No Defense, Complete - Gilbert Parker
"On shore the Admiralty have stopped the supply of provisions to us and
to all the fleet. Our men have been arrested at Gravesend, Tilbury, and
Sheerness. The fleet could not sail now if it wished; but one ship can
sail, and it is ours. The fleet hasn't the food to sail. On Richard
Parker's ship, the Sandwich, there is food only for a week. The others
are almost as bad. We are in danger of being attacked. Sir Erasmus Gower,
of the Neptune, has a fleet of warships, gunboats, and amateur armed
vessels getting ready to attack us. The North Sea fleet has come to help
us, but that doesn't save us. I'll say this--we are loyal men in this
fleet, otherwise our ships would have joined the enemy in the waters of
France or Holland. They can't go now, in any case. The men have lost
heart. Confidence in our cause has declined. The government sent Lords of
the Admiralty here, and they offered pardon if we accepted the terms of
the Spithead settlement. We declined the terms. That was a bad day for
us, and put every one of our heads in a noose.
"For the moment we have a majority in men and ships; but we can't renew
our food or drink, or ammunition. The end is sure against us. Our
original agitation was just; our present obduracy is madness. This ship
is suspected. It is believed by the rest of the fleet--by ships like the
Invincible--that we're weak-kneed, selfish, and lacking in fidelity to
the cause. That's not true; but we have either to fight or to run, and
perhaps to do both.
"Make no mistake. The government are not cowards; the Admiralty are
gentlemen of determination. If men like Admiral Howe support the
Admiralty--Howe, one of the best friends the seaman ever had--what do you
think the end will be? Have you heard what happened at Spithead? The
seamen chivvied Admiral Alan Gardner and his colleagues aboard a ship. He
caught hold of a seaman Delegate by the collar and shook him. They closed
in on him. They handled him roughly. He sprang on the hammock-nettings,
put the noose of the hanging-rope round his neck, and said to the men who
advanced menacingly:
"'If you will return to your duty, you may hang me at the yard-arm!'
"That's the kind of stuff our admirals are made of. We have no quarrel
with the majority of our officers. They're straight, they're honest, and
they're true to their game. Our quarrel is with Parliament and the
Admiralty; our struggle is with the people of the kingdom, who have not
seen to it that our wrongs are put right, that we have food to eat, water
to drink, and money to spend."
He waved a hand, as though to sweep away the criticisms he felt must be
rising against him.
"Don't think because I've spent four years in prison under the sternest
discipline the world offers, and have never been a seaman before, that
I'm not fitted to espouse your cause. By heaven, I am--I am--I am--I know
the wrongs you've suffered. I've smelled the water you drink. I've tasted
the rotten meat. I've seen the honest seaman who has been for years upon
the main--I've seen the scars upon his back got from a brutal officer who
gave him too big a job to do, and flogged him for not doing it. I know of
men who, fevered with bad food, have fallen, from the mainmast-head, or
have slipped overboard, glad to go, because of the wrongs they'd
suffered.
"I'll tell you what our fate will be, and then I'll put a question to
you. We must either give up our stock of provisions or run for it. Parker
and the other Delegates proclaim their comradeship; yet they have hidden
from us the king's proclamation and the friendly resolutions of the
London merchants. I say our only hope is to escape from the Thames. I
know that skill will be needed, but if we escape, what then? I say if we
escape, because, as we sail out, orders will be given for the other
mutiny ships to attack us. We shall be fired on; we shall risk our lives.
You've done that before, however, and will do it again.
"We have to work out our own problem and fight our own fight. Well, what
I want to know is this--are we to give in to the government, or do we
stand to be hammered by Sir Erasmus Gower? Remember what that means. It
means that if we fight the government ships, we must either die in
battle, or die with the ropes round our necks. There is another way. I'm
not inclined to surrender, or to stand by men who have botched our
business for us. I'm for making for the sea, and, when I get there, I'm
for striking for the West Indies, where there's a British fleet fighting
Britain's enemies, and for joining in and fighting with them. I'm for
getting out of this river and away from England. It's a bold plan, but
it's a good one. I want to know if you're with me. Remember, there's
danger getting out, and there's danger when and if we get out. The other
ships may pursue us. The Portsmouth fleet may nab us. We may be caught,
and, if we are, we must take the dose prepared for us; but I'm for making
a strong rush, going without fear, and asking no favour. I won't
surrender here; it's too cowardly. I want to know, will you come to the
open sea with me?"
