"You were fortunate, Mister Lewrie," Commander the Honorable Tobias Treghues said, seated behind his glossy mahogany desk in the day cabins of the 20-gun frigate Desperate. "I am told the officers of the 12th Foot detachment have talked of a syndicate to challenge you one at a time until you are bested. They were not enamored of your choice of weapons, or how you won.’
’Aye aye, sir," Lewrie said, studying his new lord and master. Treghues was in his late twenties, slim and brown-haired with grey eyes. His uniform was impeccable, as were his cabin furnishings. He showed no signs of poverty, though it had been rumored he was the eldest son of a lord gone to sea to improve the family fortunes with prizes. ’Fortunate also that I had a suitable berth, after losing one young gentleman drowned. and another to the bottle," Treghues went on. ’Aye aye, sir." When a midshipman had no better answer, that usually struck the right obedient note without committing to anything. ’You are, for your own safety, to remain aboard until we have sailed. You are not even to place foot in a rowing boat. By the time we return ITom a cruising patrol, the 12th will have gone to St. Kitts and the problem will have been resolved.’
’Aye aye, sir," Lewrie said, trying to find a new way to do it. "I do not hold with dueling," Treghues warned. "Or hotheaded bucks who cannot resist taking offense at the slightest reproach, like some swaggering Frog duke, Mister Lewrie. Usually bad officers, too.’
’I do not wish to give that impression, sir, but I had-" Treghues waved off the rest of his answer. "Spare me your innocent and honorable motives. Sir Onsley informed me as to the circumstance. He also gives you a glowing report, so I am aware of your services to the Crown oflate. You may be useful to this ship, but all I want to see from you is duty done in a cheerful and efficient manner. Spare us your blood-lust for the foe.’
’Aye aye, sir," Lewrie parroted himself. ’Admiral Sir George Rodney has taken over from Admiral Byron, thanks be to God, so we should see some action SooD. Hood and Rodney together, and we'll see an end to these French and Spanish combinations. So, you see what is needed. Get below and into your working rig. I allow you to forgo the waistcoat in these climes, but I expect a midshipman to 1001«. like a proper officer at all times, no matter how junior you may be. That means a regulation dirk: instead of that pretty hanger of yours. And I prefer a cocked hat to the round one. I took you on sufferance-don't give me reason to regret it.’
Lewrie nodded and left the cabins, emerging on the upper deck. Desperate had no poop but a long quarterdeck over the captain's cabin. Her first (and only) lieutenant had quarters below the captain with the surgeon, purser, Marine lieutenant and suchlike worthies. The wheel stood over the captain's cabins on the long quarterdeck. unprotected by binnacle bulwarks. The lower deck was not a gun deck at all, the artillery being sited on the upper deck where the captain lived in solitary splendor. Hands berthed forward on the lower deck. then petty officers, Marines, warrants and midshipmen, and then the offi~ cer's gun room right aft. The orlop and hold were too crammed with supplies to let anyone berth there.» "What a crosspatch he is." Lewrie sighed. From the way Treghues regarded Rodney, he must be one of his-not a good sign. Rodney was famed for incredibly bad judgement in appointments.
But the cobbing he had received could not dampen his joy to be aboard any sort of ship once more, and Desperate was magnificent. She was 110 feet on the range of the lower deck. a bit over 30 in beam, of 450 tons burthen. Piercing her upper deck bulwarks were eighteen six-pounder cannon, with two of the new eighteen-pounder carronades on her foc's'l, short guns mounted on swivelling slides that fired bursting shot to no great range-"Smashers"-he was dying to try them out.
Desperate carried Treghues, a first lieutenant named Railsford, Mr. Monk the sailing master and two mates, one bosun and mate, one warrant gunner, one gunner's mate and a yeoman of the powder room, a surgeon named Dome and a mate, five quartergunners, one carpenter and mate, one armorer, one master-at-arms, two quartermasters and mates, a yeoman of the sheets, one coxswain, four carpenter's crew, one ship's corporal, a sailmaker and one sailmaker's assistant, one captain's clerk, the young purser named Cheatham and his steward, four midshipmen, four young boy fifers and drummers, eighteen boyservants, and fifty-six men rated as either ordinary or able seamen, or landsmen. She also carried Marines; a lieutenant named Peck, one sergeant, one corporal, and thirty private soldiers.
She was a 6th Rate, the smallest type of ship-rigged frigate in the fleet, and with Lewrie joining her, was fortunate to be only six hands short of full complement.
Desperate was too light for the line of battle with her fourinch oak scantlings and beams on twenty-inch centers. She was too fast to be tied to a squadron, but also too well armed to waste on despatches like Parrot. Desperate was what was coming to be known as a "croizer"; she was a huntress on her own in the most likely places to seek out, take, or burn enemy merchantmen, privateers and light naval units.
Lewrie entered the midshipmen's berth to find his new mess mates lounging about the small compartment, sandwiched in without air by storerooms and the mate's dog boxes. The total space was about twelve-by-ten, with barely five feet of headroom between the beams. There was a polished table down the center for dining, chests for seats, and pegs for storage of handy items. ’Hullo. I'm Alan Lewrie," he said to them, reliving that scene long ago when he had reported below in Ariadne. But there was a difference; he had nearly fifteen months in the Navy, and knew what sort of drudgery and folderol to expect now. He was introduced to the others. There was Peter Carey, a gingerhaired boy of thirteen with the usual modest squirearchy background. There was a gotch-gutted sixteen-year-old pig named Francis Forrester. He was quick to point out that it was the Honorable Francis Forrester, and his elegant manners and bis drawling, superior voice made it abundantly clear that he looked on Lewrie's arrival as another mark of the reduction in tone of their mess.
Lewrie's other companion was also sixteen, a dark and merry Cornish boy that Lewrie had known slightly long before when posted to the Ariadne after it had become a receiving ship. He and David Avery had gone roaming English Harbor together, and had enjoyed each other's company, before Avery had joined an armed transport.
Alan carefully removed and folded up his fine new uniform. He packed the waistcoat away for Sunday Divisions, slipped out of his snowy breeches and dug out a ragged pair of slop trousers. He exchanged his silk stockings for cotton, wrapped his best shoes and donned a cracked pair. His worst faded and stained coat he hung up on a peg. Sadly, he packed the hanger away in his open chest and fetched out his dirk, now showing signs of wear around that "best gold-plate pommel.’
’Pretty hanger." Forrester pouted like a sow, picking it up and studying it. "But your parents should have known better. '‘
‘It was a recent gift," Alan said, meaning to get off to a fair start, if allowed. "For saving my last captain his ship. ’
‘Yess," Forrester drawled. "Avery has been regaling us with the heroism of your derring-do." He sheathed the hanger and tossed it into Lewrie's chest like a poor discard at a secondhand shop. ’Did you really kill a man in a duel?" Carey asked, wide-eyed. "Yes. Dead as cold, boiled mutton. He insulted a young lady of my acquaintance," Alan boasted, even-toned. ’Carey, we must remember to tremble before the anger of our new manslaughtering Hector," Forrester said. "Even if he is, by length of service, junior to you. How long at sea, Lewrie?’
‘A year. Fifteen months total.’
’Then I am still senior," Forrester said, pleased to hear it. "June of ' 76. ’
‘We're not lieutenants, Forrester," Avery replied. "I actually predate you by a whole month, if the truth be known. We're all equal here. ’
‘Ah, the rebellious Adamses and Thomas Paines have been after you again," Forrester said in a way that Lewrie could only think of as greasy. "Remember that I have the signals and you don't, so that makes me senior. And I trust that any new errant newlies shall remember that.’
’We had a man who said much the same thing in Ariadne," Lewrie said, taking a pew on his closed chest. "He died. ’
‘Would be having the gall to threaten me?" Forrester's piggy eyes were squinted. "Now why should I do a thing like that? I'm but stating a fact. You remember me mentioning him, don't you, Avery?’
‘Oh, you mean Mister the Honorable… what was his name?’
‘Fotheringfop," Lewrie said. "Ferdinand Fotheringfop. ’
‘Choked on his beef bones, didn't he?" Avery said. ’No, that was Mister the Honorable D' Arcy DeBloat. ’
‘And what, pray, did he die of?" Avery was playing along, to the great delight of young Carey, who was already stifling a grin. ’Fotheringfop was so elevated an individual, with such an airy opinion of himself that his head swelled one morning at dawn Quarters. We tried to save him and got a gantline to him, but he pulled the maint' gallantfhast right out of her. Last seen drifting for Panama. Crew did a little hornpipe of despair at his passing. Sad, it was." Lewrie pretended to grieve.
Forrester snorted at the foolishness and left the midshipmen's berth for the upper deck, while Carey dared to laugh out loud and Avery pronounced Lewrie a fellow that would do. ’What a fubsy, crusty thing it is," Lewrie observed of their mess mate. "What does he expect us to do, carry his scepter for him, or just be his fags?’
