The King`s Coat

Lewrie?' Gwynn offered. ’That would have me snoring on the deck, Mister Gwynn, but I thankee,' Lewrie replied. 'God, I am so tired.’

’Allus like that after a hard fight,' Gwynn said. 'God, they fought grand. Can't remember the Continental Navy showin' that much bottom. Privateers get the best men. Rebels're too independent ta take ta Navy-style discipline.’

’If they'd had nine-pounders, or carronades, they'd have done for us, I think, Mister Gwynn,' Lewrie said, nodding in agreement. ’Right enough.’

Treghues emerged on deck from aft, and the pair of them went down to leeward to give him the entire windward side of the quarterdeck for his pacing. Treghues was in breeches and open shirt, quite informal for a change, a spooky apparition in the faint starlight, pacing back and forth quite regularly; not as though he were in deep thought but as if it was a duty to walk for a while before retiring. To escape, Lewrie went forward to tour the lookouts on the forecastle and gangways and make certain they were more awake than he was. He had to shake a couple of men into full wariness. By the time he had returned to the quarterdeck, Treghues had gone below and only a dim glow could be seen from his skylight. And then as Alan watched. that was snuffed out. ’Ever'body chipper up forrard?' Gwynn asked. ’Aye, Mister Gwynn. Sleepy but trying.’

’Here, what's got the cap'n onta ya?' Not you, too, Alan thought. 'I do not know what you mean, sir,' he replied evenly. ’He come over an' asked me what ya was doin' runnin' the guns as ya were today, like ta give ma a cobbin' about it. I told him ya was as good as any gunner's mate but he didn't wanta hear it,' Gwynn related. ’The captain has his… moods,' Alan said uneasily. 'Moods, shit!' Gwynn stuffed a quid of tobacco into his cheek and tore off a large bite. 'Fickle as me old lady, 'cept fer Mr. Forrester an' Railsford. Takes a great hankerin' fer somebody an' then turns on 'em an' nobody knows why. Been in Desperate near two an' a half years an' it's been like that ever since we commissioned.’

’Let's just say he doesn't like my choice of fathers,' Lewrie said after Gwynn's indiscretion. 'And it seems I'm too big a sinner to wear a Navy uniform.’

’Aye, that's one reason we don't have a chaplain aboard.' Gwynn laughed softly. 'With him aft, we don't need one.' Lewrie gave a grunt that might have been a mirthless laugh, or a sign of agreement, and Gwynn walked off to find the spit-kid by the binnacle.

Six bells chimed softly from the belfry up forward, and Alan checked his watch against it-ll:00 P.M. and only an hour to go before he could go below and sleep four uninterrupted hours until the morning routine of a man-of-war claimed him once again. ’Sail ho!' one of the forward lookouts called. Lewrie shook himself into action, trotting forward to join him. ’Where away?’

‘Two points off the larboard bow, Mister Lewrie,' the lookout said quietly, almost afraid to raise his voice. 'He's on the opposite tack an' comin' north. He'll run right into the convoy!' Lewrie hefted the heavy night glass, which showed images upside down and backward. He found their stranger, what seemed to be a full-rigged ship ghosting along under reefed tops'ls, inner jibs and spanker. ’Run aft and wake the captain,' Lewrie said. 'Tell Mr. Gwynn we've a full-rigged ship coming right for us. Quick, man!' Lewrie studied the stranger for a while longer, then shouted for the bosun's mate of the watch, Toliver. 'All hands on deck, Mister Toliver, no pipes or we'll lose the chase.’

’No pipes,' the runty little man repeated before running off to shout down the midships hatchway to the off- duty watch. It was noisy enough as the hands rolled out of their hammocks and thudded to the deck to thunder up topside on bare feet.

Lewrie hurried back to the wheel and stood by Gwynn, who was using the other night glass to search for the strange ship. 'Have I your permission to close her, sir?' Lewrie asked him. 'Yes, let's see what he's doin' runnin' dark out here. ’

‘Duty watch to the braces! Quartermaster, put your helm down and lay her two points closer to the wind!' Alan shouted. 'What's this about a strange sail, Mister Gwynn?' Treghues demanded, emerging on the quarterdeck. ’Here, sir, take a squint. Ship-rigged an' runnin' without a light, sir. Thus, quartermaster! 'Vast heavin'! Belay every inch 0' that, Mister Toliver!’

‘Harden up on the heads'l sheets,' Lewrie called to the foc's'le captain. 'Now belay!’