There were many shouts of assent from the crowd, though here and there
came a growl of dissent.
"Not all of you are willing to come with me," Dyck continued vigorously.
"Tell me, what is it you expect to get by staying here? You're famished
when you're not poisoned; you're badly clothed and badly fed; you're kept
together by flogging; you're treated worse than a convict in jail or a
victim in a plague hospital. You're not paid as well as your grandfathers
were, and you're punished worse. Here, on the Ariadne, we're not
skulkers. We don't fear our duty; we are loyal men. Many of you, on past
voyages, fighting the enemy, lived on burgoo and molasses only, with rum
and foul water to drink. On the other ships there have been terrible
cruelty and offence. Surgeons have neglected and ill-treated sick men and
embezzled provisions and drinks intended for the invalids. Many a man has
died because of the neglect of the ship's surgeons; many have been kicked
about the head and beaten, and haven't dared to go on the sick list for
fear of their officers. The Victualling Board gets money to supply us
with food and drink according to measure. They get the money for a full
pound and a full gallon, and we get fourteen ounces of food and seven
pints of liquor, or less. Well, what do you say, friends, to being our
own Victualling Board out in the open sea, if we can get there?
"We may have to fight when we get out; but I'm for taking the Ariadne
into the great world battle when we can find it. This I want to
ask--isn't it worth while making a great fight in our own way, and
showing that British seamen can at once be mutineers and patriots? We
have a pilot who knows the river. We can go to the West Indian Islands,
to the British fleet there. It's doom and death to stay here; and it may
be doom and death to go. If we try to break free, and are fired on, the
Admiralty may approve of us, because we've broken away from the rest. See
now, isn't that the thing to do? I'm for getting out. Who's coming with
me?"
Suddenly a burly sailor pushed forward. He had the head of a viking. His
eyes were strong with enterprise. He had a hand like a ham, with long,
hairy fingers.
"Captain," said he, "you've put the thing so there can be only one answer
to it. As for me, I'm sick of the way this mutiny has been bungled from
first to last. There's been one good thing about it only--we've got order
without cruelty, we've rebelled without ravagement; but we've missed the
way, and we didn't deal with the Admiralty commissioners as we ought. So
I'm for joining up with the captain here"--he waved a hand towards
Dyck--"and making for open sea. As sure as God's above, they'll try to
hammer us; but it's the only way."
He held a handkerchief-a dirty, red silk thing. "See," he continued, "the
wind is right to take us out. The other ships won't know what we're going
to do until we start. I'm for getting off. I'm a pressed man. I haven't
seen my girl for five years, and they won't let me free in port to go and
see her. Nothing can be worse than what we have to suffer now, so let's
make a break for it. That's what I say. Come, now, lads, three cheers for
Captain Calhoun!"
A half-hour later, on the captain's deck, Dyck gave the order to pass
eastward. It was sunset when they started, and they had not gone a
thousand yards before some of the mutineering ships opened fire on the
Ariadne. The breeze was good, however, and she sailed bravely through the
leaden storm. Once twice--thrice she was hit, but she sped on. Two men
were killed and several were wounded. Sails were torn, and the high
bulkheads were broken; but, without firing a shot in reply, the Ariadne
swung clear at last of the hostile ships and reached safe water.
On the edge of the open sea Dyck took stock of the position. The Ariadne
had been hit several times, and the injury done her was marked. Before
morning the dead seamen were sunk in watery graves, and the wounded were
started back to health again. By daylight the Ariadne was well away from
the land.
The first thing Dyck had done, after escaping from the river, was to
study the wants of the Ariadne and make an estimate for the future with
Greenock, the master. He calculated they had food and water enough to
last for three months, even with liberal provisioning. Going among the
crew, he realized there was no depression among them; that they seemed to
care little where they were going. It was, however, quite clear they
wished to fight--to fight the foes of England.
He knew his task was a hard one, and that all efforts at discipline would
have dangers. He knew, also, that he could have no authority, save
personality and success. He set himself, therefore, to win the confidence
of Greenock and the crew, and he began discipline at once. He knew that a
reaction must come; that the crew, loose upon their own trail, would come
to regret the absence of official command. He realized that many of them
would wish to return to the fleet at the Nore, but while the weather was
good he did not fear serious trouble. The danger would come in rough
weather or on a becalmed sea.
