remembered it well enough this morning. It shamed him even to think of it. He could feel her pushing him away, telling him to stop, could see her standing in the middle of the room with a trickle of blood running down her leg, saying he’d hurt her. What a thing to do to him! He could feel his anger rising at the memory of it. Was it any wonder he’d run away to sea? ‘Nagging wife,’ he said, eventually. ‘Couldn’t stand her no more, so I upped and went.’
‘My stars!’ Tom said. ‘I wouldn’t like to be you when her family catch up with you. We had a marine aboard once, done the self-same thing an’ when he got back home again her brothers up an’ took a horse whip to him. Nearly had his eye out.’
‘They’ll have forgot all about me by now,’ Jem said, assuming a bravado he didn’t feel because the story had made him wince. ‘Bad penny, they’ll say. Good riddance to him.’ He could almost persuade himself he could hear their voices. ‘Sides, I shall come back with a pocketful of silver. En’t that the size of it?’
‘So they says,’ Tom grinned. ‘That or a peg-leg. There’s no tellin’ if we fights the Frenchies.’
‘Are we going to fight the Frenchies?’
‘If Admiral Lord Nelson had his way, we’d be fightin’ ’em tomorrow,’ Tom said. ‘Trouble is we can’t find the beggars. They give us the slip every time.’
‘Run away, d’you mean?’
‘Every time. No sooner they sees his flag a-flyin’ than they’re off.’
‘That’s why we’m off to Brest,’ another man said. ‘To see if we can find the beggar. That’s our orders. d’you see. To find the beggar.’
‘Right then, my sonny,’ Mr Turner said from behind him. ‘We got work to do. Follow me.’
Jem was beginning to get the hang of keeping his balance as the ship rolled beneath him, and knew he had to bend his knees to accommodate the movement. He followed his new master in his new lurching way,across the gun deck, down the gangway and into a narrow space between the hull and the bulkheads. It was dark and cramped but it seemed to be where he was going to work.
‘Bungs,’ Mr Turner said.
Jem had no idea what he was talking about, so he waited.
‘We could be in the thick of it when we reach Brest,’ Mr Turner said. ‘There’s no knowing. They could skulk away an’ hide, which they been doing long enough in all conscience, or they could come out an’ face us. Any which ways I likes to be prepared. So good stout bungs is what we need. Like this one here.’ And he traced the outline of a large round plug of oak that was firmly embedded in the hull. ‘If we’re in heavy seas an’ we gets holed below the waterline, d’you see, we needs to plug like lightning . I likes to have a good stock ready an’ waiting.’
They lurched to the storeroom down in the hold and made bungs for the rest of the afternoon, large ones for cannon balls from 32 and 24 pounders, ‘in case we meets a man a’ war’, smaller ones for 18 and 12 pounders, ‘in case ’tis a frigate’. Jem worked doggedly and quietly, as he usually did, but as the minutes passed he became aware that his master was watching him with approval and, after a while, they began to talk in the desultory way of men engrossed in their work.
‘This’ll be your first trip I’m thinking,’ Mr Turner ventured.
After nearly a day aboard, Jem knew the correct way to answer. ‘Aye, sir.’
‘A lot to learn, I don’t doubt.’
‘Aye, sir. But I’m a quick learner.’
‘You’re a good worker, certainly,’ Mr Turner said. ‘I’ll give you that.’
They worked companionably until eight bells were rung and not long after that a single bell sounded and he could hear a piper up on deck, playing a familiar tune. Mr Turner put his tools away and headed back to the gun deck. ‘Grub an’ grog, my sonny,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Pint a’ rum and water does wonders for the spirits.’
And so it seemed to do, for after the
‘My stars!’ Tom said. ‘I wouldn’t like to be you when her family catch up with you. We had a marine aboard once, done the self-same thing an’ when he got back home again her brothers up an’ took a horse whip to him. Nearly had his eye out.’
‘They’ll have forgot all about me by now,’ Jem said, assuming a bravado he didn’t feel because the story had made him wince. ‘Bad penny, they’ll say. Good riddance to him.’ He could almost persuade himself he could hear their voices. ‘Sides, I shall come back with a pocketful of silver. En’t that the size of it?’
‘So they says,’ Tom grinned. ‘That or a peg-leg. There’s no tellin’ if we fights the Frenchies.’
‘Are we going to fight the Frenchies?’
‘If Admiral Lord Nelson had his way, we’d be fightin’ ’em tomorrow,’ Tom said. ‘Trouble is we can’t find the beggars. They give us the slip every time.’
‘Run away, d’you mean?’
‘Every time. No sooner they sees his flag a-flyin’ than they’re off.’
‘That’s why we’m off to Brest,’ another man said. ‘To see if we can find the beggar. That’s our orders. d’you see. To find the beggar.’
‘Right then, my sonny,’ Mr Turner said from behind him. ‘We got work to do. Follow me.’
Jem was beginning to get the hang of keeping his balance as the ship rolled beneath him, and knew he had to bend his knees to accommodate the movement. He followed his new master in his new lurching way,across the gun deck, down the gangway and into a narrow space between the hull and the bulkheads. It was dark and cramped but it seemed to be where he was going to work.
‘Bungs,’ Mr Turner said.
Jem had no idea what he was talking about, so he waited.
‘We could be in the thick of it when we reach Brest,’ Mr Turner said. ‘There’s no knowing. They could skulk away an’ hide, which they been doing long enough in all conscience, or they could come out an’ face us. Any which ways I likes to be prepared. So good stout bungs is what we need. Like this one here.’ And he traced the outline of a large round plug of oak that was firmly embedded in the hull. ‘If we’re in heavy seas an’ we gets holed below the waterline, d’you see, we needs to plug like lightning . I likes to have a good stock ready an’ waiting.’
They lurched to the storeroom down in the hold and made bungs for the rest of the afternoon, large ones for cannon balls from 32 and 24 pounders, ‘in case we meets a man a’ war’, smaller ones for 18 and 12 pounders, ‘in case ’tis a frigate’. Jem worked doggedly and quietly, as he usually did, but as the minutes passed he became aware that his master was watching him with approval and, after a while, they began to talk in the desultory way of men engrossed in their work.
‘This’ll be your first trip I’m thinking,’ Mr Turner ventured.
After nearly a day aboard, Jem knew the correct way to answer. ‘Aye, sir.’
‘A lot to learn, I don’t doubt.’
‘Aye, sir. But I’m a quick learner.’
‘You’re a good worker, certainly,’ Mr Turner said. ‘I’ll give you that.’
They worked companionably until eight bells were rung and not long after that a single bell sounded and he could hear a piper up on deck, playing a familiar tune. Mr Turner put his tools away and headed back to the gun deck. ‘Grub an’ grog, my sonny,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Pint a’ rum and water does wonders for the spirits.’
And so it seemed to do, for after the
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