Ocean Cabanas
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On board, the Ocean cabana, a young man of twenty-four years was reading an old copy of The Times. He had been in the cabin for almost two hours now and his eyes were already half closed with fatigue. The sun was hot as he leaned against the window and he could feel that it would not be long until his head fell into his arms.
His mother was in town, visiting her sister; she had sent him some money, which he needed to get married. She did not approve of him staying on board. There was no one else who could take care of his father and younger brother – they lived in the country – but there were so many things for a young man to do, and if you spent all your time working, what would become of a wife?
He sighed, remembering how he had felt when the captain announced their change of destination. It seemed such a waste of time: the ship was only due at the Cape Verde Islands. They were halfway across the Atlantic, after all, and it was too much like hard work to have to turn round again!
But there is no arguing with a captain’s orders… he wondered whether Captain Rufus had made his decision because the other ship had reported sighting land or perhaps because the winds were blowing out of the west. The news of a possible new settlement must have excited him. If they found gold here they would make fortunes!
He heard footsteps and looked up. One of the sailors was leaning over him. ‘Captain wants us back below,’ he said.
‘What does he want?’ asked the boy, rising from his chair. ‘We haven’t even got to Africa yet!’
The sailor shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’
As the man started down the companionway, the young man called after him. ‘Why can’t we just stay on deck? It is not our fault that we are taking longer than expected to arrive!’
There was no reply and, as he watched the man disappear around the corner, the young man turned towards the door. A group of men was standing there looking back at him. They looked very angry.
The boy hesitated, then decided that discretion was probably the best policy: it might be safer if he went back to his cabin. He was about to open the door when another voice stopped him. ‘Where have you come from?’
It was a big burly man with a red face: the first mate, who was also the bosun’s mate. There was something menacing about him. ‘I’ve been below since before you came up, sir,’ replied the boy quietly.
‘You’re lying! You were on deck earlier, I saw you!’
He didn’t like this man, who stood there looking at him with a frown on his ugly red face, and so the young man tried to move away. ‘Please, sir, I’m tired and I need rest—’
But the first mate reached out and seized the young man’s arm. His grip was firm and painful and he was strong enough to twist the boy’s arm, making him cry out. The other men stepped forward and the young man felt himself being pushed toward them.
He knew better than to resist and so allowed himself to be pulled along, knowing that any attempt at self-defense would only result in more pain. The bosun’s mate dragged him by the hair, while the captain’s steward and some of the sailors held his feet firmly.
Then he was lifted high into the air, causing him to gasp in pain, and carried down through the hatchway. Once they were inside, he was pushed roughly to one side as another man entered. This was the second mate, a young, thin man who stared at him with a mixture of suspicion and disdain.
The first mate released his grip on the young man’s arm but kept hold of his hair. ‘Tell me what you have been doing!’
The young man shook his head. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘Come on! What have you been up to?’
There was a brief scuffle, during which the first mate twisted his left wrist and broke it. At the same moment, the other man kicked him in the stomach and the boy collapsed on the floor.
A few moments later, the young man felt his hair being pulled painfully as someone took hold of his right ear. ‘If you lie to me I will cut off your ears, you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Then the third mate, an older man with thick black mustaches and a pockmarked face, appeared, followed by a man who looked as though he was in charge of the ship’s storerooms. Both men had their pistols out and pointed at the young man. ‘You can tell us everything now,’ said the third mate.
The boy nodded, his eyes filling with tears of pain. He wanted to shout out, to say that he had done nothing wrong, but they had broken both his hands! And then he thought of his father, who must surely be wondering where he was. He did not know whether he would ever see him again.
And then the third mate was standing beside him and he knew that he must do as he was told. ‘Tell us what you have been up to!’
‘Well, I…’ he began, trying to recall exactly what had happened. ‘It wasn’t my idea,’ he said finally. ‘It was Lord Nelson, sir.’
***
Lord Nelson had ordered the young man’s confinement until he could be questioned further, and he now stood outside the young man’s cell, listening as the first mate shouted angrily at him.
‘You think it’s easy to find someone who can sail a boat?’ the first mate growled. ‘I’ll have a word with Captain Hunter and make sure he doesn’t give you any more chances.’
‘No, sir, it wasn’t his fault,’ replied the young man wearily.
The first mate snorted. ‘What? No it bloody well wasn’t his fault! It’s all those damn French boats!’
The young man looked at him in surprise. ‘I don’t believe you, sir.’
‘Believe what?’
‘That there are no British ships anywhere in the Mediterranean.’
‘Oh yes, there are.’
The first mate laughed contemptuously. ‘No one is fool enough to sail against Napoleon! They’d rather wait for us in Egypt—and they’re right. Why waste good sailors when the whole of the Mediterranean has been declared a war zone?’
The young man frowned. ‘But you don’t understand. We went down to Malta…’
‘Malta?’ The first mate spat contemptuously. ‘Why would anyone go there? That’s not our business. We’re a fighting fleet! We fight the enemy, wherever it happens to be.’
The young man sighed. ‘We fought the Turks and the French and even some of the Greek pirates.’
‘And now you want to come back here and join us?’ The first mate shrugged contemptuously. ‘What a joke! You should have stayed in the Levant or the Indian Ocean—or even in the Med itself if you can find some decent ships! But you’re no good to us now: you’ve lost your nerve!’
The young man looked at him in disbelief. ‘Lost my nerve? When was the last time you saw action?’
The first mate grinned smugly. ‘When was the last time you did anything useful for the King?’
The young man stared at him, suddenly angry. ‘My father was a Royal Navy officer. He never asked to serve in the Mediterranean, let alone to risk his life against the French or any other enemy.’
The first mate laughed derisively. ‘Your father? A Royal Navy officer? You must be joking! Do you think you’re going to pass yourself off as a naval officer after what you’ve done? My uncle was a marine and he was a better sailor than you!’
‘He was also killed,’ observed the young man.
The first mate shrugged. ‘You can always get another job, can’t you? In the merchant service?’
The young man hesitated a moment before replying. ‘No, sir.’
The first mate laughed loudly. ‘Ha! You’re not so stupid as all that! I’ll have you know that every single officer in the entire Mediterranean is either a privateer or a pirate. There are hundreds of them, all waiting for an opportunity to attack our ships and bring them home to England.
They’ll be the ones who will decide how you pay for this little escapade—but not me! Not while I’m First Mate here! I’m not afraid of anyone or anything! And you won’t be the only one punished either! Your friends too!’
There was a crash from above and the young man looked up quickly.
‘Ah, I’ve heard enough,’ said the first mate. ‘Now, get below, before I change my mind and kill you for good!’
The boy nodded quickly and made his way toward the stairs.
The first mate turned on him sharply. ‘What are you doing up there?’
‘I need to empty my chamber pot,’ the boy responded quickly. ‘There’s no loo under there.’
The first mate rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘Get rid of the damned thing somewhere else, will you?’
The boy nodded again and hurried off along the passage, climbing swiftly upwards.
As soon as the first mate heard the sound of the chamber pot hitting the floor, he heaved a sigh of relief and headed for the door himself, knowing that he would no longer have to endure the indignity of having to live amongst a collection of criminals such as these.
The End