The hands labored at swabbing out their hot barrels, slipping in fresh cartridge bags, ramming home wads and fresh shot, then straining to roll the guns, squealing on their ungreased wooden trucks, back up to the sills.
Beckett appeared once more at Lieutenant Roth's side. "The captain's respects, Mister Roth, and you are to prepare to engage to starboard.’
’Lewrie, supervise the larboard guns and see they're secure," Roth told him, leading all but three of the numbers from each hot gun over to starboard. Alan made sure that no cartridge bags had been pricked, that all vents were covered from sparks, and that the ports were securely closed, and the heavy guns were snubbed in place by the train and side-tackles with no chance to roll about and crush someone.
By the time he and the excess numbers had finished that chore, the starboard guns were speaking, rattling the fabric of the ship. He bent down to see out, and could not detect any improvement in their aim as they fired at a much smaller target, the privateer schooner, which was in the process of cutting out a slow merchantman. And by the time the most experienced gun captains and quartergunners had found their enemy's range and had begun to slap balls close about her, she had danced out of reach and gun-arcs to rush down on another prize. Ariadne now turned about and chased after their earlier target, the brig. The men stood behind the guns in long swaying lines for what seemed like an hour. There were sounds of gunfire far off, light sixand nine-pounders, occasionally the deeper boom of a twelve-pounder. And then it was over; they were to secure from Quarters. Charges and balls were drawn, and the guns were securely bowsed down.
By the time the mess tables were being lowered between the guns, and all the other officers had left, Lewrie shrugged and went up on the upperdeck gangways. Down south to windward, or off to the southeast astern, stood the three raiders, safe as houses with Ariadne and Dauntless now far down to leeward to the north in pursuit of a panicky flock of merchantmen. The privateer ship had a fore-topmast missing and showed a few scars, but was still afloat. More to the point, five tubby merchant vessels that had lately been part of the convoy were also down to windward, prizes of the privateers.
Seven bells chimed from the belfry, and bosun's pipes began to shrill. "D'ye hear there? Clear decks an' up spirits!" the b0sun shouted as loud as a gunshot. Eleven-thirty in the moming; as if to confirm it, Lewrie drew out his gold-damascened silver pocket watch and opened it.
So that was a battle, he thought. I can't see anything we accomplished. If this is the glory of naval life, you can have this nautical humbug! How do you make all that prize money, or make a name for yourself, when you're down below getting bored to death? Lewrie took himself off to the cockpit for their issue of rum, then came back up to perform noon sights, which he got wrong, as usual, resulting in an hour of racing up and down the mainmast.
Later, at dinner, he noticed the many long faces around their mess table. Finnegan and Turner, Mr. Brail, the captain's clerk, a couple of surgeon's mates, Shirke, Chapman, Ashburn and himself. Bascombe was in the Day Watch. Except for the sound of cutlery, it was dead quiet.
Well, perhaps not too quiet; there was the sound of the master's mates, Finnegan and Turner, as they chomped and chewed and gargled and hawked-both of them were what were termed "rough feeders.’
’Um… this morning," Alan said, clearing his throat, which raised an involuntary groan from everyone as they thought of their poor performance. "What happened… exactly?’
‘Nothin' worth talkin' about," Finnegan mumbled. "Bloody shambles," Chapman said with a blank: stare. For him to make a comment of any kind was rare. "We weren't handled at all badly," Ashburn said between bites. "Placed right clever, if you ask me.’
’But the gunnery…" Alan prompted. ’Aye, that was awful," Shirke said. "It's like Harvey was telling us, we haven't spent much time at gun drill. ’
‘We've drilled," Turner said. "Jus' never fired the damn things, 'cept fer salutin' and pissin' off merchant masters. Good gunners gone stale, new 'uns couldn't hit a spit kid if it were tied to their mouths.’
