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. As a
dominie, he had taken minor orders as was common.
“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.
