Julian Stockwin - Seaflower

'Just so,' said Renzi, gazing at the spreading red display astern, 'yet I believe our captain must be much relieved.'

'Aye, we could not have taken a real pepperin' from such a one.' Kydd raised his voice against a sudden burst of laughter from the others enjoying the evening on deck.

Renzi smiled. 'A captain of a vessel charged with despatches endangers his vessel at his peril — but his bold actions may be accounted necessary with shoals under his lee and the enemy to weather.'

'Doud says as he's a hellfire jack, an' sent into Seaflower for the gettin' of prizes f'r the Admiral,' Kydd said.

'Possibly - but a humble cutter? Maid-of-all-work? But did not David prevail over the disdainful Goliath?'

Kydd grinned.

'You've done well for yourself, my friend. Who would have thought it? A quartermaster — and so quick!'

'Only a cutter, is all,' Kydd said, but his voice was warm. To direct the conn of a ship of war was a real achievement for any seaman.

Letting the fragrance of his tobacco wreathe about him, Renzi mused, 'Tom, have you given thought to your future?'

Kydd looked up, surprised. 'Future? Why, it's here in Seaflower, o' course.' He stopped work and stared at the horizon, then turned to Renzi. 'If you mean, t' better myself, then y' understand, I'm now a quartermaster an' as high as I c'n go. Any higher needs an Admiralty warrant, an' I don't have the interest t' get me one.' He had spoken without bitterness. 'Next ship'll be bigger, an' after that, who knows? Quartermaster o' some ship-o'-the-line will do me right well.' His broad smile lit up his face as he added, 'Y’ can't work to wind'ard o' fate, so my feelin' is, be happy with what I have.'

Renzi persisted, 'Captain Cook was an able seaman to begin with, my friend — and Admiral Benbow.'

Kydd's voice softened in respect. 'Aye, but they're great men, an' I ...'

'You sees, Mr Cole, the boatswain is a mason,' Doggo whispered, looking around fearfully.

The midshipman opened his eyes wide and leaned forward the better to hear. It was hard on young Cole, the only midshipman aboard and no high-spirited friends to share his lot, but he was a serious-minded lad who wanted to excel in the King's Service. 'I have a great-uncle a freemason, too,' he said, in a slightly awed voice.

'Do yez good ter get the bo'sun an' you like this,' Doggo held two fingers together, 'an' he'll put in a powerful good word fer you t' the Captain.'

Cole nodded gravely. 'I see that, but how ...'

'Well, the masons have this secret sign, wot they use to signal ter each other.' Doggo looked furtively around the sunlit deck. ‘Like this,' he said, and held up his open hand to his face, thumb to nose, and the fingers all spread out.

Awkwardly, Cole imitated him. Doggo pulled his hand down roughly. 'Not now! Someone'll see. Now, mark what I say, it's terrible important yez do it the right way, or 'e'll think yer mockin' the masons.'

Blinking in concentration, Cole listened.

'Yez waggles yer fingers, like so. An' then yer waits, f'r it's the proper thing fer masons to then pr'tend ter be in a rage — just so's nobody c'n accuse 'em of being partial to their own kind.' Doggo paused to allow it to be digested. 'An' then — mark me well, if y' please — yer waits fer the show ter blow over, an' that's when y' makes yer salute, both hands, all yer fingers at once.'

Later in the watch, Cole had his chance.

'Where's that idle jackanapes?' roared the boatswain, from the group of men aft preparing to send up a fair-weather topgallant sail. ‘Lay aft this instant, y' lubberly sod.'

Cole sauntered aft with a confident smile. Merrick drew breath for a terrible blast — but Cole boldly looked him in the eye and made the first sign.

The boatswain staggered as if struck. 'God rot m' bones — you bloody dog! Damn your impertinence! So help me, I.. .' Merrick paused for control, the enormity of it all robbing him of breath.

In the appalled silence the seamen looked at each other with horror and mirth in equal proportion. Cole saw that this was time for the salute, and bravely brought up both hands and waggled smartly. The boatswain's eyes bulged and his hands clawed the empty air. When the explosion came it was very terrible.

Jarman looked at Kydd speculatively. His cabin was tiny, there was not really room for two people, but there was nowhere else to speak in private.

'Kydd,' he said, and paused, as if reluctant to go on. Kydd waited patiently. 'Kydd, I'm the sailing master 'n' you're m' quartermaster.' This did not need an answer. Jarman levelled his gaze. 'What I'm a-sayin' is not f'r other ears. D'ye know what I mean?'

Kydd shifted uncomfortably. If Jarman was sounding him out over some spat with another, he wanted no part of it.

Seeming to sense his unease Jarman hastened to explain: 'Jus' a precaution, y' understands, nothin' t' worry of,' he said. 'No harm keepin' an eye t' weather, like.' Kydd maintained a wary silence.

The master picked up a book of navigation tables. 'I been to sea since I was a kitling, an' ended up mate in an Indiaman. I know the sea, ye unnerstands — t' get to be master o' Seaflower I has to be examined by th' Brothers of Trinity House f'r this rate o' vessel, a tough haul.'

Kydd wondered where it was all leading. He had no problem with the master's competence, but then remembered the reserve between him and the Captain. Was he feeling insecure, needing Kydd's approval? Surely not.

Jarman's voice dropped. Kydd strained to hear against the hiss of sea against the outside of the hull. 'It's like this — an' please hear me out. Th' Cap'n — an' please t' know I mean no disrespect - is a young man, an' did all his time in a vessel o' size, never in a small 'un. Y' knows that in a big ship ye can make all the blunders y' like an' there's always someone to bring y' up with a round turn, but a small hooker . . .'

Kydd kept his face blank. This might be the first step on the way to a court-martial for mutiny.

'As I said, you're my quartermaster, an' directly responsible t' me.'

This looked grave: was Jarman trying to secure loyalty to himself?

'Consider, if y’ please. The Cap'n an' me are the only ones aboard that c'n figure our position, th' bo'sun never learned. Now, I could say as how I'm a mort disturbed about we bein' carried off b' the fever, but I'd be lying. See, this is m' first ship as master, an' anything goes awry, then it'll be me t' blame — I don't see as how I should give best if it comes t' an argyment over the workings.'

Farrell, as captain, had a duty to seek the sailing master's advice only, and could entirely overrule him. Jarman wanted a witness — but what possible use was Kydd?

'So, I'd take it kindly if ye could jus' think about if you'd like to learn how to do the figurin' y'rself.'

Kydd sat back in disbelief. But he quickly responded: it was a great opportunity, not the slightest use in his position, but ... 'I'd like it main well, Mr Jarman,' he said, 'but how will I learn?'

Jarman eased into a smile. 'Don't ye worry — in the merchant service we has no truck wi' pie-arse-squared an' all that, no time!' He tapped the book of tables. 'It's all there — ye just takes y'r sights an' looks it up. I learned it all in a short whiles only.'

Farrell nodded approval when Jarman brought it up at seven bells. 'If you think it proper, Mr Jarman.' Therefore at noon, on the quarterdeck of Seaflower could be seen the amazing sight of the Captain, the master, the midshipman and Kydd preparing to take the noon altitude. Midshipman Cole as usual borrowed Farrell’s gleaming black and brass sextant, while Kydd gingerly took the worn octant wielded respectfully by Jarman.