’They were pretty fast, too. I expect that didn't help," Alan said. ’Dauntless did alright," Keith Ashburn said. "Got hits on her foe, chased her off, and chased off that brig once it got past us. No one could have caught that schooner once she got past us, though. Lost five ships. Not a bad morning's work for 'em, damn their eyes.’
’And there's no way we could get them back?" Alan asked. "Beat up to windward against more weatherly ships, and leave the rest 0' the convoy ta get took?" Finnegan shook his head. "Ye're a young booby, ain't ya? Wot it's all about is, we got beat, see, younker? Them damned rebel Jonathans done beat us!" Alan saw New York again, but only from the anchorage at Sandy Hook. He got to go ashore, but only as far as the fleet landing with a cutter full of demoralized and sullen hands, who had to be watched constantly to keep them from drink or the many brothels. Fresh supplies had to be ferried out, more coal and firewood, fresh water, livestock and wine, and crates of fruit and vegetables. 100 bumboats were out, offering women, rum and gewgaws, but the ship was not allowed Out of Discipline. Only Bales and the purser actually got to step ashore for pleasure.
The officers sulked in their wardroom aft, lolling over long pipes and full mugs when there was no drill, exercise, or working party. The midshipmen and mates stood anchor watch in their stead for the humdrum task of waiting, envying the men in the guard boats who rowed about to prevent desertion, or watch against a hostile move. It was an unhappy existence. The ship lay at anchor for days, stewing in the blustery early spring rains and fickle winds, too wet to stay topside, and too warm and airless to stay below. Ariadne shifted her beakhead to point at the colony, then at England. groaning her way all about the compass. The seeming lack of purpose, and their recent poor showing, began to grate on everyone. People began to put in requests for a change of mess, a sure sign of trouble below decks. There were more floggings for fighting, more backtalking and insubordination, more slow work at tasks assigned. God knew where they got it, but lots of men were turning up drunk and getting their dozen lashes on the gratings every Forenoon watch.
If he didn't have to set some sort of example, he wouldn't have minded getting cup-shot himself, Alan decided. Here I stand, dripping wet, can't see a cable, the food stinks, the people stink, and I still can't get ashore for sport. Why can't I help out on the press-gang or the patrol? "What a nautical picture you make," Keith told him as he climbed to the quarterdeck to join him. "Perhaps a watercolor is appropriate.’
’Water is the word," Alan agreed, feeling the wet seeping down his spine under the heavy tarpaulin he wore. "Mister Brail and the Jack In The Bread Room said we could buy fresh food from shore on the next trip for cabin stores. Any ideas?’
‘A warm, dry whore for starters," Lewrie muttered. "Seriously," Keith scoffed. ’Potatoes," Lewrie said with some heat. "I'd love some boiled potatoes. And carrots with parsnip. Turkey or goose… coffee, wine.’
’That's one meal. How about some onions?’
‘Drag it back aboard and I'll go shares. God, what a shitten life this is," Alan mourned. "It will get better once we're back at sea. This idling is bad for us," Keith said. "What's the bloody difference?" Lewrie eyed a passing barge with the spy glass. "Ahoy there!’
‘Passing," came the faint reply. ’Boredom and deprivation in port is pretty much like boredom and deprivation at sea, only not as noisy," Lewrie griped. ’At least at sea, we're too busy to care.’
’Of all the ships I had to be put on, why this one? Why not one that can shoot and do something exciting?’
‘We'll do better," Ashburn promised firmly. "Now we see how bad we did, we've been working the gun crews properly.’
’Do you really believe that?" Alan drawled. ’Of course I do, I have to.’
’Is the rest of the Navy like this? Because if it is I'II be glad to make my fortune as a pimp soon as we're paid off. ’
‘That's disloyal talk, Alan," Ashburn told him. ’Oh, for God'
s sake, Keith. You're educated. You've been in a couple of ships now. Let's just say I have a fresher outlook. Tell me if you've seen better ships. And don't go all noble about it.’
