Dewey Lambdin - The King`s Coat

Lewrie stood by the taffrail, reveling in the quarter breeze now that the strength had gone out of the sun. The wind held his coat open, and he spread his shirt wide below the neckcloth to allow the cooling wind to play on his chest and sweaty ribs. "Getting indecent with the mermaids, Mister Lewrie?" Lieutenant Railsford asked, coming aft to join him. ’That would be a novel experience, sir," Lewrie said, taking off his hat to cool his scalp. ’That was good work you did up forrard today, Lewrie," Railsford told him, letting his own coat spread open. "Thank you, Mister Railsford, I am grateful that someone appreciated it. ’

‘I do not mean to pry, Mister Lewrie, but…" Railsford now spoke in a softer tone since Treghues' cabin skylight was slightly forward of them. and was open for a breeze… "I get the feeling our lord and master no longer approves of you.’

’No need to worry, sir, I'll bear up.’

’Take a round turn and two half-hitches?" Railsford grinned. "And as Mister Monk says, sir, the more you cry, the less you'll piss," Lewrie bantered, his eyes overbright and his mood a bit too chipper to pass unnoticed. "The captain has his… moods," Railsford said, treading on soft ground… there had been officers who had been courtmartialed for a habit of criticism. A captain could demand obedience from his officers and also a united front of one mind once he had determined what opinion should be held. ’If it is any comfort, Mister Lewrie, those moods can be swift to change in most instances." That was as far as Railsford would go in criticism of the captain. Any gossip passed on would undermine both Railsford's, and Treghues', authority. ’Aye, sir.’

’Remember, every captain has something to teach you, for good or ill. Life in the Reet can be a series of disasters to be borne sometimes.’

’I shall bear up, Mister Railsford. Thank you for that…" Desperate took in her t' gallants and brailed them up, lowered the yards to the caps, took a reef in their tops' Is and got the speed off her for evening sailing at the rendezvous, as well as to allow her prize vessels to catch up with her. Then it was clear-decks-and-up-spirits, supper, evening Quarters and hammocks below for the night. At dusk the masthead lookouts came down, and hands took up upper-deck viewing posts.

Amphion ordered all prize vessels gathered in an impromptu convoy, with the sloops off to windward to guard the flank.

Amphion brought up the rear and Desperate worked out ahead and to leeward of the convoy as they set off sou' east for the nearest British ports.

Lewrie had had his supper alone. Both master's mates and all the other midshipmen were away in prizes. The steward brought him some boiled salt-pork, a couple of new potatoes, biscuit and Black Strap cut with water. Aft, the officers were celebrating loudly, those still on board. Their steward came through several times with bottles which had been cooling on the orlop, while Alan ate and drank in isolation, which condition he was sure was to be permanent.

He had the evening watch, and Mr. Gwynn stood in for a deck officer with him. The sky was clear, littered with bright stars, and though there was no moon, the sea shone at each wavetop, now and then breaking into a white chop. Lewrie made a tour of the lower deck with the ship's corporal and master-at-arrns to inspect the galley and lanterns to make sure all fires were out, then went back to the quarterdeck and loafed by the forward nettings. The Trades sang sweetly through the rigging, and the hull held at a slight angle of heel to starboard, hissing and groaning as she made her way toward home.

Gwynn was near him, looking up at the stars and the sails. There was a gurgling noise as Gwynn pulled on a pocket flask of rum, and the sweet odor wafted by like a woman's perfume. "Summat ta keep yer eyes open, Mister Lewrie?" Gwynn offered. ’That would have me snoring on the deck, Mister Gwynn, but I thankee," Lewrie replied. "God, I am so tired.’

’Allus like that after a hard fight," Gwynn said. "God, they fought grand. Can't remember the Continental Navy showin' that much bottom. Privateers get the best men. Rebels're too independent ta take ta Navy-style discipline.’

’If they'd had nine-pounders, or carronades, they'd have done for us, I think, Mister Gwynn," Lewrie said, nodding in agreement. ’Right enough.’

Treghues emerged on deck from aft, and the pair of them went down to leeward to give him the entire windward side of the quarterdeck for his pacing. Treghues was in breeches and open shirt, quite informal for a change, a spooky apparition in the faint starlight, pacing back and forth quite regularly; not as though he were in deep thought but as if it was a duty to walk for a while before retiring. To escape, Lewrie went forward to tour the lookouts on the forecastle and gangways and make certain they were more awake than he was. He had to shake a couple of men into full wariness. By the time he had returned to the quarterdeck, Treghues had gone below and only a dim glow could be seen from his skylight. And then as Alan watched. that was snuffed out. ’Ever'body chipper up forrard?" Gwynn asked. ’Aye, Mister Gwynn. Sleepy but trying.’

’Here, what's got the cap'n onta ya?" Not you, too, Alan thought. "I do not know what you mean, sir," he replied evenly. ’He come over an' asked me what ya was doin' runnin' the guns as ya were today, like ta give ma a cobbin' about it. I told him ya was as good as any gunner's mate but he didn't wanta hear it," Gwynn related. ’The captain has his… moods," Alan said uneasily. "Moods, shit!" Gwynn stuffed a quid of tobacco into his cheek and tore off a large bite. "Fickle as me old lady, 'cept fer Mr. Forrester an' Railsford. Takes a great hankerin' fer somebody an' then turns on 'em an' nobody knows why. Been in Desperate near two an' a half years an' it's been like that ever since we commissioned.’

’Let's just say he doesn't like my choice of fathers," Lewrie said after Gwynn's indiscretion. "And it seems I'm too big a sinner to wear a Navy uniform.’

’Aye, that's one reason we don't have a chaplain aboard." Gwynn laughed softly. "With him aft, we don't need one." Lewrie gave a grunt that might have been a mirthless laugh, or a sign of agreement, and Gwynn walked off to find the spit-kid by the binnacle.

Six bells chimed softly from the belfry up forward, and Alan checked his watch against it-ll:00 P.M. and only an hour to go before he could go below and sleep four uninterrupted hours until the morning routine of a man-of-war claimed him once again. ’Sail ho!" one of the forward lookouts called. Lewrie shook himself into action, trotting forward to join him. ’Where away?’

‘Two points off the larboard bow, Mister Lewrie," the lookout said quietly, almost afraid to raise his voice. "He's on the opposite tack an' comin' north. He'll run right into the convoy!" Lewrie hefted the heavy night glass, which showed images upside down and backward. He found their stranger, what seemed to be a full-rigged ship ghosting along under reefed tops'ls, inner jibs and spanker. ’Run aft and wake the captain," Lewrie said. "Tell Mr. Gwynn we've a full-rigged ship coming right for us. Quick, man!" Lewrie studied the stranger for a while longer, then shouted for the bosun's mate of the watch, Toliver. "All hands on deck, Mister Toliver, no pipes or we'll lose the chase.’

’No pipes," the runty little man repeated before running off to shout down the midships hatchway to the off-duty watch. It was noisy enough as the hands rolled out of their hammocks and thudded to the deck to thunder up topside on bare feet.

Lewrie hurried back to the wheel and stood by Gwynn, who was using the other night glass to search for the strange ship. "Have I your permission to close her, sir?" Lewrie asked him. "Yes, let's see what he's doin' runnin' dark out here. ’