‘Just a puffed-up dilbelT)'." Avery shrugged. "Probably afraid we know more than him and show him up before his lord and master.’
’Fat pig," Carey said, softly. ’Carey, what were the other midshipmen like?" Lewrie asked. ’Dodds was twenty or so. But I've never seen anyone drink so much all the time. The captain finally threw him out, said he'd never make an officer, or live long enough to take the exam.’
’Good relations to the captain?" Lewrie probed. ’I think he was a cater-cousin." Carey frowned. "The other… Montgomery, he was real smart, and nice. He was a year older than me but he knew everything. He got washed overboard in a gale last month north of St. Lucia. He was my friend." Carey sniffled.
Lewrie shared a look with Avery. They could imagine wh.t the mess had been like for Carey, with one raging sponge in his cups all the time, the brutish Forrester lording it over all tli: others, and only Montgomery to shield the younger boy. Carey gave no sign that he was a mental giant, or in any way assertive. Just a scared and homesick child, mediocre at be~ when it came to duty and too small and weak to perform like a real sailor. ’Well, there's a new order here, by God," Avery told hin, with a rap on the shoulder. "Just let the cow-arse try to push hi.
weight around.. ‘. ’Of which he has considerable," Lewrie added. ’Aye, and we'll fix him," Avery said. "Right, Lewrie?’
‘Amen to that," Lewrie intoned with mock piety. ’You can't go too far, though," Carey said. "I mean, Treghues and Forrester… they're not related, but you'd think Forrester was his brother.’
’Plays the favorite, does your captain?’
‘I shouldn't say it, but hc-’
‘A wonderful berth," Avery sighed. "And I thought that rotten armed transport was bad.’
’Hell with it." Lewrie said. "I hear she's made her people a pot of prize money, and she goes her own way looking for fame and fortune. We're in the right place. Now all we have to do is to convince our captain that we're the right midshipmen for him.’
’That shouldn't be too hard," Avery said. "Here, Lewrie, you wouldn't have a neckcloth that would pass Divisions, have you?" Just before departure, mail came aboard, and Lewrie was surprised to have two packets. Sir Hugo was actually living up to his end of the bargain and had sent him a rouleau of one hundred guineas. Well, actually, the solicitor Mr. Pilchard had sent it. There was no letter attached, and that was no disappointment, but the money was most welcome.
The next was from Lucy Beauman. He had been isolated aboard Ariadne following the duel, then rapidly transferred to Desperate and had not been allowed to see her, though he had sent her a letter that he was not sure her aunt and uncle would allow her to see.
There was belated fear for his life, wonderment at his courage, a recital of prayers said for him, a brief screed against Wyndham, who had not struck her as a trustworthy gentleman, a denial that she had encouraged him in the slightest manner (which Lewrie doubted… she was a girl, wasn't she?), profound relief at his victory and survival, deep despair at being denied his presence, grief and tears at their cruel separation (but more prayers for success at his new endeavors in Desperate) and fond hopes of a quick reunion.
She enclosed an embroidered handkerchief for him, scented and splashed with her tears, binding up a generous lock of her honey gold hair. There was also Old Isaac's completed juju bag, which he wa… to hang about his neck immediately and never remove. Lewrie was leery as to that instruction; the bag had a redolence of badly cured goat skin, tidal effluvia and perhaps the slight admixture of chicken guts. She wrote: I shall wate with constant Longing for your Safe Retem, that we may avale ourselves once more of that mutuol Pleasure in our companyunship, and may agane strole without Cares on that particular Strand I have cumm to regard as a most Blesed and Speshul Place.
Awl my Fondness Goe With You, Lucy Someone should teach the little mort to spell, he thought, but was touched by her sentiments, and by her evident love for him. He took time to pen her a proper but passionate reply, the sort that would turn a young girl's head for a while. As a fillip, he enclosed a lock of his own hair (still fairly short). Then it was time to sail.
Admiral Rodney had plugged one hole in the dyke against fill the supplies from Europe that reached the rebellious Colorues by taking the island of St. Eustatius, a major smuggling and transshipment port for naval and military stores and a convenient outlet for American produce and manufactured goods with which they partly paid for all the French, Spanish and Dutch largesse.
By keeping the expected flags flying, and with secret recognition signals, Rodney kept the island open, luring in ships tlllit had no chance to be apprised of the change of ownership. 'It was resulting in scores of captures.
Desperate was sent north with a roving commission to hUilt down ships hoping to use St. Eustatius.
Barely ten days after coming aboard, Lewrie emerged do deck one fine brisk morning sated with a good breakfast of thinsliced fried pork, boiled egg and crumbled biscuit in treacle. He was still smacking his lips and regretting not being able tb enjoy a second cup of coffee when the lookout gave a loud hail to the deck below, ending any thoughts of sail drill for thb Forenoon watch.. ’Sail ho!" he bellowed. "Three points off the larboard bow!" Lieutenant Railsford chose Avery to dash aloft to confirnl the sighting, and Avery handed Lewrie his hat, brushed bact his black hair and ran for the mainmast crosstrees.
Treghues came on deck in breeches and waistcoat and went to the wheel, waiting for a report. Peck, the gangly young blond Marine officer, came up, eager for action. ’Two sail, sir," Avery said. "Schooner and brig. Headed due north, under all plain saiL’
‘Mister Monk," Treghues called. "Alter course to chase, and we shall crack on all sail she can stand. Stuns'ls, too. ’
‘Bosun!" their stocky, dark sailing master relayed. "All hands aloft and make sail. Trice up and layout for stuns'ls." The single night reef in the courses and tops'ls was shaken out, and Lewrie went aloft to the t' gallant mast as the yards were raised up by the jears. Below him on the main course yard, hands were extending the stuns'l booms, bending on canvas to spread every stitch their ship could fly. Desperate leaned her shoulder firmly to the sea and began to soar across the modemte seas, smashing into the odd wave, but slicing clean through the regular set of rollers, her wake boiling.
By ten in the Forenoon she had run the schooner hull-up before her, and the brig beyond showed all her sail plan; clearly they were overtaking handily, which suggested ships too heavily loaded to run. Desperate was already towing one boat, and put another down to be ready with boarding parties. Lewrie hoped that he would be entrusted with one of those parties.
Just after Clear-Deck-And-Up-Spirits at seven bells of the Forenoon they beat to Quarters and manned their guns. Lunch would be delayed, but with the prospect of prizes ahead, no one minded.
Treghues had gone below to catch up on paper-work with his clerk, interview the purser and pretend that there was nothing to get excited about, while Lewrie fretted and stewed in impatience. And when their captain did emerge he was cIoseshaved, dressed in a good coat and cocked hat, his small sword hung "just-so" from his belt frog.
When they had the schooner within range of a six-pounder, just about six cables off, she took one look and raised her rebel colors to satisfy honor, then quickly hauled them down and rounded to into the wind. Mr. Feather, a burly master's mate, and Midshipman Forrester went over in the first cutter to take charge of her with ten hands. ’Good man, Forrester," Treghues commented to Railsford by the quarterdeck nettings. "He'll keep our prize safe. ’
‘Aye, sir," Railsford agreed dutifully but without much enthusiasm. Lewrie stood close by and heard this exchange and weighed it for what he thought it was worth. In his short time aboard he had found that young Forrester had a reputation much like Rolston in Ariadne when it carne to discipline and tautness.
Then they were off again in pursuit of the brig. Treghues ordered stand-easy for the gun crews, but unlike old Bales he had had the ship properly cleared for action, though their chase might be a mere smuggler and not a privateer or warship. He was taking no chances, and Lewrie approved. Their captured schooner fell in line-astern far back, so loaded she was barely able to stay in sight.
Water and cheese and biscuit was brought up to the gun crews as they stood easy for a cold dinner with the galley-fire extinguished. Lewrie stood in the waist of the ship by the main'; mast, idling on the jear bitts and chewing his dry dinner. The cheese was a navy-issue Suffolk, more like crumbling rock than cheese. Giving up on making a meal on it, he brushed his hands and stood on the jear bitts for a better view.
The brig was now well hull-up, perhaps a league off and still being overhauled. Lewrie imagined that she was badly laden besides being heavily loaded. Her bow seemed to slough and make a large wave even with her forecourse spread taut for its lifting effect. Had her bow ridden higher, lessening her resistance, she might have made a knot more. And as low in the water as she looked, her shallower draft would be of no avail in the maze of islands ahead to the nor-nor' west, where she could normally expect to lose the frigate with her deeper draft. ’Got a good view, Mister Lewrie?" Treghues asked, hands behind his back and staring up at him as he paced the gun deck to inspect his hands. ’Aye, sir." Lewrie climbed down to doff his hat. "Learning anything?’
