Chapter 6: Delays

February 1821

Mister Crawley stuck his head through the door. “Sir Thomas, Fort St. Catherine signals that a Navy sloop was sighted. She will make the Channel before nightfall.”

“Thank you, Crawley. Looks like you’ll be rid of me by tomorrow,” Thomas joked, causing Crawley to draw a sharp breath.

“Sir Thomas, it is my privilege to serve under you,” came the protesting answer.

“Yes, and I made certain that Commodore Melrose is aware of your dedicated and flawless service.”

“That is kind of you, Sir Thomas. I hope to continue here.”

Crawley had, over the last half year, wooed a well-to-do widow, Missus Maynard, who would become Missus Crawley before long, and her inherited business, trading with the Navy and the Army in dried goods, tied her and him to the island.

“Well, we shall see. I had better alert the ladies of my household that we will shall have to move tomorrow.”

Thomas had rented the house of an absentee landowner for a month, with a renewal option, and they could vacate Navy House at the drop of a hat. He found Mirabel in the entrance hall, already issuing orders to the house staff and their own servants. She looked up when she heard him.

“We are already packing, darling. If Melrose relieves you tomorrow morning, we’ll be moved out before the ceremony ends. At least, Saltham House has a nice gardens.”

“Thank you, my darling, for shouldering that task.”

“You can leave these little things to us,” Mirabel assured him. “I sent a note to Sir August’s aide that we shall need the promised sentries starting tonight.”

“Very thoughtful, my dear.” The Governor, upon hearing that Thomas would move his family to Saltham House, and considering that he had stepped on many corns with his captures of smugglers, had insisted on posting eight men of his own household guards under a sergeant as sentries to guard the Greys and their temporary residence. It was a friendly gesture and Thomas accepted it as such, not really believing in a threat against him, let alone his family. He had made his enemies in Hamilton, not St. George, after all, and they would not stay long in their new quarters.

After a brief noon repast, Thomas returned to his office and dictated the last reports to Crawley until tea time. They all had their last afternoon tea at Navy House, but then, Crawley reported again.

“It’s the Dasher ship-sloop, 16 guns, Sir Thomas. She’s flying a broad pennant.”

“Excellent! Kindly have my barge readied, Mister Crawley. I shall welcome Commodore Melrose to St. George.”

“Aye-aye, Sir Thomas.”

An hour later, Thomas watched from the upstairs bedroom as the three-masted sloop dropped her anchor in St. George Bay, three cable lengths from the shore. He checked the seat of his uniform in the mirror and went downstairs. It was a brief walk to the small embankment where his barge was lying ready, and then a short pull over the flat water of the bay.

When the barge was hailed, the coxswain hailed back “Bermuda!”, and presently an honour guard assembled at the Dasher’s entry port. The young commander of the sloop received Thomas.

“Welcome aboard, Sir Thomas! Commander Gerald Winterbottom, at your service!”

“Thank you, Captain. If possible, I would like to interview Commodore Melrose. He is on board, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Sir Thomas. Only, the commodore is indisposed, Sir. You have to see that we had drills, and the commodore was watching. One of the Marines, Sir, he dropped his musket from the mizzen top, and it hit the commodore’s arm. It’s broken, Sir Thomas.”

“Good Lord! Can I see him?”

“Certainly, Sir Thomas. He’s awake, but he’s suffering. Our surgeon, Mister Danforth, could not set the bones, Sir.”

“We should bring him to the shore. The garrison has an able new surgeon, Major Clemson, of whom I’ve been hearing only the best. Perhaps, he may be able to help.”

“Yes, Sir Thomas, but you’ll have to convince Missus Melrose. She is very protective of the commodore.”

“As well she should be,” Thomas answered, striding aft already. In the port side night cabin, he found his old friend, his arm tied to his chest, and quite pale and drawn.

“Welcome to St. George, Alexander. I hear that you’ve met with bad luck?”

“Thank you for coming, Thomas. Yes, the stupid ox dropped his blasted musket over the side of the fighting top. Hit my arm and broke it. Infernal luck! Well, it’s good to see you again. Gwen, you remember Thomas Grey?”

“Of course I do. Sir Thomas, it is kind of you to come. I overheard your words. Have you really a good surgeon in the island?”

