Julian Stockwin - Quarterdeck

"Well, just be steady with the octant," Kydd admonished him.

"Lieutenant Kydd, I believe!" Renzi chuckled as he entered the wardroom.

Kydd's heart was full, but he was still unsettled by his unfortunate welcome to the ship and could only manage, "Aye, do I see Lieutenant Renzi before me?"

Renzi dumped a number of well-used order books on the table. "Well, my friend, it does seem this is a task it would be prudent to begin immediately, if not earlier."

Regulations. Orders. Directions. Covering every possible situation. Each in careful phrasing ensuring that every subordinate in the chain of command would be in no doubt that if any disagreeable situation arose it would not be the fault of his superior.

From the Admiralty:

Article: The Captain is to demand from the Clerk of the Survey a book, with the inventory of the stores committed to the charge of the Boatswain and Carpenter . . .

Article: If any be heard to curse or blaspheme the name of God, the Captain is strictly required to punish them for every offence by causing them to wear a wooden collar . . .

Article: The Lieutenant is expected that he do provide himself with the necessary instruments, maps and books of navigation, and he is to keep a journal according to the form set down and at the end of the voyage shall deliver copies thereof signed by himself into the Admiralty and Navy Offices...

Article: No commander shall inflict any punishment upon a seaman beyond twelve lashes upon his bare back with a cat of nine tails, according to the ancient practice of the sea . . .

The commander in chief of the North Sea Fleet had his own instructions—from the timing of the evening gun when at anchor, to conduct when in sight of the enemy—all in all a dizzying succession of domestic detail, mixed with grave admonitions to duty.

Kydd sensed movement outside.

"Well, now, if I'm not mistook, here's our fourth and fifth lootenants!" It was a pleasant-faced young officer, rubbing his hands with cold.

"Ah, Thomas Kydd, sir, at your service."

"Well, then, my dear sir, I am your humble and obedient Gervase Adams, third of this barky—was junior luff in Raven, sadly no more." Kydd shook hands, grateful for the friendliness.

Adams turned to Renzi. "Give you joy of your step, Renzi," he said formally, holding out his hand. Renzi had served for a small time in Tenacious as master's mate: he'd been part of the ship's company at Camperdown. Kydd realised that they assumed his origins to be a senior midshipman promoted, not someone from forward, as he was.

Adams looked over Kydd's shoulder at the books. "This is what you should be boning up on, m' boy." He tapped one marked "Captain's Orders." "This owner is new to me, but if he's running to form he'll expect you to have it by heart in a day—'This is the word of the Lord: hear ye and obey!'"

There was a knock at the door and Adams crossed to answer it. "L'tenant Kydd! Seems first luff has need of the solace of your company at this time."

Kydd hesitated, partly out of concern for the reception he would receive from the captain's deputy, partly out of confusion as to where to go. He knew the first lieutenant's cabin would be here in the wardroom, the largest one to starboard and right in the stern, but it was unoccupied.

"In harbour he sets up shop in the coach next to the captain's cabin, you'll find." Adams paused. "Bryant the Beatific. The men call him Bull—last ship a frigate, and he wants his own command so bad it stinks. I'd steer small with him, Kydd, to be sure."

"Sit, sir." Bryant finished his scrawling. "So, Mr Kydd, you're the fifth and junior. I've put you with Mr Bampton as second officer-of-the-watch until you can prove yourself. And I'll have you know, sir, that if you don't—and that damn soon—I'll see you broke. That I promise. Understand?"

"Sir."

He consulted his paper. "And you'll take the afterguard, where you're under my eye." He looked up. "Heard you came aft the hard way—and heard else—you'll not be shy in a fight an' I like that. Now, you bat square with me, and you'll do. Right?"

"Aye, sir." Kydd was not sure what he was implying, and answered cautiously. The man, with his aggressive, out-thrust jaw and direct, almost angry manner, unsettled him.

"Ah, yes—and you'll be signal lootenant, o' course."

"But, sir, I—"

"Then you'll learn, damn it, like we all did!" Bryant snapped. "You've got a signal midshipman, Rawson, and two steady hands on the bunting. Do y' want a wet nurse as well?"

"I'll do m' duty right enough." Kydd felt himself reddening.

Bryant eased back in his chair. "Let's see. You were entered as a landman in 'ninety-three, then shipped in Artemis frigate around the world, did a few years in the Caribbean and came back a master's mate. Earned their lordships' approbation in the late mutiny at the Nore, and didn't disgrace yourself at Camperdown." He slapped the papers back into their pack. "I'm sure you'll do your duty, Mr Kydd." He rose. "Now, keep station on me—it's a new wardroom, we need to make our number to each other."

The long table was laid with a starched white cloth and silver was much in evidence. It was close on four o'clock, supper time; aboard ship it was always taken considerably earlier than on land.

Kydd lost Bryant in a swirl of officers as old friends warmly greeted each other and new ones respectfully made themselves known. Renzi was deep in conversation with a plainly dressed man who had a curiously neat and sensitive face. Kydd made to cross to him, but a glass was thrust into his hand, and Adams's pleasant face appeared. "A tincture with you, m' friend," he said, leaning back while a seaman politely plied a bottle. The wine was deep and red, and eased Kydd's trepidation.

"Your very good health, sir," Kydd said. Adams smiled, then turned to an older lieutenant, but before he could speak, Bryant, attended by a steward, took the head of the table, his back to the stern windows.

"We sit now," warned Adams, and led Kydd quickly to the opposite end of the table, to one side of the thickness of the miz-zen mast growing up at the end. Then he swung round deftly and sat opposite.

A buzz of talk arose. Bryant roared down the table, "Wine with you, Mr Kydd!"

The table fell quiet and Kydd caught covert glances in his direction. He tried to gather his wits. "C-confusion to the French!" he called, raising his glass to Bryant. The words seemed weak and theatrical after the hearty oaths of seamen.

The marine captain raised his glass and declaimed drily, "And to ourselves—as no one else is likely to concern themselves with our welfare."

"Damn right!" Bryant said vigorously, and drank deeply, then held up his empty glass. Talk began again, but Bryant banged a spoon on the table. "Gentlemen!" he demanded loudly. "Today sees Tenacious with her company of officers complete. We're in commission, and we'll be rejoining the North Sea Fleet very shortly. I believe it's not too soon to make our acquaintance of each other."

Kydd could hear a bottle being opened out of sight as he positioned his glass. He was grateful to the wine for settling his apprehensions.

"I'm your premier. My last ship was Thetis, thirty-eight, in the Indian Ocean, where we saw not much o' the French worth a spit. I hope to see some better sport before long." He pitched his voice to the older lieutenant. "Now you, sir."

"Bampton, second luff, only officer surviving after Camperdown. Served two years with the North Sea Fleet in Tenacious before," he added drily.

"Ah, was you at the Nore mutiny?" the marine wanted to know.

"Yes." Kydd froze. "And no. I was set ashore by the mutinous villains—but had the pleasure later of seeing 'em at a yardarm." He gave a thin smile and sipped his wine.