King`s Captain

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

And, by the time eight bells of the Forenoon Watch had finished chiming, Lewrie was quite pleased to see that Proteus had been given a new cause for upset.

The hands had queued up at seven bells, when 'Clear Decks and Up Spirits' had been piped for the grog issue. A keg of rum so stout it was almost pitchy-dark and treacly had been fetched up; decorated with yellow paint, the Navy seal, and the ancient motto, 'The King God Bless Him.' With it had come a butt of water, and the miniature mugs; to be mixed and diluted two-for-one, which would yield each hand the equivalent of a half-pint of grog-all carefully guarded and administered by the Master At Arms and Ship's Corporals, the Purser, and Mr. Shirley the Surgeon. Mutineers or not, the ritual was not to be tinkered with, for sailors were a conservative lot, as ill-suited as a cat to a sudden change in daily routine or surroundings. The new leaders aboard, obeying the stricture in their compact to respect officers and their orders, clung to the notices on the watch-and-quarter bills as to how much grog each man should get; was someone being punished by deprivation; and the agreements among the hands themselves as to whether another got not only his own, but 'sippers' or 'gulpers' of another man's for sewing up slop-trousers to a better fit, standing a watch, making a useful article, or settling wagers between them.

Usually, it was a cheerful time when the crew lined up to take their ration, jealously watching for the slightest shortage when their measure was poured out. It signalled the end of the morning's exercise at sail-drill, small arms, or gun-drill, and the onset of their midday meal. For rum issue, the off-going watch and the on-coming both mingled for a while, crowding them all forrud toward the foc'sle belfry.

This time, it was even more crowded, as wives, children, and the whores gathered round for their share, wheedling, whining, bawling, or cajoling. If the men didn't have money anymore, at least they had rum to offer- the whores'd settle for that.

'How are we fixed for rum, Mister Coote?' Lewrie enquired.

'Twelve weeks' worth, sir… at normal rates of issue. Longer, did we water it at three-to-one,' the Purser answered crisply, knowing his sums to the groat. 'We did not receive our total due before…'

'Which'd be cause for mutiny of itself, sir,' Lt. Langlie said.

'The pigs,' Midshipman Peacham felt free to interject.

'Pigs… ah,' Lewrie breezed on, as if he hadn't a care in the world. 'Reminds me; thankee, Mr. Peacham. Speaking of trough, Mister Coote, how stands our food supply, then?'

'Nigh on the full sixteen weeks, Captain, sir,' Mr. Coote told them. 'Depending on whether we are responsible for victualling the dependents. With them aboard, sir… more like ten weeks' worth. Nine… are we profligate.'

'Then this could go on forever,' Lt. Ludlow gloomed. He'd not made many appearances lately, and when he had attended officers' meetings he'd kept his own counsel, merely frowning, glowering, or grimacing without venturing either opinions or suggestions, or any comments that hadn't been elicited by a direct question. He'd not kept up his toilet either, Lewrie noted. Ludlow 's waist-coat was dingy with smut and food-stains, his shirt tanned at collar and cuffs from long wear, and his beard stubble a light coal-dust smear on his chin and cheeks.

'No, not forever, Mister Ludlow,' Lewrie countered. 'Did any of you take a gander at the shore today? Note what's happening in Sheerness?'

'Uhm… that it seems rather quiet, sir?' Midshipman Catterall ventured, 'without the seamen allowed ashore…'

'Do you lift a telescope, you'll find some pleasing sights ashore.' Lewrie beamed. 'Now let me ask you all another question… What will be served for dinner?'

'Sir?' Had he been driven daft by the mutiny was the look they shared-had Proteus stolen the wits of another captain?

'What's cooked for the hands' dinner, Mister Coote?'

'Uhm… the usual Tuesday rota, sir. Pound of biscuit and two pounds of salt-beef per man per day,' the Purser informed him.