They had passed Beachy Head in the mist. They had seen no battle-ship,
and had sighted no danger, as they made their way westward through the
Channel. There had been one moment of anxiety. That was when they passed
Portsmouth, and had seen in the far distance, to the right of them, the
mastheads of Admiral Gardner's fleet.
It was here that Dyck's orderly, Michael Clones, was useful. He brought
word of murmuring among the more brutish of the crew, that some of them
wished to join Gardner's fleet. At this news, Dyck went down among the
men. It was an unusual thing to do, but it brought matters to an issue.
Among the few dissatisfied sailors was one Nick Swaine, who had been the
cause of more trouble on the Ariadne than any other. He had a quarrelsome
mind; he had been influenced by the writings of Wolfe Tone, the Irish
rebel. One of the secrets of Dyck's control of the crew was the fact that
he was a gentleman, and was born in the ruling class, and this was
anathema to Nick Swaine. His view of democracy was ignorance controlling
ignorance.
By nature he was insolent, but under the system of control pursued by the
officers of the Ariadne, previous to the mutiny, he had not been able to
do much. The system had bound him down. He had been the slave of habit,
custom, and daily duty. His record, therefore, was fairly clean until two
days after the escape from the Thames and the sighting of the Portsmouth
fleet. Then all his revolutionary spirit ran riot in him. Besides, the
woman to whom he had become attached at the Nore had been put ashore on
the day Dyck gained control. It roused his enmity now.
When Dyck came down, he had the gunners called to him, admonishing them
that drill must go on steadily, and promising them good work to do. Then
he turned to the ordinary seamen.
At this moment Nick Swaine strode forward within a dozen feet of Dyck.
"Look there!" he said, and he jerked a finger towards the distant
Portsmouth fleet. "Look there! You've passed that."
Dyck shrugged a shoulder.
"I meant to pass it," he said quietly.
"Give orders to make for it," said Nick with a sullen eye.
"I shall not. And look you, my man, keep a civil tongue to me, who
command this ship, or I'll have you put in irons."
"Have me put in irons!" Swaine cried hotly. "This isn't Dublin jail. You
can't do what you like here. Who made you captain of this ship?"
"Those who made me captain will see my orders carried out. Now, get you
back with the rest, or I'll see if they still hold good." Dyck waved a
hand. "Get back when I tell you, Swaine!"
"When you've turned the ship to the Portsmouth fleet I'll get back, and
not till then."
Dyck made a motion of the hand to some boatswains standing by. Before
they could arrest him, Swaine flung himself towards Dyck with a knife in
his hand.
Dyck's hand was quicker, however. His pistol flung out, a shot was fired,
and the knife dropped from the battered fingers of Nick Swaine.
"Have his wounds dressed, then put him in irons," Dyck commanded.
From that moment, in good order and in good weather, the Ariadne sped on
her way westward and southward.
CHAPTER XIV
IN THE NICK OF TIME
Perhaps no mutineer in the history of the world ever succeeded, as did
Dyck Calhoun, in holding control over fellow-mutineers on the journey
from the English Channel to the Caribbean Sea. As a boy, Dyck had been an
expert sailor, had studied the machinery of a man-of-war, and his love of
the sea was innate and deep-seated; but his present success was based
upon more than experience. Quite apart from the honour of his nature,
prison had deepened in him the hatred of injustice. In soul he was
bitter; in body he was healthy, powerful, and sane.
Slowly, sternly, yet tactfully, he had broken down the many customs of
ship life injurious to the welfare of the men. Under his system the
sailors had good coffee for breakfast, instead of a horrible mixture made
of burnt biscuits cooked in foul water. He gave the men pea-soup and rice
instead of burgoo and the wretched oatmeal mess which was the staple
thing for breakfast. He saw to it that the meat was no longer a hateful,
repulsive mass, two-thirds bone and gristle, and before it came into the
cook's hands capable of being polished like mahogany. He threatened the
cook with punishment if he found the meals ill-cooked.
In all the journey to the West Indian seas there had been only three
formal floggings. His attitude was not that of the commander who
declared:
"I will see the man's backbone, by God!"
He wished to secure discipline without cruelty. His greatest difficulty,
at the start, was in making lieutenants. That he overcame by appointing
senior midshipmen before the Ariadne was out of the Channel. He offered a
lieutenancy to Ferens, who had the courage to decline it.
