Chapter 1
“Colin, do you know what our orders are?” asked Emma Green.
“Have patience, Mr. Midshipman Green,” teased Colin
Prescott, as Emma was still electing to learn the ropes dressed as a
Midshipman. “No, I don’t know for sure, but I can make a few guesses.”
“So what have you guessed?” asked Emma, standing on one leg
and fidgeting with her stocking top with the free foot.
“You’ll get your stockings dirty and then Mr. Hardy will wax
most irritable,” said Colin exactly as if he had not been doing the same thing
up to a few months before.
Emma flushed and stood back on two feet. Abel Hardy, the
gunner, was aware she was a girl and would hand her to Mrs. Price, the
captain’s wife and ship’s surgeon for any canings deemed suitable, but he would
not hold back any verbal excoriation.
“I don’t think you guessed anything,” she said, with a toss
of her golden curls.
“Well if you try to goad me, I won’t tell you,” said Colin.
“It works on most boys,” said Emma. “Please tell me, Colin.”
“Well, we have medicines for the tropics, and provisions for
a long cruise,” said Colin. “We are said to be set for nasty duty, and we have
a marine lieutenant, not a sergeant so small a ship would usually rate. We have extra spare masts and spars in case
of hurricanes, so it is apparent that the Admiralty has given orders that we
are to seek, cut-out and subdue a hurricane and bring it back for court
martial.”
“Colin!” complained Emma.
The senior midshipman took pity on his friend.
“I think we’re going after slavers,” he said.
Emma’s mouth rounded into an ‘oh’.
“Because the ‘Thetis’ is an American-built schooner with
typically American lines, and it’s Americans mostly doing the slaving?” she
asked.
“Exactly,” said Colin.
“And some French but they won’t regard an American ship until we are too
close to them to do anything about it.”
“Is that important?” asked Emma.
“With slavers? Yes.
We need to be able to board and storm to stop them throwing all the
slaves overboard. We can’t do anything
about them unless catching them with an actual cargo because that’s the law,
but if we smell the cargo, and apparently they stink for the awful condition
the slaves are kept in, Mr. Price will take that as a good reason to board, and
then they can be stopped from disposing of the evidence.”
“Throwing them overboard?
That’s horrible, but can’t we pick them up?”
“They throw them over in irons to weigh them down. Mr. Price spoke about it once,” said Colin,
soberly. “You may need to go into skirts
to help care for and reassure the women; you and Molly both.”
“And if it helps, I certainly will,” said Emma. “What
villains!”
“I wager Mr. Price will be happy to treat them like pirates
and kill on sight,” said Colin. “Of course he’s more aware of the problem, with
Mrs. Price being the granddaughter of a black slave.”
Emma nodded. The captain’s beautiful mulatto wife had been
rescued from pirates, and the whole ship knew the romantic story and how
William had rescued her, and fell in love, and in consequence was a wealthy
man, as Mrs. Amelia Price’s father was a wealthy ship-owner and merchant. She
was petting Tabitha, the ship’s cat, who had firmly come aboard on one of the
provision boats, took up residence in the gun room and proceeded to give birth
to four kittens. She killed more rats
than she and her brood needed and insisted on presenting any excess to the
midshipman’s berth, which was, as Colin said an embarasse des riches.
William Price looked around his assembled officers. He
smiled lovingly at his surgeon, his lovely wife Amelia. She had gained a
certificate from the Royal College of Surgeons, by the expedient of dressing in
men’s clothing, under her maiden name, A. Finch. Next to her was John Scully, his first
officer and good friend. Nathaniel
Erskine was the second lieutenant, a pleasant young man, who had taken under
his wing William’s younger brother, Sam, now one of the midshipmen, and though
the eldest, subordinate to the others for his lack of sea time. William looked
around the midshipmen, glad he had some excellent lads. Colin was worth as much
in William’s eyes as most grown passed lieutenants. He was on good terms with Sam, fortunately,
and with young Seth Porkins as well as with the unofficial midshipmen, Emma and
Molly, who were surgeon’s mates. Colin
had also formed a rapid friendship with George and Albert Cosgrove, whom
William had met on a rather dangerous journey to London. They had been willing
to cut short leave to join ship in order to serve with him, being likely to be
‘beached’ otherwise.
On William’s other side sat his Sailing Master, Hiram
Gubbins. William respected Gubbins
without finding him as convivial as some of his officers. Next to Gubbins was
Ziv Stark, the Jewish marine Lieutenant, who was doing a good job training both
Michael Ashe, the young ensign, and Roger Wilson, son of the marine sergeant,
who was drummer boy. Ashe was in attendance too. William had included in his
invitation to dinner the supernumerary, Wilfrid Percival, the second son of a
viscount, who was fleeing from an unwanted marriage as ship’s carpenter, and
Thomas Stackfield, the boys’ dominie. Stackfield had also volunteered to act as
chaplain to lead prayers at the monthly service, something William hated doing,
and reading a short Bible passage in his undeniably beautiful voice. Stackfield was also teaching any sailors who
wanted to learn to read every Sunday for an hour.