'No shore 'Tommy'… no beeves or hogs for slaughter,' Lewrie pointed out. 'Nor will there be in future. Vice- Admiral Buckner and Commissioner Hartwell have not seen fit to deliver fresh victuals out to the ships this morning. Really, gentlemen, you should take more notice of things around you,' he chid them with mock severity, tsking a time or two with a sly leer. 'Do you look shoreward, you will see soldiers and workmen atop the forts… mending what's been neglected for far too long, I shouldn't wonder. Troops of militia and regulars patrolling the streets? Standing guard over the dockyards and quays? You could espy civilians departing… evacuated or of their own accord. Oh, there'll be some tavern keepers and whoremongers who stay and reap the bounty from all these soldiers. Soldiers, gentlemen,' he said, beaming his delight, 'most-like with orders to arrest any mutineer who gets ashore, to cut them off completely. I believe Our Lords Commissioners have been down to Sheerness and told Parker and his men to get stuffed! Perhaps it wasn't our mutineers' idea to avoid shore, hey? And, gentlemen… do you look close, you may see some activity, just a bit upriver of Garrison Point. Boats working… looking very much to me as if they're laying a stouter boom across the Med-way.'

His suppositions sounded inspiriting; they all seemed to perk up-yet didn't dash to the bulwarks that instant, looking hesitant. Tell me what I'm s posed to think, Lewrie sighed to himself; / swear, what a pack of cod'swallops!

There was a glad interruption from up forrud. Some hands were squabbling over the rum issue! One man had offered half his ration to a whore, but it sounded as if he already owed 'gulpers' to one of his messmates, who wasn't going to be shorted. Neither would the doxy take less than a full half of a half!

'Don't you see, gentlemen?' he posed to them. 'This isn't any fun anymore. They've had their Rope-Yarn days, their drunks, their ruts. They're as broke as convicts. No more skylarking ashore, and no more fresh food either. No more quim, 'less they resort to rape. Have to live on sea-rations, share spirits and victuals with women they can't have, 'less they trade food or drink. Too many mouths aboard and short-commons, if this goes on much longer. Anchored out where it's boresome and there's nothing to do but stew and fret 'bout what Admiralty's doing, when it's going to end. And how. Now do you take pains to make 'em see what's going on ashore… and why…'

'Undermine their morale, sir!' Catterall piped up, tumbling to it at last. 'So they give it up, take the pardon…'

'So close to the Queen's Channel too, Mister Catterall,' Lewrie muttered, stepping into the taut half-circle of officers, warrants, and junior petty officers. 'Where a crew, a ship, did they get fearful or their commitment to the mutiny had begun to waver… might think that escape from the Nore might be the best choice, sirs. As a way to take the Spithead terms, the pardon… and signal their denial of the mutiny by a return to duty. Sea-duty! God bless the mutinous members of our little… 'Parliament,' ' he sneered. 'Putting us where it'd be easier to sail off… when we re-take the ship, sirs.'

Mouths gapped even wider, as jaws dropped at the idea. Sneaky grins replaced puzzlement.

'With two two-deckers anchored near us, sir,' Lieutenant Ludlow said, with a sneer of hopelessness, 'upper- deck gun-ports open and primed to fire on any ship that shows a scrap of sail, tries to up-anchor…'

'Damme, Mister Ludlow,' Lewrie scoffed. 'And here I thought you were the firebrand, determined to draw blood t'other day.'

'When it seemed we had a chance to keep the ship, sir,' Ludlow shot back. 'Not just surrender her like a craven…!'

'Consider yourself under arrest, sir!' Lewrie barked, suddenly fed up with the man. 'Go below and confine yourself… and your insolence… to your cabin! By God, you go too far, sir! Have done since I came aboard.'

Ludlow 's jaw found cause to drop, and he visibly paled, like to faint. He seemed to reel or stagger, whether to fall to his knees in apoplexy or take a damning step forward to threaten a superior officer, it could be taken either way. Marine Lt. Devereux reached out to take him by the upper arm, to support or restrain him, this could be taken either way too 'You…!' Ludlow blustered. 'Now see here, sir…! Ah… I see sir Un-hand me, you tailor's dummy! Ah. Ah. Very well, sir. I will, as always obey my captain's orders, sir.'

'Very good, sir,' Lewrie sniped through hair-thin lips. 'Then kindly do as I have ordered, Mister Ludlow.'

Ludlow had mastered himself, had control of his body once more though he never would learn how to conceal