The Bomb Vessel by Richard Woodman

Author:Richard Woodman [Woodman, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Naval Fiction
ISBN: 9781574090994
Google: xjPO3rfcBTAC
Amazon: 1574090992
Goodreads: 902803
Publisher: Sheridan House
Published: 1984-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

Drinkwater watched the brig beating up from the east with the alarm signal flying from her foremasthead. She reminded him of Hellebore and would pass close under Virago's stern as she made for London to speak with the admiral.

'The Cruizer, sir, eighteen-gun brig, same as our old Hellebore.''I was just thinking that, Mr Trussel.' The two men watched her approach, saw her captain jump into the main chains with a speaking trumpet. Drinkwater had met James Brisbane in Yarmouth and raised his hat in salutation.

'Afternoon Drinkwater!' Brisbane yelled as his ship surged past. 'We sighted land around Boubjerg. We must be twenty leagues south of our reckoning!' He waved, then jumped inboard as his brig covered the last two miles to the flagship.

'God's bones!' Drinkwater muttered. Sixty miles! A degree of latitude, but it was no wonder, since they had seen neither sun, moon nor stars since leaving Yarmouth. It was equally surprising that the bulk of the fleet was still together.

A little later the flagship signalled, firing guns to emphasise the importance of the order. The fleet tacked to the north west and once more clawed its way offshore.

The following day the battleship Elephant arrived with the news that the Invincible, which they had last seen leaving Yarmouth Roads by way of the Cockle Gat, had been wrecked on the Haisbro Sand with the loss of most of her crew. As this intelligence permeated the fleet Drinkwater was overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom, that the whole enterprise was imperilled by the omens. And his fears for Edward and himself only seemed to lend potency to these misgivings.

That evening the weather showed signs of moderating. Shortly after dark as he sat writing up his journal by the light of a swaying lantern Drinkwater was disturbed by a knock at his cabin door. 'Yes?'

Mr Jex entered. He was flushed and smelt of rum. He held what appeared to be a newspaper in his hand.

'Yes, Mr Jex? What is it?' Jex made no reply but held out the paper to Drinkwater. Unsatisfied with the replies of Waters, Jex sensed the landsman's cunning was more than a match for him. And the purser was nervous of a man he suspected of murder. To himself he disguised this fear in the argument that it was really Lieutenant Drinkwater who was the target for his desire to settle a score. The rum served to restore his resolve to act.

Drinkwater bent over the print. As he read he felt as though a cold hand was squeezing his guts. The colour drained from his face and the perspiration appeared upon his forehead. He tried in vain to dismiss the image the description called to mind.

From somewhere above him came Jex's voice, filled with the righteous zeal of an archangel. 'I know the man you brought aboard in Yarmouth is your brother. And that he is wanted for this murder.'

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