“Only that Hull is senior and Argus is a bigger, newer ship. Decatur ain’t entitled to such a vessel when they’s others senior to him on smaller older ones. Simple as that.”
“Then why wasn’t Hull given the command of Argus in Boston?”
“On account of the fact that he was still here, in the Mediterranean. As was Enterprise.” Judd had picked up a glass and was studying the shore, particularly the area around the dockyards. He lowered the glass and turned. Seeing James by my side, he studied him for a moment, then, when Stevens was beginning to color under the scrutiny, he spoke. “Did you say you’d go to the schooner with the rest?”
“Uh . . . aye. I did.” James hesitated before answering, unsure of where Judd was taking him.
“Why?”
“Uh . . . well. . . I guess . . .” He suddenly looked square at Devon. “You and Oliver said you was goin’ so I figured I’d go too. We get along fine and I thought maybe Wheatley, since he wasn’t there, mightn’t be asked.”
“Have you done any of the book studying you were assigned? Have you learned anything about navigation like you were supposed to while we sailed from Boston? I can not recall ever having seen you with a quadrant at the noon sights when we fixed our position each day.” With each question, Judd’s voice got harder, and James seemed to shrink further into himself.
“Some,” he answered with as much conviction as he could muster. It didn’t sound terribly convincing to me, but I was merely a bystander in this, and becoming more uncomfortable, perhaps in sympathy with James. I left the group, heading forward to speak with Bosun Anderson, whom I had seen amidships.
“Did you hear that we’re moving, Mister Anderson? To the schooner Enterprise with Cap’n Decatur.” I couldn’t wait to tell him we would still be shipmates.
“Aye, Mister Baldwin. I heard exactly that. A scrappy little ship, that one is. I’d warrant you’ll see some action on her, by God!” Anderson smiled at me. “One of the only real shallow ones out here. An’ the reason she ain’t been home since the year one when first she come across. Them big frigates got a great weight of metal in their broadsides, but they can’t get close enough to the shore to do any good over there on the Barbary Coast. Takes a right shallow draft to work in close an’ catch them piratical bastards when they run fer the beach.”
I met this news with some mixed emotions. One part of me wanted desperately to see action, experience the excitement and thrill of firing our guns at a real target, another ship, and boarding an enemy “in the smoke.” Another part of my head was buzzing with uncertainty; danger, a ruthless adversary, and the likelihood of death at his hands kept my joy at the bosun’s prediction at bay.
Adding further to my concern was something I had heard from Gunner Tar-box some weeks ago, in fact, just after he had accepted, with barely a smile, and certainly small comment, reimbursement for his five dollar investment in my timepiece. He mentioned, quite casually, that the pirates often take prisoners who then become slaves to the pasha, kept on short rations and used to build walls, buildings, and most recently, the beginnings of a fort right on Tripoli Harbor. As masters, the pirates were quite without equal in their ruthlessness and cruelty. That specter seemed, in my mind, some worse than death! It made my head reel. What if we were unsuccessful in a meeting with the pirates and they captured us? Oh, dear!
I made my way forward to ensure my division’s responsibilities had been attended to and, as I returned to the waist an hour and more later, I encountered Stevens, a worried look contorting his round face to something less pleasant than its normal jovial, if slightly vacuous, appearance.
“What troubles you, James? You look ready to . . . I’m not sure, but. . .”
“Oliver, you’ve got to help me. Judd said he was going to tell on me to Mister Cutler that I wasn’t doin’ my book-studyin’ like I’m s’posed to. Said Cutler wouldn’t let me go with you and Decatur to that other ship; I forget which one he said.” His eyes began to well up.
“Well, have you?” I had suggested to him countless times since Boston that he should be learning about navigation, seamanship, and tactics, all of which were contained in the books we had, but, to my knowledge, he had opened nary a one.
“No. Well, a little. But I can’t make hide nor hair out of that stuff. I don’t understand any of it!” The tears were beginning to flow now, coursing down his cheeks, but mercifully, without the usual attendant sobbing and sniffling.