’Alan, you must know that I love the Navy…" Keith began. "Believe me, after listening to you for three months, I know. ’
‘It… Ariadne is not the best I've served in," Keith muttered. "What's your concern? You're the one was dragooned here. It's all I've ever wanted. ’
‘All your talk about prize money and fame," Alan said. "What do I have if this war ends? A small rouleau of guineas and that's it. In peacetime, I'd end up selling my clothes in a year. I can't go home, and without a full purse I can't set myself up in any trade. I think I could make a go of this, miserable as it can be at times, if I were on another ship, one that could fight and shoot, and go where the prize money is.’
’Hark the true sailorman!" Keith was amused at Lewrie's sudden ambitions, which made him sound like any officer or warrant that Ashburn had ever listened to. "Bravo! We'll make a post-captain of you yet.’
’Or kill me first," Alan said. But the fantasy was tempting. If I were a post-captain, wouldn't that make all those bastards back home bite on the furniture? Now that would be a pretty crow pie…
Ariadne finally weighed and sailed, and it was back across the Atlantic to England with another convoy. Once home, she swung about her anchor in Plymouth, in Falmouth, in Bristol before shepherding more ships across the Atlantic to Halifax, Louisburg or New York, facing the same winds, the same seas, the same food and hours of gun drill and sail handling with the same work of replenishment and loading at each end, until Ariadne could have done it in her sleep. Some men died, fallen from aloft and vanished astern. Some sickened from the weather and came down with the flux. Some could not stomach the food, though it was more plentiful and regular than what they would have gotten in their country crofts, and more healthful than the dubious offerings of a slum ordinary.
Some were injured by cargo or gun carriages, and suffered amputation. Men were ruptured by heaving on lines or cables. Men went on a steady parade to the gratings. So many miles were rolled off astern across the ocean in all her moods and weathers. So many pounds of salt-beef, pork, biscuit, peas, and raisins and flour were issued. So many gallons of small beer, red wine and tan water were swallowed. It all blended into seven months of such a limitless, unremarked and pointless existence that hardly anything seemed to relieve it of its sameness. There were some small delights, even so. He crossed swords at small arms drill with Lieutenant Harm and thoroughly humiliated him. to the clandestine joy of the other midshipmen (and most of the crew).
And there were moments of freedom, when the ship was moored so far out that rowing supplies out would have halfkilled the hands, and Alan discovered the pleasure of sailing a small boat under a lugsail, racing other cutters to the docks on a day of brisk wind, then a quick quart for all hands before racing back.
With his new detennination to succeed burning in him, he pored over all the books on the ship, and the only books were nautical in nature. It was impossible not to learn something. One can only practice a task so long without gaining the knowledge of how to do it, and more important, when, unless one were like Chapman. Do a bad knot, get a caning or a tonguelashing, so one learns a world of useful knots. Do a bad splice and be called a booby by people who have your career in their hands, and one learns to do a good splice.
Execute the steps of gun drill so often, get quizzed on the amount of powder to be used in various circumstances until you're letter perfect, and you no longer get abused. Go aloft until you know every reef cringle and clewgarnet, block and splinter of spars, and one finally is allowed a grudging competence to be able to fulfill one's duty, from both the officers, and the senior hands.
Measure the sun at noon and work out the spherical trigonometry often enough and you soon learn what is right and what is wrong, whether you really like doing it or not, and navigation can become a tedious but useful skill, and not a horror of stupid errors and their price.
And with each slowly gained bit of knowledge, with each more seamanly performed chore, with each more day full of danger and challenge that was experienced, Lewrie noticed a change in the way he was treated. From the captain, from Kenyon certainly, old Ellison the sailing master, the mates, the bosun, the Marine captain, even from Mr. Swift, he found less harsh shouting or exasperated invective, fewer occasions to be bent over a gun "for his own good." There was a gruff acceptance of him and his abilities, as though he and the blue coat were one, and he could do anything that any other blue coat on a blustery night-deck could do in their seagoing pony show, and his new anonymity was blissful.