‘Aye, sir. She draws a foot deeper forrard," Lewrie said. "He'll have to shift a pair of guns, or some cargo, or he's ours before two hours pass.’
’Indeed," Treghues said, shocked to hear such talk from a midshipman. "But he can always get a favorable slant of wind. Get into those islands.’
’Aye, he could, sir," Lewrie persisted. "But the Trades hereabouts drop off around the First Dog, sir, and he's too deep to risk shoal water. We're balanced, more sail aloft and have a longer waterline," Alan vowed, preening a bit. ’So you are confident." Treghues smiled, using the moment to put life into his crew. ’That I am, sir.’
’We'll have him, lads. Our new midshipman believes so, so we must, eh? A little more gold in your pockets would not go amiss." Treghues passed on to trade joshes with the quartergunners, mostly of the squire-to-tenant "how do your sheep keep, old, un" variety with the expected reply of bright smiles and much tugging of forelocks, leaving Lewrie abashed. He had tried to make a good impression on the captain concerning his skill and nautical knowledge so that he would think of him as competent and equal to Forrester, but now he was the silent butt of the crew's humor.
Goddamn him, Lewrie fumed, busying himself with looking at train tackles; I didn't deserve that.
Before another hour had passed, the brig wore to larboard slightly and opened fire at extreme long range with a sixpounder gun, the ball dropping far short but good evidence of her intent to fight.
I'd get the stuns'ls in, Lewrie thought, peering aloft. If I were the chase I'd wear hard onto the wind, lay her full-and-by to the nor' east and beat up toward St. Barts. Maybe gain a league before we got ourselves sorted out… A Molly or not, he had to give Lieutenant Kenyon credit for a superb education in ship-handling and how to draw out a stern chase, as they had once off Anegada, pursued by that privateer. ’Bosun, hands aloft and take in stuns'ls," Treghues called "Mr. Gwynn, stand by to try your eye with the number one gun.’
Desperate turned off the wind, as master gunner Gwynn fussed over his foremost starboard cannon. Once the quoin was out and he was satisfied, he put up his fist and stood clear, looking aft. Treghues must have waved to him, because the linstock came down to the firing quill in the vent, and the gun lurched inboard with a flat bang. The ball splashed short but directlYlin line with the brig's bowsprit. The brig responded with a full broadside of six guns, aimed high. Lewrie could hear the smt as it moaned overhead through the rigging. A sail twitched, a.
d a block and halyard snaked down to thud onto the larboard gangway. ’Stand by the starboard battery!" Alan looked aloft again. The stuns' I booms were still rigged out, though the sails were mostly furled. Now would be ~ time to wear, he thought grimly, and this broadside will be wasted. It's nearly five cables' range, anyway. This is just wh~t they want of us… ’As you bear… fire!" Treghues shouted.
The guns began to belch and roll back to the extent of the breeching ropes, and the well-drilled crews leaped on them tQ sponge out, to clear the vents and begin ramming down fresh powder and shot.
Thought so! Lewrie told himself. The smuggler brig had hardened up her braces and sheets and was wheeling to present. her stem to them, wearing through at least ninety degrees to the. nor' east. ’Goddamn and blast the bugger," Monk called out as though he had just had his purse cut loose, and Treghues chafed him for blaspheming. ’Hands to train and sidetackles!" Lewrie shouted. "Snug, em down tight and prepare to come about!" A second later that same command was shouted to them from Railsford on the quarterdeck. Waisters ran to the braces to cast them off the delaying pins while the forecastle captain prepared to heave on his heads'l sheets. But they had to wait until the men aloft had laid in from the yards after securing the stuns' Is, and the brig 280 Dewey Lmnbdm was gaining time to windward, no matter how the officers aft shouted for the topmen to speed their work. ’Hands wear ship!" came finally. "Put yer helm down!’
‘Haul, you people, haul!" the bosun roared. ’Vast hauling and belay!" Desperate turned up into the wind as steady as a needle on a pin and settled on her new course. The chase was still on her starboard side, now settled just over their windward cathead, and had regained at least half a league of distance on them. It would take the frigate at least two more hours to beat up to windward against that more weatherly brig, at which point it would be near the start of the First Dog Watch. ’Gun crews, stand easy.’
Lewrie climbed onto the jear bitts once more to look to the suth'rd for their first prize. If Forrester had two brain cells to rub together he would wear onto the wind now, as soon as he saw what was happening. A schooner, even a loaded one, could go to windward much better than either the brig or Desperate, could cut the comer off and with even one gun manned, could threaten their chase into heading north once more.
There was no sign that Forrester had the requisite number of brain cells, for she plodded along for long minutes on her original course. A signal went up Desperate's mizzen, which went unseen. ’Blind fucker," Lewrie muttered just loud enough for the nearest hands to hear. "He'll not stand a chance now." By the time the schooner came about she was not just downwind of the chase but downwind of Desperate as well. Desperate stood on for three hours before coming within range once more. The captain of the brig must have been a nacky man himself, because he hauled his wind to head due north, and as soon as Desperate began to parallel her course and open fire once again, he tacked, this time crossing the eye of the wind. He ducked out of the way of the broadside and headed off into the gloom of late afternoon to the sou-sou' east, back the way he had come. Forrester stood no chance even to get close. And the brig was not as unhandy on the wind as Lewrie had thought, for she pulled up half a point higher than the frigate, and was actually very slowly drawing away.
The hands were stood down from Quarters and the galley fire was lit. Lewrie looked at his watch. It would be dusk in forty-five minutes. They would stand to evening Quarters, then, without a prize.
This evening Lewrie was in what was left of the Second Dog Watch, so he left the gun deck and went up to the quarterdeck to stand by the wheel, where Monk and Treghues and Railsford were confening. ’Still so confident, Mister Lewrie?" Treghues said irritably. "He was mighty crafty, sir," Lewrie replied, searching for something safe to say to a captain who was livid inside. "Most likely a Jonathan captain-’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘The French and the Dons don't handle ships that well, sir.
He may have been Dutch, but I doubt it. American-built brig with a rebel captain. She was smartly handled, sir.’
’Next thing you know, Mister Lewrie shall be giving us lessons in ship-handJing," Treghues said. "Jesus Lord.’
’I would not presume, sir.. ‘. ’Don't take that tone with me, young sir, or I'll have you bent over a gun before you can say Jack Ketch.. ‘. ’Aye aye, sir.’
’Get off my quarterdeck.’
’I'm in the watch, sir?" Alan quailed. ’Then get down to loo'rd and out of my face.’
’Aye aye, sir.’
Welcome back to the real Navy, Lewrie thought, gazing off to the north as it got darker. There was a spectacular sunset astern, all reds and golds and layers of clouds painted pink and amber and blue grey, and the seas were bright as glittering rubies. At least he could appreciate that without harm.
Lewrie idled his time until evening Quarters thinking about that brig. She would most likely run to windward until after full dark, then come about north once more, probably wear on a reciprocal course because she did not want to get tangled up with the inshore patrols near St. Barts and St. Maartin. She could go due north outside the island chain. She could not set west-that would take her back into the anns of Desperate and the prize schooner. And on the map engraved in his head, Lewrie saw the Saba Bank. No, she would turn nor'west and run the gap for the other smuggler's holes in the Danish Virgins, St. Croix as the best bet, Spanish Puerto Rico if she was set to westerly. Lewrie was not sure what Commander Tobias Treghues had planned, but he knew where he would have waited to find her again. But then, nobody was asking him about it, were they? If he could not dazzle his new ship with his brilliance, he could at least succeed at appearing competent, and that was what he did in the weeks of cruising that followed. He requested that Railsford let him assist in small arms. He let it be known at lunch to the captain's clerk that he had assisted an acting purser and had worked in the English Harbor stores warehouses. He chatted with Mr. Gwynn and dropped a hint that he loved artillery and the great guns. At navigation practice with his new sextant (thanks to Lord Cantner's reward) he displayed to the sailing master his skills naturally, and Mister Monk let it be known that he was a dab-hand at navigating. In the course of his endeavor he casually revealed that Lieutenant Kenyon had let him stand Middle Watch with a bosun's mate, and that he had filled in as an acting master's mate in Parrot during her time with fever.
To each of these worthies he also showed a false front, that of a young man lately run to death by duties and happy to be once more a junior petty officer with no major responsibilities. Having been in the Navy long enough to know how hatefully any senior Warrant or Commission Officer regarded idle hands, and knowing that when a midshipman was working some officer was well pleased (and cannily understanding the perverse nature of his fellow man), Alan soon found himself exactly where he wanted to be.
He assisted the master-at-anns and Marine lieutenant at small anns. He assisted Mr. Cheatham with the ship's books and expense ledgers. He and the gunner's mate and yeoman of the powder room became coequal authorities on the upkeep of the great guns and all their ancillary gear.
