” said Richard with satisfaction. “I am glad too that we do not eat at midday anymore. A man sleeps better on a full belly. I know our lieutenants complain that these beautiful creatures are dry eating, but the meat is fresh. ”

The sea was great company; something was always happening in it. Richard had grown used to the sight of huge porpoises and somewhat smaller dolphins chasing, playing and leaping far out of the water, though they never ceased to fascinate. Life for sea dwellers, he fancied, could not simply be a matter of survival. These creatures enjoyed themselves. Nothing as carefree as a leaping porpoise could possibly not know pleasure in the act, no matter what dour men like Mr. Long said about the leap being a device to frighten predators away, coming down with such a splash and rumpus.

Birds were always present in sometimes great numbers-pintada birds, various petrels, even gulls. As Alexander was not liberal with scraps save when fish guts were tipped out, Richard learned that the presence of lots of birds meant there were schools of fish about, usually too small to bother catching.

He saw his first shark and his first whale on the same day, one of great calm, just a long swell rolling too placidly to break into ruffs of foam. The water was like crystal and he longed to swim in it, wondered if perhaps somewhere along the way Mr. Donovan or some other sailor would teach him to swim. What puzzled him was why they never went over the side, even on days like this, when a man would have no trouble climbing back on board.

Then along it came, this chilling creature. Just why the mere sight of it should freeze him to his marrow he did not understand, for it was beautiful. He saw its fin first, cutting through the water like a knife. The fin stood two feet into the air, heading for a bloody mess of albacore ruins bobbing along their side and in their wake. The thing swam past like a dark shadow and seemed to go on forever; it was, he estimated, twenty-five feet long, as round as a barrel in its mid section but narrowing to a pointed snout in front and terminating in a slender, tapering tail equipped with a forked double fin as rudder. A dull black eye as large as a plate broke the mass of its head, and just as it came up with the fish guts floating in a tangle it turned over on its side to scoop the mess into a vast maw armed with terrible teeth. Its belly flashed white, then the albacore remains were gone; it gulped down every bit it could find, then cruised off into the gentle wake to see if there were more goodies near the ships in Alexander’s rear.

God Jesus! I have heard of whales and I have heard of sharks. I knew that a shark is a big fish, but I never dreamed they came as large as whales. Now that is a thing does not know joy. Its eye said that it has no soul.

The whale erupted into the air perhaps a cable’s length from the ship, so suddenly that only those like Richard fishing from the starboard side saw the mighty creature breach the surface in a shimmering explosion of water. A beaky head, a small eye that sparkled cognizance, a pair of speckled flippers-it just kept coming up and up and up, forty feet of it in ridged, blue-grey glory, its hull as barnacled as any ship’s. When it fell it crashed in clouds of spray and disappeared; a moment’s breathless wait and the magnificent fluked tail towered, poised like a banner, before it smacked with a clap like thunder amid dazzling rainbows of foam. The leviathan of the deep, grander than any ship of the line.

Others appeared, spread all over the sea like an etching he had seen of grazing elephants, spouting fountains of mingled air and water, sailing along majestically or breaching the surface in those gargantuan dances. A mother and child sported around Alexander for a long while; she was terribly scarred as well as barnacled, her calf was flawless. Richard wanted to go down on his knees to thank God for so honoring him, but he couldn’t bear not to watch for as long as the whales remained. Where was their fleet going? Like the porpoises and dolphins, the whales were joyous voyagers.

The squallsbegan not long after the wind died, and had to be used. They arrived out of a clear sky, the clouds piling up fast, curling dark blue billows tipped with pure white fans, and growling ominously. Then a huge gale descended, the sea turned into a fury, the rain teemed down, lightning flashed, thunder boomed. An hour later saw the sky blue and the ship becalmed again.

A number of convicts and marines were sleeping on deck, though it surprised Richard that more men did not choose to do this. The convicts at any rate were accustomed to sleeping on hard flat boards, yet most elected the stinking prison as soon as darkness fell, which it did at these latitudes with stunning swiftness. There was comfort in a hammock, no matter how stifling the weather, but his fellows-he could only conclude that men feared the elements.

Not Richard, who would find a piece of uncluttered deck out of the way of seamen’s feet and lie watching the fantastic play of lightning in and out of the clouds, waiting to be drenched to the skin, waiting to feel his heart stop with the shock of flash and thunderclap together if the storm drifted overhead. The best of all was the rain. He brought his soap with him and stowed his clothes under the edge of one of the longboats, loving the feel of sudsy lather, knowing the rain would last long enough to rinse it off. He brought anything washable up-the matting, everyone’s clothes, even the blankets in spite of bleating protests that they were shrinking rapidly.

“If it is not screwed or nailed down, Richard, ye take it up and wash it!” said Bill Whiting indignantly. “How can ye stay out in the open? When the ship is struck and we sink, I want to be below to start with.”

“The blankets have shrunk as far as they are going to, Bill, and I do not understand why ye fret so. Everything is dry again in an hour. Ye do not even know that I have taken the stuff, ye’re so busy snoring.”

The fact that Bill had regained his cheek was an indication of how often they were eating fish, an aspect of transportation across the King’s herring pond which Richard had not thought to take into account. The bread was very poor by now, full of grossly wriggling mites he preferred not to see, a reason why most men now ate it with their eyes closed. It had gone softer, apparently a signal for these noisome things to start multiplying. Nothing could live in salt meat, but the pease and oatmeal had their share of livestock. And Richard’s group was running low on malt extract.