The King`s Coat

seemed to get promoted in wartime, as people got sick and had to be replaced, got killed and had to be replaced, or, like Parrot, the fleet grew in size and had to spread her substance thinner. Six years as a midshipman could be circumvented, if he were lucky enough, and in the right place at the right time. It felt like Parrot might be that place, and he swore that he would knuckle down once more and shine.

All during the hurricane season, Parrot dashed about the islands on her duties, putting in when a real stonn threatened, but mostly out in full gales and riding it out, or running ahead of them with waves crashing into her bows and spraying the full length of her decks. In those times when it was clear, she flew from one port to another, from one command to another, with all the drama and panache of an actress making a surprise entrance.

By the time hurricanes had ended for the winter, Parrot was a well-worked-up and fairly happy ship. The crew had settled down, the new men trained well enough and salted by their experiences, and the old hands brought up to scratch as they realized that Parrot was different from the Navy in which they had so recently suffered. They had a good cook, which went a long way toward making a happy ship, and they had fresh food more often than most, because they were never more than a week or two at best from a new anchorage.

Kenyon was firm but fair in his punishments when called upon to hand out disciplinary measures, and a taut - handed captain always seemed to do better than a lax one, or one who could not be relied upon to be fair. And as often as possible Kenyon let the ship Out of Discipline and allowed the doxies aboard to entertain the hands. With the regularity of their stops the men looked forward to seeing their favorite trolls on a steady basis, which provided a measure of stability and homelike consistency to their lives.

Lewrie began to enjoy naval service. The food was fresh and spicy, the wine palatable, the hours of work reasonable, as were the hours available for a good long rest at the end of them. There was also the matter of their duty; it was independence, dash and speed, and everyone reveled in it. He knew that every lieutenant that saw them had his teeth set on edge in envy at their freedom from convoys, from plodding patrol duty, from rocking along in the wake of a flagship in rigid order under the pitiless eye of senior officers. Other midshipmen he saw envied him as he climbed through the entry port with orders, for they knew that he had more responsibility than they, more chances to gain experience they could never have on larger ships, more opportunity to practice those skills they only could read about. The days were so full of work, and the nights so full oflearning how to lead, to steer, to be in charge, that he didn't have much time to think about it; he just did it, and, to be honest, it was satisfying.

Parrot went to so many interesting places. They might run over to Nevis and St. Kitts, then run with a landsman's breeze for Kingston, Jamaica. They might go down to St. Lucia, or up to Road Town. There were despatches from the senior admirals that had to go to rustic little Savannah in the Colonies, where the recently vanquished civilians gave dirty looks to anyone wearing the King's coat, but their women had to make a living, regardless. They might go into Charleston, where a tiny Tory minority made the most of their recent victory, and wondered how long they could hang on, and their parties for visiting officers were frantic with tension that translated into eager ladies whose men were away with Cornwallis and Tarleton.

They might work their way into St. Augustine in the British Aoridas, and wonder why anyone bothered with such a malarial, homespun sort of a place, more Spanish than anything else, a wilderness outpost with one foot in the grave, already.

They might dash north from there to tiny Wtlmington, up the Cape Fear River, and enjoy the pleasures that the place offered, as planters gathered at the shore for fear of their inland cousins. Once, they even got to carry messages as far north as New York, and finally went ashore in the great city, which turned out to be less impressive than Portsmouth back home. That was a city that could turn anyone crooked, Lewrie decided. You could hear cannon fire at night. and the women pulsed to its sound, and the monetary speculation that rode the latest omens for good or ill, and the general background of graft and cupidity with military and naval stores could turn a saint into a stockjobber or pimp.

Alan Lewrie learned that war could be a powetful aphrodisiac, and that a well-set-up young man in a uniform was able to take advantage of it. And when he had time to think back on his time before the Navy in London, he no longer found an aching emptiness but merely vague regrets that he hadn't had more time there to enjoy what he was enjoying now.

Sometimes he was shocked to find, in the middle of some duty, that he had risen gladly to that duty, and was satisfied with the crew's progress at small arms, gun drill, sailtending, or his own skill at leading them, or performing those personal skills such as longsplicing, position plotting and ship-handling. He knew he was a different person. The Alan Lewrie of December, 1780, in no way resembled the one almost pressganged in January. His skin was bronzed by the sun, his hair a lighter shade of brown from constant exposure, hands tougher, muscles leaner and fuller and able to cany him aloft or wield a sword with ease. His uniforms needed alteration to make room for the bulk he had added in those months of hard work, hard play and good food.

He had some money in hand, too, for those pleasures of their port stays, for Parrot had been lucky with prizes, though taking ships was not their primary purpose. But they had come upon a Spanish packet brig in the Straits of Florida after a gale, and took her without a shot being fired since she was still repairing damage and could offer no resistance.

On passage to St. Lucia they had run into a native lugger that was manned by a crazed pack of Creoles, Spaniards and poor French who were intent on a little practical piracy. Without a letter of marque, they were totally illegal. The leaders were later hanged, the lugger sold, and the blacks sold at auction, plus the 'Head and Gun Money' from taking her.

They were chased once by a big privateer, and had the good fortune first of all to outrun her in a long stem chase, and the even greater fortune to run across an English frigate off Anegada, which promptly went to Quarters and took the privateer. Since they were the only other naval vessel in sight they shared in her prize money.

Altogether, l.ewrie had accrued nearly 160 pounds, or at least, Prize Court certificates for that amount, which he could sell off to a jobber for at least half their true value, or hold on to the largest until he returned to London, where he could be paid off.

Had someone forced Lewrie to delve into the reasons for a certain smug look of satisfaction on his face, he could discover that he was well fed, had access to a goodly supply of decent drink, got enough sleep, was being treated like a real person without being shouted at. could play with God's own amount of artillery, and what amounted to a yacht, and never went more than a fortnight without a chance to get beastly with all the willing mutton within reach.

Chapter 8

'Stand by, the anchor party,' Claghorne yelled through a brass speaking trumpet from the afterdeck by the tiller. ’Aye aye,' Lewrie replied, raising his fist in the air. Parrot ghosted along in light air inside the harbor, barely raising a ripple under her bows since they had passed the forts on the Palisades. They had handed all but the outer flying jib and mainsail. ’Helm's alee.' The tiller was put over and Parrot rounded up slowly into the light ocean breeze until her sails shivered, and her forward progress came to a halt. ’Let go'' Lewrie lowered his arm briskly, and the best bower anchor was cast loose, and cable rumbled out the hawsehole. 'Loose the outer jib halyard and lower away handsomely,' he ordered. Parrot coasted on for a piece until, reaching the end of the anchor cable, she veered out. She snubbed, then drifted back slantwise for a way before streaming back from the cable with the light wind straight down her decks.

By the time the sails had been handed and furled, the gig had been brought round from being towed astern, and Purnell and his boat crew had tumbled into it, ready to carry Lieutenant Kenyon ashore with his bags of mail and despatches. They had made good time from English Harbor to Kingston, Jamaica, this passage. The weather had been sparkling clear and mildly sunny, and they had not seen one other sail.

The bumboats began to swarm Parrot almost before Lieutenant Kenyon was away from the side, the island blacks offering up tropical birds, rum, fresh fruits, cheap shirts and hats and neckerchiefs,