"Make me purser," remarked Ferens. "Make me purser, and I'll do the job
justly."
As the purser of the Ariadne had been sent to the sick-bay and was likely
to die (and did die subsequently), Ferens was put into his
uniform-three-cornered cocked hat, white knee-breeches, and white
stockings. The purser of a man-of-war was generally a friend of the
captain, going with him from ship to ship.
Of the common sailors, on the whole, Dyck had little doubt. He had
informed them that, whatever happened, they should not be in danger; that
the ship should not join the West Indian fleet unless every man except
himself received amnesty. If the amnesty was not granted, then one of two
things should happen--the ship must make for a South American port, or
she must fight. Fighting would not frighten these men.
It was rather among the midshipmen that Dyck looked for trouble.
Sometimes, with only two years' training at Gosport, a youngster became a
midshipman on first going to sea, and he could begin as early as eleven
years of age. A second-rate ship like the Ariadne carried eighteen
midshipmen; and as six lieutenants were appointed from them, only twelve
remained. From these twelve, in the dingy after-cockpit, where the
superficial area was not more than twelve square feet; where the air was
foul, and the bilges reeked with a pestilential stench; where the
purser's store-room near gave out the smell of rancid butter and
poisonous cheese; where the musty taint of old ropes came to them, there
was a spirit of danger.
Dyck was right in thinking that in the midshipmen's dismal berth the
first flowers of revolt to his rule would bloom.
Sailors, even as low as the pig-sty men, had some idea of fair play; and
as the weeks that had passed since they left the Thames had given them
better food and drink, and lessened the severity of those above them,
real obedience had come.
It was not strange that the ship ran well, for all the officers under the
new conditions, except Dyck himself, had had previous experience. The old
lieutenants had gone, but midshipmen, who in any case were trained, had
taken their places. The rest of the ship's staff were the same, except
the captain; and as Dyck had made a friend of Greenock the master, a man
of glumness, the days were peaceful enough during the voyage to the
Caribbean Sea.
The majority saw that every act of Dyck had proved him just and capable.
He had rigidly insisted on gun practice; he had keyed up the marines to a
better spirit, and churlishness had been promptly punished. He was, in
effect, what the sailors called a "rogue," or a "taut one"--seldom
smiling, gaunt of face but fearless of eye, and with a body free from
fatigue.
As the weather grew warmer and the days longer, and they drew near to the
coast of Jamaica, a stir of excitement was shown.
"You'd like to know what I'm going to do, Michael, I suppose?" said Dyck
one morning, as he drank his coffee and watched the sun creeping up the
sky.
"Well, in three days we shall know what's to become of us, and I have no
doubt or fear. This ship's a rebel, but it's returning to duty. We've
shown them how a ship can be run with good food and drink and fair
dealing, and, please God, we'll have some work to do now that belongs to
a man-of-war!"
"Sir, I know what you mean to do," replied Michael. "You mean to get all
of us off by giving yourself up."
"Well, some one has to pay for what we've done, Michael." A dark,
ruthless light came into Dyck's eyes. "Some one's got to pay." A grim
smile crossed his face. "We've done the forbidden thing; we've mutinied
and taken to the open sea. We were fired on by the other mutiny ships,
and that will help our sailors, but it won't help me. I'm the leader. We
ought, of course, to have taken refuge with the nearest squadron of the
king's ships. Well, I've run my luck, and I'll have to pay."
He scratched his chin with a thumb-nail-a permanent physical trait. "You
see, the government has pardoned all the sailors, and will hang only the
leaders. I expect Parker is hung already. Well, I'm the leader on the
Ariadne. I'm taking this ship straight to his majesty's West Indian
fleet, in thorough discipline, and I'll hand it over well-found,
well-manned, well-officered, on condition that all go free except myself.
I came aboard a common sailor, a quota man, a prison-bird, penniless.
Well, have I shown that I can run a ship? Have I learned the game of
control? During the weeks we've been at sea, bursting along, have I
proved myself?"
Michael smiled. "What did I say to you the first night on board, sir?
Didn't I say they'd make an officer of you when they found out what
brains you had? By St. Patrick, you've made yourself captain with the
good-will of all, and your iron hand has held the thing together. You've
got a great head, too, sir."
Dyck looked at him with a face in which the far future showed.
