King`s Captain

keys over to you. Totally.'

'But…' McCann blubbered, his eyes almost crossed in concentration, sputtering and bending to mutter with his fellow mutineers, to try and find some loophole in the logic of Lewrie's statement, or make sense of such high- flown, 'break-teeth' speech. Instead, he turned on Handcocks, Morley, and Kever, urging them to do something.

'Damme, was I in Proteus, I'd have th' arms chest keys!' MtCann screeched, then stomped off towards the entry-port, dragging his coterie of fellow mutineers with him, glowering, cursing, and muttering much as Lt. Ludlow had just moments before!

'We're allowed to carry on with a normal ship's work day, Mister Handcocks?' Lewrie demanded of his chief mutineer.

'Well… aye, sir.' Handcocks blushed, looking cutty-eyed.

'I take it you think you are now in command of Proteus?' Lewrie scoffed. 'You will allow me to resume my hearing on Landsman Haslip? We may man the boats and ferry supplies from shore… sir?'

'Uhm… let me, ask, Captain, sir,' Handcocks mumbled, slinking off to join the group of Sandwiches by the entry-port, who were still deep in a frustrated conversation over the keys.

'Mister Coote, you here, sir?' Lewrie asked, turning about.

'Aye, sir,' a shaken Coote replied. 'I s'pose.'

'Stand ready to go ashore. Mister Langlie? With Lieutenant Ludlow off the quarterdeck, do you take charge of the Forenoon Watch. Tell-off men to assist the Purser ashore. Mister Pendarves?' Lewrie bellowed down to the gun-deck. 'Assemble working parties to ferry stores offshore!'

'Aye, aye, sir!' Pendarves shouted back, looking about as forlorn as a landed trout and eager for a command from a proper authority.

'Now look here, sir…!' McCann snapped, returning, reinforced by his own followers from Sandwich and the Proteus mutineer leaders.

'Proteus must be stocked with four months' supplies for sea,' Lewrie informed him soberly. 'We're short of salt-meat, flour, biscuit, small beer, rum, wine, cheeses, dried peas, portable soup… presently she has but half the powder and shot required. Now, sir… do you say you're loyal Britons, mutinying for your grievances… and not traitorous rebels in the pay of foreign foes! Then readying this ship for sea, does the mutiny end and we're ordered out to fight the Dutch, or the French, is vital. A normal ship's routine, which you just said you would not interfere with? Surely, even you can see that.'

'Gawd, I wish…!' McCann gargled, raising a fist. 'Ye an' yer sort, yer all alike! Thinkin' yer so damn' clever an' smug! I…!'

'Short of rations, powder and shot, mate,' Bales hinted, from the rear of the pack, elbowing and sidling forward to stand alongside McCann. 'Do they cut us off from the warehouses in Sheerness, what'll we do then? Think on't. What'll we eat 'til it's settled?'

'Th' people're for us! Th' common folk'd not let 'em!' McCann countered, eyes bulging with fervour. 'Th' high an' mighty'll tremble in their beds do they even try t'cut us off! The whole nation arise…!'

'Aye, though… we should stock her, gunn'1-deep.' The Gunner sighed. 'Just in case, like.'

'Right, then!' McCann sneered, sensing another defeat within a five-minute span. 'Go 'head an' stock her. But no midshipmen, none o' their brutal sort're t'work th' boats. Senior hands. Loyal men on th' tillers an' oars… brothers t'th' cause. No escape for th' weak, them as won't swear t'uphold th' cause neither.'

'Very good then.' Lewrie nodded, striving to not look as glad as he felt that he was dealing with a witless escapee from Bedlam. 'I assume normal duties also encompasses my hearing for Landsman Haslip? Mister Pendarves! Muster boat-crews! We will go below…'

'Nossir, ye won't!' McCann barked. 'We'll do it! Man's a thief! Stole from brother sailors, so he'll get sailors' justice! An' no boat-crews t'go ashore 'til ye've elected yer delegates, Handcocks… picked yer committee 'board ship for runnin' her, an' delegates t'th' committee 'board Sandwich.' He nudged Handcocks under the ribs. 'An' weed out them as'd cozen ye… Have ev'ry man-jack in an' make 'em swear on a Bible t'be loyal or else.'

