no one could see him blushing with embarrassment in the dark. At once, sir.
About a half-hour later, HMS Stag came looming up in the gloom, surging alongside under reduced sail, but still going a lot faster than Proteus, within a long musket shot of her larboard, seaward, beam.
'Hoy, Proteus!' Capt. Philpott cried through a brass speaking trumpet. 'You there, Captain Lewrie? Something amiss, is there?'
'Hoy, Captain Philpott!' Lewrie shouted back. 'I'm still here, but we've a wee problem with our rudder. Shot halfway off!'
'That's what happens when you let a bad'un sneak up and spank you on the arse, aye!' Philpott cried, sounding like he was chortling.
God, I didn't know how much I despise him, 'til now! Lewrie took a moment to think.
'Do you request a tow, Lewrie?' Philpott offered.
'Aye… we need a tow into harbour, Philpott!' Lewrie shouted, figuring that if Philpott would drop the honourifics, he would, too, no matter did he outrank him on the Captain's List.
'Be ready when we come round, again, sir!' Philpott ordered. 'I'll fetch-to off your bows, do you reduce to bare poles, and lower a boat to transfer the towing cable. Your cable, or mine, ha ha? '
'I will supply!' Lewrie replied.
'Good-ho! Mind, Lewrie… towing you in, I'll not demand that you fly my flag over yours, as my 'prize'!'
Choke on it, an' damn yer sense of humour, ye bastard! Lewrie furiously thought, wondering if it could get any more humiliating.
After a moment, Lewrie took evil glee in the comforting thought that whilst Proteus swung to her anchors at Cape Town, making repairs, it would be Philpott who would have the utter delight in accompanying Grafton and Horatius 'cross the Indian Ocean, with not a jot of shore liberty… and Lewrie would have free access to the Cape, 'the tavern of the seas'!
Do I thank that Frenchman for that? Lewrie wondered; Mine arse on a bandbox if I will!
'Contemnere, miser! Vitanda est improba Siren
desidia, aut quidquid vita meliore parasti
ponendum aequo animo.'
'You will earn contempt, poor -wretch.
You must shun the wicked Siren, Sloth,
or be content to drop whatever honour
you have gained in nobler hours.'
Horace, Satires II, in, 14-16
Oh, 'twas a splendid little victory, the saving of the convoy, on paper, at least! Nine helpless merchantmen {eight of them worthy) assaulted by a French squadron, which might have been consisted of two frigates, and a brace of corvettes, the foes' fell purposes countered by English Pluck and Daring, superb Seamanship, and Argus-eyed gunnery, all most shrewdly directed and concentrated in a trice by rapid application of a unique night-signalling system invented by the escorts' commander, a system the Fleet would surely find superior to any other!
And, had the Frogs been possessed of real 'bottom,' it could've been a spectacularly conclusive fight, resulting in the capture or the utter destruction of a significant number of the French raiders who preyed on British trade in this part of the world's oceans, adding even brighter laurels to the Royal Navy's fame, and their Sovereign's honour.
But, the shivering cowards had done as much as they dared, then scampered away in the face of overwhelming strength, well-peppered and 'much cut up' by good British iron, whilst their own sea-gunnery fared as poorly as it usually did… except for sneaking most unfairly and knavishly (but what could one expect of Frogs?) up on HMS Proteus, and whose fault was that, certainly not the 'Victorious Squadron's' alert commander, who was at that instant busy directing the activities of his own flagship, and his squadron's ships, miles away, so there!
Lewrie looked up from a copy of that report, after gathering the gist of it, and bestowed upon the Flag-Captain to Vice-Adm. Sir Roger Curtis, commanding officer of the Cape Station, a most dubious expression, all but rolling his eyes.
'Indeed, sir,' the Flag-Captain derisively simpered after Lewrie handed it back to him. 'Captain Sir Tobias Treghues may make of your encounter with the French what he will, but 'tis doubtful if Admiralty will find his account much of a success. We shall, of course, despatch it to London…' 'Of course, sir,' Lewrie replied with a knowing nod. 'With an account of our own, of course, anent this odd affair,' the Flag-Captain further said, with a mocking brow raised.
Lewrie had already seen a thumbnail sketch of this report, in a scathing personal letter that Treghues had sent aboard, a letter replete with 'Lewrie, how could you spoil such potential glory by your inattentiveness!' by allowing himself to be taken so unawares, salted with 'I have always felt uneasy in my mind over your lamentable lack of assiduousness,' and with several 'Tsk-Tsks' over his utterly casual and tongue-in-cheek and lack-a-day and dilettantish approach to such a serious and demanding profession as the Navy required, and et cetera and et cetera, in much the same vein, concluding with the supposition 'that one could suspect that, to avoid a long and depriving voyage to the Far East, you finagled a way out by letting your ship be damaged by a mere corvette,' along with a closing warning that should any part of the convoy suffer loss due to further French action, with the escort so reduced, then he, Capt. Sir Tobias Treghues, would personally hold Capt. Alan Lewrie responsible for it, and make sure that Admiralty did, too!
Lewrie had not expected to see the official version, though… junior officers were never allowed such a luxury; but, this was Sir Roger Curtis he was dealing with, he had to recall.
They had met, briefly, in the aftermath of the battle that had famously become known as The Glorious First of June, in 1794, on the decks of HMS Queen Charlotte, when Capt. Sir Roger Curtis was Flag-Captain to Adm. Sir Richard 'Black Dick' Howe. Lewrie had spent a whole day being pursued by two scouting French frigates, ending penned up against the unengaged side of the entire French line of battle, and had gotten round the end of their line and into the shelter of Howe's battle line by the skin of his teeth. That exploit had not been mentioned in despatches by Sir Roger, gaining Lewrie no fame of it. And, playing favourites most shamefully, then-Capt. Sir Roger Curtis had also omitted the names of captains and ships that had not been able to come to close grips with the French on the light winds that prevailed that day, denying them Admiralty recognition-and the
