ALEXANDER KENT - Richard Bolitho – Midshipman

'I am glad we are joining together.' They both looked up as a shadow fell between them and one of the smoky lanterns. The one-armed man was staring at them, his face very grim. He said quietly, 'Thank you, young gentlemen.' He thrust out his hand. 'Good luck go with you. I reckon I'm seeing two captains.' He moved away as one of the serving girls carried two steaming pots of food to a side table, adding for the room's benefit, 'Some of you take heed of this day. A lesson for you.' The landlord thrust his large bulk towards the midshipmen as the buzz of conversation slowly returned. Til take your damn money nowV He glared at Dancer. 'And after that…' Bolitho said calmly, 'After that, landlord, you will bring two glasses of brandy for us.' He watched the man's mounting fury, gauging the moment as he would the fall of a nine-pound shot. 'I would mind your manners if I were you. My friend here is fortunately in good humour. But his father owns most of the land around this point.' The landlord swallowed hard. 'But, God bless you, sir, I was only teasing! I'll bring the brandy at once. The best I have, and I trust you will allow me to pay for it.' He hurried away, his face suddenly worried. Dancer said incredulously, 'But my father is a tea merchant in the City of London! I doubt if he has ever seen Portsmouth Point in his life! ' He shook his head. 'I think I shall have to sharpen my wits if I am to keep pace with you, Richard! ' Bolitho smiled gravely. 'Dick, if you don't mind.' As they were sipping their brandy the street door was flung wide open. This time it did not close. Framed in the entrance was a lieutenant in a streaming tarpaulin coat, his cocked hat sodden from spray and rain. He barked, 'All midshipmen for the Gorgon to muster at the sallyport at once. There is a party of men outside to take your chests to the boat.' He strode to the fire and snatched a goblet of brandy from the landlord. 'It's blowing like hell outside.' He held his reddened hands above the blaze. 'God help us.' As an afterthought he added, 'Who is the senior amongst you?' Bolitho saw the anxious exchange of glances, the way that the snug contentment had given way to something like panic. He said, 'I think I am, sir. Richard Bolitho.' The lieutenant eyed him suspiciously. 'So be it. March 'em to the sallyport and report to the boat's cox'n. I will be along shortly.' He raised his voice. 'And when I get there, I want every mother's son of you ready to leave, see?' The smallest midshipman said desperately, 'I think I'm going to be sick! ' Somebody laughed, but the lieutenant roared, 'You're going to be sick, sirl Say sir when you address an officer, damn you! ' The landlord's wife watched the untidy cluster of midshipmen hurrying towards the rain. 'Yew'm a bit hard on 'em, Mr Hope, sir.' The lieutenant grinned. 'We all had to go through it, m'dear. Anyway, the captain's difficult enough as it is, what with one thing and t'other. If I'm adrift with the new midshipmen then I'll be in for a broadside! ' Outside on the wet cobbles Bolitho watched some seamen loading the black chests into an assortment of barrows. Burly and tanned, they looked like experienced sailors, and he guessed that the captain was taking no chances by allowing less reliable members of his company ashore in case they deserted. In weeks, even days, he would know these men and many more. He would not fall into the old traps as in his other ship. He knew now that trust was something you had to earn, not a gift which went with the uniform. He nodded to the senior hand. 'We will move off directly.' The man grinned at him. 'Not the first time for you then, sir?' Bolitho fell in step beside Dancer. 'Or the last.' At the sallyport they found the boat's coxswain sheltering behind the wall. Beyond it the Solent heaved and broke to endless ranks of cruising wavecrests, and against the leaden sky the few gulls looked like white spindrift. The coxswain touched his hat. 'I suggest you get 'em all aboard, sir. There's quite a tide runnin' an' the first lieutenant wants the boat to do another trip afore the dog watches.' He dropped his voice. ' Ts name is Mr Verling, sir. Be warned. 'E's a mite rough on some young gennlemen. Likes 'em to try their 'ands at everythin' 'e does.' He chuckled un•feelingly. 'Gawd, look at 'em. 'E'll 'ave 'em for breakfast.' Bolitho snapped, 'And I you, if you don't stop gossiping.' Dancer stared at him as the man hurried away. Bolitho said, 'I've met his sort before, Martyn. The next minute he'd be asking permission to go off for a quick tot of rum.' He grinned. 'I think the lieutenant back there would be displeased, never mind the formidable Mr Verling.' The officer in question appeared by the wall, his eyes somewhat glassy. 'Into the boat! Lively there! ' Dancer said quietly, 'I think maybe my father was right! ' Bolitho waited for the others to clamber down the slippery ladder towards the pitching longboat. 'I'm not sorry to go back to sea.' And he was surprised to find that he meant it. The journey from the sallyport-to the anchored two-decker took the best part of an hour. During the trip in the madly leaping longboat the midshipmen who managed to survive being violently sick had plenty of time to study their new home as she grew larger and taller through the relentless rain. Bolitho had made it his business to learn something about his next appointment. Seventy-fours, as these sturdy two-deckers were nicknamed, made up the bulk of the fleet. In any big sea battle they were always predominant in the line where the fighting was hardest. And yet he knew from experience, and what he had heard old sailors say, that each one was as different from the other as salt from molasses. While the oarsmen pulled the boat over each angry crest he kept his attention on the ship, seeing the towering masts and crossed yards, the shining black and buff hull with its lines of closed gunports, the scarlet ensign at her high stern and the jack at her bows making patches of colour against the background of grey sea and sky. The oarsmen were getting tired from their hard efforts, and it took the repeated stroke from the coxswain and several threats from the red-faced lieutenant to keep them working in unison.

