King`s Captain

Well, call this old dog any good name ye wish 'long as it puts me in command of a new ship! he decided, nodding sagaciously yet committing himself to nothing.

'More to the point, though, Commander Lewrie,' Nepean sobered from his bout of hero-worship, becoming all business-like, 'are your good 'characters' from Captain Thomas Charlton. And from Lord Saint Vincent… a new investiture; you wouldn't have heard of it yet. From Admiral Sir John Jervis, now made Earl.'

'Good for him, sir,' Lewrie crowed suddenly. 'His ennoblement, rather.' Yet wondering; When the blades did he ever take time to think good o' me?

'Rather a furor in the Fleet, after The Glorious First of June, Commander Lewrie,' Nepean scowled. 'Admiral Howe allowing his flag captain, Sir Roger Curtis, to, ah… 'anoint' by mentioning only those few captains of line-of- battle ships present for honours whom he himself thought worthy… those who'd closed yardarm-to-yardarm to take their foe as prizes. For the rest who fought well, nothing. A medal struck, but given only to those fortunate few.'

'Excuse me, sir, but…?' Lewrie puzzled. 'Whilst in Lisbon, in the careenage, I read a London paper and Admiral Jervis's report made no mention of anyone at all. So you're saying…?'

'A taciturn man is the new Earl Saint Vincent, Commander, as I'm mortal certain you've already discovered.' Nepean chuckled, shuffling one pile of papers aside and drawing out a single slim folder to open. 'Yet he would not ever make the same mistake. Would never create even more jealousies among his officers. He sent Captain Robert Calder home with his dispatches… which glad arrival soon after resulted in Captain Calder being knighted and promoted. No, 'Old Jarvy,' as I believe the men of the Fleet are wont to call him, waited to write a more complete list and report of the action to the First Lord Earl Spencer, after he'd had time to assess things, to sort them out. This time, every captain of every ship-of-the-line present is to be honoured. Given a medal commemorating the battle too.'

'I see, sir.' Lewrie nodded again, still striving for 'sagacity' but more than a little puzzled by this long, prosing prologue. 'Then, again… good for 'Old Jarvy,' the Earl Saint Vincent, that is.'

'You, sir, more to the point at hand, were cited in that letter to the First Lord,' Nepean said with a smirk, very much like 'I know something you don't know!'

'Ah? Sir?' Lewrie gulped, expectations rising.

'For rushing… let me see, how did he phrase it? Ah! 'For his intrepidity and alacrity at rushing to support HMS Captain, his fear-nought daring in engaging the enemy battle-line in complete disregard for the custom and usage of repeating frigates, at such hopeless odds in those minutes before he could hope for reinforcement or succour, I most respectfully request of your Lordship that Commander Alan Lewrie of the Jester sloop be included in the list of those to be honoured.' '^:

'Ah?' Lewrie gargled. 'Mean t'say … ah, sir! Well…-.!'

'The only officer below 'post' rank to be so named, Commander Lewrie. Breaking away from the line as you did, in trusty and loyal… and dare I say, heroic fashion in support of your old squadron commander, Horatio Nelson! 'Spite of all the rules to the contrary, the risk of court martial and infamy, well, sir! Well, well!' Nepean cried, sounding for a moment almost fawning in his appreciation.

'Well, sir, it was…' Lewrie began, fighting the urge to bark like a pack of seals at such an absurd characterisation.

Pushed me out o' line, he did! Ordered… kickin' an' screamin'!

'In spite of the volume of work still waiting, you will do me the honour of coming with me, Commander Lewrie,' Nepean bade, motioning towards the door in the far wall, the one that led to the Board Room!

A discreet knock, a muffled bidding to enter, and they were in the presence of the First Lord of The Admiralty, George John, the Earl Spencer, a fairly tall and distinguished-looking fellow of middling, uncertain age. There followed some cooing remarks which Lewrie could never quite recall for the heady rush of blood in his ears. He would recall, however, the moment the medal was slipped over his head. Long and broad white satin riband, edged in blue, which passed through the oval of a large-ish gold medal-finely milled and rope-chained about its diameter, a scene of Victory standing on the prow of a galley and placing a laurel wreath on the brow of a triumphant Britannia.

