Dewey Lambdin - The King`s Coat

‘Aye, sir," Lewrie said, not looking forward to it. It was a lot of work, and he had to admit that the sight of a pike head coming for his eyes was most unnerving. "I shall try, though the ship's routine does take time from it. It must be easier to devote oneself to steel if one were a Marine officer, sir.’

’Tempted to be a 'bullock,' Mister Lewrie?’

‘The thought had crossed my mind, sir.’

’Prohibitively expensive to purchase a commission, d'you know," Osmonde said by way of dismissal. "Certain appearances to maintain in the mess, as well.’

’Well," Alan said, turning to go as seven bells of the Forenoon watch rang out, and the bosun's pipes sounded cleardecks-and-up-spirits for the daily rum ration. Osmonde's Marine orderly was there with a small towel and Osmonde's smallsword and tunic, as the Marine sniffed the air from the galley funnel. ’Bugger the snooty bastards, anyway," Alan muttered, going below to his own mess, soaking wet from the exertion. He dropped off Lieutenant Kenyon's hanger and vowed that before the voyage was over, Captain Osmonde would rate him as a dangerous man.

Days passed as Ariadne made her westing, running down a line of latitude that would take them direct to Antigua as resolutely as a dray would stay within the banks of a country lane. There were two schools of thought about that; it made navigation easier to perform, and could almost be done by dead reckoning with a quick peek at the traverse board to determine distance run from one noon to the next, but it was a lazy, civilian way of doing things. Or, it was quite clever, since lazy civilian merchant captains would do it, and that put Ariadne in a position to intercept enemy Indiamen, or conversely, those privateers who might be lying in wait to prey upon British ships. But since the ship had not distinguished herself in the past as a great fighting ship, the latter was a minority opinion. Gun drill and some live firings were practiced, but it was undertaken with the tacit assumption that Ariadne would never fire those guns in angerspite or pique, perhaps, but not battle-and it showed.

What a happy ship we are, Alan thought, stripping off his coat and waistcoat as he sat down for dinner following one of those morning gun drills in the Forenoon watch. Lieutenant Harm had yelled himself hoarse with threats and curses to the gun crews on the lower deck, and the mechanical way they had gone through the motions. And when Lewrie had told some of them to remember to swab out so they would do it for real in action, Harm had screeched something like "a midshipman giving advice, by the nailed Christ?" and for him to shut the hell up, if he knew what was good for him.

There may have been a war raging in the Colonies, all round the world as France, Spain, perhaps soon even Holland joined to support the rebels and rehash the Seven Years' War, and ships may have fought in these very waters; somewhere over the horizon British vessels could be up to close-pistol-shot with the broadsides howling, but the general idea was that Ariadne was not part of that same fleet, and never would be, so drilling on the great guns was make-work, sullenly accepted.

The pork joint in their mess was half bone and gristle, and the real meat was a piece of work to chew. Their peas were lost in fatty grease; the biscuit was crumbling with age and the depredation of the weevils. Lewrie watched his companions chew, heard the rapping of the biscuits on the table like a monotonous tatoo. He was sick to death of them all, even Ashburn. Shirke was telling Bascombe the same joke for the umpteenth time, and Bascombe was braying like an ass as he always did. Chapman chewed and blinked and swallowed as though he was concentrating hard on remembering how, and in which order, such actions of dining occurred. The master's mates smacked like pigs at a trough, and the surgeon's mates whispered dry rustlings of dog-Latin and medical terms like a foreign language that set them apart from the rest. Brail fed bim…elf with a daintiness he imagined a gentleman should, and maintained a silence that was in itself maddening.

I'd love to put a pistol ball into this damned joint, just to have something new to talk about, Lewrie decided. It might wake old Chapman up, at least. No, probably ricochet off the pork and kill one of them… ’And was our young prodigy all proficient at gun drill today?" Shirke asked him. "What?" Lewrie said, realizing he had been asked a question. "Were you a comfort to Lieutenant Harm?" from Bascombe. ’I'm sure the foretopmen heard it," Ashburn teased. " 'By the nailed Christ,' I think the expression was.’

’Did big bad bogtwotter hurt baby's feewings?’

‘I see you have reverted to your proper age and intellect, Harv," Lewrie said. "How refreshing. For a while there, I thought counting higher than ten at navigation was going to derange you.’

Bascombe was not exactly a mental wizard when it came to the intricacy of working navigation problems, and had spent many hours at the masthead as punishment. The insult went home like a hot poker up the arse. ’You're a right smart little man, ain't you, Lewrie?’

‘Smarter than some I know. At least I can make change. ’

‘You bastard-’

‘That's educated bastard, to you.’

’For twopence I'd call you out." Bascombe leaped to his feet with fists clenched. "You want me to pay you," Lewrie said calmly, looking up at him with a bland expression. "Funny way to make a living. I didn't know you were that needy.’

’Goddamn you-’

‘And a parson's son, at that!" Lewrie was enjoying himself hugely. This is the best lunch we've had in days. " 'Ere, now," Finnegan said, waving a fork at them. "There's a midshipman awready wot's been rooned this voyage. Now shut yer traps.".

Bascombe plumped back down on his chest, his hands still fisted in his lap. He stared at his plate for a long moment. "Who ruined Rolston?" he asked softly. "Lewrie was the one that ran on about him, and swearing so innocent he meant nothing by it." I didn't know he was that sharp, Lewrie thought; have to watch young Harvey in future. "Rolston ruined himself, and we all know it," Keith said, as if he was the only one to lay down the law. "And I think his case is example enough for all of us. We are here to learn to get along with each other. Alan, I think you owe Harvey an apology. And you owe one to Alan as well.’

Mine arse on a band-box, Lewrie thought, but saw that the others were waiting on him to start. "Well, perhaps Lieutenant Harm made me raw, and being teased about it didn't do my temper any good. Sorry I took it out on you, Bascombe. What with this morning, I lashed out without thinking.’

’For my part, I'm sorry for what I said as well," Bascombe said after taking a long moment to decide if Lewrie had actually apologized to him. ’Now shake hands and let's finish eating," Ashburn said. They shook hands perfunctorily, Lewrie glaring daggers, and Bascombe thinking that he would find a way to put Lewrie in the deepest, hottest hell. ’Better." Ashburn smiled and picked up his knife and fork. "Did I hear right? Did Mister Harm really intend to put Snow up on a charge and see him flogged?’

‘Mister Harm got hellish angry when two men slipped, and when Snow told him they couldn't help it because of the water on the deck from the slow-match tubs, Harm thought it was back-talk and went barking mad.’

’ Mister Harm, mind ye," Turner said. ’Aye, sir," Lewrie corrected, waiting for Turner to tell him that commission lieutenants don't go barking mad, either, but evidently they sometimes do, for Turner went back to his meal. "Snow's a good quartergunner, been in forever, I'm told.’

’Won't stand," Ashburn said, smearing mustard on his meat and hoping the flavor was improved. "Captain Bales will take it into account Come to think of it, I cannot remember Snow ever being charged.’