Reefs and Shoals

had his finger on the pulse of Charleston commerce, did not suspect that any aid and comfort was being provided to French or Spanish privateers, and that vessels such as Captain Mollien’s Otarie rarely called, at all. “No, I think we’ll have to search further South of here, Mister Westcott-Hilton Head Inlet, Stono Inlet, Port Royal, or Savannah, Georgia.”

“Beg pardon, sirs,” Midshipman Rossyngton intruded, “but, the French vessel’s anchor is free, and she’s hoisting sail!”

“Calmly, Mister Rossyngton,” Lewrie cautioned him. “There’s not a thing we can do to stop her. I meant to ask, Mister Westcott,” he went on, turning to the First Officer once more, “if there’s anything out of the ordinary to report whilst I was ashore?”

“Everything went well, sir, with nothing out of the ordinary,” Westcott told him. “Mister Cadbury did say that he and the working-party that went ashore with him did get some mild bother from some of the locals, and from a couple of seamen whom he suspected of being off the French schooner, sir, but, after getting a look at your Cox’n and Seaman Furfy, it came to nothing. Some foul looks and a comment or two about Mister Cooke, being Black and all, but Mister Cadbury said that there were many Free Blacks doing business who went about their trades un-molested.”

“Free Black sailors off American ships are one thing, sir, but, a Free Black in Navy uniform, British uniform, is quite another, I do expect,” Lewrie breezed off. “So! If we have to wait ’til the next high tide, what do ye suggest we do with the rest of this day, sir?”

“Uhm, there’s some minor painting, sir… touch-ups, mostly,” Westcott speculated. “Minor sail repair, some blocks aloft I’d desire to be greased, and one or two lines in the running rigging that need re-roving, that sort of thing.”

“Mister Cadbury saw to it that we took extra fresh water aboard yesterday?” Lewrie asked, itching to get out of his finery, and back to his usual sea-going rig.

“Aye, sir,” Westcott told him, “with more in the offing, if we desire.”

“Paint and mend, the rest of the Forenoon, then let the ship’s people do their laundry, and ‘Make and Mend’ ’til the end of the First Dog,” Lewrie decided. “I’ll be below.”

Before he could quit the quarterdeck, though, there was Mister Cadbury, the Purser, with his ledger book, and a list of the victuals he had purchased ashore.

“Turnips, Mister Cadbury?” Lewrie enthused. “I’d suppose that it’s too much to ask if ye found Swedes.”

“No Swedes, sir, sorry to say,” the Purser said with a moue of disappointment, “but your garden-variety ’neeps. Garden -variety, hah! Lashings of rice, of course, and I obtained field peas, in great quantity… odd ones called black-eyed peas for the black spots on them, along with sweet potatoes. Ehm…” Mr. Cadbury said more softly as he leaned forward, “Cooke tells me the reason they are in such quantity, and available at such low prices is that they, along with their rice, are considered slave food, sir. I’m not sure if the hands need to know that… might upset them that we feed them on such?”

“As they say in the Bahamas, though, Mister Cadbury, ‘it eats good’,” Lewrie said with a chuckle. “With fresh butter, baked sweet potatoes will be a treat, and with ham hocks or salt pork, the boiled peas will be hot and filling.”

“Very good, sir,” Mr. Cadbury agreed.

The French schooner’s fore-and-aft sails were fully hoisted by then, and she was beginning to make a slow way, with some musicians aboard her skreaking or thumping out their revolutionary anthem once more, and her crew roaring the words, hurling the bellicose words, at HMS Reliant.

On-watch or off-watch, Reliant ’s people would not stand for it, and began to jeer and hold up their fingers aloft in insult, shouting a cacophany of curses across the cable that separated their ships.

Lewrie would not dignify her departure with the use of a telescope, though he did stand and watch her go, with his hands clasped in the small of his back.

“ Au revoir, sangliants! ” came a shout from Otarie, amplified through a brass speaking-trumpet. Captain Mollien was having the last word.

“Oh, sir!” Midshipman Rossyngton gasped. “ Sangliant refers to womens’, ladies’… monthly…!”