'No,' Lewrie insisted once more, quite flatly, and pinching at the bridge of his nose as if wearied beyond endurance.

'Now, lookee…!' McCann threatened, going wild-eyed again.

'Justice is mine, McCann,' Lewrie pointed out. 'Determining the crime and punishment for it 'board this ship is the Captain's prerogative alone, and well you know it. You assure me and the others that this mutiny will end when the grievances are satisfactorily settled… and ships at the Nore are included in the terms. That's what you told my crew to get them to join you? That's what you profess?'

'It is!' McCann shouted back.

'Then once you return to subordination and discipline, you will once more be under a captain's supervision, which includes hearing any violations of the Articles of War, or Admiralty Regulations,' Lewrie hammered home. 'To unsurp my right to hear and judge Haslip will make any sentence you and the… delegates!… decide, illegal. Unless you… or some one of you…' he growled, searching the nearest faces for defiance, 'wish to declare himself a Commission Officer and presume to issue orders.. • then the custom and usage of the Sea Service says that I, alone, can judge. You can go below and do all the… electing!… you wish to choose your delegates. But you will not usurp my power of command! Or my right to conduct 'captain's mast.' '

'Arrr!' McCann howled with frustration, 'a pox on ye, an' th' Devil take all officers! I wish t'God we could just hang ye all an' be done! Choose new'uns an' start fresh, by God!'

Frightfully, there were more than one or two growls of agreement from the men mustered before him; thankfully though, they seemed to be Sandwiches, not Proteuses. Bales, the new-come mutineer, even went so far as to take McCann by the elbow and whisper in his ear, to warn him to temper his remarks or hide his true sentiments.

Mutiny was one thing, Lewrie thought, turning to match eyes with his remaining officers; mutiny with the threat of physical violence or the murder of superiors was different. Lewrie thought to compare the almost-dignified, sober-headed truculence of what he'd experienced at Portsmouth-a much more respectful and respectable plea for better conditions-with the very beginnings of this version, which was led, he suspected, by a whole baying pack of hotheads like this McCann! If so, it was a damn' narrow razor's edge he'd have to tread before this was over!

Oddly, Lt. Langlie was looking back at him with the tiniest of grins on his face, the one corner of his mouth turned up, all but tipping him a conspiratorial wink of encouragement! He shrugged back his perplexity- and his gratitude for Langlie's silent support.

'Right, then,' McCann announced quite grudgingly, much taken down from his rant of the short minute before. 'Yer a Commission Sea Officer… 'mast' on this Haslip bastard is yours. But we'll choose who we will for delegates; get yer whole crew firm b'hind us…'

'And what of those who don't wish to swear allegiance with you, McCann?' Lewrie asked, feeling suddenly pleased that he'd regained a tiny bit of authority in the midst of raving chaos, already scheming as to how [he might undermine this particular mutiny aboard his ship. 'Bligh over yonder,' Alan said, gesturing towards HMS Director, a 64-gunner 'cross the harbour, 'had his loyal hands who went in the longboat with him- even him!' He snorted in derision. 'You can't just force everyone to be loyal to you if they don't wish to. Or are too fearful of the consequences… as you should be.' He stuck on, slyly.

Oh, God, yes! he thought. Hull the buggers; make 'em sweat…!

'Ah, but isn't that what yoz and the Navy do, sir?' Able Seaman Bales just-as-slyly japed. 'Make 'em loyal… without a chance to choose for themselves?'

The nearby mutineers had themselves a real knee-slapping hoot at that one and passed it on along the gangways, down into the waist, and aft to the taffrails to their mates, where it elicited the same mirth.