The Seventy-Four Read online

  THE SEVENTY-FOUR

  Under Admiralty Orders-The Oliver Quintrell Series

  Book 5

  M.C. MUIR

  Copyright © M.C. Muir

  October 2016

  ISBN – 9780992365066

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 1

  Rio de Janeiro - Guanabara Bay

  February 1805

  Oliver Quintrell perused his Admiralty orders for the fifth or sixth time. A rap on the door of the great cabin interrupted his concentration.

  ‘Is there anything you require?’ It was obvious from William Liversedge’s tone that he was concerned about the amount of time his fellow captain was taking.

  ‘A moment,’ Oliver replied, folding the paper and returning it to the envelope bearing his name. He was conscious he was merely visiting His Majesty’s ship Stalwart and was presently occupying the captain’s private domain. After offering an apology, he begged Captain Liversedge to join him.

  ‘A glass of wine?’ William said, seating himself at the table.

  Oliver nodded and glanced out of the windows spanning the full width of the 74’s stern. Beams of sunlight streaming in enhanced the richly upholstered furnishings, yet despite the windows being open, there was not the slightest breath of breeze and the humid tropical air of Guanabara Bay was far from refreshing.

  Oliver sat back as the cork was pulled from the bottle, listened to the familiar glug-glug-glug of the rich amber liquid as it was poured and watched as it swirled around the glass. Accepting the drink, he took a moment to savour the aroma before swallowing deeply.

  Captain Liversedge looked at his friend, cocked his head to one side and waited.

  ‘Forgive me, William,’ Oliver said, touching the envelope on the table. It was addressed to: His Majesty’s frigate Perpetual, Captain Quintrell. The word SECRET, printed in large red letters, glared back at him. ‘Are you aware of the contents of this despatch?’

  The commander of the 74 sat down. ‘Not entirely,’ Captain Liversedge replied. ‘I was provided with only limited information by the Lords Commissioners, when they ordered me to intercept you here in Rio. At the time, rumours were floating about the corridors of the Admiralty but I have learned from experience that rumours monger only misinformation and mischief. In answer to your question, the full extent of my knowledge is that I was to meet you here and deliver this envelope to you. However, from what you have told me, I understand you are carrying some items of value.’

  Oliver nodded and withheld a cynical smirk. He was bemused that the Sea Lords and Navy Board showed little regard for the unexpected contingencies that constantly befall ships at sea. ‘What if my journey from Gibraltar had not been delayed for several weeks?’ he said. ‘What if I had charted a course south, watered in Recife and decided to bypass Rio de Janeiro, or alternatively chosen to sail down the Slave Coast of Africa?’ Frustration was evident in his voice. ‘What if my ship had been taken – as it was for a time – and I had been unable to regain it? What if I had followed my original orders and sailed directly to the Antipodes? Tell me, William, what damned fool clerk in Whitehall decided to send you halfway across the globe to intercept me here? No one, not even I, could guarantee that Perpetual would make port in Rio de Janeiro.’

  Leaning back in the chair, Oliver Quintrell inhaled deeply. He was not asking for or expecting answers. ‘Forgive me. I have endured an exhausting voyage since we left Gibraltar. But, tell me honestly: if I had not arrived in this harbour yesterday, how long would you have waited for me?’

  ‘I cannot say. Like you, I follow the orders I am given.’

  ‘My apologies, William. For many months, I have been tossed from one duty to another, met one catastrophe after another, including the loss of my ship and the struggle to take it back. I feel as though I have been navigating a cross sea.’

  Captain Liversedge leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his fingers touching as if in prayer. ‘My instructions were to wait here for news of your pending arrival – or of your fate. When word was passed from the Portuguese frigate recently arrived in the Bay informing me that you had left the Western Isles on a course for Brazil, it was news I greeted with great relief. On hearing that, I had no doubt you would make landfall in Rio soon after. However, as the days passed and you failed to arrive, I found myself biding time, wondering what had become of you.

  ‘I have been in Rio almost a month,’ he continued, ‘and, in that time, have lost several seamen who, on becoming impatient, deserted. I also suffered unrest from the crew for denying them the opportunity to go ashore. I am certain you are familiar with the problems that occur if sailors, deprived of their pleasures, are not allowed some freedom in a port such as this.’ He relaxed back into his chair. ‘Apart from that, with a complement of five hundred to feed, the ship’s supplies are dwindling. The crew are becoming impatient. They are anxious to return to the Channel which offers the possibility of action and prize money – something this harbour does not afford. I admit I am also eager to head home.’

  Oliver admitted his officers and men were not relishing the prospect of a long voyage deep into the Southern Ocean. And, while he had not yet fully digested the ramifications of the revised orders he had just received, his main concern was their present situation. ‘Have there been any sightings of enemy ships off the coast hereabouts?’

  ‘I heard of two Spanish convoys – one out of Callao and the other from Buenos Aires. They both headed north since I dropped anchor here. Well-laden ships, I understand, packed with cases of gold and silver intended to replenish Spain’s coffers.’

