King`s Captain

canted by the wind… underway under the charge of the common seamen! And that bastard Bales, or whomever he was!

Lewrie dashed to his after-companionway ladder, rushed up it, to stick his head above the hatch coaming. There was no sentry to detain him, so he cautiously climbed further, to take stance beside the flag lockers at the taffrail and sternpost, expecting the very worst.

Unfortunately, nothing was out of order.

She was well in-hand, under topsis, spanker and inner and outer jibs, everything Bristol fashion. And Bales stood with his hands in the small of his back, amidships of the quarterdeck, looking upward and outward with the cool professionalism of the saltiest watch-officer.

It seemed that the mates, the common seamen, could sail her… anywhere they wished, Lewrie grudgingly decided: Holland, France, over to Ireland… the Great South Seas if they bloody wished!

'Damme,' Lewrie whispered, slinking below before anyone spotted him and hooted in derision at his surprise and disappointment.

BOOK FOUR

Tua nunc terris, tua lumina toto sparge mari;

seu nostra dolos molitor opertos sive externa manus,

primus mihi nuntius esto.

Cast now thine eyes upon the land, upon all the sea;

whether it be men of my own land or strangers

that are planning secret treachery,

be first to bear me news.

– Argonautica, Book V, 246-49

Valerius Flaccus

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

If Proteus had lacked information before, her isolation became even worse once the mutinous fleet had shifted out to the Great Nore. Their 'Parliament' had already banned letters to or from shore. Now, 'tween-ship visiting, which was usually allowed, had been cancelled as well. Oh, there was still visiting; but it was done by the representatives from the 'Parliament' ship, HMS Sandwich alone, the daily parade of rowing boats filled with cheering leaders and sycophants, accompanied by noisy ships' bands, and a sea of gay flags.

Monday the twenty-ninth had been Restoration Day, and to celebrate King Charles II's return to the throne after the end of commoners' rule, the mutiny ships had fired the usual 19-gun salutes and hoisted the royal standards for a time, though the weather was cold and gloomy, blowing half a gale of wind off the North Sea, even harbour waves high enough to stir and rock the line-of-battle ships like fishing smacks. A rather odd act, Lewrie had thought, for a pack of mutineers hellbent on hanging the monarch, to read their truculent diatribes!

But there had been no Rope-Yarn Day after, no special feasts, no libertymen allowed ashore to carouse and toast the King in the pubs. Once the royal standards had been lowered, they had returned to a lack-lustre waiting, and workaday chores of ship-keeping.

Rumours, mostly third- or fourth-hand, spoke of President Parker and the Fleet Delegates meeting ashore with the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty… others spoke of pilots called aboard to steer them to France… six months' arrears in pay to be settled on the morrow… the only thing sure was that no one but Parker and the other leading negotiators, and their boat-crews, were allowed liberty in Sheerness. Delegates had made the rounds dictating a new 'regulation' that said a man must apply to the Fleet Delegates for a pass, after approval by his own ship's committee, and the matter decided by Parker himself!

Anchored that far out, the mutineers had also lost the services of the many vendors' bumboats, their pastries, meat-pies, gew-gaws, or smuggled spirits; the shoes, shirts, and slop-clothing better than what Mr. Coote offered; the tobacco, sweets, or treats that sailors bought to liven the dull sameness of ship's fare. Though some pedlars tried to make the long row or sail out to the mutineer ships, their numbers were not a third of the usual, or previous, days.

One thing Lewrie had determined by keeping an eager ear open to the complaints of his crew; what Joining Bounty they had gotten as volunteers had already been spent on slop stores; what little they'd hoarded for contingencies had gone for the wild sprees that had followed the mutiny's eruption. The poor bastards were broke! The bumboaters couldn't squeeze a single farthing more from them; and, expecting the worst from an impatient government, were not of a mind to extend them any credit against future pay vouchers either!

Now that they were reduced to plain commons and the skimpy daily rum issue, whole days of skylarking, hornpiping, and delegates' shouted harangues could not relieve the monotony of Navy routine. Resentments arose too over how long this mutiny of theirs might take before winning the wished-for results; most especially, they resented the strident militancy and 'high-flown airs' of the Fleet Delegates of their brand-new ' Floating Republic.'

And the women…! Lewrie could recall, hugging himself with joy. Article the Third of their compact declared that '… no woman shall be permitted to go on shore from any ship, but as many may come as please. When they had been anchored hard by Garrison Point, that had been a lark. Now, though, the women were becoming burdensome, one more irritant.

Proteus had over an hundred 'live-lumber,' not two dozen of 'em authentic wives who had come out to stand by their real husbands. No, the rest were Sheerness or Chatham whores, the hired doxies and drabs brought out in the bumboats by brothel-keepers, pimps, or boatmen, who got a share of their earnings in return for 'passage.' The hands had been eager to speak up and claim the prettiest and cleanest, youngest and most fetching, declaring them 'wives' who'd turned up to stay with them whilst in harbour, to be 'kept' on their money and rations. Even some of the most raddled, who were normally turned away, had remained, knowing that someone less choosy would turn up after a few hours down on the gun- deck, and all that semi-public rutting to whet appetites or remove fears; and even honest married men might succumb, the young and inexperienced turned heady with lust! They'd not been turned away by the Surgeon, Mr. Shirley, and his mates, so they weren't 'poxed' so…

They would usually stay aboard as long as a ship was at anchor and Out of Discipline, as long as their 'husbands' had money for their sexual favours and upkeep… and not a single minute more.

Now the 'fairer sex,' even the frailest, sweetest, and prettiest (and there were damned few of those to start with!), were sniping and snarling over being 'press-ganged' without pay! They were definitely not a pack of shrinking violets to be put off, stalled, or 'used,' without solid coin either. Born with, or developing by necessity, a grave-digger's chary soul, the average sailor's doxy was a flinty chit, no one to trifle with! Coquetry and languid, lash-fluttering charms of perfumed London courtesans, shammed passion and affection were beyond them. Mostly it was, 'Hoy, Jack… wanna poke?'

Now, without money to earn, without civilian fripperies off the mostly absent bumboats, kept from leaving as strictly as the sailors, and now reduced to the same salt-rations, tile-hard ship's biscuit, the same pease porridge and already semi-rancid Navy-issue cheese, and with but a sip of small beer or a share of their 'man's' watered grog, they posed a greater threat of counter-mutiny than anything Lewrie or his officers could conjure up! Clearly, the 'honeymoon' was over. He snickered in private and schemed upon how to turn it to his advantage!

Lewrie paced the larboard gangway for exercise, all the way to the bower anchor cat-heads and the break of