Around and under the long bowsprit and jibboom, beneath which the brightly gilded figurehead seemed to stare down at the silent midshipmen with something like hatred. It was a splendid if frightening example of a wood-carver's art. The Gorgon's figurehead was a mass of writhing serpents, the face below set in a fierce glare, the eyes very large and edged with red paint to give an added effect of menace. And then, panting and scrabbling, they were being pushed, hauled and bundled unceremoniously up the ship's side, so that when they arrived on the broad quarterdeck it seemed almost sheltered and calm by comparison. Bolitho said, 'She looks smart enough, Martyn.' He ran his eyes quickly along the neat lines of the quarterdeck nine-pounders, their black barrels gleaming in the rain, the trucks freshly painted, every piece of tackle neat and carefully stowed. Seamen were working aloft on the yards and along the gangways on either beam which joined quarterdeck to forecastle. Beneath the gangways, at the same regular intervals, were the upper deck batteries of eighteen-pounders, while on the deck below them were the ship's main armament of powerful thirty-two pounders. When required, Gorgon could and would speak with loud authority. The lieutenant shouted, 'Over here! ' The midshipmen hurried to obey, some fearful and already lost. Others wary and careful to watch what was required of them. 'In a moment you will go to your quarters.' The lieutenant had to raise his voice above the hiss of rain, the persistent din of wind through rigging and furled sails. 'I just want to tell you that you are now appointed to one of the finest ships in His Majesty's Navy, one with high standards and no tolerance of laggards. There are twelve midshipmen all told aboard Gorgon, including yourselves, so the mothers' boys had best work doubly hard to avoid trouble. You will be given postings to gundecks and other parts of ship until you are able to work with the people without making a poor example to them.' Bolitho turned as some men hurried past under the control of a tough-looking boatswain's mate. Fresh from the land by the cut of them, he thought. Taken from debtors' prisons and from the Assize Courts where but for the need of men for the fleet they would be held until transportation to the American colonies. The Navy's appetite for men was never satisfied, and with the country at peace it was even harder to supply its needs. As he watched the hurrying party of men Bolitho thought it hardly made sense of what the lieutenant had just said. Not only the midshipmen were new and untrained. Many of the ship's company were little better. As he slitted his eyes against the rain he found time to marvel at the way a ship like this could swallow such a force of human beings. Gorgon, he knew, contained a company of some six hundred officers, seamen and marines in her fat, seventeenhundred-ton hull, and yet to look along her upper deck it was hard to see more than thirty or so at any one time. 'Ton! ' Bolitho turned as the lieutenant's voice cut into his thoughts. 'I hope I am not boring you?' Bolitho replied, 'I am sorry, sir.' 'I will be watching you.' The lieutenant stiffened as another officer approached from the poop. Bolitho guessed the newcomer to be the first lieutenant.

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