Avery found his niches as well, and they drilled young Carey in terminology and lore until he could spout technical lingo with the ease of a bosun twenty years at sea. Carey also learned how to curse most wondrous-well, it must be said.
As the weeks went by, Treghues and Railsford learned that there was indeed a new order aboard-midshipmen who were useful, instead of the usual snot-nosed younkers-in-training they had grown accustomed to. There was less snarling from Treghues. In fact, there was a grudging acceptance, then a secret delight in having thoroughly salted and tarred midshipmen who could be trusted to carry out an order smartly.
Forrester, however, began to pout more, to purse his lips and squint his porcine eyes and curse them roundly. He was being threatened, and he knew it. Dh, he still had Captain Treghues' favor, since he had long been the man's star pupil, and their families were obviously cater-cousins. He was one of the original crew when Desperate was commissioned, and it would take an act of incredible stupidity or craven cowardice to break that bond. But when it came to something prestigious to do, his name was no longer the first on Treghues' lips.
Nor could he hold his superior social position in their mess, because if he struck out at Carey, he had Avery and Lewrie to contend with, and he could not push his weight around with either of them. He did try, but Avery was a most inventive fellow when it came to filling the young man's shoes with molasses during the night, nailing his chest shut when he was on deck, starting small rips in his hammock with a shaving razor that would tear open and leave his wide arse hanging out in the air by the start of the Morning Watch; substituting smaller sizes of slop trousers so that Forrester had to appear on deck with a distinctly pinched look about the middle. With all of them on deck during the day at exercises and drills, Forrester found it hard to respond with his own brand of trickery, since they all watched him close in a cabal sworn and dedicated to drive him to distraction.
Lewrie was a little more direct. When Forrester was caught trying to sabotage Avery's chest one morning, Lewrie simply told him that if he caught him at it again he would kick him in the balls. And when he caught him trying to open his own chest the next day, Alan made good on his threat, which made Forrester crouch for a week.
After the loss of the smuggler brig, Desperate made up for it… there were still dozens of islands engaged in illicit trade and hundreds of ships crossing the Atlantic on the Trades. Not a fortnight went by that they did not send a prize crew into port with the Red Ensign flying over the striped colors of the Rebels, the flag of Spain, or the golden lilies of France.
Their prizes were small-brigs and snows, brigantines and schooners, luggers and cutters, but the value of the cargoes and bottoms lost to the American Rebellion mounted steadily. Powder, shot, carriage guns, stands of arms, crates of swords and uniforms, blankets and camp gear for Washington's armyrice, pitch, spars, indigo, molasses and rum, log-wood, and bales of cotton-it all piled up in Admiralty Prize Courts warehouses in British hands.
To Lewrie it was as much like a legal form of piracy as any he had ever read about (with not the slightest idea that he would ever be involved), piracy with the right to have a bank account.
And while Article Eight of the Articles of War specifically stated that all contents of a seized ship were property of the Admiralty, Desperate could continually feed herself on casks of salt-meat "condemned" as unfit, firewood, water, coffee and cabin stores from the officer's messes, "split" flour sacks, "ratinfested" bread bags, crates of wine that no one thought to list in the prize manifests, livestock that had "died," spare cordage and sailcloth and yards and spars… everything they needed to continue cruising. They ate well, they drank well and they maintained their ship in prime condition at their enemies' expense, and the prize money piled up for eventual payout.
After two months Desperate was becoming seriously undermanned for fighting, much less for working the ship. One at a time she had been forced to part with quartermasters and mates, bosun's mates, both master's mates, half a dozen hands into this prize, ten into that one, until all the midshipmen, including Carey, had been called to stand a deck watch with no supervision.
The turnover in an active frigate that spent so much time on the prowl, and had had such good luck with prizes, was nearly fifty percent a year, but it made grand chances for able men. Able seamen constantly rose to more demanding acting positions. And they could always hope that the man they replaced was not languishing ashore, waiting to be recalled, but had been appointed into another ship, leaving them the possession of their new berth and extra pay.
The man sent off could not expect to return to his own ship, and stood a good chance of rising in the service in a new vessel, but perversely, they usually preferred to return. Desperate and her ways were a known quality, with a firm but fair captain and for the most part decent officers. Who knew what the next ship would be like? Finally, Desperate was forced to put about and head for Antigua, as miserly manned as the seediest merchantman with a skinflint for a master.
There was more bustle in English Harbor when Desperate arrived. Admiral Hood and his flagship Barjleur, along with his fleet of larger ships of the line, filled the outer roads, and the port worked alive with rowing boats and supply ships.
Treghues was rowed over to Glatton to report to Admiral Matthews, and then was taken to Barjleur to dine. Forrester accompanied him, to everyone's disgust, while Lewrie and Avery were handed the cutter and the pinnace and told to start heading for the inner harbor.
It was promising to see that all their prizes had arrived safe, anchored in a huddle of shipping far out of the way. That meant that there should be a share out of prize money soon. Maybe not the whole sum due each man, but enough pounds and shillings to make his life a little interesting, buy him a woman, some liquid refreshment, new slop clothing, tobacco, shares in some fresh meat or imported delicacies, or payoff his outstanding account with the purser, who could loan money against future pay for slop purchases.
Lewrie was also happy to note that at least half of Desperate's missing people were still ashore waiting her arrival; happy that her most capable mates and inferior petty officers and able seamen were available once more; the ship would not be deprived of their experience any longer.
It was something of an embarrassing shock to see how happy their sojourners were to see him. He had thought they would be glad to be back aboard among their own mates, but here they were, making much of the sight of him. They sounded genuinely pleased to say hello to him and asked him joshing questions about those who had remained behind; how things stood with their acting replacements, was a certain ship's boy bearing up and behaving, had a piece of gear been overhauled in their absence, had the goat foaled yet, asking him bow be kept and had he and Mister Avery been looking after Carey, abusing Forrester… and bragging about what they bad done in tbeir free time ashore.
I don't know these people that well, Lewrie thought, at a loss to explain the seeming affection from people in his subdivision, his watch. I know names and faces, who works and who hangs back. Maybe I've gotten some of them a rating and they think I'm due. I haven't tried to be popular. Don't tell me they have any real love for me…
He tried to be cynical about it, but it was touching aU the same, running another delusion about the Navy squarely on the rocks. He had to admit that, for the most part, they were good men, able and well trained, but not the sort he'd have in for a joint and a bottle and a yam if he were back home in London. Pressed or volunteer, one could no longer tell. But then he wasn't back home, was he? Lewrie soon gave up wondering about it as Desperate restocked. While the dockyard supplied most of the labor, steady men were picked to help out for extra pay in ferrying out fresh food and replacements for their depleted stores of bread, spirits and consumables.
Lewrie took Dr. Dome and Mr. Cbeatham ashore to select several bullocks for fresh meat while Desperate was in port, along with fresh flour, raisins, sugar and fixings for plenty of figgy-dowdys or duffs.
Dome was also to make sure that Cheatham purchased cases of fresh hard-skinned acid fruit. Commander Treghues was of the opinion that the rob of lemons, limes and oranges had been the best anti-scorbutic the late Captain Cook had found against scurvy on his worldwide voyages. Dr. Dome clung to the theory that bad air from the bilges caused scurvy. Had the rate of the disease dropped once Hales' Patent Ventilators had been installed to air the spaces below the waterline? Yes, it had. But Dome was not about to question a commander's decision.
Dr. Dome was an untidy man, though fussy about his appearance, and was one of the few men Lewrie had seen who wore a wig in the tropics as a matter of course. Perhaps because he was vain about going bald, he was never seen without his horsehair appliance. But he was considered a good surgeon. able to take off a limb in seconds, never causing unnecessary pain in the process, though he'd had little call for his skills so far. He could lance a boil, tend to rope burns, fit a truss, provide ointment for saltwater rashes and swore his fifteen-shilling mercury cure for the pox was devilish fine. He was also an easy touch for a late-night drink or a good book to read.
Cheatham, the purser, was a real puzzle. First of all, why should someone leave the Kentish fruit trade for the uncertain life of the sea where the profit margins were so low on issued stores, where any cheating beyond the Victualing Board's fourteen ounces to the pound would be noticed by the men and complained about right smartly? Even slops at twelve percent profit could not sustain him, and Lewrie had yet to find him listing discharged men as big users of tobacco or sundry other items. Yet Cheatham always smiled, had no more complaints than most. and his books balanced nicely. He had a "lay" somewhere that was paying handsomely, or he had a wish to die poor. Only time would tell the truth.
Lewrie came back aboard littered with chicken feathers after ferrying the last major items on the gun room's shopping lists, and was told to wash up and muster aft in the captain's cabins at the beginning of the First Dog Watch. He was welcomed in by the officers and senior warrants. Commander Treghues' servant was circulating with claret and pouring liberally. ’Gentlemen, I have summoned you aft to announce some good fortune that has come our way," Treghues began, glass in hand. "Good fortune for every hand, every man-jack.’