'… under the coat collar, over the waist-coat, so the medal will hang just above the pit of your stomach, sir,' Alan thought he heard the Earl Spencer instruct. 'First, Sir Robert Calder, now you, Commander Lewrie… the only ones I will have the honour to personally bestow. The rest are to be sent on to the Fleet, now blockading Cadiz, so that the Earl Saint Vincent may award them.'

'Then I'm doubly honoured, milord,' Lewrie murmured, still not quite featuring this was happening. This was fame! This was glory… beyond his wildest fantasies! Within a quim-hair of being knighted!

God, he thought; / can dine out on this, free, for years!

'… suitable period of leave, then… will there be something open, Mister Nepean?' Earl Spencer enquired, as Lewrie swam his way back to the here-and-now.

'Several vessels will, I am certain, be coming open, milord,' Nepean purred back. 'Though none for several weeks, as I recall.'

'There you are, then, good sir. Your few weeks of shore leave, Commander Lewrie.' Earl Spencer beamed. 'You reside where, sir?'

'A… Anglesgreen, milord. Just down the road past Guildford, in Surrey,' he replied, his mind gibbering. Bloody Hell, they goin' t'promote me into the bargain?

'Family estates, sir?'

'Oh, erm… milord. Near my wife's relations,' he admitted.

'Good huntin' country, Surrey,' Spencer prosed on. 'Wide open and rolling. Lovely riding. Which hunt do you follow, sir?'

'Only the local, sir. Sir Romney Embleton… baronet,' Lewrie related, glad he could elide his way 'round how often he'd been invited to ride with them since he and Caroline had wed in '86. Sum total of zero, it was, since he'd shamed Sir Romney's otter-jawed, lack-wit son, Harry. Damn' near broke his nose, in point of fact! He could at the least sound like he still 'Yoicks, tally-hoed' after foxes!

'Well, my regards to your wife and family, Commander Lewrie,' the First Lord chuckled. 'And do you take joy of a few weeks ashore. Mind, now… don't fall off anything and lame yourself. We expect a great deal of you once you're back in Navy harness, ha!'

'I shan't, and thankee most kindly, milord! Most kindly!' he babbled on his way out, with Evan Nepean taking hold of his elbow to steer him away before he said something lunatick.

'My Lord, that was…!' Lewrie marvelled, back in the privacy of Nepean 's adjoining offices.

'Quite,' Nepean said, with a firm nod, though sounding much less appreciative than he had before. 'Well then, sir… I will turn all the official correspondence from your commission over to the junior clerks, though I don't imagine… after a thorough 'scouring' by Vice-Admiral Sir Peter Parker's staff at Portsmouth, that there's anything serious amiss to quibble over. My congratulations again, Commander Lewrie,' he said, extending his hand for a quick shake. 'I note that you are owing eleven pounds, two shillings, six pence. And there is the matter of your official certificate for your medal. That will be another two shillings, six pence. Do you prefer we may deduct the total from the pay certificate owing you, sir. Or you may deposit the sum with my under-clerk, then see the Pay Office superintendent, get your chit, and be on your way home.'

Nepean was looking at his mantel clock whilst he said all that, no matter his hearty bonhomie; he'd done his duty, and it was time for him to take up others, and Lewrie's presence was a time- waster. Which made Lewrie all but snort with cynical amusement.

'I'll just pay your clerk, Mister Nepean,' he drawled, with one brow up and a quirky smile on his face. 'And damme if it ain't one o' the cheapest ways ever I heard of to get a medal. Stap me… I should have thought o' this sooner.'

'Erm… yayss,' Nepean purred back, just as chary of Lewrie of a sudden as Lewrie was of him. 'Well, goodbye, Commander Lewrie. We will be in touch by post, hmmm…?' And he chivvied Lewrie out of his offices into the care of an underling before Lewrie could utter another sound. The underling led him without a word to the aforementioned clerk, far down the hallway.