Dewey Lambdin - THE GUN KETCH

"Aye, aye, sir!" Ballard agreed with a firm nod, and the first, slight smile Lewrie had seen him attempt "Mister Harkin, 'All Hands!' Stations for stays! Fo'c's'le captain? Take in the outer jib!"

Getting her head 'round was no problem, with no need to pay off a point free on the helm to gather speed for a successful tack. They drove her up with her helm alee and Alacrity tracked about quick as a wink, deck leveling as she approached "stays," sails luffing and thundering, blocks rattling and tinkling, hull and masts crying.

"Meet her!" Alan warned the helmsmen. "Nothing to loo'rd!"

"Let go and haul!" Ballard screamed over the howling wind. Her bows crossed the wind and in a moment, she was laid hard over on a new tack, sails cracking like cannon shots as they filled and bellied out hard as iron, some luffing still as inexperienced men tailed on sheets too slowly. But paying off a bit too far and pressed hard over.

"Helm down, helm down! Keep her hard up aweather!" Lewrie said, throwing his own strength to aid Neill and Burke on the long tiller. "Thus! Steer west-sou'west, half west."

"Better, sir," Ballard stated after the deck was back in order.

"Smartly done, Mister Ballard, for such an inexperienced crew," Lewrie complimented him. "Thank God we have enough skilled hands, or we'd have rolled her masts right out of her."

"Thank you, sir."

"This may blow out by morning, sir," Fellows the sailing master opined after recovering his hat from the scuppers. "Damme, though, she swims even this lumpy sea devilish nice, don't she?"

"Aye, she does, Mister Fellows," Lewrie agreed. "Mister Ballard, before you dismiss the hands, take a second reef in the gaff courses, now we've unbalanced her by taking in the flying jib. Trim her until you're satisfied. Hank on a storm trys'l and bare thetack comer for a balance on her head. Able seamen only out on the sprit tonight, mind."

"Aye, aye, sir," Ballard said, going forward.

"On starboard tack all day tomorrow, most like, sir," Fellows decided. "Once the tide turns, with the current… tack again, I fear, as we fetch Alderney in the Channel Isles."

"I'd admire were it Guernsey, but we make too much leeway," Lewrie agreed, picturing a chart in the mind's eye. "Then larboard tack all the way toward Torquay and Tor Bay, and hope the winds back north."

An hour later, Alacrity rode much easier, with her large gaff sails reduced in area, and their centers of effort lower to the deck, and the center of gravity. Eased as she was, Lewrie had the galley fires lit so hot beverages could be served to ease suffering.

"Clear broth and biscuit," Ballard mused. "Just the thing for touchy stomachs. Though my other ships ran more to hot rum and water."

"Royal Navy's panacea for all ills," Lewrie chuckled as he had a cup of steaming black coffee and rum.

"I think it… uhm…" Ballard began to say, then had a second thought. For a fleeting moment, he showed indecision.

"What, Mister Ballard?"

"Oh, just that I thought it most considerate of you, sir. To be solicitous to the hands, their first night at sea. Easing the ship as we have. The galley…"

Of course, Lewrie thought! We're feeling each other out!

For the next three years, they were stuck with each other, for good or ill; two total strangers thrown together at the whim of the Admiralty, an Admiralty which would not, or could not, take into account the personalities of officers when handing out active commissions. It could be a good relationship, or a horror; it could be friendly, or it could be cold and aloof as charity!

"Well, half of 'em're cropsick as dogs at the moment," Lewrie shrugged. "They need something hot they may keep down. Or won'tclaw on the way back up! And what's the sense of thrashing to windward as if we were pursuing a prize? The tide'll turn, after all. But those new 'uns make an easy adjustment to the sea. Don't make 'em hate the life they signed on for so eagerly."

"Most captains would not consider such, sir."

"I had a few good teachers," Lewrie allowed. "As I'm sure you did."

"Aye, sir," Ballard grinned. "And how fares our live-lumber?"

"Wailing and spewing," Lewrie snickered uncharitably. "Praying for dry land, last I saw of 'em."

"And… and your good lady, sir?" Lieutenant Ballard asked carefully.

"Good Christ!" Lewrie cried. "I told her I'd be right back, and here it's been two hours at the least! Uhm, when I left her, she was suffering bad as the Townsleys, Mister Ballard."

"My tenderest respects to Mistress Lewrie, sir, and I pray that her seasickness will soon abate," Ballard offered.

"I'm certain she will be heartened by your kind concern, sir," Lewrie replied. "Stap me, two whole hours! She'll scalp me! But, I must confess, being on deck, being active, relieved some of my pangs, too."

"Uhm… and will Mistress Lewrie be… ah…?" Ballard squirmed.

"Oh," Alan snorted, "do I intend to cruise the West Indies with my wife aboard? Was that your question, Mister Ballard?"

"Your pardons, Captain, I mean no disrespect. It's just that the warrants, some of the turned-over hands were talking, and…"

"Do they disapprove?" Lewrie demanded.

"Your predecessor, Lieutenant Riggs, had no storm damage, sir," Ballard admitted. "He shammed it, and used Admiralty promissory notes in Lisbon and Nantes to stock his wine cellars. He was never without female companionship aft. A veritable parade of foreign morts, I'm told, sir. I gather that the people resented it, and feared you might be…"

"I'm not Augustus Hervey, Mister Ballard," Lewrie said, thinking even so that he'd made a fair beginning on that worthy's estimable record of over 200 women in a single three-year commission.

"Hardly a man may be, sir, and may still walk," Ballard found courage to jape with a droll, dry expression.

"Much as I might care for it, mind…" Lewrie laughed. "But, as you say, the hands would grow surly and insubordinate were I to parade what they want and can't have in their faces. I may not be an experienced captain yet But I do know better than that, sir!"

"I'm sorry if I discomfited you, sir. And I am of the same opinion as you, sir, and understand completely," Ballard said, even if he didn't yet understand what would compel a man to wed so early in a career, risk the loss of it. It had taken so much for him to even get to sea, and progress as far as he had, son of a Kentish innkeeper, a private school letter boy. Had it not been for a Navy captain who kept lodgings with them when he was ashore doinghis father a favor to take young Arthur on as a cabin servant, he might still be forrud garbed in slop-clothing, still a topman and Able Seaman, a mate at best!

"If you will allow me the deck, sir, you may see to your wife," Ballard extended as a peace-offering. "For this evening at the least, unless there's an emergency, you might…"

"No, Mister Ballard," Lewrie decided, finishing the last dregs of his coffee. "I'm no Augustus Hervey. Nor am I a Lieutenant Riggs. Call me, as stated in my Order Book, should circumstances merit. But I will take advantage of your kind offer and go below for awhile. God, over two hours! She'll have my liver! Good evening, Mister Ballard."

"And good evening to you, sir," Ballard replied, relieved. "And do convey my sympathies to Mrs. Lewrie."

"I will and thankee."

He's a raw 'un, no error, Ballard thought as Lewrie stumped down to the weather-decks. Means well. But not too well. Ain't playing a "Robin Goodfellow" to be popular with the hands, just taut but caring. So far.

Ballard should have envied Lewrie bitterly. He was taller and fairer, boyishly handsome, and came with an indolent courtier's repute; he'd not gained the sobriquet of "Ram-Cat" Lewrie for his choice of pet alone, Ballard grimaced! Womanizer, a brothel-dandy, he'd heard, with the confidence around women that Ballard lacked, the panache the Frogs called it to spoon them just shy of scandalous, and the devil-take-ye glint in his eyes to seem dangerous and desirable.