King`s Captain

and t'gallants. The foremast first, to lighten and lift the bows.

'Er… aye, aye, sir!' Wyman goggled, then gulped, reset his hat, and cupped his hands round his mouth. 'Hoy, there! All topmen aloft! Lay aloft, trice up, and lay out! Free tops'ls and t'gallants! Smartly, foremast… handsomely, main and mizzen!'

Lewrie looked aft. That frigate off his larboard quarter seemed to be gaining slightly, though not yet within range of her foredeck chase-guns. Heavier stuff was peppering about astern though; someone had gotten a 3rd Rate's lower-deck 32-pounders in action at last and three or four round-shot went moaning past Proteus, rustling the air with the sound of ripping canvas, to splash about a quarter-mile ahead of her bows. Turning to follow their flight, and seeing those towering plumes of spray, Lewrie could see several merchantmen far beyond, out to sea, some coastal fishing boats slanting in towards the Thamesmouth or the Medway. Or at least they had been, until they'd seen firing and gotten a fright, for they either fetched-to or broadened profiles even as he watched, steering clear of something they didn't wish to be involved with.

Coasters! Lewrie thought; find myself a coaster, warm him off of theThames, and get him to land my chained mutineers somewhere else… turn 'em over to a civil magistrate, if not a Navy officer. Where's the Impress Services; they'd suit? Harwich, Whitstable, Herne Bay… bloody Margate?

' 'Ere!' Miss Nancy was crying, scampering up the starboard ladder to the quarterdeck, with several other doxies in tow. 'We're goin' out! We wanna go back t'Sheerness, Cap'um, not t'seaf'

'Aye, what're ya playin' at, sir?' Sally Blue's mother carped. 'By God, didya play us false, I'll have yer gizzard!'

'Ladies!' Lewrie boomed, spreading his arms in greeting, just as chearly as anything to placate them. 'You did it, by Christ!'

Mr. Winwood could be heard uttering a scandalised groan.

'My undying thanks to all of you!' he pressed on quickly, taking off his hat, making a formal leg to them. ' 'Twas a fearsome and brave deed you did in your King's, and Country's, service; and I will be sure to list each of you by name, with the firmest recommendations to Vice-Admiral Buckner, the First Secretary to Admiralty, Mr. Evan Nepean… aye, I'll write 'His Nobs' King George himself, swear I shall! telling them what splendid, patriotic women you are. And honour our pact, I assure you. But…' he said, straightening and pointing astern, 'we aren't out of the woods yet. We almost lost again, and it was happenstance that we beat 'em down when the tide was running out, not in. I will set you ashore… promise! But we have to get out of the range of their guns first. Wait 'til dusk, no longer. Swear it.'

He didn't think it would go amiss to walk amongst them (though he suspected they still had their impromptu weapons about their persons), bestow kisses on work-hardened hands, buss cheeks on the younger-and cleaner- and speak a few personal words of congratulations and gratitude. Sally Blue responded most eagerly, flinging her arms 'round him again, and he patted (well, perhaps stroked as well) her slim back as she jounced atip-toe and squealed nicely. It seemed to mollify them.

'Oh, give 'im 'is fob back, Sally,' Miss Nancy chuckled when they'd untangled from their embrace, relenting to his logic.

'Sorr-eyy.' Sally Blue blushed quite prettily. 'Habit, like.'

'Right, then, Cap'um Lewrie.' Miss Nancy shrugged. 'We'll wait 'til dark.'

'You kill any of 'em, Miss Nancy?' he had to ask.

'Hurt a few, I reckon.' She shrugged again. 'Aye, one o' them committeemen…'at Kever feller? Ravin' 'bout settin' light to th' powder store, 'fore he'd let th' ship be took, so…' She drew a hand across her throat, though not with as much enthusiasm as Sally Blue had the moment before the counter-mutiny had erupted. 'Lost int'rest fer quim too quick; couldn't 'old 'im back.'

