doomed t'hang alongside ya. Ya swore this'd be peaceful, respectful…'

'And it is, Mister Pendarves!' Bales countered. 'But for this… but for the Captain's objections. It's my responsibility. I take it on myself. We're peaceable, so far. I ask you, though… who among us is the one trying to stir us up, turn us 'gainst each other, except for the Captain? Any dispute amongst us 'tis his doing! Now, Brother Seamen! We'll go to stations… get the anchors up, make sail!'

Handcocks had summoned half-a-dozen hands, the hardest, meanest, and most dedicated to the Cause. Lewrie contemplated further resistance, of taking a cuff or two, perhaps a full beating from them, to spur his crew to mutiny against the mutineers, if that's what it took!

'You'll need the officers,' Lewrie suggested slyly, yielding not a single inch, 'if you're determined to move this ship.'

'Nossir, we do not!' Bales snapped. 'We've senior mates aboard, experienced sailors. I've served as Quartermaster and Master's Mate before. I think we're perfectly capable of sailing two miles and taking a new anchorage… without the help of you or your officers! Now, pipe 'Hands to Stations,' Mister Pendarves! Jump to it, lads! Sir… Captain Lewrie, sir, I'll thank you to leave the quarterdeck. Else whatever befalls you will be your own fault,' he added, much softer.

'And none o' yours, of course, Seaman Bales!' Lewrie sneered, secretly gloating that he'd finessed this nigh to the crucial confrontation that would break the back of the crew's apathy, put steel into the spines of those wavering… 'Well, if you and the rest of your mutineers are so damn' capable, why don't you put us ashore before you guarantee the noose around your bloody neck!' he hissed with pleasure.

Bales did the very worst thing then, to Lewrie's lights. That subtle bastard regained his composure, stepped so close that Lewrie could smell the reek of his unwashed shirt, and smiled quite malevolently.

'So that's what you wish, is it, Captain?' he whispered. 'Well, you'll not get it. Oh no, not you, most of all. I've plans for you, I have! No matter how the mutiny falls out. Now, would you be so good as to get your arse off my quarterdeck? Out of the way of sailors who know what they're about? Mister Handcocks, see 'im below. Be gentle with 'im, but not too gentle, hey?'

Of all the low lifes they could have clasped hands with, there was Haslip with Handcocks's party of enforcers, with his hand upon the hilt of his (so-far) sheathed clasp knife, with an expression of pure hatred and revenge on his phyz for his ravaged back.

Taking a cuff or two, getting his eyes blacked, or spouting claret from a smashed nose, well… that was one thing. Getting his gizzards spilled by a mutineer's knife was quite another! For one, there'd be no opportunity to savour his testimony, or the joy of watching these people go for the high jump from the gallows! For the first time, he felt a frisson of pure fear! This mutiny could end a lot bloodier than anyone intended or expected. His blood, in point of fact!

'Will ya go below, Cap'um, sir?' Mr. Handcocks asked, seeming about as shaken as Lewrie was that he was offering a threat of violence to an officer. ' 'Fore, uhm…' he gulped, shifty-eyed.

'For now, Mister Handcocks,' Lewrie allowed after glaring hot (and taking several temporising, restoring deep breaths). 'For you, sir. You've done nothing worthy of hanging for… yet,' Lewrie lied.

'Aye, sir. Thankee, sir,' Handcocks muttered, sounding almost grateful. 'We should go, sir,' he prompted, as Pendarves and Towpenny reluctantly piped the call which Bales had bade them, amidst the scamper and thunder of feet heading for the capstan, the messenger cables, the nippers, and the shrouds which led aloft to the yards.

They paced aft to that companionway ladder near the taffrails once more, in silence as the afterguard trudged to the kedge anchor cable, to the jears and halliards for the mizzen tops'l and spanker.

'I don't know what led you to take part in mutiny, Mister Handcocks,' Lewrie said in a low voice, 'what grievances you had that stirred you to rise up 'gainst lawful authority, or take such a prominent part in it. How long you helped its planning…'

Handcocks merely breathed hard, his gaze fixed shoreward.

