The King`s Coat

the corpse with a bright fascination, and licking his lips as if in satisfaction. 'What happened, Mister Rolston?' Bales demanded. ’Gibbs overbalanced on the footrope, sir, reaching for a stay before he was on the crosstrees,' Rolston answered quickly, unable to tear his gaze from the bloody body bent at so unnatural an angle, or unable to face Bales' hard stare. 'It was too far to reach.’

Did he indeed? Lewrie wondered. You had it in for him for back-talking, everybody knows that, had him gagged with a marlinspike half the Day Watch yesterday. Nobody's so stupid as to leap that far for a stay! There's something going on here, and I don't think you're the innocent Bartholomew Baby you appear to be. I could square your yards right-proper with this, if I handle it right. ’Was that what happened, Hawkes?' Bales asked. ’I… I suppose it was, sir.' He wanted to say something else, but not knowing how to in front of his betters, he sounded more resigned than anything else.

Once they were below after evening Quarters, Lewrie searched for a way to begin. Supper was over, the dingy mess cloth removed, and hot rum-punch circulating in lieu of decent port. The surgeon's mates were absent, still preparing the body. Finnegan and Turner were munching on hard cheese and biscuit at the head of the table. The captain's clerk, Brail, was writing a letter. ’Lord, what trash,' Keith said softly, wincing at the bite of the rum. 'I'd give anything for a run ashore, and a real port for an after-dinner treat.’

’At least we'll be able to buy fresh stores at Antigua,' Shirke said. 'The ship's even running low on well-fed rats to cook.’

’Two-a-penny now, not three,' Bascombe said, rubbing his eyes in weariness. 'It's amazing what an English sailor can eat.’

’If he can catch it,' Finnegan said boozily. 'Now me, I'd admire me a quart of strong ale. Ya can have yer Black Strap n' yer claret n' yer port. Ale's a good… Christian drink.' The pause had been to release a spectacular belch. Turner nodded agreeably, making a gobbling noise through a cheekful of cheese. ’And for you, Chapman?' Shirke asked, nudging Bascombe so he could appreciate his wit. Chapman, ponderous and dim, was always good for a laugh. ’Oh.' Chapman pondered long, knowing he was being made fun of once more and determined to respond in kind but not quite sure how. 'Country beer was always mce back home. Cool stoup on a hot day.’

’After bringing in the sheaves,' Shirke said with a straight and innocent face. ’I like wine, too,' Chapman said, his face flushing with the effort of erudition and repartee. 'A mce white now and again. ’

‘Miss Taylor, I'll wager,' Bascombe said, naming the thin acrid white issued by the purser. ’I'm partial to ale.' Chapman's fists clenched. It was dangerous to goad him further, for he was a big and powerful lout who could explode if pushed too far. Lewrie had made that mistake once and had been bashed silly for it, before he learned to recognize the waming signs. ’Did you really murder that topman today, Lewrie?' Shirke asked, turmng to safer game. ’No, but I mcked him with my dirk as he went by,' Lewrie said with a grin. A hand's spectacular death plunge had to be a topic of conversation in so closed a world sooner or later, and Alan was more than ready for it. It would have been remarkable if no one had thought or said a word about it. ’Did he sass you, too?' Bascombe laughed. 'Wasn't gagging with a marlinspike good enough?’

‘I looked up and there he was, and I distinctly heard him say, 'Bugger all you officer shits,' quickly followed by 'aarrgh splat,' ' Lewrie went on, giving a shrill sound by way of punctuation, which had them all hooting and tittering. ’'Ere now, 'ave some respeck fer the dead, young sir,' Turner said. 'I'll not 'ave it.’

’Sorry, Mister Thmer,' Lewrie said. trying to sound contrite. 'Men die in a King's ship,' Finnegan said into the awkward silence. 'No need to make fun of 'em a-doin' it. Gibbs was a good hand.’

’Indeed he was, Mister Finnegan,' Lewrie said. 'I never found him a back-taIker or a sea lawyer. Very reliable, very steady.’

’Not steady today,' Shirke said softly, bringing grins back. 'There was danger enough to reef tops'ls before the wind,' Keith said, shaking his head sadly. 'But he fell when all that was over with, on the way down. What happened to him?’

