H.M.S. COCKEREL

superior. If it's nought but a midshipman's jacket hanging on a mopstick, I'll have 'em crawl past, showing proper def rence. But no, you know best, don't you? See fit to circumvent my orders, behind my back, and corrupt two promising young men into your sort of officer. And by your inattention to duty, allow the crew to flaunt me. Cock a snook at me, sir!'

'Sir, it was not a shove,' Lewrie countered, giving his version of what had occurred, and the 'why' of Lisney's gentle touch. He even dared at last to suggest that Midshipmen Braxton and Dulwer were doing it for dumb, brutal fun.

'They don't keep their eyes peeled from a sense of duty, sir,' he concluded, breathing high and shallow off the top of his lungs, sure of the tirade to come. By the pose of utter outrage on Braxton's face, he was relating a blasphemy as great as saying King George the Third was a woman in disguise! 'They're playing a game, scoring points with floggings and lashes. They take pleasure from the men's pain, sir.'

'How dare you, sir!' Captain Braxton snarled. 'Next you'll say / take pleasure in flogging! No, sir. No! It is from a sense of duty, nothing more… a grim duty, aye. And I have drilled into them that sense of duty. I want the man on report, Mister Lewrie. And I want Midshipman Spendlove on report as well, for failure to tell me of this fellow Lisney laying hands upon him.'

'Sir, it was compassionate. The hands like Spendlove.'

'And they do not like the others?' Braxton drawled, drumming his fingers on the dining table. 'What a bloody pity! Those scum are there to do their duty, obey orders, and walk in fear of their betters, whether they like 'em or not!'

'That goes without saying, sir,' Lewrie dared once more. 'But they fear Midshipmen Braxton and Dulwer, sir. The sort of fear that turns bowels to water, and harms the proper disposal of their duties.'

'Fear 'em?' Braxton cawed, almost gleeful. 'I should certainly hope so, sir. Exactly as I wish. Reason they tike Spendlove, he lets them have latitude. Can't bear down taut as he should. Soft. Soft as you and the others. Scott, Dim-mock…' Braxton waved dismissively. 'Even the bosun's gone calf-eyed lately. Well, three dozen lashes to this Lisney, and two dozen on Spendlove's bottom'll take the insolent Jack-Sauce out of 'em.'

'You'd decide punishment before a hearing, sir?' Alan inquired, feeling his spine crawl with dread. That would really cause trouble.

'I wish those people on report at once, sir.'

'Sir, as first officer, I must advise you,' Alan implored. 'The ship's people know what Lisney's touch was about. They expect a captain's court to represent even-handed justice. But if Lisney's given three dozen, which is excessive, without a chance to-'

'I tell you, Mister Lewrie,' Braxton thundered, 'I want those people on report. I give you a direct order, sir. Disobey me at your im-med-j't peril.' He looked like he was gloating.

'Sir, there must be some discretion allowed me, to sort out conduct which really is prejudicial to discipline and-'

'Answer me, you impertinent fool. Will you, or will you not, put them on report as I order?'

'I…' Alan wavered. Christ, think, he told himself; not answering is insubordination! 'Aye, aye, sir,' Lewrie had to reply. 'I will place them on charge.'

'Thought as much,' Braxton all but sneered over the rim of his glass. 'And no more of your obstreperous interceding. I mean to have a first officer who will stand behind me to the hilt, Mister Lewrie. Whether that is you or not, in future, well…' he allowed with one more wave of his hand and a grumpy, fussy dissatisfaction.

'Sir, I can't stand mute if I think an injustice is being done.'

'And I am ordering you to do so, in future, Mister Lewrie. What think ye of that?' Braxton coloured quickly. 'Damme, you'll not play Fletcher Christian with me, sir! I'll dismiss you at once!'