“You will want to know the orders under which we are
sailing,” said William. He had their attention immediately. “As happy accident meant that the land-bound
group of pirates and barraters were rapidly rounded up, we have only to seek
out and destroy the pirates still at sea, and the ship or ships they are using
to operate. We are also to harry slavers
and free all the slaves we may. We are
to be on a six month cruise and to cause destruction to any other pirates we
may happen upon, so long as we destroy those sailing under British captains and
stealing from the Post Office.”
“Sir, are they the ones who were trying to kill you on the
way to London?” asked George Cosgrove.
“Yes, Mr. Cosgrove, the very same,” said William. “And I
would like the rest of you to know that I owe my life to the Messers Cosgrove;
and that’s going to be awkward, so I suggest we have Mr. Cosgrove for George,
the elder, and Mr. Albert for the younger, if you lads are amenable to that?”
“Thank you, sir, yes, sir,” agreed Albert.
“How were you planning on looking for them, sir?” asked
Scully.
“I was planning on making them look for me,” said William.
“I know that the Post Office does purchase uniform ships designed by Marmaduke
Stalkaart, purpose built for the Falmouth packet, but they do use other small,
fast ships as well. They bought out the ‘Mosquito’; some of you might remember
her.”
There was laughter from Scully, Amelia and Colin; and a
rueful look from Hiram Gubbins.
“This sounds like a history some of us have missed out on,
sir,” said Erskine.
“’Mosquito’ was my first command,” said William. “We cut her
out from an American harbour. And indeed
we fought off this very ship who was chasing her. Though we did have the sloop
‘Thrush’ to assist.”
“I see, sir,” said Erskine, nodding.
“So are we flying Post Office colours?” asked Stark.
“Yes, and I also had a notice inserted in the paper that captured prize ‘Nancy Beth’ would be
operating on the Americas run very shortly, in case any of them still have
contacts in England,” said William. “She
may be renamed ‘Thetis’, but it is possible some have heard of the navy refit
of the ‘Thetis’ and will fight shy of her. She’s a little larger than is usual,
but not so much that it would draw undue attention to the idea. And as ‘Thetis’ originally had 6-pounders
before we had our refit for the half dozen 9-pounders each side, we will pack a
surprise. Other than the ‘Post-Office
Cannons’ as bow and stern chasers, which are 9-pounders of brass, the
Post-Office packets carry smaller guns on the whole.”
“So we are a nice juicy fly out dangled to catch a trout?”
said Colin.
“Yes; especially as I might have implied in the notice that
we might be carrying bullion,” said William.
Scully laughed.
“I like that,” he said. “What about evolutions, sir? Half
the hands are green, and few enough of the others have actually sailed a
schooner.”
“If need be, you, Colin and the men I kept could sail her,”
said William, dryly. “I will, however,
be running evolutions, it’s one thing to learn the rigging from books, and
thank you all those who have been going through it with the men, and another to
do it. I warn you ahead of time, I will
be running evolutions in which a significant number of the crew and officers
will be considered dead or wounded, and I will have died in all of them, in
order to see how well you do.”
“That will be rather challenging,” said Erskine.
“Certainly, Nat, but you never know whether an action will
leave you as the senior officer in the middle of a fight, needing to take
decisions,” said William. “I wager you’d rather find out how well you do in a
situation which is not real.”
“By Jove, yes,” said Erskine.
“Sir, a suggestion?” said Scully.
“Suggest away,” said William.
“There are ten messes of eight men,” said Scully. “It seemed to me that if each had an officer
or senior hand to whom they could turn specially for them, it would help them
learn faster. On ‘Thrush’ it made a
difference having the watches assigned midshipmen.”
William nodded.
“Ziv does the same for his soldiers, so, John, that is you,
Nat, Colin, George, Albert, Seth and Sam; I don’t think Mr. Gubbins should have
a specific mess. Mr. Green, you are also learning the ropes, so you will make
an eighth. Martin Beck as bosun and Abel Hardy as gunner have next seniority
but I fear it would eat into their time.
Mr. Percival, will you be one?” he addressed his illicitly acquired
carpenter.
“Certainly, sir, and I wish you will call me Wilfrid or
Frid, as you do with the others,” said Percival.
“As you wish, Frid, in this room or if invited to the
wardroom only, of course,” said William.
“That leaves one more.”
“Sir,” said Colin, “Everyone turns to Jeb Walden, and treats
him like a warrant officer, and I reckon if you ask Mr. Smith as Master’s mate
to help Mr. Green, then Walden would do as a tenth. As Quatermaster he has a
lot of respect, and I don’t think anyone here would complain about him being
here officially rather than just on the binnacle listening through the open
skylight.”
