King`s Captain

loyalists.

'Oh, Lord, sir,' Aspinall said again, in a wee-er voice. 'They really mean'ta start a rebellion. Damn' traitors they are! Were, all along, sir, an' just hidin' h'it 'til…'

'Hark, sah,' Andrews said, cutting him off, cocking his head to one side. But they could all hear the drum of horny feet on oak decks, the rustle and thump of coiled sail-tending lines being taken down from the racks of belaying pins and dropped on the deck where they'd feed out smoothly; the preparatory creak of rope as men scampered up the shrouds and rat-lines to the tops and upper yards, the groan of the capstan as it was slowly rotated to free its drum before the messenger cable could be led to it and wound about it so the ship could be heaved into short-stays above her bower anchor. Proteus trembled gently to the movements as Bales and his mutineers prepared her to get underway.

Lewrie went forrud to the door and pulled it open to look out at what was going on, hoping someone, anyone, might put up strong objections, but… worried as they seemed, they were still cowed by rote duty, cowed by force of arms and the threat of punishment from their rebellious leaders… the habit of obedience drummed or lashed into them… damn' em.

'Nossir.' Landsman Haslip leered at him, with a musket held at port-arms across his chest. 'You stay b'low, sir,' he insisted, taking stance to block Lewrie's exit. At his shoulder was Marine Private Mollo, also armed with a musket. 'An' no talkin' neither. Don't 'ave no need o' you, sir… none a'tall.' He grinned evilly.

The deck was its usual bedlam, of course, as gangs of men stood crowded together at jears, halliards, lift-lines, clews, and sheets, and no ship ever had room on deck for all of them to work at once, not with all those men at the capstan, the nippermen along the messenger and the heavier cable. It was shoulder-to-shoulder, as dense as the packing of slaves on a 'black-birder' on the Middle Passage, and with so many women, and a fair number of children, aboard taking up precious deckspace…

'Here, now!' the old trollop with the passable daughter yelled, advancing on the doorway, and Lewrie felt a sudden flood of gratitude that Mollo and Haslip were armed; she looked so angry and full of lust for blood, she'd turned plummy-purple! Daughter, and that Nancy, were close on her heels, followed by at least a half-dozen more ship-wives, all howling bloody murder! 'Git out me way, ya God-damn' bean-pole! I wanna word with 'at useless cap'um, yonder!' the old harridan shrilled.

'Aye, he's got some 'splainin' t'do!' Miss Nancy threatened.

Damme, wonder why I ever thought she was toppable, Lewrie thought with a frisson of dread; now she looks like death's head on a mopstickl

'Let us in there, damn yer blood!'

'Why… go right in, ladies,' Haslip snickered, half-bowing to them and doffing his tarred hat. 'You go right in!'

In the face of that, Lewrie retreated to the middle of his day-cabin as about ten women swished in like a Macedonian phalanx, bristly and out-of-sorts.

'Arrr… some live better'n others, I do declare,' Old Trollop remarked, looking 'round at the furnishings. Lewrie kept a harder eye on the Lissome Daughter, who was picking things up and valuating them; books, plates, cups,.spoons, napkin-rings… anything that wasn't locked up or nailed down, and several others were coughing, strolling, and 'shopping' too; a sure sign they'd practiced the shop-lifting 'lay' a time or two together.

'We'll frisk you down when you leave, ladies,' Lewrie declared, 'so you might as well leave my things be.'

'Aye, an' I'll jus' bet ye'd enjoy th' pattin' down,' Lissome Daughter tittered.

'Depends on how you might enjoy it, young miss.' Lewrie grinned.

'La, what a cheeky ol' bugger ye are!' She coloured, swishing her skirts impishly. 'Fetchin', though…'

'An' take 'at spoon out your apron pocket,' Aspinall warned.

'What do you wish of me?' Lewrie asked.

'First of all, Cap'um… how 'bout ya trot out some grog? We're dry as dust,' Miss Nancy demanded, 'an' them sailors o' your' won't go shares no more.'

