The Scent of Corruption (The Fighting Sail Series Book 7) (41 page)

“So I might at least appoint him midshipman?” Banks asked.

“I would be surprised if such an action were challenged.” Markham's previous smile returned. “Indeed, he may well be entitled to a return of his commission. And if not, I might anticipate any recommendation from a future lieutenants' board would also be looked upon favourably. Frankly, gentlemen, I judge Mr Ross to have been abominably ill treated, and predict any truly impartial judge would have no hesitation in both agreeing, and putting matters to right.”

––––––––

“I
understand Mr King is continuing to show signs of improvement,” Manning said, as he followed the duty loblolly boy into the sick berth.

“He is indeed, sir,” Wells agreed. “Miss Kinnison's with him now. But then there ain't so much time as she's not with one or other of the patients,” he added, and Manning noted that considerably more respect was now being paid to Judy.

The ship had been at anchor for more than a week and, although the small room still held six filled bunks, its patients had less severe injuries. This was not entirely due to Manning's care; most of the more complicated cases had been transferred to the Naval hospital ashore. A few might grow better, and some could even find themselves taken aboard another ship in time. But the outlook for most of the current inhabitants of
Prometheus'
sick berth was far more hopeful. All had stated their intention of staying with the ship and most could be expected to take an active part in her future. Most, but not all, as there was still a rhetorical question mark hovering above Lieutenant King.

Without doubt he was a far stronger man than the one transferred from the cockpit nine days earlier. There was more colour in his face, and Judy stoutly maintained some weight had been added. But it was equally definite that he was not out of the woods and, in his professional capacity, Manning was forced to remain cautious. His friend had survived the initial trauma and so far the wound was mending, but experience told him there was a good way to go before he could be confident of a full recovery.

“Well, you certainly seem to be eating well enough,” Manning conceded. “And soup yet again,” he added, eyeing the empty bowl that Judy had been feeding King from. “Why, if you take any more chicken, I shall expect you to turn into one.”

“That's not how it works at all, Robert,” King replied seriously. His voice, though weak, was richer now, and this was the first time the surgeon had noticed the welcome hint of humour. “I should have thought a medical man would have known better.”

“How is the arm?” Manning asked, reverting to his professional role.

“It is much improved,” King replied, flexing his left hand: the limb had been badly cut and was still swathed in bandages. “Still very stiff, and I cannot raise it.”

“Then do not attempt to; the time for physical exercise will come soon enough, but better, for now, to place no strain upon it unnecessarily.” Indeed, it would not, Manning thought grimly. He alone knew how piecemeal his repairs had been, although it was the chest wound that caused him true concern.

Many layers of tissue and muscle had been bound together with horse hair and catgut, in a way that would never have impressed a shore-based surgeon. But then few in general practice knew the need for tending to one patient while keeping a wary eye on those that were to follow. Over sixty men had been injured aboard
Prometheus
during the recent action, and only slightly less than half received exclusive attention from Manning himself. Yet he could have spent the entire thirteen hour spell of duty on three or four cases alone. King's wounds would normally have required the care of two surgeons, and probably an operation lasting a good deal longer than the fifteen minutes allowed.

But the end result seemed sound enough, and Manning was cautiously confident as he removed the single outer bandage that had taken the place of King's previous full chest wrap.

“Will you be travelling soon?” he asked, and it took a second or two for the others to realise he was addressing Judy.

“I – I hope to leave on Monday,” she told him. Mr Potterton has arranged cabins for us both aboard the general packet. It is fortunate, she sails straight from here to Tor Bay, with perhaps only one call at the Tagus.”

“That was your home, as I recall,” Manning commented, as the bandage came away. “You do not wish to return to Portugal permanently?”

“No, those days are gone,” she laughed. “I see my future at the Three Tuns, Galmpton; it sounds a fine place, and I know I shall be happy working with Mr P.”

“And will you become Mrs P?” Manning asked, with a faint glint in his eye. “You will forgive the question, but it is what most suspect.”

“Lordy, no!” Judy said quickly, and seemed to follow her words with wink at King. “There have already been three men who've let me down, so I have vowed not to trust any further until they have truly earned the privilege.”

“That is indeed a worthy undertaking,” the surgeon replied seriously. “And if your cooking enjoys the same success in Galmpton as it has aboard this ship, I see a rosy future for all.”

He removed the small patch of gauze and was finally able to examine King's wound. The edges were slightly blackened, as was to be expected, and his entire chest area remained discoloured in the deep and varied colours of bruising. But there were also positive signs that all would be well and, as he relaxed, Manning realised quite how concerned he had been.

“So, who shall look after you when she is gone?” the question was now very definitely directed at his friend, and King grinned back from his pillow.

“Whoever it be, they could not do a better job,” he said, and Manning nodded in silent agreement as he ran his fingers over the chest area. It was perhaps, a trifle hot; again, not to be surprised at, but he would have preferred a cooler skin. And then, quite suddenly he stopped.

“Whatever is the matter? King asked, instantly alerted. Manning realised he had leaned nearer to the wound and his change of expression appeared to have betrayed him.

“It is of no consequence,” the surgeon replied automatically while forcing a smile, although he already knew the statement to be a lie.

For what he had discovered was substantial indeed: to most medical men it sounded an alarm as significant as 'deck there!' called from the masthead, or 'fire!' shouted below. Manning studied the wound more closely while being careful not to show any further emotion. No proper examination should be confined to merely sight and touch, and in this case it was the scent of King's wound that had signalled the warning. And sadly he was not wrong, the sign was undoubtedly there – not visibly obvious perhaps but, to one in the know, unmistakeable.