William laughed.
“So you worked out how I let things leak to the men,” he
said. “And Walden knows how much to let slip and how much to keep to himself.
Very well, if nobody has any objection we shall invite Jeb to be one of the
captain’s herrings in this little barrel.”
There was laughter.
The trestles of the tables in both boardroom and gun room had been
borrowed, and the boards to top them for the officers to eat, filling most of
the tiny great cabin; and the midshipmen were perched on cushions on a plank
between the two sternchasers. The other officers had more or less comfort of
individual seats ranging from a couple of chairs for William and Amelia,
through William’s and Amelia’s sea chests, to a selection of barrels.
Colin muttered something to George Cosgrove, who sniggered.
“If that was anything to do with Tiberius and little
fishies, Mr. Prescott, I will expect an ode in Latin from you on the beauty of
fish,” said Scully.
“Oh, sir, can’t you just cane me?” said Colin, in dismay.
“Certainly not; King’s Regulations demand that I issue a
punishment far more severe than that,” said Scully.
Colin sighed, but it was fair enough. He would have to watch
his unruly tongue and even more unruly sense of humour. He was ready to sink
into his shoes for being given the Look from the Captain, one eyebrow raised,
wrinkling the scar on his forehead. It
had been rude.
“Sorry, sir,” said Colin, contritely.
“I can see the temptation,” said William. “You can write the ode in English so we can
all enjoy it, but make sure it is at least four stanzas.”
“Yessir,” said Colin, not sure whether to be dismayed or
relieved. Four stanzas was a lot of ode to a thirteen-year-old, but was at
least in his native tongue.
The news of evolutions was left to Walden to percolate
amongst the company; Jeb would let it be known that there would be prizes of
tobacco, tea, gold and other little luxuries for those who did well, and that
it was the tradition of all the ships the captain had been on to pool all
prizes, and find ways to reward those who did not smoke, for example. Jeb murmured of fruit preserved in syrup, and
the joys of a boiled egg for breakfast as the hens were laying well enough to
make this prize for any individual mess a real possibility. He did not mention
that the Mrs. Captain, as some people called Amelia, had already laid up some
eggs in isinglass for when the hens were off lay. Amelia believed in eggs and
milk to aid the recovery of any invalid.
Jeb, having been Amelia’s first patient, for having fallen from aloft
and was lucky to get off with a broken leg, still recalled the delights of his
rum ration being beaten with sugar into two eggs and hot chocolate to drink,
the ‘Mosquito’ having had such luxuries.
Jeb had noticed a respectable amount of chocolate being
loaded along with extra tobacco and tea.
Mr. and Mrs. Price took good care of their people.
Chapter 2
“Very well, lad, let’s hear it.”
The officers were mustered aft to witness poetry.
Colin stood on one leg, decided that this was not consonant
with his dignity as senior midshipman, and took a deep breath. He made his
delivery in one breath per stanza.
“The net with glittering diamond shine
Of water sheathing silver bright
Or else the treasure drawn on line
Displayed to sight.
The shimmering flanks, intricate scales
In piscine splendour finely wrought,
Shines like the polished armour mail
To give us sport.
The bounteous sea with boundless deep
Is home to many a fishy kind
To swim and e’en at times to leap
Above the brine.
Oh fish! Your silver’s quickly scraped
Because you are a tasty beast
Cleaned, gutted, stuffed and then you’re baked
A splendid feast.”
“Well, it ain’t in Pip Wensum’s class, but not a bad effort,
despite the number of words you stole from the psalms,” said Scully. “Will it do, Captain?”
“I think the last stanza was the one most truly from the
heart,” said William. “Why a Sapphic ode?”
“Shorter, sir,” said Colin.
“A good enough reason,” said William. “Very well; carry on.”
He wanted to get into his cabin so that he could indulge himself in mirth over
Colin’s efforts of mixed grandiloquent phrases and simple schoolboy thought.
“I thought it was clever,” said Emma. “Though it isn’t as good as Wensum Secundus.”
“Well, I ain’t pining to go work for Walter Scott like
WenSec did,” said Colin. “Still, better
than having to do it in Latin; I had got as far as thinking ‘Pisces piscatore
mirandum’, the fish is to be marvelled at by the fisherman, and wondering if I
could get away with rhyming that with ‘bibendum’ for the wine which goes best
with it which must be drunk.”
“I am sure you would have done it very well,” said Emma.
“I was going to cheat and mention ‘lorica squamatum’, armour
of scales, like some Romans had,” said Colin.
“That is clever,” said Emma.
A/N I haven't completed chapter 2 but I thought you might like to see Colin's efforts. Here I run out of odd chapters, and I might start on The Falcon and the King, but it's not going fast purely because I have no energy.