Railsford sat nearby, already in on the secret and smiling at his ease for once now that the ship was anchored and nothing could go wrong to upset a first lieutenant's peace-for a while, at least. ’Admiral Sir Onsley Matthews has informed me that the Admiralty Prize Court has made a determination on some of our recent prizes. In their infinite wisdom they have found time for our tawdry little affairs instead of dealing exclusively with Admiral Rodney and St. Eustatius.’
Bloody hell, quit being coy and get on with it! Lewrie had noticed that Treghues loved the sound of his own voice and wit. "Since April we have taken two brigs, a brigantine, two schooners and two local sloops in these waters. That does oot count our latest two prizes." Treghues went on to enumerate all the various war supplies denied the rebels, all the outwardbound products, until Lewrie was ready to scream. ’My agent informs me," Treghues said with the slightest glance to his right, which Lewrie spotted. It was Cheatham! He was the prize agent. There was five percent total in it for him. No wonder he smiled all the time. "We have amassed a total of Ј14,551,8 shillings 9 pence. And… we shall receive a partial payout tomorrow… in gold!" The tumult which resulted would have raised the hair of Mohawk Indians, and Lewrie was sure that the full news was already circulating on the lower deck barely before the words had drawled out ofTreghues' mouth.
Sir Onsley would get an eighth. Two-eighths would go to Treghues. The officers-Railsford, Lieutenant Peck, Mr. Monk, Dr. Dome and Cheatham-split an eighth; the senior warrants, master's mates and Admiral Matthews' secretary split an eighth; the midshipmen, petty officers, quartermasters and their mates, the bosun's mate and a few others took an eighth; and the rest of the crew received the final two-eighths. Lewrie did some rapid calculations. He would get a little over seventy-two pounds, more than a lieutenant made in a 1st Rate ship of the line for a year's work! Naturally, he would not see ten pounds of it in real money, but it was welcome. ’Now there's going to be about three pounds per man paid out in coin and the rest in certificates. I want you all to warn your men in your watches and divisions to watch out for the sharks who'll try to buy them out for twenty percent in ready money," Treghues warned. "I believe there'll be some few who have allotment papers on the books who'll want it forwarded all, or in part, to their parents or families. We're anchored far enough out to prevent someone going out a gun port, and Antigua is an island, after all. Each of you pick out the men most likely to run, and let the rest go ashore for a two-day leave. Mister Lewrie, you have a good copperplate hand. See my clerk and begin writing out blank leave-tickets. Mind you, any man who runs, or overstays his leave, ruins it for the rest of his subdivision or watch, and I'll have him run the gauntlet when he's fetched back aboard. I want to see liberty lists tomorrow in the forenoon.’
Another idea foundered, Lewrie thought, amazed at what he learned from Treghues, for all his coyness and preachifying. No one had talked to him of leave. He assumed the men stayed aboard from the beginning of the commission 'tit the ship paid off, without a chance to go ashore except in a supervised working party. But if the man was owed back pay and prize money, it made sense to let him have his fun ashore, especially on an island. How could he walk away from two years' wages, and enough in prize-certificates to set him up for life? And the crew had been together for a long while; they were used to each other, less eager to change their situation for something new. How much had poor Harrison sacrificed back there in Portsmouth when he took "leg-bail" and ran inland with his skinny little wife? "Admiral Matthews also informs me that whatever we lack in manpower shall be made good at his personal selection," Treghues told them after they had calmed down from the momentous news. "This is quite an honor for us to receive, possibly the last people personally spoken for by our squadron admiral before he hauls down his flag.’
What? Lewrie thought, almost choking on Treghues' excellent claret Hauling down his flag? How soon? God, there goes my one source of interest in the West Indies. Now what the hell's going to happen to me? He had been in the fleet long enough to know that petticoat influence in London did not count for that much-civilians could not get into naval affairs. Petticoat influence was only good when the petticoats controJIed naval influence.
Officers normally gathered to them in their ships, and in their squadrons and fleets and staffs, men they could count on, from able seamen to post-captains, and were judged by how wisely they chose proteges to sponsor and promote and aid throughout their careers. They also expected others of their close acquaintance to aid their followers, and were prepared to aid followers of others in a fair swap of "interest.’
There was only one requirement that never varied-you could not advance a total fool, for the abiding needs of the Navy came first, last and always. And it took a certain political skill to play the game right. Admiral Rodney did not, had recommended poor choices and promoted unprepared people when in command of foreign stations beyond the immediate reach of Whitehall, abusing the system, angering friends. ’Do you need some water, Mister Lewrie?" Tregbues asked. "No, thankee, sir. I was already spending my share on a very tasty meal." Lewrie coughed. ’Got carried away, eh? Remember to swallow first, that's always the way. A midshipman's stomach controls his brains, and then there's all hell to pay." Treghues chuckled.
Lewrie did not in the least feel like smiling, but it was a social occasion and he had to show a civil face, so he grinned sheepishly, which was what midshipmen were good at… was what Treghues expected from his young gentlemen. ’Do you know how soon Sir ansley will be going home, sir?" Alan had to enquire. "His replacement, Sir George Sinclair, is purported to be on his way already. ’
‘Sir ansley and Lady Maude have been most kind to me, sir. I shall miss him. Came as a shock." Alan sighed. Treghues nodded, remembering that Lewrie himself was one of Sir ansley's followers. "Then you shall be relieved to know that Sir ansley shall be appointed to the Admiralty Board upon his return to London," Treghues said, handing him the tacit reassurance that the admiral could still look out for him even thousands of miles away. ’There is also a scheme that Admiral Rodney wished to put into action regarding these so-called neutral islands," Treghues informed his gathering. "I cannot reveal any details as of yet, but you can be sure that Desperate shall playa part in it, and it may promise to be a most rewarding part, for the public good, and our private gain.’
Once Desperate began to let her people ashore in manageable batches for shore leave, Mr. Monk and the bosun discovered a healthy crop of underwater growth on her bottom. She should have put to sea immediately once her people were back inboard, but it was thought a good opportunity to bream her.
This involved everyone in nearly a week of heavy labor, hoisting out all her guns, powder and shot, beef and pork barrels, striking her masts down to maintops and gantlines, and warping her into the inner harbor where she was careened at low tide on a sand bank so the dock workers could bum and scour her bottom clean, then coat her with a mix of sulfur, tallow and pitch to retard future marine growth.
While she was empty, the carpenter and his crew inspected her for rot in her bilges and below-water beams and keel members. She was pronounced healthy for at least another year in the tropics, where any proud ship could be eaten down to hollow kindling once the teredo worms got to her.
With nearly a knot and a half restored to her best speed, they floated her upright and began to reload her. They had just begun to hoist topmasts once she was back at her moorings when the day's work was interrupted by the sound of a salute being fired.
Lewrie went up the shrouds with a glass, eager for a chance to take a breather, and watched a handsome thirty-two-gun frigate ghosting into harbor, firing a salute to Hood and the forts. At her mizzen truck she flew a broad pendant, the sign of a commodore or rear admiral. ’So that's our new commodore," Lewrie said, half to himself. "We won't sail right away, not if Matthews will be hauling down his flag. We shall all want to get to know the new man.’
It was a farewell ball for Sir ansley and Lady Maude, and the introductory social event for Commodore Sir George Sinclair. Tbe harbor gleamed in another of those splendid West Indies sunsets that Alan had come to enjoy so much, though there was not a breath of wind and the summer evening was close, hot and humid. By the time their party from Desperate had climbed the hill road on foot to Admiralty House, their shirts and waistcoats were glued to them by sweat. Fortunately there was, like a tops'l breeze, a cooling breath of the Trades once atop the hill, and servants offered towels so they could mop themselves down.
Admiral Hood was present, standing tall and slim and beaky over the normal-sized guests, surrounded by a set of admirers. Sir ansley and Lady Maude were off in a comer with less of a coterie; he was now only a half-pay rear admiral of the red, and sycophants no longer had to be quite so attentive. The crowd had transferred their attention to the newest officer by the buffets, eager to get a first look at their new Commodore. That was where the Dockyard Superintendent, the Master Attendant and the Prize Court Agents lurked and simpered.
Admiral Rodney had gone home with his fabulous prize fieet, so Treghues had to settle for lesser lights, and led them first to Sir ansley. Their former admiral looked even fatter than ever, ever-strangling in a neckcloth too tight for him, and Lady Maude had chosen a bilious purple-and-grey satin sackgown, a poor comparison to her complexion. If it weren't for Sir 00sley's uniform they would have looked like servants. ’Sir Oosley… Lady Maude. Your servant, sir.. ‘. ’Oh, Alan Lewrie," Lady Maude said. "My, they feed you well in Desperate. You must have grown another inch since we saw you last.’