“Is there something amiss?” Judy asked with her customary lack of tact, and Manning gloomily conceded his professionally neutral countenance was not as convincing as he had thought. He shook his head, but did not trust himself to reply. The girl was clearly fond of King, and he knew his friend well enough to guess there might be more between them. But as his surgeon, he hoped not. As his surgeon he could only wish her gone; her presence could not improve matters, and may well cause Thomas even greater distress.

And gone she would be in two days: it was a short enough period and likely one in which both would remain convinced King was to make a full recovery. Manning reached for a fresh patch of gauze and began to replace the bandage as he thought. If she knew different Judy might decide to stay, but there would be little point in that; not when a new life and future awaited her in England.

He might apply to the hospital for a second opinion; maybe even consult with one of their physicians. But there could be no doubting what he had discovered – Manning had encountered it far too often in the past and knew, only too well, the probable consequences. It was the scent of corruption; a faint yet distinct deviation from that of a healthy lesion and even such a subtle hint told him his friend was likely to remain healthy for no longer than a week. After that, he could hold out very little hope.

––––––––

A
ble Seaman 
One who can hand, reef and steer and is well-acquainted with the duties of a seaman.

Back 
Wind change; anticlockwise.

Backed sail 
One set in the direction for the opposite tack to slow a ship.

Backstays 
Similar to shrouds in function, except that they run from the hounds of the topmast, or topgallant, all the way to the deck. (Also a useful/spectacular way to return to deck for a topman.)

Backstays, Running 
A less permanent backstay, rigged with a tackle to allow it to be slacked to clear a gaff or boom.

Banyan Day 
Monday, Wednesday and Fridays were normally considered such, when no meat would be issued.

Barky 
(Slang)
Seamen's affectionate name for their vessel.

Barrel Fever
 
Slang)
Illness brought about from excessive alcohol consumption.

Belaying Pins
  Wooden pins set into racks at the side of a ship. Lines are secured about these, allowing instant release by their removal.

Bilboes
  Iron restraints placed about an offender's ankles, allowing him to be of some use, picking oakum,
etc
.

Binnacle
  Cabinet on the quarterdeck that houses compasses, the deck log, traverse board, lead lines, telescope, speaking trumpet,
etc
.

Bitts
  Stout horizontal pieces of timber, supported by strong verticals, that extend deep into the ship. These hold the anchor cable when the ship is at anchor.

Block 
Article of rigging that allows pressure to be diverted or, when used with others, increased. Consists of a pulley wheel, made of
lignum vitae
, encased in a wooden shell. Blocks can be single, double (fiddle block), triple or quadruple. The main suppliers were Taylors, of Southampton.

Board
  Before being promoted to lieutenant, midshipmen would be tested for competence by a board of post captains. Should they prove able they will be known as passed midshipmen, but could not assume the rank of lieutenant until they were appointed as such.

Boatswain
 
(Pronounced Bosun)
The warrant officer superintending sails, rigging, canvas, colours, anchors, cables and cordage
etc
., committed to his charge.

Bob
 
(Slang)
A trick.

Booby
Slang)
A lout, clodhopper or country fellow.

Boom
  Lower spar to which the bottom of a gaff sail is attached.

Bootneck 
(Slang)
Term for a marine.

Braces
  Lines used to adjust the angle between the yards, and the fore and aft line of the ship. Mizzen braces, and braces of a brig lead forward.

Brig 
Two-masted vessel, square-rigged on both masts.

Bulkhead 
A partition within the hull of a ship.

Burgoo 
Meal made from oats, usually served cold, and occasionally sweetened with molasses.

Bulwark
  The planking or wood-work about a vessel above her deck.

Canister
  Type of shot, also known as case. Small iron balls packed into a cylindrical case.

Careening
  The act of beaching a vessel and laying her over so that repairs and maintenance to the hull can be carried out.

Carronade
  Short cannon firing a heavy shot. Invented by Melville, Gascoigne and Miller in late 1770's and adopted from 1779. Often used on the upper deck of larger ships, or as the main armament of smaller.

Cascabel
  Part of the breech of a cannon.

Caulk
 
(Slang)
To sleep. Also caulking, a process to seal the seams between strakes.

Channel
  (When part of a ship) Projecting ledge that holds deadeyes from shrouds and backstays, originally chain-whales.

Channel Gropers
 
(Slang)
The Channel Fleet.

Chink
 
(Slang)
Money.

Chips
/
Chippy
 
(Slang)
Traditional name for the carpenter. Originally from the ship builders who were allowed to carry out small lumps of wood, or chips, at the end of their shift.

Close
H
auled
  Sailing as near as possible into the wind.

Coaming
  A ridged frame about hatches to prevent water on deck from getting below.

Come
-
up
G
lass
  A device using prisms and lenses that can detect the speed at which another vessel is gaining or falling back.

Companionway
  A staircase or passageway.

Counter
  The lower part of a vessel's stern.

Course
  A large square lower sail, hung from a yard, with sheets controlling and securing it.

Cove
 
(Slang)
A man, occasionally a rogue.

Crapaud
(Johnny) 
(Slang)
Popular derogatory name for an Englishman to call a Frenchman.

Crows of
I
ron
  Crow bars used to move a gun or heavy object.

Cull
 
(Slang)
A man.

Cutter
  Fast, small, single-masted vessel with a sloop rig. Also a seaworthy ship's boat.

Dale
  Drain aboard ship, larger than a scupper.

David's
S
ow
 
(Slang)
Describes a high degree of drunkenness (from a popular story of the time).

Dead Donkey
  Parlour game in which the winning participant is the one who stays still for the longest time.