The King`s Coat

receive pay, so I shall ration you to one pound ten shillings per month of your allowance. That should be more than enough at sea.’

’Aye, sir.' Not paid? Nobody told me that! 'Then be so good as to sign to that effect.' Alan bent over the desk and placed his signature to a sheet of paper that banked his money and allowed the deductions. 'That will be all for now, Mister Lewrie.’

’Aye aye, sir.’

’Dismissed.’

Alan saluted and got out quickly. He stopped by the first officer's door and knocked. Swift bade him enter. ’Ah, Lewrie. Ready to sign aboard now?' Swift asked. 'Aye, sir. Urn, the captain presents his compliments and suggested that I be assigned to the cockpit on the orlop, sir. ’

‘Thought he would,' Swift said, presenting him a large bound book. There were many names entered, many with X's for men's marks. 'Here. Copy of The Articles of War. Make sure you leam them. I am assigning you to the lower gun deck should we go to Quarters. Sail-making stations shall be the mizzenmast for now. Brace tending will be on the poop with the afterguard.’

I know it must be English, he thought. I can make a word out now and then. ’See Lieutenants Roth or Harm and get a copy of your quarter bills so you may memorize all the names of the hands in your larboard division, and for the afterguard and lower gun deck, especially your quartergunners and gun captains. Got all that? ‘

‘If not now, then I shall by morning, sir.’

’Don't be flip with me, Lewrie. You'll live to regret it. ’

‘Aye aye, sir,' Alan said, on his guard again. ’That's all, then. Dismissed. Get below.’

’About my luggage, sir?’

‘Yes?' Swift smiled, almost pleasant for once. ’Could you give me some men to help carry it, sir?’

‘Think it might be worth a penny for me, Lewrie?' Swift asked. ’Oh… I wouldn't presume.. ‘. ’Take care of it yerself, fer God's sake! Dismissed!' Alan staggered out onto the quarterdeck, glad to have escaped without a physical attack or something direr. Damme, it's hellish-bad enough just being on this filthy ship. Do they have to be so hateful? He looked about the quarterdeck but did not see anyone exactly menial. It was inhabited by a few people in blue coats, red waistcoats, cocked hats and breeches. It was only below the quarterdeck rail that he saw men in checked shirts and redand-white-striped ticken trousers, or short blue jackets, some wearing flat tarred hats. He descended to the ship's waist, into that stirring crowd of men, determined to give as good as he had gotten lately.

Let's see if this junior wammt power works, he thought, bracing the first man he saw. 'You there. What's your name?’

‘Bostwick, sor,' the man replied, startled and suddenly on his guard. 'Oim a larboard waister, sor.’

’Grab another hand and go down to the gun room. I shall want my… dunnage shifted to the orlop,' Lewrie ordered, hunting for the right words. ’Roight away, sor!' The man nodded, relieved that the new midshipman only wanted something trifling done. 'Here, George, bear a hand, laddy.’

Had Alan not followed them below closely, he would have been lost. They hoisted his heavy chest and he followed them back to the companionways, down another ladder to the orlop deck, and slightly aft to the cockpit. If the gun room had been gloomy, then the cockpit was the netherpit of the deepest, darkest hell. There were two deadlights of Muscovy glass that let in weak beams of light from God knew where. Glims burned in paper holders here and there to relieve the darkness. There was a long mess table with chests down both sides as furniture. Four minuscule cabins not much bigger than dogboxes were set two abeam. The headroom between the thick beams that supported the lower gun deck over his head could not have been much over five-and-a-half feet. There were several midshipmen lounging about, obviously bored, dressed any-oldhow. The air was thick with the smell of pipe tobacco, bilge odor, sour clothing, mildew, salt, tar, and a generation of peasoup farts. All in all, it was a damned sight worse than Harrow even on the worst days Alan could remember.

