by Peter Greene
“Yes, sir!” Jonathan said, and spun on his heels, leaving the cabin as fast as he could.
* * * * *
Captain Moore and his carriage reappeared at the dock at just past four as the sun was beginning to set. With him was a servant who carried a large footlocker and a few extra boxes. Nathaniel walked steadily up to the Danielle, then up the plank, and he instructed the servant to set the locker and supplies down on deck and return to the carriage.
“Good see you, Captain!” said Koonts, loudly, as if to warn the surrounding crew to stand at attention. All snapped straight as Nathaniel tipped his hat ever so slightly. Within a few moments, Captain Walker appeared with his two new lieutenants in tow, along with Mr. Harrison. Steward was also present, looking as grumpy and frumpy as ever.
“Return to your duties, men,” boomed Walker, then turned to address his friend. “It is a pleasure and honor to see you, Nate.”
“Thank you, William,” said Captain Moore softly. “I will only be a minute. I don’t want to delay your departure. If I could have a word with Midshipman Moore, I would be most grateful.”
“Steward?” called the Captain. “Please send for the midshipman, on the double.”
“Aye, sir,” Steward said, “and I assume ya mean Jonathan, as Cap’n Moore probably couldn’t give a care fer any of the other midshipmen, as they ain’t related whatsoever.”
“I have noticed the new placard on the ship, William. HMS Doggard? I believe a parting gift from Admiral Barrow?”
“Yes,” said Walker with a grimace, “my only solace is in the fact that within a few months, the good Admiral Barrow will be eaten alive by mosquitoes.”
“And you will be sailing the beautiful waters of the Caribbean again,” said Nathaniel quickly, changing the subject. “Certainly your mission is a peach, but with so many Spanish and French settlements in the islands, the chance of a prize should be relatively high, don’t you agree?”
“One can always hope,” said Walker, smiling once again. “And there may be a few pirates as well. However, one look at the Dog- er, I mean . . . ” he paused, “I mean the Danielle and her seventy-four guns will have most of them running.”
“And what of Gorman? Is he aboard for this adventure?”
“It is too tame a duty for him I am afraid,” said Walker, chuckling. “He is off the Cape Verde Islands to do a little checking on the Portuguese and the Spanish at Santiago. He is to take the Paladin there within the month.”
With that, Jonathan appeared and stood at attention. Even though this important Captain was his father, ship’s protocol demanded formal manners and actions.
Captain Walker and the others said their goodbyes and smartly left Nathaniel and Jonathan alone.
“Jonathan? Why are you wearing seaman’s garb?” his father asked, matter-of-factly.
“I had an accident, sir, a silly one, actually. I . . . I fell off the gangplank into the water. Just clumsy, Father, having to get reacquainted with the ship, that’s all. I was very excited!”
His father was astounded. “What? My lord! Jonathan, you could have been killed!”
There was an uncomfortable pause. Then his father relaxed a bit and smiled.
“Well, be careful Jonathan, and mind Captain Walker and Steward. Watch out for Sean. Remember, sometimes, not all dangers are flying the French tricolor!”
“I am not sure what you mean, exactly, Father.”
The Captain looked grave for a moment and sat on a crate nearby, the better to look Jonathan in the eye.
“It might be nothing, Jonathan, but the night you arrived in London aboard the Danielle, I was attacked on my way to the dock.”
“Father!” exclaimed Jonathan, “Were you hurt?”
“No, no I wasn’t. A young man appeared out of the shadows and tried to club me on the head, clumsy as he was. He ran off before I could get a good look at him, though with a quick glance, he resembled an old adversary of mine. We were midshipmen together for a while and were in competition for ship assignments. We both became Captains at about the same time, but I believe I got the better ships and assignments. As usual, many men blame their misfortune on others, before looking at themselves. He may still hold a grudge.”
“Where is he now?” asked Jonathan.
“He is assigned a sixth-rate, a brig, the twenty-four gun HMS Simplex. He is currently escorting merchant vessels and the like. Not a plum assignment by any means,” Captain Moore said.