And when he performed something so particularly well that even he knew it, there was now and then a firm nod, or a bleak smile, or even a grunt of approval that was as much a treat to his spirits as an hour with a wench with the keys to her master's wine cabinet.
There were, too, the reactions of his fellow midshipmen to go by.
There was Ashburn's bemused acceptance, Shirke and Bascombe's sullen scowls of disdain at his progress. There were Chapman's heavy sighs as he realized that he was being surpassed by yet one more contender for commission, and that his own chances were flying farther from his poor grasp every day. And there was the unspoken deference of the younger boys like Beckett and Striplin, who were already cowed by his size and seeming maturity, and now by his knowledge which had accrued faster than theirs.
Most especially, there was the hot glow of dislike that Lewrie felt whenever he was around Rolston that was so warming that he thought he could easily toast cheese on it. Ashburn had been the top dog in a blue coat, then Rolston, in the officers' estimations. It was only natural that an older boy such as Lewrie, once he had attained Rolston's level in skill and sea-lore, would be thought of as more competent by those worthies, which would automatically force their opinion of young Rolston down to third place, perhaps lower.
Much as it galled him, Lewrie realized his life had become more tolerable since he had, in the parlance, taken a round turn and two half hitches.
But that is not to say that he did not secretly loathe every bloody minute of it.
Chapter 5
By the Grace of God, and the pleasure of the Admiralty, Ariadne was saved from her ennui by new orders. Lewrie could have kissed them in delight. He still shivered with cold as the ship was driven hard to the west-sou' west by a stiff trade wind. It was a grey, miserable afternoon with an overcast as dull as a cheap pewter bowl, and the sea pale green and white, humping high as hills on either beam. The ship held her starboard gangway near the water as she forged her way across the Atlantic to their new duty station in the West Indies. Somewhere over the larboard beam was Portugal, and she was beginning to pick up the Trades that sweep clockwise about the huge basin that is the Atlantic and blow due west for the islands. Soon she would turn the comer and ron with a landsman's breeze right up her stem for an entire, and exotic, new world, and Alan wondered what it would be like to be warm all the time, to get soaking wet and not consider it a disaster, to see new sights and smells and delight in the fabled pleasures of those far harbors. Like having a woman again-any woman.
Four bells chimed from the forecastle belfry-6:00 P.M. and the end of the First Dog Watch. Soon, unless sail had to be reduced for the night, they would stand to evening Quarters at the great guns. Then he could go below out of the harsh winds for more of the smell and the damp and the evil motion of the ship. Lewrie sighed in frustration… about the women, or the lack of them, about the irritating sameness of shipboard life and the need to see an unfamiliar face, hear a new voice telling new jokes; about the bland and boiled mediocrity of the food; and most especially about the eternity of life in the Navy. It had been eight months now. With an educated eye he could see that Ariadne was broad-reaching on the larboard tack, with the wind large on her quarter, utilizing jibs, fore and main stays'ls, two reefs in the tops'ls, and three reefs in the courses.
The glass was rising and the seas were calming after a day of bashing through half a gale.
Captain Bales strode the quarterdeck deep in thought, and the sailing master Mr. Ellison leaned on the waist-high bulwarks about the wheel and binnacle, squinting at the sails. Lieutenant Swift loafed by the mizzen shrouds on the lee side with the watch officer, Lieutenant Church. Bales would peer aloft, at the seas astern, and sniff the air heavily. Alan grimaced as he knew what was coming; they would have to take in the courses and take a third reef in the tops'ls for the night. He was halfway to the weather shrouds before Captain Bales shared a silent eye conference with the sailing master and made his decision. ’All hands!" Swift bellowed as the bosun's pipes shrilled. "Hands aloft to shorten sail.’
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