The Exiles by Vivian Stuart

Author:Vivian Stuart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jentas Ehf
Published: 2022-02-03T00:00:00+00:00

On May 14 the eleven ships of the Botany Bay Fleet were clear of the Isle of Wight but the fine leading breeze, which had carried them past the Needles under all sail, shifted as they entered the Channel and began steadily to rise, whipping up a following sea.

On the Sirius’s quarterdeck Captain Phillip stood with his second-in-command, Captain John Hunter, both with their telescopes raised as they watched the convoy’s response to the flagship’s signal to tack and prepare to shorten sail. On the lee side the first lieutenant, William Bradley, paced impatiently up and down as, in obedience to the boatswain’s stentorian bellow and the shrilling of his mates’ silver calls, the waisters and the afterguard of seamen and marines went to their stations, ready to man the sheets and braces, and the topmen stood by, awaiting the order to go aloft when the time came to take in sail.

Bradley was an experienced and competent officer, Phillip knew, and he gave his own ship scant attention, concentrating on the handling of the transports, as the first lieutenant bawled orders through his speaking-trumpet, which were promptly and efficiently carried out. This was not the case with all the transports. Even allowing for their smaller crews, both the Friendship and the Scarborough had taken much longer than he liked to send down their topgallant masts and yards earlier that morning when it had first started to blow.

Hunter, who had also been watching the Friendship, sighed. A broad-shouldered, stolid, and somewhat forthright man, he did not suffer fools gladly. “I’d have felt happier concerning this voyage were all our ships King’s ships, sir.”

“You’ve shepherded merchant convoys before,” Phillip pointed out

“But not with human cargoes, sir. Speaking for myself, I should not fancy being battened down in the holds of one of those old Indiamen. Least of all” – Hunter gestured to the wallowing Friendship – “in hers!”

Phillip frowned. “I intend to permit the poor wretches to exercise and dry their bedding on deck as soon as the weather moderates,” he stated decisively. “Whatever objections the masters raise! And by the Lord Harry, they shall pump out their bilges too, at the first opportunity! I swear I can smell the Alexander from here.”

“Major Ross will probably raise more objections than die masters,” Hunter suggested dryly. “Ross considers guarding convicts in the nature of an insult to the corps ... he told me so, very forcibly, last evening.”

“Helm’s alee, sir!” the Sirius’s quartermaster sang out. Instinctively Captain Phillip lowered his glass to look up at the sails above his head. He saw them commence to shiver as Bradley ordered the head and fore-sheets let go and wind spilled out of the jibs. The ship’s blunt bow started to come round and the first lieutenant waited, judging his moment, and then shouted a succession of orders to the hands manning the braces and to the man at the wheel.

The booted feet of the marines thudded on the deck planking as the after yards were

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