'But I warn you now, Mister Handcocks,' Lewrie whispered, 'it is getting out of hand. It's grown a life of its own, and you have no control over it. Do you have any real say in the ship's committee, it might be best did you speak out for temperance. Threatening a captain will lead to blood, sooner or later. First we move out of gun-range. Next time, will it be the Texel? A French port? Out to fight Channel Fleet… now they're restored to duty?'

'Sure I don't know, sir.' Handcocks groaned, sounding strangled.

'Maybe we're being shifted 'cause Parker, Bales, and their lot're afraid of sensible hands taking the Spithead offer,' Lewrie suggested. 'So they don't lose control…'cause that's not what their paymasters want… a settlement. Their foreign paymasters, Mr. Handcocks.'

'Sir, if ya pleasel' Handcocks begged as they got to the top of the companionway, all but wringing his hands in abject misery.

'Mister Handcocks, Bales has more in mind than redress of your socalled grievances,' Lewrie intimated, striving to sound 'matey' and concerned. 'Ask yourself what that could be. His dislike of me, however- though I can't recall ever meeting the man before-one would think he held a personal hatred. Whatever it is, Mister Handcocks, don't be too caught up in it. This could gallop out of control in the blink of an eye! The Spithead offer… it's fair. 'Twixt you and me, I'll say it was overdue, aye. But it's all you're going to get. Don't lose your Warrant… or your head… asking for a jot more. Or let things turn violent, hmmm?'

'If you'd go below now, sir, Cap'um, sir,' Handcocks replied, wincing and bobbing his head in agony. Lewrie gave him a hearty clap of sympathy on the shoulder to buck him up.

And if that didn 't light a fire under his 'nutmegs, ' Lewrie told himself, once below and out of sight, / don't know what will. And if he can't take a hint, then to the Devil with him!

'Brandy, Aspinall… brimmin',' Lewrie called.

'Aye, sir… comin' directly.'

'Twos a near-run thing I didn't get beaten senseless, Lewrie had to admit to himself; pushed it almost too far, I did. But at least I made Bales an ogre to the hands; gave 'em another think about how dangerous this is. Put caution in Handcocks, a few others…?

Hmmm… this Bales, now… Lewrie thought as his brandy came.

He'd revealed that he'd served as a Quartermaster and Master's Mate at one time; might have aspired to Admiralty Warrant as a Sailing Master too? Lewrie pondered, idly pacing his cabins. Must've blotted his copybook though, or lost his patrons when turned over into a new ship… lost his rate when a new captain had come aboard with his own favourites in tow.

That would explain his grudge against the Navy, Lewrie decided, but… he threatened me, directly! As if I owe him for something from his past? And he'll make me pay, no matter what happens, will he?

'For the life of me, I can't recall…!' Lewrie grumbled.

'Sir?'

'Nothing, Aspinall… just maundering.'

Scotching the cries for putting me ashore… as if he's savin' me for something, well… Lewrie scowled in thought; best for him, if he did! Igetunder his skin, row him to rashness… expose his weaknesses or his true motives. Reverse our positions and he'd be ashore, in irons, quick as you could say 'Jack Ketch!' After a keehaulin'… or two.

It would be so easy for Bales to hide in the Navy, even was he a Bounty mutineer! There were hundreds of 'jumpers' who enlisted over and over gave false names to a ship's first officer, got the Joining Bounty, then scampered, to try it on again. And what would he look like without that full beard of his, Lewrie wondered?

And why, in this particular incarnation, did Bales pass himself off as 'Bales'-if former deserter, malefactor, or mutineer, he was? Had he served under the unfortunate old man; had he been aboard hard-luck Ariadne during the Revolution? Bales appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties… old enough to have been a teenaged topman or cabin servant back then. Hmmm… that bore some thinking about.

'Christ!' Lewrie suddenly gasped, coming out of his dark study.

Proteus was underway, her hull timbers beginning to creak as she worked, slightly

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