“What is his name?” inquired Jonathan.
“Spears,” his father said, “Captain Derrick Spears. I believe he has a son about your age.”
This froze Jonathan to the bone. He remembered that Captain Walker asked him to introduce himself to the two new midshipmen, Lane and Spears. He contemplated mentioning it to his father, but then, that would just be another reason to keep him ashore.
“There are a few extra supplies in your locker,” his father said finally, standing up and adjusting his hat. “Look for them when you have a moment.” Nathaniel took a second to stare at his son intently. “I will miss you.”
“And I, you!” Jonathan said sadly.
With that, the two Moores, father and son, smartly saluted each other.
Upon assembling the crew for inspection, Lieutenants Holtz, Blake and Harrison took their positions on the poop next to Midshipmen Moore, Lane, and Spears, all dressed and in a line, facing the bow and the crew. Jonathan tried to look to his side, to see the other midshipmen, though it was difficult. He could barely make out their shapes, let alone their faces.
All of the men present were arranged on deck and many in the tops, ready to set sail. The marines were lined up along both sides at the rail and they stood at attention. Shortly, Captain Walker appeared from his cabin and stood in front of the deck, with Koonts and Watt joining immediately. He took a deep breath before addressing the men as a group.
“I welcome all the old Danis and the new,” Walker said, booming his voice so it could carry and be heard by all. “I am a fair captain and I play by the book. I also share the riches we may accumulate and I share that by the book as well. Do your duties as best you can, and if you can’t, do them even better!”
This caused a small wave of laughter throughout the crew. “Respect your officers, for they lead you, and respect your new brothers, for they will save your life.”
This solemn note was accepted by the crew as they looked at faces familiar and new, and realized that for better or worse, they were a family with a mission to perform.
“Lastly,” said Walker. “It has come to my attention that some of you have been referring to our ship as HMS Doggard, as it is set on the placard affixed to the stern. I will remind you that the most grievous offense aboard this ship, one that will be met with the most serious and painful lashing, will be set aside for those who refer to this beautiful lady by that infernal name! Her name is the Danielle. From the moment we cast off, all will refer to her at all times by that name. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir!” and “the Danielle!” came the response from well over three hundred voices, many fully understanding and agreeing with the order.
“Then add sail and cast off!” said Walker.
The crew ran to their stations quickly and a modest amount of sail was let down on all three masts as the mooring lines were released. Slowly and gracefully, the ship caught the wind and left the dock, magically transforming from the dreaded Doggard, into the dashing HMS Danielle.
Jonathan left the main deck, and dragging his small locker that had been left by the gangway in a neat stack with his other items, soon reached the cockpit, the room where he would stay with the other midshipmen. The room was a small, dark, and crowded place on the orlop deck, just below the two gun decks. It was aft, right behind the mizzen mast, the rearmost of the three tall masts of the Danielle. The rest of the crew, the seamen and able seamen, all were berthed on the orlop, yet all in front, or before, the mizzen mast. Some men actually stayed on the gun decks in ha
mmocks—not the most coveted place, and actually quite dangerous. In a storm, a loose gun could destroy many things in its way and kill a man in an instant.
Jonathan slowly opened the small door to the cockpit. No one was there. Lifting his locker, he entered alone.
The room was certainly not as spacious as the Captain’s quarters, nor even close to the bunk room the Lieutenants shared. It was just large enough to fit three bunks, one atop the others, and have a small area by the door. Each corner had a wooden chest standing, one labeled “Lane” and the other “Spears.” Jonathan put his much smaller locker in the remaining corner. It would be strange not having Sean and Claise as roommates, living in the “closet,” as they had called their past quarters aboard the now lost HMS Poseidon.
A knock came at the door. Jonathan opened it, expecting to see his new roommates. However, he was pleasantly surprised to see Sean.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our little sardine!” Sean said referring to Jonathan’s mishap at the gangway.
