Powder Monkey by Paul Dowswell

Author:Paul Dowswell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury USA Childrens
Published: 2012-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

The Cat and a Cat

In the weeks after the storm we patrolled the seas off northern Spain before heading south close to the coast of Portugal. The voyage settled down into a dull series of days, then weeks, when very little seemed to happen. No enemy ships were sighted, no remarkable weather blighted our passage, and the crew grew weary and sullen.

I learned to avoid Lewis Tuck as much as I could, and when this was impossible, I made every effort not to incur his wrath. Michael Trellis and his cronies would still issue their occasional taunts, but they knew I had friends who would protect me if their bullying edged into violence.

By mid-December we rounded the south-western tip of Spain and arrived at the Gulf of Cadiz. We were expected to reach Gibraltar a few days before Christmas. When ship’s gossip about our nearness to Gibraltar reached Silas at the mess table, his eyes lit up. He told us, in a mischievous whisper, that last time he had served with the Navy he had spent some time in the hospital in Gibraltar, on account of a broken leg incurred whilst loading provisions. Despite his injury it was, he said with a smirk, a most splendid stay. For the nurses that staffed the hospital were almost all ladies of easy virtue, who were more than willing to perform all manner of lascivious acts in exchange for a few shillings.

‘Every last one of ’em a dark-eyed beauty!’ he said. ‘Mind you, they all liked a drink too. A couple of them changed my dressing when they were three sheets to the wind. I had to drink a bottle of rum myself to deaden the pain.’

Seeing how the men around the table reacted to this titbit was a picture to behold. Some had eyes out on stalks, others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Peter Winchelsea, one of the foretopmen sitting down the table from us, was blushing furiously.

‘Oh aye, Mr Winchelsea, have you stayed at Gibraltar Navy Hospital too?’ said Silas rather unkindly. Peter was well known as a pious man.

‘I have not, sir,’ snapped the foretopman, who was referred to as ‘The Reverend’ by his messmates. ‘I am perturbed by your indecent observations. If I should have the misfortune to ever find myself in that hospital, I shall pray to the Lord to give me strength to resist these unholy sirens.’

Silas would not be drawn into an argument. Instead, he lifted his mug of grog, and said, ‘A toast to unholy sirens. Long may they give us all manner of unmentionable diseases!’ Most of us thought this a fine end to the conversation. Toast duly drunk, we went back to our duties.

The whole incident tickled Richard considerably, and when we were alone together on the upper deck he performed a splendid mime of everyone’s reactions.

‘I was wondering how I could get myself into the hospital too,’ I confided. ‘D’you think you could arrange it? Nothing life-threatening, or permanently disfiguring, though.’

‘I’d go for a sprained ankle, myself,’ said Richard.

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