Dewey Lambdin - A King`s Commander

God what bloody else, Alan sagged; adultery?

"It is Captain Cockburn's complaint, sir… that you impeded his pursuit of Choundas's vessel… an enemy then flying… by the placement of your ship, by not obeying his flag signals to give him way seaward. Further, that your replies were preemptory and unsuitable for a junior to send to a senior officer."

"Well, damme…" Lewrie muttered, quite nonplussed.

"A close-run thing already, I warn you, sir," Nelson rejoined.

"He asked 'Do You Require Assistance?' sir," Lewrie explained, feeling like he'd been doing so his entire bloody life! "My signals midshipman Mister Hyde's deck log will show that, sir. To which I sent 'Affirmative,' taking it to mean did I need rescuing from Choundas.. and I most heartily did, sir!"

He laid out his crippled state, barely under control and unable to steer clear, barely underway and almost dead in the water. How he had sent "Submit," meaning that Cockburn should cut inshore, cutting a corner off the pursuit.

"We did manage to claw about northerly, sir, when he ordered us to haul our wind. I had no intent to impede him, far from it. I meant no disrespect, or wished to 'serve him sauce,' either, sir. Were he to catch Choundas up and murder the bastard, I'd be the first one to sport him a royal fireworks, and a concert! That man needs killing more than anyone ever I did see, sir, and if Captain Cockburn got the credit for it, then I'd be the last man on earth to complain. Had he cut inshore, well… he broke off his pursuit not an hour later, so…"

Nelson cut off his blathering with a chop of his hand.

"I've already sensed animosity between you before, sir. And did I not warn you both that I wished my captains to work together? Did I not make that plain enough, sir?" Nelson intoned harshly. "I cannot tolerate officers under me who can't put aside personal grudges so the greater good is achieved. With due deference, and mutual respect."

"But I was trying to communicate to him how best my situation, and his desire for a fight, might coincide, sir."

"He may be young, to your lights, Lewrie," Nelson pointed out. "May have attained a great deal, perhaps an unseemly great deal in so short a time. But I find him to be one of the ablest, most honest and courageous officers it has ever been my pleasure to meet. Intelligent, with steel in his hand, and aggressive, with a burning desire to close with, and destroy the foe."

"Well, of course, sir," Alan wriggled.

"How many battles has England lost, sir?" Nelson sighed, gazing off in the middle distance, half turned away from him. "How many opportunities have we let slip, because of bickering and rancor, when they might have resulted in stupendous, crushing victories? All due to the spite and jealousy of our leaders, I tell you. You were at the Battle of the Chesapeake in eighty-one, I believe, sir?" Nelson snapped, turning to face him again. "Hood and Graves, sir, confusing signals? I doubt it. There was lingering animosity 'tween them, and Hood disgusted that his superior allowed de Grasse to stand out and exit the capes in good order, so he held his division back from engaging, and Graves left unable to prevail, unsupported. Hard as it pains me to say about our mutual patron, and as fine a sailor, a gentleman, and officer as we may ever know, he is not free of human failings. There must be trust, respect, and cooperation between us, sir!" Nelson cried, a messianic glint in his eye. "We must allow nothing to get in the way of Duty. Nothing! Mankind will never be free of spite, never become so contented with their lot, or with one another, that they march in lockstep, like some wind-up, clock-work toys. I cannot hope, nor order, that my officers love one another, Lewrie. But it is not too much to wish that they are respectful of one another, and the others' individual talents. Like a houseful of good-natured brothers and cousins might deal among themselves. Chaffer at home, with no vindictiveness, but ready to spring to the defense of each individual with as much alacrity as they would for their family's good name. I will not tolerate an officer who cannot work cheerfully with his fellows, Lewrie. Nor one who would play the serpent in the Garden of Eden behind the others' backs."

"Aye, sir," Lewrie replied, cowed by the vehemence with which Nelson spoke, his stubborn enthusiasm.

"You will write Cockburn and make amends to him," Nelson told him; ordered him. "Explain yourself, and your signals, and the spirit in which they were intended. You might also thank him, even though you have already done so, for rescuing you at your weakest moment. Quarter-hour more, and you'd have been forced to strike, no matter how doughty a defense you presented, isn't that what you wrote in your report? It would not hurt to tell Cockburn that."

"Perhaps it may mollify him, were I to offer him my tender, sir? Little Bombуlo? I'll have no need of her at Leghorn," Lewrie offered, hard as it pained him.

"I should think that would be received as a most welcome, and a most gracious gift, Lewrie," Nelson replied with a tiny smile; a first of a gruesome half-hour's cobbing. He offered his hand.

Now there's a wonder, Lewrie thought, rising to shake it, taking it for dismissal, at last, thank God.

"I will make the strongest representation to Admiral Hotham that we've been hoodwinked by a clever and malicious French plot. A letter from that fellow Silberberg of yours, may be of aid, as well. That is, should your logs and journals satisfy me," Nelson stated levelly.

"Aye, sir," Lewrie flummoxed, seeing escape from Nelson's ire, and his predicament. "Assuming that Mister Silberberg is of a mind to be forgiving, since I didn't kill Choundas for him."

"That was his intent?" Nelson frowned, pulling at his nose.

"For someone to do it, sir, didn't matter whom. I was the bait to get at him. Just didn't expect him to pop up where he did, and so quickly. Crippling his squadron as we did, sir, that was only a part of it. Same with scooping up his convoy to Alassio."

And, barring the fight with Choundas, it had been a red-letter day; a corvette La Resolve taken, along with a small corvette La Republique, and two Barbary Pirate-type xebecs, three-masted-armed galleys, plus a total of seven assorted merchant ships crammed with munitions and food.

"Now we've bested him, sir," Lewrie dared to suggest, with his first grin of the last half hour as well, "his superiors might turn him out, and give you an honorable foe. Probably a man less dangerous, do you see. Then, it'll be Silberberg's pigeon. Poison in the man's soup, or a knife in the back in a dark alley… his stock-in-trade. Find himself an assassin who can…"

"This Choundas may be a wily foe, Lewrie," Nelson objected with revulsion, "as large a monster as he is painted, aye… but I doubt that anyone is so vital to the French, nor our fortunes grown so bleak, that we would ever sanction cold-blooded murder. To bring him to book, gun-to-gun, or with crossed steel is one thing, but… that's repugnant to me, to any honorable gentleman or Christian."

"War to the knife, sir. As Mister Silberberg put it, long ago."

"You associate with the wrong sort of people, sir," Nelson said with a sniff of disdain.

And don't I, just! Alan thought, fighting a rueful smile.

"Not exactly my choice, sir," Alan told him. "He's very good at using people, whether they like it or not."

"By God, sir, he will not use me!" Nelson declared. Which gave Alan as much joy as could be expected, given the circumstances.

Aut tuam mortem out meam.

Your life or mine.

Hercules Furens, 427

Lucius Annaeus Seneca