’We have been living quite well for a cruiser, Lady Maude. ’
‘Mister Lewrie," Sir ansley said, offering his hand. "You are looking 'Bristol Fashion,' I must say.’
’Thank you, Sir Onsley. I… I was most distressed to hear you and Lady Maude would be going back to England," Lewrie began, trying to make his prepared speech sound natural. "May I say that I shall always be grateful for your and Lady Maude's many kindnesses and considerations. I hope your voyage is tranquil, and your next post rewarding. ’
‘Thankee, Mister Lewrie. Most kind," Sir Onsley said. "I'll miss the islands, damme if! won't. But, you have to make way for younger men.’
’I am certain the islands shall miss you, too, Sir Onsley. I'm sure I speak for many who served under you." He smiled. Yes, they'll miss the sight of Glarton sitting out there like the Pharos, Lewrie thought. ’Be odd not to have a sea command after all these years," Sir Onsley maundered on, now well into his wine cups. ’Sir George Sinclair would have to be a most impressive officer to replace you, sir. Or match our record of success in reducing the number of privateers and all," Lewrie said, wondering if he really knew when to stop toadying before even Sir Onsley noticed. ’We have stuck a dry bone in Brother Jonathan's throat, have we not?" Sir Onsley chuckled. Dead-lazy or not, Sir Onsley was going home rich as Croesus from prize money reaped by his squadron. ’Only thing I regret is I'm going to miss the last act out here," Sir Onsley said. "Here, walk with me and we'll have some wine, boy. Do you know anything about DeGrasse?" Something to eat? Lewrie thought. "No, sir.’
’Damn crafty Frog admiral. Left Brest back in the spring and he got down to Martinique with a huge convoy and a fleet of line-of-battle ships. Sam Hood's crossed swords with him once so far, pretty much of a draw. But he's here for a purpose, and it won't be good when it comes. Met Sam Hood yet?’
‘No, sir.’
’Then come with me.’
And before Lewrie knew it, he was bowing to that worthy, who looked down that long nose at him. Sir Onsley bubbled on about Lewrie's record and what ship he was in at present. "Yes, Mister Lewrie," Hood said with a meager smile. "Believe I read something about Ariadne. Knew Bales long ago, you know. And it was Parrot, I believe, before Desperate?’
‘Aye, sir," Lewrie said, almost quivering with excitement.
The admiral had indeed actually heard something of him. "Damn glad to meet you, Mister Lewrie. You keep up that sort of work," Hood told him, before shifting his eyes away. "I shall, sir," Lewrie promised. allowing himself to be led off by Sir Onsley. "Put in a word for you. Never hurts for him to remember what you look like," Sir Onsley said, now firmly playing naval politics. "He must have a thousand midshipmen, but he'll know you.’
And you'll be on the Board at the Admiralty, giving advice and support to Hood, so he's amenable to a good relationship with you, but at what price? Lewrie speculated, sipping his wine, noticing for the first time that it was champagne and as cold as mortal sin. ’Ah, I see Treghues has already found our new commodore," Sir Onsley noted, jutting his chin across the room to point at Alan's captain and a thin, reedy stick of a man in a coat a bit too faded to be fashionable at a ball. Still, it was laced as a captain's coat, but for the buttons set in threes. Sir George Sinclair wore a tight periwig with close side curls, emphasizing the skin as dark as any foredeck hand, making those sharp eyes and down-turned hook of a nose appear even more daunting. ’A real taut hand, is Sinclair," Sir Onsley continued. "Put up his first broad pendant when the French came in in '78, and was a real terror off Bordeaux, I'm told. Got knighted at Quiberon Bay in the last war and earned it three times over. We are not close, but I did have a chance to mention a few people by way of recommendation. I do not think you would mind if Sir George knew of my regard for you.’
’Not at all, sir. Your thoughtfulness at a time like this is… I cannot find the words, Sir Onsley.’
It was heady stuff to be endorsed as able by a man who now had distant control over the officers he would be answering to in future. Lewrie had not thought to wonder how well regarded Sir Onsley was when it came to choosing followers. But he had yet to hear that he was as inept as Admiral Rodney, so it might be alright for his career.
296 Dewey Lambdin He felt success falling like a laurel wreath in some fever dream, slow and catchable, right into his outstretched hands. He had won over Captain Bales, had convinced Kenyon of his ability-even if Kenyon was a Molly, Alan stilI respected his skills. He had caught Sir Onsley's eye as a comer, was well recommended to Admiral Hood (another comer), and now was most likely going to cap the evening by winning the same notice from his new admiral of the squadron! Why had he not joined the Navy years ago, so that he then could have been entered on ships' books for six years? There was a commission in the offing, and he knew, from asking questions of other midshipmen passed for lieutenant, that he could make a fair showing at the exam.
Sir Hugo may have done me the greatest favor of my life by making me go to sea, he realized.
But standing slightly behind and to one side of Sir George Sinclair was his flag captain, someone Lewrie had known under less auspicious circumstances, and the laurel wreath of success was snatched out of his fingers.
He almost snapped the stem of his wineglass. Not now, not him! Lewrie shivered. Good Christ! It was Captain Bevan, the very officer who had dragged him from his father's house. Captain Bevan, who knew enough of his background and the alleged reason for his banishment to ruin him forever. Captain Bevan, the man who had been his jailer in that damned post-chaise to Portsmouth and had shoved him into Ariadne! "That would not be Captain Bevan with him, Sir Onsley?" Alan said, ready to run or throw up or both. ’Aye, his flag captain. Know him?" Sir Onsley asked. "We've met," Lewrie mumbled, sinking in a bleak despair. Lewrie could not escape being led across the salon to Commodore Sinclair's circle. Up close, the man had that predatory look that Mrs. HiIIwood possessed, but Lewrie felt he was not going to get the same sort of gentle treatment. ’Sir George.’
’Sir Onsley." It was the sound of talons rustling. ’Here's another of your band, off Desperate. Midshipman Alan Lewrie," Sir ansley said proudly. "Commodore Sir George Sinclair, Mr. Lewrie.’
’Your servant, Sir George," Alan said, summoning up what was left of his nerves, and trying to look plucky and direct. "Ah yes, Lewrie." Sir George smiled thinly, which smile was as quickly gone. "I've heard of you. ’
‘Another one of my promising lads, Sir George, like your nephew," Treghues said. "When he puts his mind to it, of course, ha ha. ’
‘January of last year, was it not, Mister Lewrie?" Sir George asked with a sniff. The Navy, the rape, the Gordon Riots, what? Lewrie fumbled at such a surprising question. "Aye, sir. January of' 80.’
’Is that your recollection, Bevan?" Sir George asked his aide. ’I remember it most distinctly, Sir George," Captain Bevan said, bestowing upon his chief a benign look, then turning to face Lewrie. "Yes," Sir George intoned dryly. "Poor old Bales.’
Sir ansley and Cmdr. Treghues were mystified by this exchange, and Lewrie rushed to sort things out for them. "Captain Bevan was the officer who obtained me my first berth in Ariadne. He was also kind enough to see me safely to Portsmouth and helped me stock my kit. I wish to extend to you my hearty thanks for doing so, Captain Bevan. I have learned so much in the Navy, first under Captain Bales in poor Ariadne, from Sir Onsley, and now Commander Treghues. I feel so grateful for your assistance in discovering my new career. Having had a bit of success, and gaining so much knowledge has been an… an inspiring experience. Not to mention, uplifting.’
They know I'm raving, he told himself. They'll get the leg irons first, and then the poking sticks. Lewrie, you can lie like a butcher's dog. Oh, you arse-kissing, vile wretch… Please God they eat this shit up like plum duff… ’Really," Sir George drawled, drawing the word out like a rapier. "He is keen, and a fast learner," Treghues said offhandedly, not wanting to praise Lewrie publicly now that Sir George was reacting to him much as he would regard a drunken hand at the gratings. ’Well, I shall keep my eye on him, then," Sir George said with just the hint of a thaw, but it wasn't the sort of smile that would give a man much cheer. It reminded Alan of a judge finding a new way to pronounce "transportation for life" after a full docket.
The interview died after that as Lewrie stumbled off, trying to find a graceful way to say goodbye to such an equivocal dismissal. He chased down a servant and loaded up on wine, fast. The first went down in a rush and he began on the second. ’Merciful God in heaven," he most miserably croaked. "I am so well and truly fucked-’
‘ 'Ere, you watch yer mouth around a lady, ya dirty little Navy guttersnipe," a gentleman standing close enough to hear said as he shook his fist at him. His wife stood by, face pruned in pious outrage. ’I am so sorry for disturbing your good lady, sir," Lewrie said in surprise, but thinking fast. "I have just had the most shocking news from home. Do forgive me but I was beyond all temperance.’
