The Beothuk Expedition by Derek Yetman Page B

aboard?”
    â€œAye, sir,” the gunner replied, running a hand over his speckled scalp.
    â€œWell? Speak up, man. What did he want?”
    â€œI aren’t certain, sir, except he were plainly looking fer something. Poked his head into the cabins and gawked around the barrels, he did. Seemed a shade disappointed that he didn’t find what he were seeking.”
    â€œAnd from that you believe that he was looking for Mister Froggat?”
    â€œAye, sir. From that and the orders he give to me and Hard Frost, sir.”
    â€œOrders? What orders were you given?”
    The gunner eyed me uneasily. “Lieutenant Cartwright says we isn’t to let anyone on board the boat, sir. Excepting the crew, of course.” His tone was apologetic as he added, “No exceptions nor excuses, neither. He were most plain on that point, sir.”
    It was now evident that the first lieutenant did not trust me to obey his instructions. That he should regard me with suspicion was mildly insulting, although he was far from wrong to take that view. I had no plan to smuggle Froggat on board, but neither did I have any intention of leaving him behind.

Nehemiah Grimes
    The devil take the lot o’ them damned Guernsey s, and specially that bastard Frost. Oh, ye needn’t worry, I’ll have back at ’em. Just mark my words. And when I does, it’ll be Frost what gets it first, ye can be sure o’ that. No man raises his hand to Nehemiah Grimes without getting it returned tenfold.
    Justice and liberty, that’s what I’ll be having. Like what that feller John Wilkes been preaching in London. A man’s got no goddamn rights nor priv’leges no more, he says, and don’t us poor seamen know it! Our own cap’n leaves us here with a sickly middie and along comes another and takes us up like so many wharf rats. No justice and no liberty, just like Wilkes says.
    More’s the pity ’cause we had us as sweet a watch here as any man could ask. The run o’ the town and no one barking at us or flicking them ropes. Only the three of us and as much rum as we could hold. Plus that lively widow woman when the fancy took. Just the thing for a man who’s been a-sea these long months.
    But it were too good to last, weren’t it? Oh yes, too good by half. Along come this crowd o’ popinjay officers and now it’s yes sir, no sir and kiss me arse at noon, sir. And what about them fine gentlemen passengers, eh? They’ll be eating what little grub there is and doing nothing to help sail this fish box, ’cept for treating us tars like scullions. Cartwright’s brother, now there’s a queer one with his guns and his servant and never putting his hand to a rope. And that whingy chaplain what starts praying when a bit o’ spray comes over the bow.
    Then we got that young Mr. Squibb from the Guernsey , with the unholy name o’ Jonah. I never heard of such an ill-founded name for a sailor, but that’s not the only strange thing about him. He’s set on saving that sickly mid when it’s plain the little bugger is three parts dead. And another thing. When he’s not playing wet-nurse, he’s sitting in the sternsheets with his nose in a book, which is something that no good never comes of, if ye asks me. No odds though, ’cause he’s still a Guernsey , and they’re all of a feather.
    And then that fool Cartwright goes and nearly drowns the lot of us. If that weren’t enough, now he says we’re off to look for Red Indians! Goddamned fool is what he is and make no mistake. But the biggest fool of all is that Frost, if he thinks he can get the best of Nehemiah Grimes. He’ll know he picked on the wrong one when he feels cold steel in his ribs some dark night. Just see if he don’t. We’ll soon find out how hard the Frost is, now won’t we, my jolly lads? Oh yes, we will. Everyone who did old Grimsey wrong will get what he