Lewrie nodded, thinking on how he'd manage Proteus as a fighting ship without Master Gunner, Mate, and Yeoman of The Powder. Oh shit, he suddenly realised; we could've been blown higher'n a kite! I do b'lieve I need me a sit-down. And who slit Kever's gizzard for him? You, Nancy? he wondered. Damme, don't know why I ever thought her attractive. There's some women just too dangerous t'mess with!

He looked aloft, saw the tops'ls on both fore and main drawing, the fore t'gallant heaving upward from the fighting top, almost in position, half-open and flagging like a rattle of musketry. He turned to look back towards the Great Nore. What cannonfire directed at Proteus from the anchored ships wasn't reaching them and was tailing off in a weary acceptance-and it had never been more than half-hearted. The frigate to her North still stood on, though slanting more to the Sou-Sou'west, back into the Queen's Channel, as if she was breaking off pursuit too.

Can't trust their own hands to chase us too far, Lewrie realised with joy; fore they get ideas about escape in their heads too!

'Things well in hand, Mister Winwood?' he asked, walking back to the helm where Winwood was buried in his charts, and the two Grace men were craning their necks and conferring on where the next deadly shoal might be.

'Good as may be expected, Captain,' Winwood allowed, not quite sure he liked being counselled by two common seamen; wasn't he Sailing Master, the Admiralty-chosen sage responsible for safe navigation?

'In th' main channel, sir.' Elder Grace grinned. 'An' clear o' th' worst bars an' shoals, so far. Markers an' buoys'll see us right.'

'Very well, Mister Winwood, Seaman Grace. Carry on.' Lewrie nodded. 'And, thankee… thankee both. Or, all three, that is,' he added, as their son/grandson crooked his neck to follow Winwood's finger on the chart, between their legs, seeing a wonder he'd not suspected could be pictured or written down, that lore he'd learned from the cradle, mostlike. 'For your loyalty and steadfastness through all our troubles. I believe, Mister Winwood, we'll be needing a replacement for your Irish Master's Mate, Mister Nugent?'

'Well, aye, sir.' Winwood frowned.

'Move one of the quartermasters up, one of the mates to replace that'un… and Mister Grace here,' he nodded at the elder, 'advanced to Quartermaster's Mate?'

'Very good, sir.' Winwood nodded, whether he liked it or not.

'And Young Grace, sir!' Lewrie said, squatting down. 'Mister Peacham is ashore… permanently, pray Jesus. For the short time we must promote Mister Catterall an acting-lieutenant, Mister Adair, too, as Third Officer. That leaves an opening in the midshipman's mess. Would you be interested, Master Grace?' he asked the boy. 'Try your hands as a trainee midshipman?'

For a poor fisheries lad with no hopes of a naval career, it was a miraculous bolt from the blue. Aye, he was more than eager!

'Good, then,' Lewrie said, rising to his feet. 'Carry on, Mister Winwood. Make us a good offing, but we'll lurk off to the South, for a while longer. Deep water off Herne Bay, Whitstable? By dark, we'll close the coast and land our prisoners and civilian women. Should we not come across a coaster or large fisheries boat, we could pay to put them ashore.'

'Aye, aye, sir.' Winwood perked up, glad to be rid of the women at last.

'Know most of 'em, sir,' Elder Grace supplied, still peering at the seaward horizon with one hand shading his eyes. 'Beg pardon, but do ya wish, it'd be best did I hail 'em. They know me, but they'd run from a Navy ship, expectin' a Press Gang, sir.'

'Very well, Grace, we'll do it that way.' Lewrie nodded. 'I'll go below for a moment then. Mister Wyman? You have the deck, sir. I have much to write 'fore dusk, and little time in which to do it.'

Proteus had been slowly hobby horsing over the tide-run, surging a bit to the press of the winds. Now her bows lifted as a wave, a sea wave, crested below her cutwater and broke to cream down her flanks. A cheer went up, for she was now truly free and halfway to salt ocean.

'Mister Wyman!' Lewrie roared. 'Haul down those yard ropes… haul down those red flags. Mister Catterall? Fetch out a Red Ensign from the aft lockers and bend it on. Put us back under true colours!'

He went forrud to the edge of the nettings to look down on his crew. It was a thinner crew than before, barely