“Why haven’t you asked Judd or me or even Thomas for help with it, if you don’t understand it?”
“Thomas! There’s a laugh. He wouldn’t help me none; he hates me. And Judd’s always too busy with this or that. And you, well, you’re always doin’ your own studyin’ and I didn’t want to interrupt you.” I think it even sounded a little weak to him. Then he got angry. “I reckon my troubles’re just that, my troubles! I don’t know why I even thought you’d help me. Mister fancy-academy educated Midshipman Baldwin!”
“Haul small, there, James. Whatever are you talking about? I have done nothing, nothing at all, to you. In fact, quite the opposite. Why would you think I would not help you? ‘Sides, you haven’t told me what it is you want my help with.”
Stevens sniffed and wiped a sleeve across his eyes. I guess my tone might have been a trifle hard, but it served to have some calming effect on him. I could see him make an effort to stand straighter and get “ahold of himself” as my brother, Edward, used to say to me when I behaved badly.
“Teach me to read.” He looked at his shoes and said the words so quietly, mumbled actually, that I almost didn’t catch them. After he had spoken, he simply raised up his head and looked at me, square in the eyes.
I couldn’t believe my own ears! I sputtered, stunned at this confession, for some moments and studied his earnest expression and imploring eyes. Suddenly so many of the events of the past few months, his attitude about learning his craft, studying navigation and seamanship, and even writing in the deck log when directed during his watch (he claimed his handwriting was so bad that no one would be able to read what he wrote) became clear to me. How he had managed to secure a midshipman’s warrant would most assuredly be a topic of future conversation !
“You really don’t know how to read, James?” I still had trouble believing what I had heard.
“Do you think I would have told you that if it ain’t true? That I ain’t got my letters? I didn’t go to some fancy academy in Philadelphia like you. An’ I had to take care of my Ma so I couldn’t even go to one of the ‘charity schools’ like some done. My Ma helped me to speak acceptable, but she never got around to teachin’ me to read an’ write anything but my name. And some of my numbers. Will you help me? I’ll work at it real hard, Oliver; you’ll see. I know I can learn to do it, and then I can learn the stuff I’m s’posed to, and people won’t be so mean to me—if I know things, that is. And maybe someday, I can take the examination and stand for lieutenant.”
“Of course. But we’ll have to start on something easy. We’ll look when we go ashore. There must be a store that sells primers on reading.” I stopped, seeing the smile break across his face; it was like watching the sun come out after a storm. The salty streaks his tears had left disappeared into the folds of his cheeks and jaw, so broad was his grin. He grabbed my hand and shook it so hard I finally had to break away from him. I turned to continue aft to the cock-pit where I had been headed when James had intercepted me.
“You can’t tell no one what we’re doing, Oliver. Please. If Wheatley ever Found out, it’d be the end of me.” His last plea received a wave of acknowledg-nent as I hurried away, wondering how ever I would go about teaching someone to read and write.
To me, it felt like I had known how all my life. Maybe he should have taken someone else into his confidence; Mister Wakefield, he’d be the one to do what James wanted. Aye, Mister Wakefield. All of a sudden it seemed to me that I was the bearer of everyone’s secrets, first Thomas’ cowardly behavior and now James’ revela
tion.
I was still pondering this weighty burden when I stepped into the mids’ cockpit and found Judd putting on his finest uniform.
“If you get your shore-rig on quick enough, you can ride in with me. Got some dispatches and the like to take ashore and then I aim to have a look around, see what’s changed since last I was here. And get dinner. I got it cleared with Cutler for you to go. If you want to, that is.” He smiled at me without slowing his pace of dressing. “I’ll show you around The Rock.”
James’ problem disappeared in my frantic rush to find a suitably clean uniform in my chest, blacken a pair of shoes to remove the white stains of dried salt water, and discover where I had stowed my cocked hat, put away since we left Boston.