“The French are crude, sir,” Lewrie stiffly told him. “And I’m surprised ye know of such.”

“ Au revoir, Capitaine, vous salaud!” Mollien shouted. “ Pedale!”

“Trumpet, Mister Rossyngton!” Lewrie snapped, and one was fetched from the binnacle cabinet.

Up forward, Lt. Spendlove and Lt. Merriman were beginning to lead the crew in a lusty, though not very musical, rendition of “Rule, Britannia”. Lewrie hoped that Mollien could hear him over that din.

“Hoy, Mollien!” Lewrie shouted to the schooner, “ Vous absurde petit bouffon… vous ridicule petit merdeux! Va te faire foutre! ”

Midshipman Rossyngton burst into peals of laughter, though his cheeks and ears turned red from shock; it was not every day that one heard a dignified senior officer call someone “an absurd little clown” or “a ridiculous little shit”, and certainly not telling another-even a Frenchman-to “Go fuck yourself!”

“Ye see, Mister Rossyngton,” Lewrie said with a feral smile as he handed the speaking-trumpet back, “sometimes ye have t’match crude with crude.”

Didn’t know I could string that much French together, Lewrie congratulated himself. And when we do run him down and take him, I’m going to ram those insults of his down his God-damned throat!

“That’s enough,” Lewrie ordered as the French schooner sailed beyond easy earshot. “That’ll do, Mister Westcott. Let’s get people back to their duties.”

“Very good, sir,” Lt. Westcott crisply responded, though still grinning over the crew’s response, and Lewrie’s surprising outburst.

Lewrie went down the starboard ladderway to the main deck, and turned aft to enter his cabins, already tugging at the knot of his neck-stock. Bisquit leaped to his feet, his feast done, looking for more, for Lewrie still had some sliced ham in his duffel for the cats. He planted himself in front of the door, tail thrashing, and Lewrie took time to pet his head and shoulders, and ruffle his neck fur, before reaching for the door. The Marine sentry presented his musket as Lewrie opened it, and the dog darted in in an eye blink.

“Oh no, dog, that’s off-limits!” Lewrie snapped, pursuing him inside. “That’s quite enough! Pettus, catch him and shoo him out!”

Bisquit did a quick trot round the forbidden cabins, sniffing at everything, as if he knew his time was limited; the carpets atop the chequered deck canvas, the canvas itself, the desk in the day-cabin, the hanging bed-cot, the upholstery on the transom settee and the starboard-side settee and chairs, then into the dining-coach, where Lewrie’s cats had dashed in panic to take shelter atop the side-board and hiss and spit. When the dog paused long enough to put his paws on the side-board and utter playful noises to entice the cats, Pettus caught him by the collar and led him, only a bit unwillingly, to the door. Damned if the silly beast wasn’t grinning, tugging towards Lewrie and looking up at him with mischief, and gratitude perhaps, for his shore treat, before Pettus put him outside and shut the door.

“He likes you, sir,” Pettus said with a lop-sided grin.

“He likes everybody,” Lewrie growled, “the Bosun, the Master-at-Arms, the ‘duck fucker’ of the manger, even the Purser’s Jack-In-The-Breadroom-anybody who’ll give him the time o’day.”

“’E’s right clever, sir,” Jessop, the young cabin servant, shyly piped up. “Been teachin’ ’im tricks, I has.”

“Not in here, I trust,” Lewrie said, peeling off his neck-stock and shucking his dress coat.

“Oh no, sir, never!” Jessop swore.

“Cool tea, sir?” Pettus asked.

“Coffee,” Lewrie decided, removing his sash and un-buttoning his waist-coat. “Do stow all this away, and lay me out my comfortable old clothes, Pettus.”

“Aye, sir,” Pettus said, summoning Jessop to assist him, “Care for a bite of something, sir?”

“Our Consul sent me off with a solid breakfast, and his house servants washed and ironed most o’ my things,” Lewrie told him. “All I care for is coffee. I’ve a letter or two to write before dinner.”