King`s Captain

Proteus Frigate.'

'And it is my honour to accept, sir… gladly!' Lewrie breathed in relief. 'Where is she, sir?'

'At Chatham Dockyard, Lewrie.' Nepean deigned to grin, holding out that precious document 'twixt thumb and forefinger. Florid scrollwork in the penmanship, yet legible as block-printing and suitable to the solemnity of the occasion; a square stamp in the upper left-hand corner bearing the seal of Admiralty embossed into the thick paper… and a tax stamp halfway down the left side.

By the Commifsioners for executing the Office of Lord. High. Admiral of Great Britain, and. Ireland c and all of his Majesty's Plantations c.

To Captain Alan Lewrie, hereby appointed Captain of his Majesty's

Ship the Proteus.

'Dear Lord.' Alan grinned in awe. 'What is she, sir?'

Nepean chuckled with amusement at his surprise, 'A 32-gun of the 5th Rate… which requires a Post-Captain into her.'

God, they've been building those for years, Alan thought quickly; lying at Chatham… sure to be a total refit and old as the hills, but no matter! He was now to make Ј15 8s. per lunar month, have an honest-to-God frigate to command! And he'd made the long leap to 'post' at last! There it was in black-and-white, down in the left-hand bottom corner-his date of seniority. Newest of the new-again it was no matter! Junior-most captain in the Fleet that morning to be certain. Yet… who in Hell gave a tinker's damn for that?

'Proteus,' he muttered, savouring her name. 'The divine oracle of Greek myth, as I recall… the so-called 'Shepherd of the Sea'?'

'Uhm, more like the Roman, Captain Lewrie,' Nepean corrected, pulling at his nose. 'B'lieve Nereus was the Greek. Fathered all the Naiads…?'

Are we there yet? Lewrie wondered, hiding his smile; wonder if old Nereus, or Proteus, got asked that? Well, I was close, key?

'… one could assume so many shapes when he was cornered, before revealing the truth of the matter, a proper oracle.' Nepean smirked.

Damn useful social skill, Lewrie thought; sounds like me… and sounds like we 'II get on together.

'Well, then…' Nepean drawled.

'I'll take my leave then, sir'-Lewrie cried, leaping to his feet and knowing an exit cue when he heard one-'and coach down to Chatham instanter.'

'Just left the graving dock, I believe she has, sir,' Mr. Nepean informed him, already digging at a pile of more pressing letters. 'A partial crew aboard. Time enough, though, for a slight celebration… and for you to go well stocked in cabin stores, hmm?'

'Aye, sir, I s'pose,' Lewrie allowed, wishing he could shift his epaulet to his right shoulder that instant, so he could descend to the Waiting Room and put a nose or two out of joint. 'My thanks, sir… my undying thanks. Good morning to you, Mister Nepean.'

'And a good morning to you, Captain Lewrie,' Nepean had grace enough to say. 'Do you remember to see my under-clerk on your way, sir. There is the slight matter of the tax…?'

'Ah, yes,' Lewrie soured a bit, taking a look at the stamp upon that precious document. They were dunning him for another two shillings and six pence! 'Right, then…'

'How did you put it last time, Captain Lewrie?' Nepean drawled, tweaking him a trifle sardonically. ' 'Damme, had I known it was this cheap, I'd have done it long before'?'

'Uhm… aye, sir,' Lewrie cringed. 'Quite.'

He turned to go, then stopped himself, reminded of a vital point which had not been mentioned, but should have been.

'Uhm, Mister Nepean, sir…'

'Uhmm?' Nepean replied, looking up from his papers with a brow cocked in the beginnings of petulant impatience, though not stretched quite so thin as to bark or bare his teeth… yet.

'The matter of my retinue, so to speak, sir. Usually a captain is allowed some of his old hands to accompany him into a new ship.'

'Ah, yes.' Nepean sighed, abandoning his work, faced with what amounted to a real problem and not a time- waster. He steepled fingers below the vane of his nose, brow creased in thought.

'I've my Cox'n, my clerk, and cabin-steward with me, sir, that's the

lot. Perhaps some hands off Jester could be called away to Chatham? There's my old Bosun, a damned good gunner named Rahl… Yeoman of The Powder now, but a keen-eyed shot as Quarter-Gunner should he take the re-rating. There are some Able Seamen been with me since Toulon…'

'But, Captain Lewrie,' Nepean frowned, opening his hands and closing one to a fist, so he could shake an admonitory finger at him, 'your last ship now lies at Portsmouth and is reputed to be actively supportive of the sailors' cause. We simply cannot have men such as those spread throughout the rest of the Navy, which is so far free of the taint of mutiny. I know it is the custom and usage that captains have reliable, personally spoken-for men from their last ships, but… given the fragile nature of these current circumstances, I do not see how we may oblige you. 'Pon: my life, I can't.'

'I see, sir,' Lewrie sighed, crestfallen, and pondering how he would fare, recruiting at Chatham, in a strange town, without a single old hand ashore at any 'rondy' to vouch for him. Did he not gather a proper crew in a set period of time, his precious commission document would be so much bum-fodder-they'd assign another new Post- Captain to take his place, and he'd revert to being a Commander, waiting his turn at another sloop of war, if he was lucky. Or stuck at home back in Anglesgreen with all its distasteful, civilian, and domestic doings, fretting crops and Sophie and Harry Embleton, were he not!

'Once aboard at Chatham, you may forward to me a list of names you might recall from previous commissions, Captain Lewrie,' Nepean suggested-tossed out like a sop he didn't have to spend much on. 'Then, are they still in the Navy, and are they presently aboard ship in an untainted port, we may be able to accommodate you, but…' Mr. Nepean lifted his hands palms up and gave him one of those hopeless and powerless shrugs more commonly seen on rug merchants who'd failed to strike a compromise on price.

'I see, sir,' Lewrie sighed, much abashed.

'Ah, but you're such a knacky and resourceful fellow, Lewrie,' Nepean said with a purr, which meant he wouldn't lift a finger more to help him in this regard, 'and you've taken command of vessels before, where you were too junior a lieutenant to fetch aboard your favourites. I'm sure, once you explain your plight to the Regulating Captain of the Impress Service at Chatham, he will send you such trustworthy hands and petty officers as he has. I will write him at once, and send a copy on to Vice-Admiral Charles Buckner, flag officer commanding at the Nore. 'Twixt the two of them, I am certain you will find proper redress.'

'That's satisfactory, sir… thankee,' Lewrie told him, though it wasn't in the least satisfactory-in normal times.

'Well then, Captain Lewrie,' Nepean said, 'allow me to wish success to His Majesty's Ship Proteus… and to her new captain then. May all good fortune attend you, and her, sir.'

'Long as I just go! Lewrie snickered to himself.

'I'll see what I can 'bout success, sir. Good day.'

CHAPTER TWELVE

They'd stayed in London that whole day and the next, for there was so much to see to: visit his solicitor Mr. Matthew Mountjoy to arrange funds and inform him of his new situation; hunt up Aspinall and Padgett; shop for cabin-stores as Nepean had suggested; attend to getting his epaulets shifted. New stockings in both cotton and silk, a new stock or two, a new dress shirt or two; cases and small kegs of wine, brandy, and