King`s Captain

hard.

'What about them, Cap'um, sir?' Morley blushed.

'You know the objections to shore leave, to inland leave-tickets, Mister Morley,' Lewrie explained, turning to speak to them all. 'The Admiralty never knows when the foe will pop out. They can't idle their ships with a third or a half of the crews out of reach. They leave it to the discretion of captains. Now I ask you, lads… how many of you have ever had a captain that wouldn't grant shore leave to those hands he thought he could trust to come back, hey?'

Damned few, aha! he thought; and so much for how dangerous that question was!

'And how many of you knew men who couldn't be trusted to come back, who were just looking for the first chance to scamper, that you would trust?' he dared pose. 'Slackers, idlers, backbiters…'

Quite a few, it should be said.

'But Spithead put off'cers an' mates ashore, sir!' a foremast sailor queried. 'Acts don't say nothin' 'bout it. Does that mean we cain't?'

Lewrie had wondered about that unwritten clause. The settlement had reputedly contained that term, and the last newspaper he'd gotten his paws on, before this mess had started, of course, had decried the removal or replacement of officers the Spithead mutineers had thought as tyrants, cruel floggers, and 'drivers.' This was dangerous ground. Did he sound approving of it, he'd be labeled a radical himself! Did he not… he might lose this wondrous, un-looked-for chance to finagle his crew back to duty! 'Like here, as I recall…,' he began, crossing his fingers for luck, 'officers were put off at Spithead and Plymouth. Here… there are officers who have already gone ashore of their own volition. And I must tell you true… does this ship not take down those yard ropes, lower the red flags, and return to duty… I am ordered to depart and take all officers and midshipmen with me. Leaving you your appointed captain and mates… Seaman Bales, Mister Handcocks, and that lot…'

He was heartened more than he could have ever imagined to hear so many voices raised in sudden, distressful woe that he was going to leave them!

'… every captain remaining will do so, every officer still on mutinous ships!' he shouted. 'The good'uns… and the bad!' Lewrie added. 'Did Admiral Lord Howe agree to that at Spithead, it was after officers had gone ashore from those ships too. I don't know how they agreed to it, how the lists were made up… how they determined which officers did not

return aboard, but… damme, lads, d'ye think it's a thing they'd scribble down for all to see?'

Oh, Christ, I've just cut my own throat, he told himself; there goes mygood odour, my career! I'm tellin' 'em how to purge officers, pushin' 'em towinnow the gunroom!

While they had a hearty laugh and began to hoot, whistle, and catcall in what he hoped he could construe as appreciation, he dared to glance over at his officers, warrants, and midshipmen. They looked dumbstruck by his admission, some outraged, some queasily appalled.

'Now as for the rest of your demands…' Lewrie roared, raising one hand to gather their attention again. 'What… for ships to be paid arrears in wages down to six months before sailing. They can't help you on that'un, lads… there's a war on, and England 's short of cash. In peacetime, they might could, but not now. That rise in pay you've already won… even if you never mutinied… thanks to Spithead, that increase for pensioners too, for sick-berth hands and those crippled to be paid off… the increase in rations to sixteen ounces, instead of twelve or fourteen, that takes money too! 'You said you wanted new-come pressed men to get two months' advance in pay, like a Joining Bounty for volunteers… . Admiralty can't afford that either. Back wages and indemnification made to men who've run once before then gone back in service… the same problem with that. And, an encouragement to bounty-jumpers, who'd do it over and over again and deprive you of funds! Useless damned shirkers the lot of 'em, and well you know it! Given a choice, would you have a thing t'do with 'em? No, I tell you!'

Damme, I'm rollin', now! Rantin' like a leapin' Methodist!

'Your delegates wanted those jumpers and runners to keep what they'd stolen from your mouths when you were ready to sign on, serve King and Country, heart and soul! And then … not be arrested as deserters when justice caught up with 'em! What, you want them rewarded? Is that what real English sailors wish… or is it some foreign, radical shit someone in Paris dreamed up to undermine the Royal Navy?'

More hoots, more claps and cheers, and cries of 'No!'

Damme, he exulted; no wonder the reverends look so smug. This is fun!

'You said you wished a fairer split of prize-money,' he ranted on, rocking on the balls of his feet, gripping the cap-rail to lean out over them as he got on shakier ground. 'Three-fifths 'stead of your two-eights. Well, if Spithead could concede that point, and the prevailing division wasn't cause for them to kick furniture, then should it not be good enough for you?'

Uh-oh… losin' 'em.

'Well, as long as a fine frigate such as our Proteus is swingin' 'round the anchor in the Nore… you're not takin' prizes, are you?' he hooted. 'You give me my ship back, I'll take you out where we can find prizes, scourge the seas, and give you a chance to get bloody rich… even under the old division!'

That got them back. They were, the bulk of them, growling like famished tigers for a chance at pillaging enemy ships. The hard-core mutineers could only glower, grim-lipped, and swear to themselves.

'And the last… alterations and amendments in the Articles of War.' Lewrie deigned to sneer. 'But… you'll note your committees and delegates never spelled out what changes or deletions they wished, did they? Because some of 'em are wanted men… pickpockets and thieves who've stolen from shipmates before? Duck-fuckers and buggers who prefer the 'windward passage,' who don't want to be court-martialed for it? Maybe it concerns Article Three… Holding Illegal Correspondence with Enemies. Article Five, the one against spies or Seducing Letters? Or Numbers Eight or Nine, about stripping anything they want out of a prize, and stripping and abusing people taken aboard a prize? Damme, do away with these, and we might as well hoist the 'Jolly Roger' and become pirates! Is that what you want?'

Another loud outburst of 'Noes!'

'Is it Twelve they object to, the one against Cowardice in Action, and Neglect of Duty?' he posed, strutting now, as aggressive as a guinea cock. 'Fifteen… desertion or running away with a ship and its stores? Sixteen… the one against desertion itself? Enticing others to desert? Or are they trying to cover their arses by doing away with Nineteen, Twenty and Twenty-one… the ones covering Mutinous Assemblies… Seditious Words… hiding or covering Mutiny and Sedition… shit-stirring over unwholesome victuals! They put that in your compact so no one would be punished later? Well, what d'ye think the King's Pardon is about, then!'

'Twenty-six!' Bosun Pendarves roared from the base of the main-mast. 'Maybe they like to neglect the steering… the cunny-thumbed bastards!'

'Twen'y-seven… an' we'll all be allowed t'sleep on watch!' a sailor on the larboard gangway shouted.

'So what the Devil is it they wanted, then? Does it make any sense to you, lads?' Lewrie asked them, once that laugh had run its course. 'What do your delegates really want? Look you yonder.'

He pointed ashore towards Sheerness.

'Yesterday, lads, you could see a flag flying on top of a house ashore… the flag of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty. Lord Spencer was here, I'm told. They came to negotiate, to tell your delegates that the Spit-head terms were official Acts of Parliament, show your leaders that the King's Pardon was real. Well, do you see their flag flying now?'

An hundred heads craned to look.