’Oh, sorry, then.. ‘. ’Funny way of showing grief," the woman said. Grief's the fucking word for it, he told himself. He began to wander the salon, nodding to everyone whether he knew them or not, asking himself what he had done to bring down such a fate on himself. He had studied hard, he had worked hard, he had almost-but-not-quite come to tolerate the Navy, he was not even a three-bottle man, and hadn't had any mutton for months, and could not understand why God could bring him so close to the edge of triumph and then dash him into the mud. ’Saving yourself for dinner, Lewrie?" Treghues asked him on his third aimless circuit of the salon. ’I'm sorry, sir?’
‘This isn't a drum," Treghues told him. "There's a sit-down meal coming. Are you half-seas over?" He scowled. "Oh no, sir, I'm fine, really.’
’Slow down on the wine and go have a bite from the buffet, or I shall send you back aboard ship, and blast your supper and your dancing," Treghues told him, not understanding what Sir George had against Lewrie, but determined to find out. ’Aye aye, sir, I… I shall join Avery and Forrester at the buffet, sir. They look to be having a fine time at the moment." The buffet was groaning under a load of wonderful-looking and -smelling food for snacking. Avery and Forrester were tucking it in like famished dogs, standing side by side and amiable for once in their greed, slowly grazing down the tables. If his nerves had not already suffered such a shock as to be terminal to his appetite, the sight of Forrester at trough would have done it anyway.
Feeling that Treghues was still watching him, he joined them and took a plate and utensils, spooning up the first thing handy with no regard for what it was. ’Do try some of this, Alan," Avery said. "Some local kickshaw with honey and nuts on it. Could be rabbit. Forrester swears it's partridge.’
’Urn, yes," Alan said after chewing a bite. "Maybe duck?’
‘What a palate," Forrester sneered. "Salt-pork is more to your style.’
’Spreading yourself a bit broader than usual tonight, Francis'?" he shot back. "You'll be needing new breeches if you keep on loading cargo like that.’
’You are so unbelievably common, Lewrie.’
’David, did you ever notice, right after eating you can't understand a word he says?’
‘Keeping his cheeks full, for later," Avery surmised. ’Sucks it right up like a washdeck pump," Alan said, studying Forrester closely. "But whatever does he do with the little bones?’
‘Not sure, but it explains those low crunching noises in the middle of the night. ’
‘Have your little laughs," Forrester said, "and then I shall have mine. You'll be all-amort… ’
‘Whatever did he mean by that?" Lewrie wondered as Forrester moved away from them. ’I suppose he thinks he'll be going into the flagship.’
’Could we be so lucky?" Lewrie asked, feeling a ray of sunshine penetrating his gloom. "Treghues and Sinclair are as thick as thieves, are they?’
‘His uncle will take care of him," Avery hinted. ’No," Lewrie said with a sudden chill. "Forrester… ’
‘And Sinclair." Avery was relentless. "I damn near cried. ’
‘Sweet suffering God, this is hellish," Lewrie whispered. "I am ruined…’
’You?" Avery scoffed. "Think he has any more love for me? I was the one played so many pranks on him. But he stands a good chance of being out of our lives. He'II be passed for lieutenant a lot quicker than us, but then he's gone. Thank the good Lord.’
Lewrie set his plate down and rubbed his forehead, lost in a viselike agony trying to puzzle things out so they made sense. "Desperate could be the post of honor," he told David. "He might stay with us until a suitable big prize needed a master, and he would go into her. Immediate promotion, bought in, at least a lieutenant's command below the Rates.’
’That makes me ill to contemplate.’
Or Forrester could stay in Desperate, and I go to the flag, where Sir George hounds me to ruin because of Forrester's lies, and what happened in London, he thought gloomily. But plenty of men go to sea under a cloud, and as long as you're good at your job no one gives a groat what you've done before. Alright, so Sir George doesn't like me-that's no reason he would harm me. What would it profit him? Oh, God, what else can go wrong? "Alan!" He turned to see Lucy Beauman dressed in a new gown of pale pink satin with an undergown of white lace, lots of ruched material on sleeves and bodice, her own hair in ringlets instead of a wig, all done up with flowers and maroon ribbons. ’Lucy… how truly magnificent and beautiful you look. ’
‘Oh, Alan," she said, taking his hands. David coughed to break the spell. ’Excuse my manners… David Avery, Miss Lucy Beauman, Admiral Sir Onsley Matthews' niece. Lucy, this is my shipmate, Midshipman David Avery.’
’Your servant, ma'am," David said, making a graceful leg, and dribbling food from his unattended plate behind him. Thank God for one good thing that has happened to me this evening, Alan thought happily, flushing with pleasure at seeing her once more, and aching with sudden longing as well. Every time he was reunited with her he found her more womanly, more desirable, more lovely, if such a thing was possible. ’Alan, Mister Avery, I should like you to meet my father." Right, thankee, God, Alan almost said aloud. ’Your servant, Mister Beauman, sir.’
Ph-e Beauman was squat as a toad, crammed into a bright green velvet coat, a longer-skirted old-style waistcoat awash in silver brocade, buff breeches and hose, with calves as thick as tillerheads. And the high-roached, elaborately curled bag wig he wore fairly screamed "Country" -of the worst huntin', shootin', ridin', drinkin', tenant-tramplin', dog-lovin' View Halloo variety.
This lovely girl is daughter to… that? Alan couldn't accept it. "You're Lewrie, hey?" said Mister Beauman once they had both been bowed to. "Heard a lot about you.’
He has much in common with Sir George, Alan thought unhappily; he has heard of me. I cannot imagine a more ghastly evening… ’Like a lad with gumption. Chopped that fella, hey? With good reason, 0' course.’
’I could not in good conscience let his remarks pass, sir," Lewrie told him, happy to hear that Lucy's father sounded approving of his duel. Nothing like defending a daughter to placate a daddy. "The less said about his scurrilous remarks, the better, though, with the ladies present.’
’Onsley sez yer a comer. That so?’
‘I am very grateful for Sir Onsley's and Lady Maude's good opinion, Mister Beauman. They are wonderful people. ’
‘Aye, that's so. That's so," Mr. Beauman agreed, snaking himself a glass of wine from the buffet. "And you come on business to Antigua, sir?’
‘Hell, the Matthewses are sailing for home, lad. The slave revolt's been put down, and Portland Bight's healthier than Antigua in the summer. I've come to fetch Lucy home.’
’I had not thought that far ahead about the consequences, sir," he said, sharing a heartbreaking look of confirmation from Lucy. "I am sure you're pleased to be able to receive her back into your family in safety and peace-’
‘Aye, true," Beauman nodded heavily, changing glasses for a full one. "Bubbly Frog trash. Got your juju bag?’
‘Yes, sir, I do.’
’Sambo nonsense," Beauman Sr. chuckled. "Still, any luck's better than none, hey?" Does this man ever speak in complete sentences? Alan wondered. They were interrupted by the dinner gong, and the most important people began to pair off to file into the long dining rooms. "Mister Beauman, if you are to fetch Lucy home, and I shall be sailing north in a few days, this ball may be our last chance to converse for some time. With your permission, of course, I should like to dance with your daughter.’
’Me, too," Avery said in a barely audible mutter behind him. "Aye, if she's willin'," Beauman agreed.
There were farewell speeches about Sir ansley, welcoming speeches about Sir George, a word or two from Admiral Hood, many toasts and much food. With her father beside her, Lucy could not indulge in one of those long-distance romances of eyes and shrugs, so Lewrie had to content himself with his table companions, and a damned dull lot they were. The food he could barely taste, and did little more than mangle what little he allowed on his plate. His appetite was quite gone.
Am I going to be ruined? And if I am, then what am I to do for a living? I could stay in the Navy, but if this war ends I'll have no chance of being retained. And they don't give half-pay to midshipmen. Hell, without Sir ansley's help there's no way I can make my lieutenancy. Even as a Commission Sea Officer, I'd be turned out on the beach, and half-pay is more like quarterpay, it's a joke. But, if I married Lucy Beauman I'd be a ledcaptain, a poor relation, but that's worth more than half-pay, even worth more than a post-captain's command. Either way, bless her, she's the key to prosperity after the war…
After the ladies had retired, but before the port got going, he left the dining rooms to hunt up Lucy. He also badly needed coffee or tea. He had eaten little and had taken on a bit too much drink.
He got his coffee, dark and sweet the way he enjoyed it, drank one cup scanning the salon for Lucy, then got another cup and went out on the veranda. There she was, taking the air with some other younger girls. She left them quickly and came to him. They went around the comer for privacy, and once alone she buried her face in his shoulder and embraced him hungrily. ’Oh, Alan, I've been so miserable, and foolish… I never thought I'd have to go back to Jamaica and not see you again-’
‘I've missed you, too, Lucy, and when I was told the admiral was hauling down his flag.. ‘. ’I wrote you so many letters. Did you get them?’