  ‘And pay her dues to Napoleon,’ Oliver added cynically.

  ‘Yet I encountered not a single foreign ship when I sailed from England. In all honesty,’ Captain Liversedge said, ‘I admit to finding the inactivity rather tedious. The heat and humidity of this late summer air make for a very sultry atmosphere. It not only drains one’s strength but saps one’s mental energy. I look forward to returning to Europe.’

  ‘What is the latest news from England?’ Oliver asked.

  ‘When I left, there was talk in Whitehall of a major sea battle looming. The Spanish have been supplying their ships at Cadiz and Ferrol and the French are recalling their convoys from North America. Our spies inform us that the combined fleets are planning to mount a decisive attack to crush the British Navy.’

  ‘That possibility has been mooted since before the Spanish first swore allegiance to Napoleon,’ Oliver said.

  ‘Indeed, but mark my words, this year it will come to pass.’

  ‘Then, like you, I would prefer to be patrolling the Channel or the Mediterranean rather than the waters of the South Atlantic.’

  Oliver rose from the table and walked over to the windows. The vast expanse of Guanabara Bay stretched many miles to the north and west. In his opinion, few harbours in the world offered such a safe and sheltered inlet. The soaring granite outcrops and steep mountains surrounding the bay provided strategic locations for watchtowers and gun batteries. No ship could enter the harbour without being seen.’

  Captain Liversedge poured another glass of wine for his visitor and invited him to join him. �
��Are you at liberty to share the contents of your new orders with me?’ he enquired.

  Returning to the table, Oliver removed the paper from the envelope, smoothed the creases from the single sheet and placed it on the table at his friend’s right hand. ‘Read it for yourself, William. I am instructed to transfer the special items I am carrying to you, and return in company with Stalwart to Portsmouth. There is nothing more.’

  It took Captain Liversedge only a minute to absorb the details of the secret despatch he had conveyed from England. He was perplexed. ‘I do not understand,’ he said. ‘What is the dire significance that necessitates you aborting your prior orders and turning about? What or who are you transporting aboard Perpetual that is so important that you must sail in company with a 74-gun ship of the line?’

  Oliver shook his head. These new orders countermanded his previous sailing instructions and the news had taken him aback. He had no option but to accept the change and share the relevant details with Captain Liversedge. As such, he explained about the four cases of Spanish treasure hidden aboard his ship, how he had come by them and been entrusted with them. He advised his friend that the chests contained minted silver and, to the best of his knowledge, there was no gold or precious stones in the consignment. He added that his original orders, received in Gibraltar, had instructed him to convey the coins to Van Diemen’s Land in the Southern Ocean, due to the desperate need for currency in establishing a new British settlement there. But, according to his new orders, the treasure was to be returned to England aboard HMS Stalwart – the 74-gun man-of-war.

  Until now, the presence of the silver and its location within His Majesty’s frigate Perpetual had been known only to himself and a handful of his men and, for months, he had striven to maintain that secret. However, with the physical transfer of the treasure chests to the third rate, very soon, hundreds of men, namely the officers and crews of both British ships, would be aware of their existence and nothing would stop word leaking to the wharfs and docks of Rio de Janeiro and beyond.

  ‘So,’ Oliver said, ‘the Admiralty, in its wisdom, has decided. We sail for England. That news will be well received by my men. Making the transfer, however, will be a tedious task. If you will permit me to arrange the details, I will advise, in due course, how and when it will take place. In the meantime, I must beg you to delay your departure for at least another week. I am in dire need of canvas and cordage, and must arrange with the victualling store for essential supplies.’ Oliver drained his glass and refused a refill. ‘There are several other pressing matters I must attend to, but I will not bore you with those. There is much to do and the sooner everything is attended to the better.’

  As the captain’s boat approached the British frigate, the pipes shrilled from the gangway. In answer to the call, sailors poured up from below and shuffled into untidy lines on the forward deck. Under the watchful eye of the bosun the sailors stood in silence, the sun beating down on them.

  Stepping onto the deck, Captain Quintrell automatically glanced forward and aft – an observation few would have noticed. Though his face showed no change in expression, his attention was immediately attracted to a handful of men who had not responded as smartly as others to the call. They appeared reluctant to follow orders and present themselves in line. To Oliver, it was quite apparent the conversation these men had been engaged in was of a more pressing nature than the demand of the pipes marking the return of the ship’s captain.

  For the present, his observation would keep. He would deal with it later.

  Oliver lifted his hat, acknowledging his command, an action that was second nature to him. His respect for the service and for his vessel, Perpetual, went without question, though he exhibited no outward emotion. His face remained expressionless as he inspected the ship’s officers, never glancing at any of them directly.

  ‘Welcome back, Captain,’ the first lieutenant said. Like every man aboard, he was eager to hear the outcome of his captain’s visit to the British 74-gun third rate anchored half a cable’s length away, but he refrained from putting the question.

  ‘Dismiss the men, Mr Parry, and join me in my cabin, if you please.’

  ‘Aye aye, Captain.’