"Michael, I've been lucky. I've had good men about me. God only knows
what would have happened to me if the master hadn't been what he is--a
gentleman who knows his job-aye, a gentleman through and through! If he
had gone against me, Michael"--he flicked a finger to the sky--"well,
that much for my chances! I'd have been dropped overboard, or stabbed in
my cabin, as was that famous Captain Pigot, son of an admiral, who had as
much soul as you'd find in a stone-quarry. When two men had dropped from
the masts, hurrying to get down because of his threat that the last man
should be thrashed--when the two men lay smashed to pieces at his feet,
Pigot said: 'Heave the lubbers overboard.' That night, Michael, the
seamen rose, crept to his cabin, stabbed him to death, pitched his body
overboard, put his lieutenants to sea in open boats, and then ran away to
South America. Well, I've escaped that fate, because this was a good
ship, and all the officers knew their business, and did it without
cruelty. I've been well served. It was a great thing making the new
lieutenants from the midshipmen. There never was a better lot on board a
ship."
Michael's face clouded. "Sir, that's true. The new lieutenants have done
their work well, but them that's left behind in the midshipmen's
berth--do you think they're content? No, sir. The only spot on board this
ship where there lurks an active spirit against you is in the
midshipmen's berth. Mischief's there, and that's what's brought me to you
now."
Dyck smiled. "I know that. I've had my eye on the midshipmen. I've never
trusted them. They're a hard lot; but if the rest of the ship is with me,
I'll deal with them promptly. They're not clever or bold enough to do
their job skilfully. They've got some old hands down there--hammock-men,
old stagers of the sea that act as servants to them. What line do they
take?"
Michael laughed softly.
"What I know I've got from two of them, and it is this--the young
gentlemen'll try to get control of the ship."
The cynicism deepened in Dyck's face.
"Get control of the ship, eh? Well, it'll be a new situation on a king's
ship if midshipmen succeed where the rest dare not try. Now, mark what
I'm going to do."
He called, and a marine showed himself.
"The captain's compliments to the master, and his presence here at once.
Michael," he continued presently, "what fools they are! They're scarcely
a baker's dozen, and none of them has skill to lead. Why, the humblest
sailor would have more sense than to start a revolt, the success of which
depends upon his personal influence, and the failure of which must end in
his own ruin. Does any one think they're the kind to lead a mutiny within
a mutiny? Listen to me I'm not cruel, but I'll put an end to this plot.
We're seven hundred on this ship, and she's a first-class sailer. I
warrant no ship ever swam the seas that looks better going than she does.
So we've got to see that her, record is kept clean as a mutineer."
At that moment the master appeared. He saluted. "Greenock," said Dyck, "I
wonder if you've noticed the wind blowing chilly from the midshipmen's
berth." A lurking devilish humour shot from Greenock's eyes.
"Aye, I've smelled that wind."
"Greenock, we're near the West Indian Islands. Before we eat many meals
we'll see land. We may pass French ships, and we may have to fight. Well,
we've had a good running, master; so I'll tell you what I mean to do."
He then briefly repeated what he had said to Michael, and added
"Greenock, in this last to-do, I shall be the only man in danger. The
king's amnesty covers every one except the leaders--that lets you off.
The Delegate of the Ariadne is aboard the Invincible, if he's not been
hanged. I'm the only one left on the Ariadne. I've had a good time,
Greenock--thanks to you, chiefly. I think the men are ready for anything
that'll come; but I also think we should guard against a revolt of the
midshipmen by healthy discipline now. Therefore I'll instruct the
lieutenants to spread-eagle every midshipman for twelve hours. There's a
stiff wind; there's a good stout spray, and the wind and spray should
cool their hot souls. Meanwhile, though without food, they shall have
water as they need it. If at the end of the twelve hours any still seems
to be difficult, give him another twelve. Look!"
He stretched out a hand to the porthole on his right. "Far away in front
are islands. You cannot see them yet, but those little thickening mists
in the distance mean land. Those are the islands in front of the Windward
Passage. I think it would be a good lesson for the young gentlemen to be
spread-eagled against the mists of their future. It shall be' done at
once; and pass the word why it's done."
An hour later there was laughter in every portion of the ship, for the
least popular members of the whole personnel were being dragooned into
discipline. The sailors had seen individual midshipmen spread-eagled and
mastheaded, while all save those they could bribe were forbidden to bring
them drink or food; but here was a whole body of junior officers,
punished en masse, as it were, lashed to the rigging and taking the wind
and the spray in their teeth.