'I do nothing of the sort, sir!' Lewrie paled. Captain Braxton had just all but accused him of mutinous behaviour! 'I do say though, sir, that punishment in this instance may run counter to your intent, that it might be prejudicial to good order. The final decision is up to you, sir. But as your deputy, I must be allowed to advise… aye, to intercede; or at least ask for leniency, sir. I must do everything in my power to present you a well-drilled, disciplined and seaworthy ship and crew, sir. And I think I've done that. But when events happen that might upset that good order, it's my solemn duty to apprise you of such, sir.'

'I'll not play a chuckleheaded, gullible Bligh to you either, Mister Lewrie. Oh no, I'll not, you mark my words!' Braxton warned.

'Sir…' Alan began, then clapped his trap shut, knowing that one exchange more, and there'd be no going back. I'll shoot off somethin' hot, and that's the end of me; he told himself; sure as Fate, he'd clap me in irons! 'Sir,' Lewrie assayed again, in a softer tone, 'I assure you, you have the complete loyalty and obedience of every officer aboard.'

'Then why don't I see it, Lewrie?' Braxton all but wailed with self-pity. 'Get yourself out of my sight, sir. Attend to the steering tackle, as you should have an hour ago. And put Lisney and Spendlove up on charges.'

'Aye, aye, sir,' he was forced to reply, looking Captain Braxton firmly in the eyes, and putting as much chirpy goodwill into his answer as he had left at that moment. He felt he was all but piping his eyes, racing off a chorus of 'Rule, Britannia,' and breaking into some loose-limbed hornpipe to please.

Do I sneer? he railed within himself, standing far aft by the taffrails. His hands squeezed the timbers so hard he felt he could rip up a section and shred it to kindling. Or strangle it. Am I insolent to him? Well, perhaps… and who wouldn't be, I ask you! But…

He knew how well he could toady and fawn, how well he could, as every English gentleman was expected to do, bottle up his emotions and his private thoughts, wrap them in sailcloth, and dare anyone to say whether 'twas hidden claret or horse piss.

Toady? Right, I'm good at it; dined out on it for years!

Alan didn't understand what Braxton feared, to wish to cow the crew so completely-not only the crew, but the petty officers, the warrants and the commission officers, too. What might have happened in his miserable past, he wondered, that required treating everyone like rebellious, riotous gutter sweepings? It went, whatever it was, far past a dread that an English crew might be infected with the fever of Republicanism and Thomas Paine. It was brutal, thoughtless of the consequences.

He's right about one thing: he doesn't get joy of it. I doubt he's ever had joy of anything.

Do I sneer at him behind his back, Alan asked himself? No, I know better; I've been in the Navy long enough to know how to put the 'eager-but-earnest' phiz on. I stamp down any who dare to sneer, too! Has anybody caught me at it, even in private? No. Certainly not to his face! I've been careful to sound dutiful. Dull and flat, maybe… But then, I've never served under his like. And I very much doubt many others have, either.

Lewrie felt that he had earnestly tried to please, to obey and carry out his duties, even within the confining strictures the captain placed upon him. They did have a well-drilled, well-trained ship and crew by now, able to respond smartly to any command, perform any drill, or face action. He had been, as much as he was allowed, a buffer between captain and crew, presenting, as best he was able, a going concern ready for their master's use. All for nought, it seemed.

'It's not me,' Lewrie assured himself in a bitter, guarded whisper, his stomach churning with gall over his most recent scathing. 'He just wants dear Clement for first lieutenant, and I'm in the way. Raise Scott to second, promote little Anthony Braxton to acting-lieutenant… God, I sound so bloody patheticl'

Wonder if Lieutenant Mylett felt the same way right before he chucked it? he gloomed in silence, watching their wake fan out behind them.

He could not ask-for fear of sounding as if he was criticising; the rest could not volunteer information-he was duty-bound to quash such talk as disrespectful. So he knew little more about the mystery than he had the day he'd come aboard to join.

He imagined, though, that, from what little he had learned of Mylett in casual reminiscences, he'd been an