A Shred of Honour Read Online Free PDF Page B

separate: the status of the non-commissioned officers.
    ‘There’s only one person in charge, you great hairless oaf – me! If this happens again I’ll have you all up at the grating and personally flog you till you weep. This stops now, and as for who will be a sergeant, that is something I will decide.’
    Fellows was laughing in the background, his shoulders heaving with merriment. Markham walked up to him and, leaning over, stuck his nose less than half an inch from that of the naval officer.
    ‘You! The captain’s cabin, this minute.’

Chapter three
    ‘Are you a milksop, sir?’ de Lisle sneered, shuffling the papers on his desk. The captain was clearly enjoying himself , half smiling, his head turning slightly to include the other two naval officers in his rebuke. ‘Men will fight, even Bullocks. Damn me if that’s not why we offer them the King’s shilling. You’re worse than I supposed, Markham, a stranger to that most necessary addition to an officer’s equipment, the blind eye.’
    ‘Sir, I …’
    Without a look in his direction, de Lisle cut right across his protest. ‘Silence! There’s a hierarchy below decks, man, which is just as real as that of the quarterdeck. You’re a stranger to it who shows no sign of willingness to learn. All of which makes the order I’m about to give you more appropriate.’
    Bowen, the premier, was grinning. Fellows, who should have been shaking in his shoes, had a blank, innocent look on his face. He’d been aware, before he’d even entered the great cabin, that de Lisle would not condemn his actions. Quite the reverse, his commanding officer approved. And by the tone of his voice, he was about to pay this upstart Bullock out for his damned cheek in interfering.
    Another slight shuffling of papers, designed to underline his importance, was necessary before de Lisle continued. ‘It seems that there’s great support for the Bourbons in Provence. Marseilles has sent delegates and so has Toulon. The admiral has decided to take possession of the naval base, and is demanding contributions toform a garrison.’ He finally looked up, unable to resist a sneer. ‘I was happy to inform his lordship that Hebe was in a position to dispense with its entire complement. You can go ashore, Markham, where you belong, and take that rabble you call your command with you.’
    ‘Including the Lobsters, sir?’
    ‘Yes.’

    Nothing went well. His soldiers were happy to be going ashore, the marines less so. And when it came to getting in the boats, it only served to widen their divisions. The men of the 65th had been seasick in the Channel, useless lubbers in the storms of the Bay of Biscay, a damned nuisance at Gibraltar and hopeless fighters in the Gulf of Loins. Here, off Toulon, in their attempts to go over the side with some dignity, they excelled themselves.
    The marines, led by Schutte, had got themselves into Hebe ’s cutter before the sun rose. They’d then rowed to a position where they could observe the fun, before the men of the 65th emerged from below. As the other boats pulled alongside nearly every member of the crew had come on deck to witness the ineptitude of these lubbers.
    The rope ladder was the first obstacle. Hanging by the open gangway, it dropped from the side of the vessel, an arrangement of hemp that seemed imbued with a life of its own. Pressure exerted on one strand produced a corresponding movement in another, so that even if the man descending could stay upright, difficult in itself, he tended to be spun round to slam into the planking. Wet and slippery, the soldiers’ iron-shod boots produced an added handicap, as did the encumbrance of their equipment. The long Brown Bess muskets were the very devil, while the full infantry packs acted like dead weights.
    The first contingent were invited to board the jolly boat, the smallest conveyance on offer, a target that from the side of Hebe looked to be miles away. Two grinning tars, with boathooks, were