Julian Stockwin - Artemis

Powlett stared in amazement. 'Sir, am I to understand that you are asking me to divert the course of my vessel some two thousand miles for your sole convenience?'

Hobbes stiffened. 'My convenience is not the point at issue, but that of science is. This observation adds materially to the sum of knowledge of the earth's precession, which I would have thought would interest even the meanest practitioner of navigation,' he finished, in tones laced with sarcasm.

Powlett straightened. 'Not possible! This frigate is a man-o'-war, not a damned—'

Hobbes leant forward and spoke in a flat, hard voice: 'I have no need to remind you, Captain, that the letter is signed by Sir Philip Stephens himself, who is also acquainted to me personally. Should you be the cause of my inability to discharge my duty to the Admiralty then I have no doubt that you may very well—'

'So be it! Your letter is authority enough, but there will be an accounting of this, sir, mark my word!'

Hobbes eased back in satisfaction.

'Mr Prewse, we shall return home east-about, by Cape Horn. Be so good as to attend me in my cabin at six bells with charts.'

'Then I may instruct my assistant to convey aboard my instruments,' Hobbes said. It was a statement, not a question.

'Assistant?' Powlett snapped.

'Mr Evelyn, a most able young man. And our servants, of course.'

Powlett's eyes glittered dangerously. 'And your cook and washerwoman, no doubt?'

Hobbes sniffed. 'There is no need to be facetious, Captain. I might remind you that time is of the essence.'

'No liberty ashore? The slivey bastards! What right d' they have t' tell Black Jack what time o' day it is?' Haynes was pale and dangerous; Kydd kept his silence.

Renzi replied, quietly, 'Every right. They're on an Admiralty mission, and we're a King's ship. But I don't believe that is the reason why we can't step off. Recollect that this is Spanish territory and they will not take kindly to our presence — there is every possibility of a fracas if we are allowed ashore.'

'There'll be a frack-arse if we ain't allowed, mate,' Crow said, without humour.

The moody silence was broken by Mullion, whose heavy jaw and brass earrings squared with his big, tough hands to give an impression of indomitable strength. 'Yer could be overlookin' somethin', gents,' he said, a smile lurking.

'An' what's that?' Haynes snapped.

'We's headed t' the Great South Sea - an' while that ain't a prime place fer prizes, yer recollects that fer quim-stickin' it can't be beat.'

Kydd's knowledge of native island people was limited to popular lurid tales ranging all the way from cannibalism to an idyllic Eden.

The rest of the mess reanimated, and talk quickened. There was a scratching at the canvas flap. Haynes, being nearest, stuck out his head with a baleful 'Yeah?'

'Mr Fairfax wants you ter vittle in them scientifical gents, Mr Haynes,' rumbled an unknown voice.

'Not 'ere 'e doesn't, cully,' Haynes said abruptly.

'An' he did say youse are the smallest mess 'n' can take two easy-like.'

Haynes cursed.

'The wardroom takes two, 'n' their servants come 'ere,' the voice continued remorselessly. 'What shall I tell 'im?'

The pair could not have made more of a contrast.

'Thank ye, gennelmen,' said one brightly, 'Ben Doody, an' I takes care o' Mr Evelyn. Yer won't need ter see me offen,' he added, his large three-cornered hat awkwardly in his big hands probably more because of the low deck-beams than out of respect. His bucolic figure beamed down on them.

The other was a pinched, crabbed man, whose drab black resembled that of a down-at-heel clerk. His first comment was a sour 'We expec' to take our vittles in private, y'understands.' Haynes rose slowly and advanced on him. The man backed away, but tripped on a ring-bolt and fell to his knees.

Kydd helped him up and asked, 'An' who 'r' you?'

'Rance, Jeremiah Rance.' He looked viciously at Haynes and added, 'Servant o' Mr Hobbes.'

'Yer've got yer dunnage?' Crow said mildly, looking from one to the other.

Doody looked perplexed but Rance thumbed towards the deck outside. 'Yeah, we have — outside.' He stood aside to allow someone to move past to carry the baggage inside.

Nobody moved. Crow looked at Haynes seriously, but Haynes returned the look with cruel glee. 'Gonna be a long v'yage home, they tells me.'

'Sir, it's quite impossible — our charts are old, of th' last age. It is madness even to consider the matter!' The sailing master was uncharacteristically blunt, and Powlett glowered, but subsided. 'And by this you are saying that we cannot reach their meridian in time? We must take risks, sir.'

The table was overflowing with charts, and Kydd carried still others under his arm.

'Risks? The word is too soft, sir! These islands are so numerous no man has counted them! And they are of the coral kind, whose fangs can tear the heart out of the stoutest vessel. Even Cap'n Cook was near to founderin' after takin' the ground on a coral islet!'

Powlett's baffled fury was barely held in check. The main Philippine islands ran a thousand miles north and south, a barrier to any ship from the China Sea that wanted to enter into the limitless expanses of the Pacific Ocean. 'The Spaniards pass through safely enough — I have heard the name San Bernardino mentioned.'

'Aye, sir, but they have the charts an' the pilots, both o' which they would rather fry in hell than let us have. Sir, it is my duty t' say, it's mortal danger to our vessel should we flog about in unknown seas looking for a passage, we have no choice but to sail endelong around.'

'Three, four hundred miles north, same distance back the other side - it sticks in m' craw, Mr Prewse — and we fail the mission!' Powlett tossed down the chart and stared in frustration through the broad stern windows.

Kydd stirred. 'Sir,' he found himself saying, 'we have Doody, one o' th' gentleman's servants. He—'

'Hold y'r peace,' Prewse muttered, gathering up the charts. 'This is not business f'r you.'

But Powlett turned round. 'What is it, Kydd?'

'Well, sir, he says as how they got a visit fr'm the shore, some Spanish lord mayor or somethin', who was greatly anxious t' get south to the central part. He offered 'em gold dollars if they'd take him there.' Kydd noticed Prewse's tight expression, but continued respectfully, 'O' course, they had t' refuse him but, beggin' y'r pardon, sir, seems t' me that you could offer him a passage an' in return he sees y' safely through to the further side.'

'Y' can't trust the Dons, sir.'

Powlett's hand rasped on his chin as he mused. 'It's a long way from Manila to the central parts. I'd wager the details of any arrangement would not necessarily need to be of concern to this mayor's superiors.' He straightened in decision. 'Let's get him aboard, promise of passage for money, and we'll discuss the alternative afterwards.'

Rowley's minimal Spanish was barely adequate, but the minor grandee affected not to notice. A dark-complexioned man with glittering black eyes, he was extraordinarily controlled in his expression and gestures, each movement considered and graceful, but watchful withal.

Not knowing the naval salutes due a Spanish corregidor, Powlett had lined the entry point with as many boatswain's mates as he could find. The ceremonial calls sounded strident and clear, clearly gratifying to the proud Spaniard. He bowed and scraped with the utmost courtesy, but was reluctant to go below with the first lieutenant; there had been few first-class fighting frigates seen before in these waters.

Stirk watched the proceedings with interest from the fo'c'sle. 'Where they gonna get their swedes down? Hobbes 'as the cabins.'

At that moment Crow arrived. 'Aft on the gundeck — yer've not heard: it's out o' bounds ter us, worried there'll be a frack-arse.' The term was going around the ship fast.