‘We spoke no friendly ships the last two months," Alan explained. "Did you get mine?’
‘Oh, yes. There was always some sailor showing up with a letter saying he had just come in with news from you. I don't know how you managed it." Lucy beamed. "They were our crew that came in with a prize," he explained, finding it hard to believe that she had thought he could arrange his mail to be delivered whenever he wanted it. Maybe there's a good reason she can't spell, maybe she's feebler than most women… ’And now I shall never see you again." She pouted. ’I may sail to Kingston again, Lucy, we can still write each other, and I intend to ask your father if I may have his leave to call upon you when we put into port.’
’Oh, Alan…" She looked at him as if he had just invented gravity. "Do you love me, Alan? Do you truly love me that much? " "Aye, I do." Hold on here, do I? Yes, I must. But maybe I don't. How do you tell? I've only been in lust. She's such a beauty, and what I know of her body is enough to make anyone mad with passion. So, she may not be bright as a man. Who expects her to be… ’I love you, Alan," she said, squeezing him tight. "I have been in love with you since I first saw you, all weak and ill, when they brought you into Auntie's house. Oh, I think I shall die with happiness tonight.. ‘.
We're not going that far just yet, he thought. "Your father has to allow me to call upon you-’
‘Oh, Father cannot deny us. No one could be that cruel.
Alan, why must we wait? I had thought we would wait until the war was over, until you had become an officer, but if we feel so strongly, why do we not marry now?" Her father will never go for that. Damn, she'll blow the gaff on me with her impatience, and then goodbye security… "I cannot, Lucy… there's my duty to the Navy, my oath to the Crown. And I doubt if your father will agree after just meeting me. Perhaps we should let him get used to the idea?’
‘But, Alan, many people marry in time of war.. ‘. ’But they don't look kindly on midshipmen doing it. Lieutenants, perhaps. Right now the Navy is the only life I have, Lucy." And a right dirty one it is, too, he added to himself. "You shall have a life with me," she said, pouting in the darkness of the venmda. Somehow Alan knew she was pouting. "Once the war is over, you owe the Navy nothing. If you wish a seafaring life, my father owns many ships. Their captains take their wives on trading voyages to so many exciting places… Or we could have a fine plantation of our own, thousands of acres to ourselves.’
I have discovered the keys to heaven itself, Alan rejoiced as he held her close to him. God, to be a planter, a trader, with ships of my own and regiments of slaves. And dear Lucy to rattle every night of the week. We could go back to London in triumph. And then to hell with the Navy, with my family and anyone else! "I shall speak to your father but I beg you, Lucy, don't be hasty. Let him consider me. He has no reason to dislike me as of yet, and Sir Onsley and Lady Maude can speak for me. And at home you can bring him round. How could he refuse his lovely daughter anything she desires once he has gotten used to the idea of me as a son-in-law?" Alan cooed. ’You are such a slyboots, Alan," she said, kissing him. "I am so proud of you. So smart and clever. I love you so much. ’
‘And I love you, Lucy," he echoed… did he mean it, a little?… kissing her back. "Now, we must go back in before someone comments on us being alone together. I would not give anyone the slightest reason to doubt your honor.’
’Yes," she said, giving him one last hug. "I shall join Auntie and try to compose myself. And you will speak to Father tonight.’
’I promise.’
They kissed once more, a lingering kiss full of promised passion to come, before parting and making tiny adjusnnents to their dress. He offered her his arm and they reentered the salon just as the men began to leave the dining rooms to join the ladies for coffee.
Mr. Beauman spotted her right off and came across the room to join them, a frown on his face. Lucy evidently knew that look from many years' experience of his temper, and chattered with him briefly before hurrying to her aunt. "Missed you over the port, lad," Mr. Beauman said. "Wanted to get you alone for a while and have a chat. Veranda good for you?’
‘Aye, sir…" The older man led him back out to the veranda. Alan retrieved his half-empty cup of coffee and sipped at it. "Been gettin' letters from Lucy, from her aunt 'bout you.
Turned the lass's head good n' proper. ’
‘I have become fond of your daughter, Mister Beauman. At first I was grateful for all her concern and care when I was ill. But once I was well enough to get around and hold a real conversation with her, well.. ‘. ’An' you want to talk about somethin' more than dandn' with the lass," Beauman said. ’I would be most honored if I could come calling on her, sir, in the event that I get to Kingston.’
’The shit you say!" Beauman barked. ’Aye, sir." Lewrie winced. ’She's barely turned seventeen!’
‘I am aware of that, sir.’
’What are you, eighteen? Boy with a Cambridge fortune, just a midshipman, an' those're two-a-penny. ’
‘Your brother-in-law, Sir Onsley, must have told you I have prospects, Mister Beauman. It's true, I'm only a midshipman now, but that is now, not what I hope to accomplish. ’
‘Got lands back home? Rents 0' yer own?" Beauman carried on. "You in line to inherit? Parents substantial people?’
‘No, sir.’
’Onsley sez there's gossip ya had to join the Navy to make somethin' of yerself. That true?" Good God, I really am fucked… He nodded yes to that question, not trusting himself to speak. "Don't rightly hold that against ya, lad." Beauman smiled. "Had to come out to the Indies to make a man of meself, make my own way. Woulda gone to hell on my own back home. But, see this my way, yer a pretty fella, pretty enough to turn the girl's poor head, but yer not the solid type 0' match I'd trust to keep her proper. There's nothin' goin' to come of this. Sorry, lad. Nothin' personal.’
’I may not be ideal now, sir. But I'm not asking permission to marry tomorrow. I mean to gain my commission first, and there is the war still to be fought. Allow me to write her, and to call. If she finds someone more pleasing in the meantime, then that is Providence. I would not press any sort of suit until I felt I could meet your standards as a suitor, or doom her to a shabby life to suit my pleasure," he lied, desperately glib. ’How often you think you might get to Jamaica?’
‘Perhaps once a year, sir, at best.’
’Hmm. Tell ya what, you make somethin' of yerself. I'll allow you to write. And if you get to Jamaica, you can come callin'. But you'll not be doin' anythin' to disturb the peace 0' my family 'till say I'm satisfied with yer prospects.’
’1 give you my solemn word on that, sir.’
I know what he's thinking, Lewrie thought. Creampot love I or Lucy will grow out of. Out of sight, out of mind, while he throws his sort of bachelor up to her. He may not know it, but we're as good as engaged right now… ’Good enough," Beauman told him. "Old Onsley's right, you've got bottom, boy. My advice to ya.’
’Aye, sir?’
‘Whoever ya end up married to, never have daughters. ’
‘I'n take that to heart, Mister Beauman." Alan smiled in relief. "May I go tell Lucy the news?’
‘Aye, run along.’
Lucy was glowing with delight at his report, and Lady Maude was cooing and fanning herself in joy. Sir Onsley frowned a lot, said a bit how married officers were lost to the Navy, which got him a withering glare from Lady Maude, which he had to splutter his way free of by reminding her that he was a post-captain when they'd wed.
The rest of the evening was a glimpse of Paradise itself, for Lucy told all her girl acquaintances, they told all the young men at the ball, and everyone assumed it was a much more formal arrangement than it really was. Older couples beamed at them foolishly and remarked on what a splendid couple they would be.
On his part Alan completely forgot about his fears conceming Captain Bevan and Sir George Sinclair. With Lucy at his side they were no more than fleabites from a traveler's bed; nothing to get exercised about. His future was assured once the war was over, and the Navy was little more than a slight aggravation to be borne until then.
Once her father and Lucy left, Alan had no more reason to stay at the ball, so he visited the kitchens for a bundle of food to sate his now-roaring appetite. The cooks and stewards remembered him from his previous stint of duty, so he left with a substantial basket of goodies and two bottles of champagne.
This he and young Carey, who had stayed behind aboard, devoured happily in the quiet darkness of their mess.
Once in bed, he was so busy thinking on his prospects that he was still awake two hours later when Avery and Forrester staggered to their hammocks, tipsy and trying to shush each other like a pair of lamebrained housebreakers trying to smash through a wall without waking the house's owner.
They dropped their shoes, dropped their chest lids, clanked their dirks trying to find spare pegs, giggled, belched, farted, thumped into each other and apologized profusely, hummed their favorite tunes, slung their hammocks and tumbled out at least once with loud crashes and began to curse everything roundly. Carey found it so entertaining that he ended up shrieking with laughter at their bungling.
And once the mess area was filled by nothing but drunken snores, Alan still lay awake, closer to contentment than he had been in two full years, listening to the ship breathe around him, and the watch bell up forward chiming the half-hour, until he too drowsed off, quite pleased with himself.