'I think that should be all for today, at least, Mister Mountjoy.' He sighed, after looking over the last revisions to what was now the
'So sorry, sir, but that would be…?' Thomas Mountjoy asked, a quizzically amused, and sheepish, grin on his face (which seemed so far his only expression) becoming even more pronounced.
'Umphh,' commented Mister Giles, the purser, from the offhand side of the well-polished cherry-wood desk at which they sat in Lewrie's day-cabin. But Giles was, even for one as young as his hapless captain's clerk, a 'scaly fish,' with years at sea, to Mountjoy's 'new-come.'
'Ten in the morning for the watch-bills, Mister Mountjoy,' Lewrie explained patiently. 'And four p.m. for the Order Books.'
'Ah! Comes the dawn, so to speak, sir!' Mountjoy japed, with a theatrical overplay of voice and 'phyz.' 'So much to take in, d'ye see. I should have thought, though… once away from all those pettifogging shore officials, there'd bit a bit less, uhm… correspondence.'
Alan hoped he wouldn't be sorry that he'd done his solicitor a favor, in taking his ne'er-do-well younger brother aboard. He needed a clerk, and when offered… Perhaps he'd agreed too readily!
But, he'd been fit and full of cream at the moment; and full of himself with being confirmed, fresh from Coutts's and the deposit of his officially honored prize-money certificates, smug with his acclaim in the London
And, full of a rather good claret, he recalled, at Matthew Mountjoy's office. This younger Thomas, though, was a hopeless legal student, a 'Will He-Nill He' sort only
Daft, Alan thought, studying Mountjoy. He's the forehead of an
'Should've thought, 'fore joining, sir,' Giles snickered, removing his square-lensed brass spectacles to polish on his handkerchief. ' 'Cause once back in the pettifoggers' reach, a man'd think the Papist Inquisition's got him, if his accounts and books don't make sense. Oh, whoa-up, there, young sir.
'Oh, so sorry, Mister Giles.' Mountjoy gaped, looking sheepish and hopelessly muddled anew, as he gathered up all his untidy piles of rough drafts, books, and forms. 'But they do appear all of a hellish
Alan suspected that Thomas Mountjoy was too hen-headed to come in from out of a driving rain, a harmless but will-less mote who would waft through Life on the first wind that found him.
Giles, though… Same age, same build, same ink-stained stricture to his career; but there, all semblance ended. Giles had come up from the orlop, first jack-in-the-bread-room, then assistant and clerk to some purser, apprenticed since his early teens to a dour, penny-pinching trade far longer than Mountjoy, all ledgers and finger cramp; fretting over ha'pence per gallon and stone, Lewrie shouldn't wonder, since his voice broke.
He played the cynical, 'wise beyond his years' wizard with his records and sums, an able and efficient administrator down from the Victualing Board at Somerset House, though he sang his 'old tarpaulin man' song a bit too often for Lewrie's taste. Confident in his first warrant on his own, wry and acting just a touch 'fly,' as if it were all a nudging, wink-tipping, cheese-paring game; he reminded his captain of an East End confidence man, with his three walnut shells, and a single pea on a blanket, and suspected Giles had had mentors who'd been
Sadly, Lewrie could dismiss Mountjoy should he not work out, but he was stuck with Giles. Mountjoy served at the captain's pleasure, paid the same as a midshipman (which wasn't much worth bragging about!) and had no protected status. Giles, though, had an Admiralty Warrant, after performing Mountjoy's job for at least a year aboard another ship, in addition to his long period of training in dispensing food, drink, clothing, and sundries. Should
A good purser went far toward developing a reasonably happy ship; a dishonest one could ruin even the best. Giles could be the sort who could, with dexterous and creative ledgering, 'make dead men chew tobacco,' and continue to purchase china mugs, plates, slop clothing, hats, shoes, and… and, well-plug or twist tobacco, long after they'd been discharged-dead, discharged, or run!
So far, Alan had kept a wary eye on Giles and his ledgers, and could find nothing out of the ordinary, insisting to see, and help account for, the quality and quantity of everything that had come aboard, which Giles would issue in future.
Giles had become even more 'salty,' more affably wise. But also more amenable and agreeable, as if he'd taken Alan's warning to heart, and realized that he'd met his equal. And would settle for legitimate profits. God knew, that was enough for most pursers, when the Admiralty paid for sixteen ounces, and let him issue at twelve to the pound; and that at twenty-eight days the lunar month, not thirty or thirty-one to the calendar month. Giles should have quite
'Right, then…' Lewrie said, by way of dismissal.
Giles, more used to a captain's ways, rose at once. Mountjoy, however, cast a disappointed (and hopeful-but- sheepish, it went without saying) glance over Lewrie's shoulder to the wine cabinet behind him, where rested a likely looking wide-bottomed porcelain decanter and some upturned glasses, before getting the hint.
Buy your own bloody drink, Alan scowled silently; that's what your Navy pay's for!
Young, Lewrie thought, once they'd gone. Thank God, 'cept for the few like Mountjoy, the fresh-caught landsmen, and the youngest of the ship's boys, we're mostly experienced. His proportion of seamen, ordinary or able, was higher than usual, thanks to generosity back in the Mediterranean. Recruiting had gone extremely well, too, and now he had enough strong backs among the landsmen to do the dumb-ox work of pulley-hauley. And a positive glut of ship's boys, who were young enough to learn the seaman's trade; quite unlike landsmen, who stayed at the rate for years, too old and set in their civilian ways to alter.
Hands and officers young enough, full of piss and vinegar-and ambition-to know what