“Yes, of course. There is Mister Creighton, the Salsette’s surgeon; quite an able man. There is also the new garrison surgeon, Major Clemson. We have cordial relations with the Army, and I am sure we can consult him. I would not recommend the Army infirmary, but of course, Navy House will be at your disposition.”

“That gives me some hope, Thomas,” Melrose answered. “Can we delay the change of command for a week or two?”

“Of course. I can stay on for as long as you’ll need. You’ll have the run of Navy House, too. We shall move out tomorrow; I have rented a place in St. George where we’ll make our temporary quarters. It’s comfortable, and we are in no hurry.”

“I knew I could count on you, old friend.”

Thomas lowered his voice. “Should I have Mister Creighton come over from Salsette to prepare your for the transport?”

Melrose rolled his eyes. “Dear God, yes! I don’t know who appointed that jackass Danforth, but he’s not worth the lead ball needed to shoot him!”

“One would think that in peacetime there should be plenty of competent surgeons from whom to pick,” Thomas commented. “Well, have your servants pack your dunnage, Alexander, because you will move presently.”

Thomas found Commander Winterbottom and gave his orders. Signal flags rose and some fifteen minutes later, Mister Creighton and two of his mates came over from Salsette. They brought along the implements for carrying a wounded man along, and in no time at all, Melrose was swayed into Salsette’s cutter, followed by Gwendolyn Melrose and three servants. Before Thomas climbed down into his own barge, he remembered something.

“Say, Captain, wasn’t a Captain Morningside supposed to come along to take command of the Salsette?”

Winterbottom looked unhappy. “The Captain could not join us. He had a bad fall off his horse, a day before we sailed. The Admiralty will send his replacement with the next packet.”

“Good Lord! That is really a streak of bad luck!”

Winterbottom could only nod unhappily.

It was after 10 o’clock that night before Navy House came to rest, but by then, an exhausted Alexander Melrose was resting comfortably in the master bedroom, his equally tired wife with him. Major Clemson had answered the urgent summons and taken charge. With the help of Mister Creighton he examined the arm, determined it to be broken in two places, and then proceeded to set it straight, with two surgeon’s mates assisting. Using wooden splints and raw leather wrappings, the arm was immobilised, and the patient was given a generous helping French brandy against the pains.

Major Clemson himself eschewed an offer of brandy, admitting to being a teetotaller, but he wrote down instructions for Melrose’s care. Once more, Lettie, the talented nurse, was tasked with the care for a patient, and she eagerly took charge, since it was clear that nursing a wounded man was not something Gwendolyn Melrose could handle, and their servants either.

Come the next morning, Melrose woke up with already much less pain, possibly due to a willow bark tisane which Lettie had brewed for her patient in the early morning hours, which took away some of the pain. The properly set bones also helped, of course, and when Major Clemson looked in on his patient at 9 o’clock, he professed to be very satisfied.

Having slept in relative peace, Gwendolyn Melrose was also feeling much better, and she enjoyed the richly laid breakfast table. Melrose took his breakfast in bed, but he, too, showed an appetite and lifted spirits.

“Damnit, Thomas, I can’t believe how much my outlook has already changed. Those two surgeons really know their trade, and your brandy hit the right spot, too!”

“It is good to see you so upbeat. In a day or two, you’ll be able to walk again.”

“Your young negro servant gave me a tea last night. Tasted horrible, but the pain was less afterwards.”

“Willow bark infusion. It’s good against pain and fever. Lettie knows how and when to prepare it. She helped me to nurse our daughter Teresa through the Yellow Jack last summer.”

“Oh dear God; that sounds horrible!”

“It wasn’t easy, but Teresa got over it much faster than I did, back in ‘01.”

“They have the Yellow Fever here?”

“Yes, quite a few cases last summer. It’s those bloody cesspits and swampy spots, if I may hazard a guess. We had a weak hurricane in August, with horrible rainfall, and it flushed away the muck. After that, there were no new cases. I hope Clemson will be more energetic than the nincompoop he replaced.”

“I shall have to ask you many questions, Thomas. You made your predecessor look bad, the way you suppressed smuggling around Bermuda, and I’ll be measured by that.”

“Don’t worry too much, Alexander. I remember you well. You are at least as good as I am. Hame’s problem was that he did not suspect his staff, the former secretary mostly. It was easy to dupe that man into betraying himself, and that gave me the opportunity to clean house. Since then, the smugglers have had no intelligence from Navy House.”