‘Rolston says he jumped from the footrope to the preventer backstay and overbalanced,' Lewrie told them. 'I heard him say it.’

’How cunny-thumbed can you be?' Bascombe said. 'How dumb. ‘

‘And what do you think?' Brail asked, looking up from his letter and speaking to Lewrie. Brail was close to the captain and the affairs aft, but did not trade on his confidences or what he could learn, so he was most reticent in the mess, never initiating conversation. ’Well…' Alan began, thinking: I have to be careful here. I cannot accuse, but will have to plant seeds instead to take Rolston down a peg. He's such a bullying little shit, it'll do everyone a favor to have the captain sit on him with some stiff warning. ’Hawkes didn't look too happy about it. I mean, Rolston was riding Gibbs. That might have upset his judgment,' Alan said as calmly as he could, extending his left arm and sleeve, which still sported the torn cuff, as eloquent a sign of his supposed bravery as a ribbon and star of knighthood. ’What do you mean about Hawkes?' Brait asked, putting on his legal face. Brail held himself aloof from the common herd because he had been a lawyer's clerk at one time, and fancied himself as a man who could see his way to the kernel of an argument with the discerning logic of the law. Though any clerk who had to give tops'l payment and take sea service was automatically suspect of being a bit less acute than he thought himself to be. ’Hawkes did agree with Rolston, but I don't think his heart was in it,' Lewrie said, pouring himself another measure of grog. ’But you are not suggesting that Rolston actually did anything aloft to make Gibbs fall to his death,' Brail pressed. Lewrie knew any scuttlebutt from below decks would reach the captain through Brai!. 'God. that would be unthinkable. I totally disavow any notion, Mister Brai!. ’

‘Yet Rolston was… riding him, you say.’

’Well, shouting at him to get a move on, that sort of thing… ’

‘And where were you?’

‘On the weather yardarm. Rolston and Gibbs were on the lee. I was next-to-last down from my side, except for Blunt. And then here came Gibbs, screaming down right at me. ’

‘So you did not actually see anything,' Brail concluded. 'No, I did not, and Mister BraiI, the way you're asking these questions, you seem to think there was something… wrong done. Now I told you, I refuse to place blame on anyone. ’

‘But it does seem queer that a steady topman like Gibbs would take such a risk,' Ashburn put in. 'Who was left from the lee side?’

‘Oh, Keith, not you too,' Alan said. 'Well, Gibbs, Rolston, and Hawkes, who would have been at the lee earring and cringle. At least, I think so. I wasn't paying much attention to anything but just getting down to the deck myself once I got to the crosstrees. Now look here, you're pressing me to make some kind of charge against Rolston, and I'm not going to do it. Granted, he's a little swine and I dislike him more than cold boiled mutton, but it has to be an accident, doesn't it? Accidents happen all the time, no matter how careful one is.’

’Maybe Gibbs was stung by something Rolston said that took his mind off safety at the wrong moment,' Shirke said. 'Maybe just being on the same yard together was enough, after the way he had been hazing him. We'll never know.’

’I know I'd hate to be on the same yard with Rolston,' Bascombe said, expressing everyone's general opinion.

Brailleft it at that, agreeing to take a bumper with Ashburn, but Lewrie knew that he was still puzzling about it inside, and that his suspicions would get back to the captain. Rolston would be called aft and given a roasting, maybe even caned over a gun for not keeping proper concerns for safety uppermost. It would be a tidy comedown for him in every officer's mind. That would make the little bastard seethe, Lewrie thought, and make him a little less eager to bully and bluster. And his own reputation would shine in comparison, which was the primary goal. Lewrie rolled into his hammock and blankets quite pleased with himself that night, and happily fuzzled by too much hot grog, slept peacefully as Ariadne rocked along in the night.

Gibbs' funeral was held the next morning after dawn Quarters and deck cleaning. Bales read from the prayer book as the men swayed in even lines, since Ariadne did not carry a clergyman. As the sun rose in strength on what promised to be a bright day of sparkling waves and blue skies, the body was slipped over the side, sewn up in scrap canvas, with a final stitch through the nose to make sure that Gibbs really was a corpse to satisfy the superstition of the hands, rusty round-shot at his feet to speed his passage to the unknown depths below.

Immediately after the hands were dismissed, ship's routine reasserted itself. Hammocks were piped up from