“Come in, Sean!” Jonathan said excitedly. “A bit bigger than the “closet,” but still a closet, don’t you think?”
Sean looked around and nodded.
“A bit quieter than where I will be,” he said. “I am now in with the rest of the crew, in a hammock in the orlop before the mast. It will be lively, I am told, and I won’t lack for company. There are almost three hundred men aboard, Jonathan. Can you believe it? With three lieutenants including Mr. Harrison and a few other officers as well. And there are twice the marines we had aboard the Poseidon.”
“Not to mention the midshipmen, of course,” Jonathan said, smiling.
At that moment, the door to the cockpit opened and as if on cue, two midshipmen entered. With four boys in the room, it was crowded to be sure, and Sean tried to wiggle his way out into the hall, but the taller of the two new midshipmen stood in his way.
“Pardon me, sir,” Sean said, reaching for where his hat would be if he had one, to tip it in a salute of sorts.
The taller midshipman glared at Sean.
“And just what do you think you are doing in these quarters, seaman?” he said angrily, gritting his teeth into a tight smile that looked anything but welcoming.
Sean did not answer right away. He maneuvered himself to the door and stared at all three of the midshipmen. It was clear that the taller of the two was slightly larger than Jonathan, the other was shorter, but stockier. He was actually a bit plump.
“He was visiting me,” Jonathan said. “He is my guest.”
The taller one turned to Jonathan and looked at him for a moment, sizing him up. As he spun his head, a brownish-blond ponytail was visible.
Interesting, thought Jonathan.
The tall midshipman then looked to Sean with a slightly less angry smile on his face.
“Friends? Well that is cozy, isn’t it, Lane?”
“Yes it is, Spears,” Lane said.
Jonathan now knew who was who. Spears, possibly the man who had attacked his father, had a pony-tail and a mark on his face, as if he had been in a fight. Though all the evidence was circumstantial, Jonathan decided it would be best to keep an eye on Spears.
“I am Midshipman Jonathan Moore,” Jonathan said, extending his hand to Lane, who took it heartily, and then to Spears, who did not.
“I know who you are,” Spears said. “I’ve seen your name in the papers. A hero. Right, Lane?”
Lane just nodded, not sure if he should smile, frown, or do nothing. So he just stood still.
“Jonathan has even met the King—” Sean began.
“Did I ask you a question, carious swab? Then why are you speaking?” yelled Spears. “You may not have heard, but a crewman doesn’t speak to an officer unless spoken to! Don’t you understand? Or are you stupid?”
“Hold on, there, Spears,” Jonathan said. “Sean is a valuable member of the crew and has special favor with the Captain—”
However, as Jonathan spoke, Spears pushed Sean hard, causing him to stumble backwards out the door and slam against the wall across from the cockpit door.
“Get out of here, and don’t return unless I invite you!” Spears yelled.
Jonathan had reached the boiling point.
“Spears!” he yelled.
“What, Moore? I have a right mind to report this man to the Captain for punishment! He didn’t even salute when I entered the room!” With that he stepped into the hall and gave Sean another push, this time knocking him to the ground.
Jonathan moved quickly to the hall, ready to defend his friend.
“A gnat couldn’t have flapped a wing, it was so crowded in there,” argued Jonathan. “He tried to salute. He did tip his cap. And . . . ”
“And what, Moore?” Spears said, now turning to face Jonathan directly. “Do you think I care about your opinion? You’re a new midshipman and I have been one for the past two years, so mind your place!”
Jonathan looked Spears in the eye. He spoke slowly and calmly.
“You have no rank above me—and certainly no manners, either. If you should ever touch Seaman Flagon again, I will learn of it. And I will have you on the deck so fast you will think you are a fish out of water.”
Spears held Jonathan’s gaze, then slowly chuckled.
“Moore, I seriously doubt that you—” Spears said, now pushing Jonathan backwards with his open hands on every other word, “—can do anything about it!”