“We have to ask permission to go ashore, Oliver. I will find Mister Cutler and ask for both of us while you finish dressing; meet me on deck quick as you can.” And with that, he left, resplendent in what appeared to be a brand new uniform, but could not have been since he, nor anyone else, had not been ashore since we left Boston.
“Judd! Wait! Didn’t you say you already got us both permission to go ashore? Why do you have to do it again?” I called after him as I feverishly brushed the accumulated mold and mildew off my coat.
“I just meant he said it would be fine for you to accompany me; but you have to have permission—we both do—to leave the ship. You ask just before you actually go. Now set some sail and get rigged out while I go take care of that.” Then he was gone up the ladder in search of the first lieutenant while I rooted frantically through my chest for stockings that were both clean and structurally intact.
CHAPTER NINE
As I stepped out of the boat onto solid ground for the first time in over a month, I took in the warehouses, drays, wagons and their animals, great piles of stores, ropes and spars, and bustle that greeted me. Judd came up beside me on the quay and waited while I turned a full circle taking in the sights ashore as well as the breakwaters that protected the harbor from the sea. Then I realized that the stones beneath my feet were not moving.
Immediately dizzy, I put out my hand to steady myself; the nearest object happened to be Judd, who had his back to me while he instructed the boat crew to return to the ship. He caught himself before falling into either the water or the boat and turned, ready to berate me for pushing him.
My pale countenance and queasy expression made him change course and smile at my obvious discomfort. I was seasick! Standing here on terra firma and very nearly as sick as had James been leaving Boston! Between the waves of dizziness that made my stomach heave, I again felt sorry for the poor boy. But I could ill-comprehend my own problem, especially now I was on dry land.
“Oliver, you’re swaying! Stand still. Oh, I know; you’re landsick. First time ashore after a spell at sea, feels like the land should be moving but it ain’t. Makes you dizzy. We all get it. It passes in a bit, and each time you come ashore, it will bother you less, just like bein’ seasick. Remember how you had to find your sealegs where we first went out? Well, this is the same thing; you have to find your landlegs, and you will!” He smiled at my blanched face as I tentatively took a step on the heaving quay. I quickly realized that I would not be sick. Judd was right, and this strange feeling would indeed pass.
“Come on, now. Let’s walk up to the town. Walking some will help your problem. Besides, the dockyard area holds no attraction for us; there’s nothing right on the waterfront but warehouses, ship-fitters and chandlers. I have only to stop at the port captain’s office with this dispatch case, and then we’re free to do what we will.” Judd set off at a brisk pace, catching me gawking up the towering mountain above us. I had to hurry to catch up, and I was still hampered by my seeming inability to stop swaying. I discovered that my gait had taken on a rhythmic roll, much as if I were walking down the deck of a ship being tossed by the waves. Proudly, I decided I must look like the sailors I had noticed in Boston; now that wasn’t so bad!
When Judd came out of the port captain’s building, I pointed up the mountain. “Have you ever been up there, Judd?” I asked. “Doesn’t look like it’d be easy climbing up that.”
“Actually, I have. There are monkeys—they call them apes, here—up there and some ancient gun batteries carved right into the rock. We’ll go up there later and you can see it yourself. But for now, the town and some vittles is my target.” Judd spoke, never breaking his own rolling stride. I realized I would have to abandon my sightseeing while he ‘had a target’ in mind.
I will get up there my own self! And take my sweet time about it! I would like to see some apes, and the batteries.
We passed old buildings, many showing signs of considerable deterioration, while others we passed had been repaired to a fine degree of utility. All seemed to be in use, regardless of the condition.
“See that wall there? It was built on the ruins of a Moorish wall during the reign of Charles V.” Seeing the puzzled expression that must have crossed my sweating face, he added, “Around 1550, Oliver. I thought you had studied history. Surely you heard about Charles V.” Without waiting for me to defend myself, he went right on. “The original wall, the Moorish one, was built almost to the top of the mountain; they call it The Rock here. In fact, the Moors had built a pretty rugged seawall right to the south end of the peninsula, the point, down that way.” He flung an arm in a generally southern direction. I looked, promptly tripped on a paving stone, caught myself, and resolved to concentrate on keeping up. There would be time later, I hoped, to wander about on my own, or with James. I decided that Judd was a better midshipman than tour guide.
