The Reaper

a captured French ship, the Tyger. She was small-a sixth rate, but was commanded by a post captain. This resulted in there now being three post captains in port to sit on the board with Commodore Gardner as the President.

Gabe and Markham had been told the board was being convened, so they busied themselves getting all their papers together and going over some last minute questions with the master. Only a week ago there had been just a handful of midshipmen on the island. Thus Gabe and Markham had been somewhat in demand in regards to the island’s social scene. Both young gentlemen were at the top of the list to receive invitations from various young ladies The two had basked in their celebrity but now there seemed to be midshipmen everywhere. All were acting important.

“The only good thing about all these shit souled younkers coining out of the woodwork, is that the board is bound to recognize the only two real seamen in the lot,” offered Markham.

“Aye,” Gabe answered. “But if the little turds anger the board, it will go hard on us all.”

Markham nodded, seeing the logic in Gabe’s comments. “Well, if they do I’ll keelhaul me a little bastard and that’s no idle promise.”

Gabe couldn’t help but laugh, such was the vehemence in his friend’s comments. “Let’s go have a wet and cool your humors.”

***

“It’s a shit pot load,” Markham exclaimed to Gabe as they approached Government house for the lieutenant’s exam. A large group had already gathered. Some were in little two or three men groups with texts and asking each other questions. Others were nervously pacing, and one was obviously the worse for drink. Once, when a question was being asked in one of the little groups, Gabe and Markham overheard both the question and answer. Looking to his friend, Gabe declared, “I knew that”-to which Markham replied somewhat sarcastically, “Of course,” not trying to hide his disbelief. Gabe counted thirteen mids for the exam. Thirteen!

“Damn, there’s thirteen of us,” Gabe told Markham. “Why couldn’t it have been twelve or fourteen?” Gabe had never been superstitious, but this just seemed an omen.

At 8 A.M., a stooped, gray-haired little clerk from the commodore’s staff opened the front door. A hush fell over the group of assembled young gentlemen. Gabe began to feel more nervous. What if he failed? He didn’t want to let his brother down, or his dead father for that matter. “What’d you expect from the bastard?” some would say. His stomach growled and he felt Markham punch him. The punch broke Gabe’s train of thought, and he realized the clerk was speaking.

“Now, young sirs, make sure you have all your documents and bonifides ready and in good order. There’s no time to return to your ship to fetch some certificates left behind.” The clerk sounded like a schoolteacher. “Now, sirs, so as to maintain proper discipline and good order, we will proceed according to the alphabet.”

Gabe turned to Markham and said “Hell’s fire.” As Gabe turned away Markham pleaded, “Don’t make ‘em mad, Gabe, don’t anger ‘em, please.”

When Gabe entered the boardroom the commodore greeted him. “Ah, Mr. Anthony, your packet please.”

Absently, Anthony handed his packet to the captain sitting by the commodore. There was a single chair sitting in front of the long table where the examining board was seated.

“Would you care to sit down, sir?”

“Oh, no sir,” Gabe responded, trying to

focus-trying to get his senses about him.

“Mr. Anthony, let me introduce you to the board,”

said the commodore. At the far end of the table on my

left is Captain Williams from Tyger, next is Captain

Meade of Magic, and to my right is Captain Swift of

Roebuck.” Each officer had nodded his greeting.

Captain Swift started things off. “I see you’ve seen

considerable action for one so young. I also see your

father was an admiral, and your brother has raised his

broad pendant!”

“Yes sir,” Gabe stoically replied.

“Do you expect any favors from this board because

of your relations being senior officers?”

“No sir!”

“Good,” replied Swift in a harsh voice, “‘Cause

there’ll be none.”

Oh, shit, thought Gabe.

Next Captain Meade said, “Tell me about some of

those actions against the pirates you encountered.”

After telling of the actions with the pirates, and the

prizes that they had taken, Gabe started to relax. He

was asked a few questions about strategy and what he’d

change if given the opportunity. Gabe was gaining

confidence when the commodore announced, “Well,

enough of that, let’s proceed.”

Gabe felt the wind sucked from his sails. Each

captain seemed to have his own little pet niche and

Gabe was bombarded with questions regarding these

particular niches. He was sweating, feeling thirsty and

somewhat dizzy when the commodore said, “I’ve no

further questions.”

At first, Gabe didn’t comprehend the commodore’s

comment. His eyes were stinging from sweat dripping in

them. His shirt was damp and clung to him from the

perspiration, but he managed to find a dry spot on the

cuff and wipe his eyes. The commodore was in counsel

with the captains. When he turned around, he stuck out

his hand to Gabe.

“I’m pleased to announce that it’s the opinion of this board that you’ve shown the knowledge, leadership, and competency expected. Therefore, you have been passed for lieutenancy.”

A sigh of relief escaped Gabe. Captain Swift, who was now smiling for the first time, shook Gabe’s hand then stated, “Now, run tell your brother the good news.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank all of you,” Gabe replied excitedly.

***

Markham was waiting when Gabe came out. “You didn’t bugger it for us, did you?” Ignoring Markham’s comments, Gabe blurted out, “I passed, I bloody passed!” Several of the waiting mids glared at Gabe. He didn’t care. He’d passed!

“Damn,” Markham said smiling. He was happy for his friend. “You were in there forever. How was it?”

“Hush,” the clerk scolded. “Be off with you.”

“Gotta go,” Gabe told Markham. “We’ll meet later.”

Chapter Eleven