Free Girl on the Orlop Deck by Beryl Kingston

he said. ‘Nip up atop an’ take a look-see. Only don’t let anyone catch you. We’re supposed to keep to our stations.’
    It was easy enough for there was sufficient smoke swirling between the decks to give cover to a dozen men and once he’d inched out into the daylight, he discovered that all eyes were fixed on the spectacle of their vanquished enemy. She was shot to pieces, just as the gunners had predicted, her sails torn, her maintopmast broken, her rigging trailing like ribbons. It was, as one of the powder monkeys was happy to tell him, just enough damage to disable the beggar but not too much to prevent her making good prize money.
    ‘You’re ship’s carpenter, aintcher?’ the boy said. ‘We made work for you an’ all then. Once we’ve took off their supplies an’ brung ’em to order an’ so forth, you’ll be shipped across to put all to rights again. You see if I ain’t right. Then she can sail with us when we moves on, what we got ter do on account a’ we got ter find the Admiral.’
    At supper that night, after the frigate had surrendered and been given a new Master, and Jem and Mr Turner and three topmen had been shipped across to make the necessary repairs, the crew were given double rations of grog by way of celebration. By the time Jem swung drunkenly into his hammock, he was so full of rum and the euphoria of a difficult job well done, he felt as if he’d won the battle all by himself. What a life this is! he thought, as the sea rocked him to sleep.
    The next day they made sail to rejoin the fleet and find Admiral Cornwallis. There wasn’t a man aboard who didn’t feel confident of success.
    ‘We could find a needle in a haystack if we set our minds to it,’ Tom said to Jem. ‘What with our signals an’ all. An’ as to them Frenchies, they can eat as many frogs as they like but, when it comes to fightin’, they ain’t a match fer us an’ never will be. You can see that now can’tcher, my lubber? Once Lord Nelson can tease ’em out a’ harbour, what he’ll do sooner or later on account of he’s set his mind to it, we’ll blow ’em out the water, you just see if we don’t.’
    To Jem, standing there on that British deck, on the last day of May, in the warmth of the summer sunshine, it all seemed perfectly and predictably possible.
     
    The Amphion arrived in Gibraltar late at night on Friday 3 June and dropped anchor in Rosia bay in the darkness. Marianne was off watch and fast asleep but the grinding of the anchor chain woke her at once. We’re here, she thought. At last. Now I can start looking for him. They’re bound to send the boats ashore for fresh water and provisions. Stands to reason, all the food we’ve ate a-coming here. Very well then, I shall get aboard the longboat one way or another – they’re bound to need hands and I can turn mine to anything – and once I’m ashore I’ll ask everyone I meet. On which happy plan she slept again.
    And was woken at four bells to a crushing disappointment. There were no other British ships in the bay. Not a single one. As she scrubbed the decks with her holystone she kept a weather eye out for new arrivals but none came. Admiral Lord Nelson went ashore to meet the localworthies, looking very grand in his full dress uniform, and at eight bells they were piped to breakfast in the usual way but they dined on their own in the empty calm of the harbour with the great brown rock rising above them like a citadel and a blue sea lapping their timbers, as gentle as a cat, and no more British ships arrived to join them. Where were they all? Even Johnny Galley couldn’t tell her.
    ‘Still searchin’, I shouldn’t wonder,’ he said. ‘They’ll catch up with us sooner or later. You ain’t afeard being on your own, are yer?’
    ‘No,’ she said boldly. ‘’Course not. I was just a-wonderin’ where they were.’
    The boats went ashore to pick up fruit and water. Captain Hardy inspected the ship. And then there was nothing