Suddenly, we were in the town. It didn’t start gradually like towns at home did with a few paltry stores giving way to more and more. It was just there-stores, alehouses, grog shops, and several restaurants. We continued up Main Street, bustling with passers-by. There were men in the uniform of the Royal Navy, both officer and seaman, though few of the latter, and men and women dressed in fancy civilian dress. All vied for space to pass, at the same time keeping out of the way of the horses, wagons, and coaches that seemed unlikely to stop for anything.
“Judd, why do you suppose there are so few Royal Navy sailors here? Seems like all the uniforms we’ve seen are officers.” He had stopped to look into the window of a tavern and eating establishment and turned away from it to look about us as though he had not noticed the lack of sailors.
“I don’t think the British sailors get leave of their ships. I remember being told last time we were here that they have a bad habit of running when they get ashore. Though where they’d run to on the Rock escapes me.” He turned back to the window and added, “Hungry? Why don’t we get a bite in here?” Without waiting for an answer, he pushed open the door and disappeared inside.
“You might consider finding a place for your lodging while we’re here, Oliver. Most of the officers and mids do. It has been my experience” (My experience? He’s only been here once or twice before!) “that there are several reasonable places where one might find comfortable lodging without running into debt. And where there are few prying eyes to despoil an evening’s entertainment. If you take my meaning.” Judd offered this advice around a mouthful of food and, while some of it was necessarily muffled, I thought I understood most of it.
“I have little in the way of funds, Judd. I took an advance on my pay because I was robbed in Boston and then had to pay back the gunner five dollars for my watch. I reckon I’ll be sleeping aboard Argus, or should we move soon, the schooner Captain Decatur mentioned.” I took another mouthful; it was quite delicious, and the ale washed it down nicely. And this was not the ‘strong drink’ my father had warned me about. . . but then, neither was it in Boston. I silently resolved to be restrained in my consumption of it.
“Very well, then. I shall point out a few places where you might find some amusement after we finish here and then I shall seek suitable lodging for myself. You can find your way back to the docks, I assume?”
I nodded, hope
fully. Maybe a chance to have a look around myself. Certainly I can walk at a more leisurely pace than did Judd.
We finished our meal and, after fulfilling his promise by showing me the location of a coffee house and another eating establishment, Judd went off on his own errand. I quashed a certain uneasiness brought about by the recollection of being alone in Boston and headed back the way we had come, strolling this time, looking in shop windows and noticing the people and buildings I passed. Shortly before the shops ended, I discovered, behind a terribly dirty window, a seller of books. It was no wonder I had missed it coming in.
A place to find Stevens’ primer! How fortunate. He’ll be pleased I remembered.
A young woman of indeterminate age stood in deep shadow across the stacks of volumes littering the tables between us. When my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I made my way toward her, noticing the dust and grit that seemed to cover much of her wares.
“Have you, perchance, a primer on reading?”
The girl looked up from the book she held and studied me, squinting slightly. As I could now make out more details of her dress and appearance, I decided she looked slatternly and fit in nicely with the surroundings. Her eyes were close-set and her nose quite large. Dark, stringy hair fell straight from her scalp and framed her face, giving it the appearance of. . . well, horsey came to my mind, and I hid my grin behind a hand as I coughed unnecessarily.
Her frock is filthy! And her face—it might be pretty were she to take some soap and water to it. I wonder her parents let her go out looking like that.
“I believe so, but I shall have to fetch me mum. Don’t get much call for such a thing; wouldn’t know where to look to find it anyway.” She spoke flatly, didn’t smile, scowl, or show any feeling whatever. Nor did she make a move to ‘fetch her mum.’
“Is someone there, Rachel?” A shrill voice from somewhere above us.
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