Surely this Spears character delighted in pushing people around, especially ones that he had either the rank or size advantage over. Jonathan had seen his type before: a bully. They seemed to be everywhere, not smart enough to get through life using their wits, so they used violence. While living on the streets of London, Jonathan saw many and he mostly avoided them. However, from time to time he had to face them, and he tried to use his head and sometimes also his fists to make the best of it.
“You had better watch yourself,” said Spears with a little laugh, “Or you will be the fish out of water!”
Jonathan looked quickly at Sean, who was now getting up off the floor, but not all the way. Sean was on all fours like a low table, and not moving, positioned directly behind Spears, just staying put. And that gave Jonathan an idea.
He relaxed his stance, as if to signal to Spears that he had given up, and then, after a moment, he exploded with amazing speed and shoved Spears quite harshly, causing him to stumble backwards, then clumsily trip over Sean. The thud of Spears’s head hitting the deck sounded like a cannonball being dropped to the planks.
“I warned you that I would put you on the deck!” yelled Jonathan angrily. He immediately leaped over Sean and landed on Spears. They began tussling. A few blows were landed. Suddenly, a voice boomed loud and clear. It was Lieutenant Holtz.
“By all the gods!” yelled Holtz, his normally quizzical face still on. “What in the world is going on here?”
Jonathan and Spears immediately stopped fighting and stood at attention. Behind Holtz, Mr. Harrison appeared.
“Jonathan? Spears?” asked Harrison. “Are you fighting? And in front of a seaman? Truly unbelievable!”
“We must advise the Captain!” Holtz said.
Harrison looked to Jonathan, knowing that the Captain would not be pleased and Jonathan would certainly not fare well. Though he was the Captain’s favorite, Walker was always firm, but fair. He would punish both Jonathan and Spears.
“Yes, we must,” said Harrison. He had no choice.
Of course, the Captain called Spears, Lane, and Jonathan into his cabin. Even Steward, who brought in cheesed anchovies and some soft bread, was surprised upon hearing of the altercation. All the Lieutenants and Koonts were present, and all were shocked into silence.
Walker was sitting on his new comfy chair, like a king on a throne. However, he began inhaling a great amount of air. The old dragon was back. He paused, then exploded.
“What in the world of men happened? Moore, somehow you manage to fall off the gangway, then, less
than an hour to sea, you engage in a shoving match with Midshipman Spears! There will be no more buffoonery or there will be hell to pay! Moore, explain why you were seen striking Midshipman Spears!”
Standing at attention, shaking like a leaf but still staring out the window, Jonathan told the Captain exactly what had happened. However, when the Captain asked Spears for his version, it was quite different.
“Sir, I believed Seaman Flagon could use some instruction on etiquette,” Spears said calmly and respectfully. “I believed he did not know the cockpit was for officers only. I politely asked him to leave. That is when Moore struck me.”
“That is a lie!” Jonathan called.
“How dare you call me a liar!” cried Spears.
“Captain, he pushed Sean to the ground more than once, then attacked me!”
“Silence!” boomed Walker. The Captain sensed this situation was not as it seemed. He didn’t know Wayne Spears at all and barely knew his father, a sort of malcontent, a captain in the lower echelon of names in the Admiralty. He did, however, know Jonathan Moore, and starting a schoolroom tumble was not in his character. Walker remembered how Jonathan had turned an ugly situation with a past shipmate, Gallotta, into a fast friendship. Even the common seamen considered Jonathan a true gentleman, but he told himself he could not show favoritism.
“I have heard your part of the story, Midshipman Moore! I find the whole issue extremely unbelievable and distasteful! Lane, you were there, what did you see?”
Lane paused for a moment, then, looking at Spears, said, “It is just as Midshipman Spears has explained it, sir.”
Jonathan was shocked. It was clear to him that Lane was lying for Spears.
Walker now sat silently, glaring at the three midshipmen before him. He grumbled for a few moments, then stood so quickly that all three youngsters jumped back. He drew in another unbelievable amount of air. This explosion was so grand, that all the crew that had happened to come near the stern to unofficially listen, jumped at least a full foot in the air.