The hands set his chest down with a crash at an open space near the far end of the table. 'Er… beggin' yer pardon, sir,' the fellow known as George asked, knuckling his brow. 'Does yer want me ter be yer 'ammockman, sir?' Am I being put on, or does that mean what I think it does? he wondered. I heard the Navy was a bunch of bum wallopers, but I thought it was illegal. ’Keep yer togs all spiffylike, sir,' George explained. 'You already do for the ward-room, Jones,' the young midshipman named Ashburn said. 'Lieutenants do not get dirty, but midshipmen do. You'd have Mister Lewrie looking like a 'tag, rag, and bob-tail' in a week. Off with you, now.’

’Aye aye, sir.’

’Thank you, Mister Ashburn,' Lewrie said as soon as they were gone. 'Should I have tipped them something?' This drew a chorus of hoots and laughs from everyone. 'Christ, no. They're more used to a rope's end on their fundaments,' one young man said, looking up from a book he was trying to read in the light of a small candle.

Lewrie peeled off his coat and hat and found a spare peg on which to hang them. He also unfrogged his new dirk, an especially showy one with an ivory grip and what the shopkeeper had assured him was a heavily gold plated lion pommel. ’Pretty little sticker,' Ashburn idly commented. ’Anyone ever use one of these things for real, or just prying open jam pots?' Lewrie asked. ’r d sooner have spent the money on a letter opener,' Ashburn replied. 'Take off your neckcloth and make yourself to home. Pass that toddy down here before this newly gets his death. ‘

‘Thank you,' Alan said, getting comfortable on top of his chest, arms resting on the scarred mess table. ’Let me do the honors,' Ashburn said, pouring a battered pewter mug full of steaming toddy. 'The bookworm over there is Harvey Bascombe. This is Alan Lewrie, I believe. Bascombe is a total waste of time, and doesn't even have a sister, so he's not worth knowing.’

’Hello.’

’That's Chapman, our senior midshipman,' Ashburn said, indicating the older man who Alan had rubbed shoulders with on deck. 'We all toe the line when Chapman speaks, don't we, lads?' Chapman was a carrot-haired lout with not a sign of intelligence behind his eyes, but seemed kindly. Lewrie got the idea that Ashburn was japing the fellow with his comment, a comment that went right over the man's head. ’The mathematical genius over there with the slate is Jemmy Shirke. Do not trust his sums, ever. And never let him navigate any boat you're in. Young Jemmy, on the other hand, has three sisters in Suffolk, all willing tits, or so he tells us.’

’What a reception you got,' Shirke said, putting aside his slate and coming to the table to sit down next to Lewrie. 'Were you really wandering about adrift without reporting to the first officer?’

‘Yes, I got soaked coming aboard,' Alan said, feeling at his ease for the first time of the day. 'Had to go change. ’

‘What was your last ship?' Chapman asked as he helped himself to the battered rum pot, pouring a larger tankard than the others. ’Uhm… there wasn't one,' Alan had to admit. ’You don't mean you're a true Johnny Newcome,' Bascombe guffawed. 'Right in here with us practiced sinners,' Shirke added. 'Not a whip jack, much less a scaly fish. Now what got you here at your age?' From hard experience with the cruelty of youth (and he had dished out his share of it, so he ought to know), he realized that he was in for a rough time if he did not establish some sort of standing in their order at once. He was totally ignorant of their chosen trade, while they could sport years of experience at sea. lf knowledge could not help, perhaps bravado could win the day, letting them know that he was wise to their games and not to trifle with him… much, anyways. ’It was a bit of a scandal, really,' he said with a knowing leer. 'There was a young lady I knew who turned up with a jack-in-the-box and all sorts of hell to pay for it. When I refused her, her brother came for me and I had to duel him. Everyone was happy I left.’

’And did you kill your man?' Shirke sneered. ’Honor was satisfied. She and her family weren't,' Alan told them cryptically. 'Next thing I knew I was buying my kit. ‘

‘But you've never actually been to sea?' Ashburn asked. ’Well, no. Not until necessary,' Alan said with a bluff smile. 'I think this is going to be fun, don't you?' Bascombe grinned cunningly at the others, and Lewrie realized the game was blocked at both ends. I don't think I'm going to enjoy the next few weeks…

Chapter 2