Dewey Lambdin: The King`s Coat

Monk gave him a friendly tap on the arm as he went past, once the captain could not see, and the taciturn bosun actually smiled at him, and Alan knew that he had friends aboard still.

And, he told himself, they were off on a great adventure. On the gun deck the Marines and strongest men stood ready by the capstan bars. The ship's boys waited with their nippers to pass the lighter messenger from the capstan to the bower cable. Below, hands were ready to handle the cable as it came in, into the cable tier to dry, and stink up the ship. Landsmen and waisters waited in their subdivisions by the jears to raise the tops'l and royal yards, by the halyards for the heads'ls, by the sheets to draw down the leaches of the sails as they were freed.

There was a single bark in the outer roads from Barjleur, the signal gun to get underway, and a signal pendant went up her mast. ’Heave on the capstan," Treghues ordered. "Hands aloft and make sail. Drive 'em bosun, the flag's watching.’

’Hands aloft. Trice up and layout.’

Music came from the boy band and the fiddlers, not just in Desperate but from every ship in the Fleet. The men breasted on the capstan bars and the pawls clanked as the bower cable came in. ’Anchor's free!" The pawls began to rattle like a drum roll, and the men ran the cable up, and the nipper-boys were a blur of activity to keep up as the smelly thigh-thick line came in. ’Loose tops'ls! Tops'ls, jibs an' spanker!" The entire bay thundered with the sound of canvas being whipped by the wind. Desperate began to payoff the breeze, the halyards and the jears sighing through the blocks aloft. While the sails were hauled down, all about her little sloops of war, frigates of the 5th Rate, cruisers and line-of-battle ships began to move and stir, gathering way and avoiding each other with easy skill, all aiming for Cape Shirley and beginning to take up cruising dispositions. Thousands of men, hundreds of guns, all bound in search of desperate battle. ’Hands to the weather braces! Haul away handsomely! Thus!" Desperate leaned to the wind and began to drive along under full control. Once past the Cape she hoisted t'gallants and the men laid out on the yards to cast off the brails so she could take her position ahead of the fleet as one of the first eyes that would see the enemy. She went hard to weather for her offing, leading other frigates, leading the liners of the 3rd and 2nd Rate. ’Lay in from the yards! Another pull on the fore weather braces! Now belay every inch of that!" Lewrie idled on the main topmast cap as the rest of his hands laid in and began to slide down the stays for the deck. He looked aft to the west as the Fleet rounded the Cape in columns and beat to windward in the frigate's wake.

In a moment he would descend to face once more Commander Treghues' pious disapproval, Forrester's enmity and the mind-dulling routine of a ship of war. But for this brief pause, he could watch all those proud ships form columns, columns of the mightiest, most intricate and demanding creations that mankind had ever had the wit to build.

He did not know what this Fleet would face on its way north to the American Colonies, but he could not picture anything other than victory. There was a possibility that he would not survive, but he had faced risks enough before to know that life was full of chance.

He felt certain that he would see action, more action than he could ever have imagined when reading about naval battles as a child, and he was more curious than fearful as to what it might be like to see two gigantic flotillas trading broadsides.

He knew that he was on his way to a sight that, if he survived it, he would remember all the days of his life, a chance for fame, honor and glory, amid all the horrors of a sea fight.

Do I really hate this so much anymore? he wondered. Dull as it can be, some people think I'm good at the Navy. If all my other plans go for naught, I could make a career of it, I think. No, anything I've ever really liked or wanted, I've lost. I can't admit to any want of this, or it's gone, too. But I know my place here, and there's some who've told me I do have a place. Maybe just until the war's ended, and then I can concentrate on something more rewarding, something not as depriving. But I'll go with fame and honor, and not when they tell me, darn me if I won't.

"Starboard watch below! All hands prepare for Divisions!" Lewrie swung out and grabbed a stay for his descent.

He reclaimed his discarded hat from the larboard gangway from one of his topmen, and stood by the rail drinking in the view of the island so green, and the many bright azure colors of the ocean.

Is this life really so bad? he wondered, shaking his head at his own rise of sentiment. But would I have seen anything like this in London? Would I ever have learned anything back home half as fascinating as this? Well, I may not be a real tarpaulin man yet, but damme if they ain't made some kind of sailor out of me! He felt a surge of pride in himself. He felt a tweak: of pride in his Service. And he realized that for the moment, he felt content and happy with himself and his station in life.

But then, being Alan Lewrie, he wasn't so sure that life would let him hold any such sentiment for very long.