King`s Captain

'A little more patience is all!' Parker cautioned, 'so they see we're serious, and they'll give in to us, come talk to us. They'll have to! We'll get our own terms, winnow our officers and mates, and get our own pardons! A week or more, and it'll be settled. Peaceful!' Parker shouted, rewarding McCann with a warning glare. 'And a permanent Act for all the world to see! You mark my words on that! Unity! Unity, lads! Strike up 'All Hail, Brother Seamen,' there…!'

Then he quickly led them into the beginning of a song, which took their minds off fantasies of torches, stakes, or crucified aristocracy.

'Go below,' Bales yelled, mustering his staunchest supporters and pointing at Lewrie and the officers aft. 'No votes for officers… Go below! No votes for officers; go below…!' they began to chant.

'All hail, Brother Seamen, that ploughs on the Main,

Likewise to well-wishers of seamen of fame,

May Providence watch over brave British tars,

And guide them with care from the dangers of wars!'

'Might be best, after all, sir?' Lt. Langlie posed. 'We don't wish to create a regrettable incident, the mood they're in at present.'

'S'pose you're right, Mister Langlie,' Lewrie gravelled, loath as he was to be seen to flee. And, admittedly, loath as he was to duck below without flinging them a last, stinging, Parthian shot. He'd never let an insult pass without giving as good (or better) as he got; why change his ways aboard ship, then? But he had no choice this time.

'At Spithead, Jack, from long silence was roused,

which wakes other Brothers who did not refuse,

to assist in the plan Good Providence taught,

in the hearts of brave seamen that had long been forgot!'

'Goddamn them!' Lt. Wyman most uncharacteristically blasphemed. 'It's all over, can they not see that, listen to cool reason…?' 'Evidently, not,' Lewrie snarled.

'Old Neptune made haste, to the Nore he did come,

To waken his sons who had slept for too long,

his thund'ring loud voice made us start with surprise,

to hear his sweet words, and he bid us arise…!'

'Gentlemen,' Lewrie prompted, pointing to his companionway ladder, and they sorted themselves out in order of seniority to descend to his cabins. Lewrie tried hard not to glare them all to scorn for a last stinging defiance. Once more he had been bested, scoffed at! And it stung like the very blazes!

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Another bleak morning, another bleak walk after breakfast, upon his usurped quarterdeck, with hands shrinking away from him when he got near them. And, Lewrie sighed in frustration, another damned longboat coming alongside, which had left HMS Sandwich minutes before. And, he feared, another harangue by the Fleet Delegates, another excuse for the crew to sing, caper, and tweak their noses at him! A ragged side-party turned out to welcome the visitor; and Bales, Handcocks, Morley, and Kever turned up to greet him. Hands engaged in the task of scrubbing and sluicing the decks, tensioning the shrouds and stays, paused from their labours to see what the occasion was. Rather blearily, Lewrie thought. There seemed to be even more women aboard than the evening before, more strange new faces yawning over mugs of small beer drunk to cut the alcoholic fog from all they'd taken aboard in the previous night's revelries below decks.

Thankfully, it was only a minor functionary this time, Lewrie saw, a common seaman bearing a note. He'd barely gained the gangway and handed the note over to Bales, shared a quiet word with him, then he was off once more, back over the side and into the boat.

'Bosun, pipe 'All Hands'!' Bales shouted. 'Don't stand there with yer mouth agape, Mister Pendarves. Don't look to Captain Lewrie when I give you an order, damn yer eyes, he's not in charge here. I'm in temporary command. Pipe 'All Hands,' then 'Hands to Stations For Getting Underway!' '

Sounds like an officer, Alan thought; where'd he learn that?

Pendarves was looking up from the waist to the quarterdeck, in a quandary as to what to do. Sitting and waiting for the mutiny to be settled was one thing; getting up the anchors and making sail sounded like a dangerous escalation of this crisis!

' 'Vast, there, Mister Pendarves!' Lewrie barked. 'Bales! You will not endanger my ship by getting sail on her. That's beyond your brief. By God, sir… explain yourself and be quick about it!'

'Aye, I'll explain myself, sir,' Bales shot back, stung to the quick for a rare once; his smirky, superior demeanour pierced. 'The ship is ordered to shift her anchorage into the Great Nore.'

'Not by any authority I recognize, Bales,' Lewrie hooted. 'She stays where she is.'

'Damn you, Pendarves… pipe 'All Hands On Deck!' ' Bales roared, as he and his minions stalked from the gangway to the quarterdeck.

'That's Mister Pendarves, Seaman Bales,' Lewrie corrected, with a great deal of glee for an opportunity to gall the man. 'I do believe your Fleet Delegates ordered you to show respect to superiors. Surely, you're capable of following a simple directive…?'

'Mister Pendarves, pipe 'All Hands,' ' Bales was forced to amend, reddening with anger, 'and my pardons to you.'

'Sir?' Pendarves said, looking to Lewrie still.

'Proceed, Mister Pendarves,' Lewrie allowed lightly.

The more witnesses, the merrier, he silently smirked; t 'see this shitten louse get taken down a peg'r two. I've got to him at last, in public! Stung him so deep, he might make another error?

The Bosun dutifully sounded the call, and the hands below, with their hung-over 'wives,' came shambling up into the fresh air, looking as if sunlight and a fresh breeze didn't much agree with them.

'Lads, the Fleet Delegates've sent us a message!' Bales cried.

And Lewrie was pleased to note how much they lacked enthusiasm for that news this early in the morning! Too many special messages, he hoped, too many excuses for ranting speeches, stirring orations, or declarations already?

'Ahem…'… to temporary 'Captain' Bales, in command of HMS Proteus.. . you are required and directed to shift your anchorage from Garrison Point to a position among the Nore Fleet, exercising all due care and caution in the selection of your anchorage •••,'' Bales read aloud.

'Dangerous ground, Bales,' Lewrie loudly sneered, 'your Fleet Delegates parroting real orders… they've no power to 'require or direct.' Nor do you. Pretending to be Admiralty or government will cost 'em dear… cost you dear, and any man who pretends to obey such…!'

'We'll take that risk!' Bales snarled back at him, just as loudly. 'Fleet Delegates wish us to shift to the Great Nore; then that is where we go… sir! Beyond the reach of the fortress guns and such!'

'Out where men who disagree with you and your floating 'Parliament' can't desert, you mean!' Lewrie shot back.

'Go below, Captain.' Bales flushed once more, striving to keep his temper. 'You've no say in this, no vote.'

'You'd shift this ship without putting it to a vote!' Lewrie retorted with a tongue-in-cheek twinkle. 'What say you, lads? Do you want to be that far from shore, on his mere say-so?… Fire on civilians ashore later? Sail to bloody France later, just 'cause he… !'

'Enough, damn you!' Bales screeched, prodded into fury at last and instantly regretting it, for the low murmur of shock that arose on deck from the waiting hands. 'Mister Handcocks,' Bales said, calming, 'men to the quarterdeck to see the Captain below! And see he remains there 'til I give him leave!'

'Here now, Bales,' Pendarves called up from the waist, 'ya lay hands on a Commission Officer, and everyone's