King`s Captain

'Lads, the terms…!' Parker screeched, to no avail.

'Brother Seamen!' McCann howled, stepping forward, and waving his cutlass aloft. 'Hist, now! Hist t'th' president! Th' man-eatin' bastards give in t'us… th' common folk've triumphed over 'em! Give heed now!'

'They've won better rations'-Parker went on, once they had calmed at McCann's behest-'proper weights and measures… sick-berth pay, and proper medical care,' he ticked off on his fingers. 'They've gotten the rise in pay, for seamen, Marines, and pensioners…'

'Purged their ships o' tyrannical officers'n mates too!' That pop-eyed McCann felt thrilled to add. 'And full pardons!'

'Fingers in yer ears…' Lewrie sighed to his assembled officers, before taking his own advice,

'Yyyyeeeaaahhhhf'

Well, thank God, Lewrie thought, as the cheering went on for a full minute or two more, turning to share relieved looks with his senior people and a few bold seamen who'd held themselves aloof from mutinous doings so far; mutiny's over, and we can get back to work. No lastin' harm done mongst the people; I've still my command…

'Listen, though, listen!' Parker shouted, as their cheers began to wane, wearing a somber face. 'One thing they didn't get was the more liberal shore leave. Still limited to seaports or aboard ships, same as we have now. Still have to have our loved ones come out to us, 'stead of us going to them, and going ashore decided by individual captains' whims, still…'

'Damn 'em all, the soul-drivers!' someone cried.

'Well, that's all fine for Channel Fleet, lads!' Parked yelled, hands on his hips and looking about, taking a moment to peer aft at the ship's senior officers. 'But there's a problem with it all. Listen… what Admiral Howe negotiated with the Spithead lads…'

'Our brother seamen, our fellow suff rers!' McCann raved. And made Parker wince for a moment. 'Tell 'em, brother Parker!'

'… terms they agreed to was not an Act of Parliament! It was only an Order In Council! And they're only good for a year and a day, not permanent, like a proper Act!' Parker cautioned. 'And so far it only applies to Spithead and Plymouth… not to the Nore!'

That set off a chorus of boos, catcalls, and growls of rage.

'We'll have to hold out 'til they've guaranteed us the pardon too, presented us with the same terms, and sat down and negotiated with us… ox whatever we wish beyond the Spithead agreement!'

I'll be Goddamned! Lewrie groaned. 'Horse turds!' he bellowed, before he could think about it.

Which made them turn and glare at him, every last mother-son!

Ah… oops! he blushed; too forceful.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

In for the penny,' Alan sighed dejectedly, 'in for the pound.'

'If the settlement satisfies Channel Fleet,' he roared, though, 'and was done in good faith, then why is it not good enough for the Nore? All any ship has to do is send ashore to Vice-Admiral Buckner and ask for written confirmation of the terms. Then sign them and return to duty and receive the very same terms. And pardon!'

'No, no, won't work!' McCann shot back. 'Ain't had our chance t'purge our own ships o' tyrants an' brutes! Pardon don't apply here, anyways! They gotta deal with us face t'face and give it to us, and we see they live up t'what they promised Spithead. 'Til we see they'll not stab Brother Seamen in the back, like they done the Cullodens, or if they're schemin' t'go back on it soon as it suits 'em… year and a day?'

'Wouldn't trust 'em further than a man can spit!' another sailor cried from the back of the pack below the nettings in the waist.

'Backstab a whole fleet?' Lewrie countered, forcing himself to laugh McCann's suspicions to scorn. 'That'd be national suicide, and well you know it. Admiralty, Parliament, Crown… they agreed to all they could, except for shore leave, because they need'you! And they'll need you more than a year and a day, the way this war is going, so how are they going to renege on you?'

'No, hold out 'til we get liberal shore leave, what our brothers at Spithead gave up on!' Seaman Bales shouted, striding out into plain view. 'A fairer division of prize-money too. A whole lot more things that Spithead was afraid to demand,' he slyly added.

'Like bloody what, Bales?' Lewrie snapped, hands on his hips and pacing forward to confront them, so more hands could hear the dispute. 'You men… did Admiral Buckner come aboard this instant and offer you the same terms as Spithead… how many of you would take 'em and your pardon, return to duty, and have this done?'

He was gratified beyond all measure to see tentative hands stuck aloft, like schoolboys who thought they might just know the answer to a 'puzzler.' More than half, Lewrie exulted, more than half, ready to cave in, take the liberal terms the government had made, duck out of sight and notice, before they got dragged into deeds which could get them hanged in wholesale lots!

Mates and warrants of a certainty wavered. Lewrie nodded as he took a quick count; a fair portion of the Ordinary or Able Seamen, the Marines, and most of the new-comes, the landsmen idlers and waisters… new ship, few cliques, no real complaints against Proteus of her officers, yet… scared men, looking for safety…?

'You're not part of the ship's committee, Captain,' Bales cried. 'You have no say in this… nor any right to demand a division of our house, sir!'

'Turn 'im out!' Yeoman of the Powder Kever shouted. 'There's a vote t'take, hoy, brother seamen? Turn all th' officers out!'

'He's only doing what Admiralty demands of him,' Bales quickly disagreed, 'not your practiced tyrant… but, don't heed him, brothers! There's no proposal from Admiralty to vote on… not yet!'

Lewrie cocked a wary eye at Bales, puzzled. Most captains had been sent ashore by their mutineers; he'd be in good company. So why not? What motive could this Bales have for scotching that idea?

'Follow President Parker, lads,' McCann shouted, sticking his oar in, 'don't sell yer birthright f r a mess o' pottage. We've but to hold on f'r a piece more; we'll win all that Spithead got and more!'

'Vow to hold out 'til it's a proper, written Act of Parliament!' President Parker boomed. 'Not only for yourselves, but for your fellow seamen at Spithead, Plymouth, Great Yarmouth… overseas…!'

'Hold out all summer, do we haveta!' McCann screeched. 'We got th' ships; we got th' guns! 'Thout us, Admiral Duncan at Great Yarmouth can't do a thing, do th' Dutch come out! Aye, they need us! An' we'll make 'em pay a pretty price for us, you mark my words! We sit tight united as Brother Seamen, 'til Howe'r some other top-lofty lords come wringin' their hands, quakin' in their boots, t'sit down an' deal with us direct! Right, Brother Parker?'

'Absolutely right, Brother McCann!' Parker firmly said.

'By God, we'll make 'em sorry they don't!' McCann ranted on. 'We could block th' Thames'n Medway an' starve th' city out! What'll th' high-an'-mighty do, then? Why, we could sail up an' shoot Whitehall t'm'nders if they don't do right by us'n th' Spithead lads! Any sign they deal deceitful an' we burn it t'th' ground… Whitehall, Admiralty, all of it! Raise th' whole nation, an'…!

'But it won't come to that, lads!' Parker cried out to cut off McCann before such rebellious talk went any further. For a fleeting instant, Lewrie could almost sympathise with the poor bugger, saddled with such a batch of firebrands! God knew who sat on the Fleet Delegate Committee- United Irishmen, wild-eyed Republican rebels and Levellers, foreign-paid traitors and schemers…? It probably wasn't much fun trying to ride whipper-in to a baying herd like that.