  The calls of the junior officers and the scuffing of leather soles along teak deck timbers muffled the sound of Oliver’s shoes as he stepped down the companion stairs to his cabin.

  Casson, his steward, was waiting below for him. ‘Can I get you anything, Capt’n?’

  ‘A glass of lemonade, thank you.’

  Having removed his coat, Oliver dribbled a small amount of water from the pitcher into the china bowl on the wash stand. After loosening his stock, he dampened a cloth and wiped his brow and neck before opening it and sinking his face into it.

  ‘Am I disturbing you?’ Mr Parry called from the doorway.

  Oliver turned, dabbing his face on a fresh folded towel. ‘Come in and sit, Simon,’ he said. ‘Damnably hot out there in the sun.’

  Without commenting, the first lieutenant did as indicated and paused for a moment until the captain had completed his toilet and relaxed into the wingback chair. ‘I trust your meeting aboard the 74 was satisfactory.’

  ‘Indeed it was,’ Oliver replied. ‘It was good to renew my acquaintance with an old friend. You will remember the last time we parted company his ship had been under heavy bombardment and was heading to port for repair along with a prize-of-war we had taken.’

  His first officer nodded. ‘I can presume, therefore, that he reached Kingston in one piece.’

  ‘As did Lieutenant Hazzlewood and Mr Smith aboard the prize vessel. They are sailing with Captain Liversedge, so I look forward to speaking with them both in due course.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Simon Parry said with an inquisitive expression on his face.

  ‘You are expecting news,’ Oliver stated with a hint of cynicism.

  ‘I think I am not alone. I believe every man aboard is hoping for word of when we are likely to sail.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Oliver said. ‘My impression of the mood on stepping aboard was one of disenchantment and disappointment rather than hope. Have you sensed it?’

  The lieutenant’s answer had to wait while Casson delivered the refreshments. ‘There’s some nice green cheese, if you fancy a bit. The one you like.’

  The captain thanked his steward and both men remained silent until he had quitted the cabin and the door was shut.

  ‘I admit there is a degree of discontent amongst the men,’ the lieutenant observed. ‘Probably brought on by uncertainty.’

  Oliver was quick to reply. ‘A sailor without a grievance is like a baby without a teat. Is that not so?’

  ‘It is true. But I believe the men have some justification to their claims. They have put up with much since departing Portsmouth over six months ago.’

  The captain asked him to explain.

  ‘Having been virtually imprisoned on the ship in Gibraltar—’

  ‘Imprisoned?’ Oliver snapped. ‘Careful, Simon, those are strong words.’

  ‘Beg pardon, sir. I was merely repeating the murmurings I have heard. I should have said – confined. In Gibraltar Bay the men were confined to the ship for many weeks.’

  Oliver could feel his dander rising. ‘For their own good, I might add, due to the malignant fever that was raging in the colony at the time. Continue.’

  ‘And when we sailed, we encountered trouble off the Western Isles where both officers and crew were subjected to evil threats and some to actual imprisonment by that piratical privateer.’

  Oliver’s frown mellowed to a look of satisfaction. ‘I believe we delivered Captain van Zetten his due deserts.’

  Mr Parry agreed. ‘But now, with the exotic sights, smells and temptations of the bars and bordellos of Rio de Janeiro located only a few hundred yards away, the crew are again confined to the ship knowing that very soon they will be sailing to the Antipodes far across the Southern Ocean – a voyage of six to nine months without once touch
ing land. With a seaman’s natural appetites satisfied only by shore leave, I believe the current feeling of discontent could be mollified if the crew were permitted to go ashore for a brief spell or alternatively if you would allow some females to visit the ship.’

  Oliver shook his head. ‘You surprise me, Simon.’

  The lieutenant was unperturbed. On board the frigate, the welfare of the crew was the responsibility of the first lieutenant and the facts he had related to the captain were well-founded. He had witnessed unrest on other ships beset by similar circumstances and knew that in extreme conditions discontent could lead to serious unrest, even mutiny.

  Captain Quintrell was not blind to such eventualities. ‘I heed your comments. As you know, one reason I did not allow females to visit the ship in Gibraltar Bay was because of the fear of them transmitting the malignant fever that was decimating the population there.’

  ‘But there is no fever here.’

  ‘Humph. Perhaps I should seek the surgeon’s views regarding transmission of the Spanish Pox if females from the local bordellos are allowed aboard to entertain the men.’

  The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. ‘My observations were merely in response to your comment about the mood that greeted you when you came aboard. I will say no more and, if you will permit me, I will take my leave.’

  ‘Simon, please remain and say no more on that score.’

  The lieutenant resumed his seat.

  ‘I have been withholding the information I have just received. I am in receipt of new orders from the Admiralty. We will be heading north. We are to return to England. I believe that news will raise a few spirits.’

  Simon Parry was delighted and, for a moment, was lost for words. ‘Am I permitted to pass word to the men?’ he said.

  ‘Not until I have spoken with the other officers.’

  ‘Of course,’ the lieutenant replied hiding his disappointment.

  ‘I think that calls for another drink,’ Oliver said. ‘And a toast. To England.’