‘Mister Gwynn, I have the deck,' Treghues said, still dressed in a nightshirt. 'Lewrie, stop that caterwauling like you know what you're doing. Judkin, fetch me up my breeches and sword.’

’Aye, sir.’

’Shall we clear for action, sir?' Gwynn asked as Railsford and Peck joined them. 'Aye, load and run out the larboard battery,' Treghues told him. 'I'll need Mister Lewrie forrard, sir…' Gwynn said. ’Robinson's lost his leg, ya remember, sir.’

’Oh, very well,' Treghues sighed, after a long pause. ’Mister Lewrie, do take charge 0' the forecastle an' the carronades, ifya please.' Gwynn was smiling in the darkness. 'Aye, Mister Gwynn.’

’All hands to Quarters!' Treghues shouted.

It was hard to see how the men could even see what they were doing as they unlashed the guns and rolled them back to the centerline, overhauled the side tackles and freed the train tackles, brought gun tools up from below and began to light fuses in the slow-match tubs. ’Damn fool,' Lewrie said, hearing Treghues' musicians get going at 'Heart of Oak.’

’Afternoon wadd'n enough fer ya, Mister Lewrie?' the larboard carronade captain joshed with him as they removed the tompion of their gun, and freed the lashings of the swivel platform. ’Wanted to see what they looked like going off in the dark,' Alan shot back. 'Here, can we manhandle the other gun over here?’

‘Take some doin', Mister Lewrie, but I kin lash the breech ropes ta the cathead, iffen ya want it. ’

‘Load yer guns,' Gwynn called from aft on the main gun deck. A squad of Marines under their sergeant carne trooping forward along the gangway to take station from the forecastle aft. The strange ship came awake. The wind brought them the faint sound of bosun's pipes playing unfamiliar calls, and the sound of men running to stations. The wind also brought a brassy aroma mixed with the smell of a barnyard. ’Lord, what a stink,' Lewrie said. 'What's he carrying?’

‘Moight be a slaver, sor,' the starboard gun captain said. 'He's putting about,' Lewrie broke in, almost able to see a faint shadow that was darker than the night. 'Going on the wind on the starboard tack.’

’Stations for stays!' Railsford ordered. 'Stand by to come about.’

’Helm alee!’

‘Rise tacks an' sheets!' Toliver yelled. 'Clew garnets!’

‘Mains'l hau!' Desperate carne up to the eye of the wind, sails shivering and yards creaking as the hands leaned almost parallel to the deck to fetch her around without missing stays. The foc's'le captain shifted his heads'l sheets to larboard, and the backed fore yards provided enough wind resistance to force her bows off the wind as the other yards drove her forward. She tacked smoothly, losing little speed in the dark, and hardened up on the same tack as the other ship, laid within six points of the winds and beginning to beat hard to weather. ’Waisters, harden up the tops'l braces. Now belay!' Railsford called, wanting to put a slight spiral set to the yards, the tops'ls more acutely angled to the wind than the courses for the most efficiency.

The stranger was now off their starboard bows, perhaps a mile off. Lewrie could barely make out ghostly specks of light like tiny candles along her leeward side. ’Slow-match,' Alan said. 'They'll make a fight of it. ’

‘Hope they ain't like that last batch,' someone said. ’Gun captain, prepare the starboard carronade. Shift the larboard gun up abaft the roundhouse. Breech rope to the hawse buckler and the cathead,' Alan ordered, wanting to put both his 'Smashers' to work.

He looked aft now to see an amber light burning on the taffrail, a fusee that smoked and flared like a holiday rocket, the night signal for danger. It would also warn the other prizes in convoy of where they were so as to avoid collision in the dark. Hurriedly, the rest of the ships began to light their taffrail lanterns. ’That's Roebuck or VIXen out there, sir,' a hand shouted, waving a hand at a distant light to windward. 'Bet he'll tack agin. ‘

‘Belay shifting that carronade.’

Within moments the dark shape of their quarry shortened and put her masts in line, tacking across the wind once more, but Desperate performed her own tack at the same time. And had the chase missed stays on that maneuver? They suddenly seemed much closer to her. ’Give me a point free,' Treghues ordered. 'Stand by the larboard battery.' Lewrie's men secured the starboard gun and shifted once more, lashing the larboard carronade back into position. ’Can you reach him yet?' Lewrie asked. ’ 'Bout another cable, sir,' the