'Ah.' Lewrie glowered. 'That all?'

'Nossir, it ain't,' Old Trollop thundered. 'We wants t'know what's t'happen to us, dammit! What-all that speechifyin' was about.'

'Aye, does that mean they'll hang us as traitors'n rebels if we stay out here?' Nancy frowned, hands on her hips in a full aggressive fishwife's stance. 'Mean, do we let 'em top us, we're guilty of givin' comfort an' such, so we get took up for't?'

'Ah!' Lewrie glimmed, his eyes crinkling with un-looked-for inspiration. 'Uhm, Aspinall… do you and Andrews fetch out the barricoe of wine from the lazarette… the, uhm… claret. Mister Padgett, may I prevail upon you to break out all my cups and glasses? I doubt I've seats for all of you ladies, but…' he said invitingly, waving a hand about the cabins.

'Claret, well now!' Several oohed or ahhed. 'Ain' niver had a claret.' 'Sure ye ain't got no gin?' one of them had to carp though.

They shoved dining table chairs out in the open, tried to shift his desk chairs but found they were 'fiddled down'; filled the settee to starboard overfull, even perching on the arms, and clucked and put on airs as they got their glasses, mugs, or coffee cups filled from a hastily decanted pewter pitcher, getting 'lordly' for lordly guzzle.

Well, burgundy, Lewrie sniffed to himself, not good claret, and I doubt they'll know the difference. Gad, look at 'em slosh it back… that five-gallon barricoe 'II be gone in an eyeblink!

'Now, ladies…' he began, accepting a sherry glass full of the wine himself-to be 'chummy.' 'I have to warn you… what our King said is that he no longer looks on this as a mutiny but as an armed rebellion against the Crown. And anyone who persists in it is labeled a traitor to King and Country from the moment it was read. Just like readin' the Riot

Act before the soldiers come to clear the streets… once you hear it you have no more excuses for creating a disturbance.'

'God o' Mercy, they'll string us all up!' one of the older ones wailed into her hand, her fine 'claret' forgotten and her eyes red.

'Tosh, ya silly ol' cow!' Nancy gravelled, tossing her chin and her hair. 'Won't hang poor whores, 'cept those that sided with rebels! Transport some maybe…' she said, level-headedly, 'examples, like.'

'Gawd, I don't wanna go t'no New South Wales!' Lissome Daughter whined. 'T'other end o' th' world, nigger savages an' snakes… tigers an' dragons! I seen 'em in a book, I did! Real dragons, with tongues o' fire! An' coal- black murderers wif pointy teeth too!'

'Hmmph!' Lewrie heard Cox'n Andrews sniff in disdain. He gave him a shrug, to commiserate with him over the pig-ignorance of whores.

'Oh, worse than that.' Lewrie winced, almost sucking wind between his teeth, trying to recall all he'd seen in the Far East or in a recent account of the flora and fauna of that part of the world.

'Lord, what'd be worse, sir?' Lissome Daughter blubbered.

'Sea-snakes, long as this ship,' Lewrie intimated forebodingly. 'Crawl right out of the water and swallow folk whole. Poisonous snakes, but with mouths that big, it doesn't matter much, now does it. Snakes and scorpions on land, spiders big as soup plates… poisonous too, I read. Crocodiles fiercer than the ones in Egypt… plagues of flies as bad as the Bible. A lot of sickness. Can't even wet your feet in any stream 'thout you get bit by something. Can't sleep safe…'

They sat gap-mouthed, looking physically ill.

'An' that whatchyacallem they read, h'it says if we be took with rebels, we're rebels too, then?' the red-eyed one sniffled.

'That's what it meant, yes,' Lewrie sadly intoned. 'Means any person who sells 'em anything, associates with 'em, or even knows who they are but doesn't speak up, will be called a rebel too. Can't hide 'em out from the law either. If you don't stop others from helping them, that's enough for a court to rule you guilty. Just like it urged me to do my utmost to quash them and take back this ship and return it to proper duty.'