King, Ship, and Sword

'G'bye, Sewallis,' Hugh said in return, sticking out his hand to shake. 'Give my regards to the other lads at school. Put ink in the proctor's port, like we planned? And, when you go to grandfather's, make sure you see to my horse now and then. Well?'

'I've a cart for your dunnage,' Lewrie said. 'I'll be back in a bit. Have a bit of time before I go aboard Reliant and you coach back to London, and we can say our good-byes. Right? Ready, Hugh?'

'Aye, sir,' Hugh replied, easily turning 'nautical.'

The carter trundled along before them as they strolled along behind, past the last of the civilian part of town to the dockyards and the warehouses, then to the docks. It was a raw day, with solid grey overcast clouds and a fitful April wind, damp and a bit chilly, strong enough to clatter halliards and blocks, and make the seabirds complain as Hugh and his father reached the stone stairs down to the boat landing.

'One for Pegasus!' Lewrie shouted to the bargees, selecting the nearest lug-sailed boat the size of his gig, and leaving it to its two-man crew and the carter to heave Hugh's sea-chest into it.

'Well…,' Hugh muttered, childishly shuffling his feet in his new pair of Hessian boots, eager to be away yet loath to say a real, nigh-permanent farewell.

'God, how I hate this, Hugh!' Lewrie spat. 'I know it's what ye want, what ye were fated for, as my second son, but still… it hurts t'see ye off. Navy's a damned hard life. No matter you're in great hands with Thom Charlton, I'll worry 'bout ye every day.'

'I'll be fine, father, just you see,' Hugh assured him, naпve despite all the cautions Lewrie had drummed into him. 'We'll put the French in their place.'

'Here,' Lewrie said, reaching into his boat-cloak. 'Your Navy pay as a Midshipman ain't much, so you'll be needin' some extra funds. Soon as ye report to Captain Charlton, give him this t'dole out t'ye. The Midshipmen's mess'll always have need to whip round for luxuries. Just don't let the others gull ye outta your money on foolishness or gamblin'. And don't let on you're better off than ye are, or you'll be the one they strip, right down to your bones.' He gave him a note-of-hand and a small wash-leather purse containing ten pounds of coin. 'And this.'

From the small of his back, hooked to his own sword belt under his uniform coat, he withdrew a Midshipman's dirk in its scabbard.

'Wondered why I didn't buy ye one in London? That's because I was havin' my old one re-gilt. Leather of the scabbard's a bit worn, but that'd happen to a new'un, too, after a few months at sea.'

'Your own dirk?' Hugh exclaimed, turning it over in his hands, drawing it and waving it in the weak sunshine, his eyes agleam in joy.

'Take good care of it, mind,' Lewrie told him, and showed him how to slip it through the white leather frog on his belt, and how to thread the clam-shell catch into the slit in the leather. 'There,' he said further, satisfied that it was secure. 'And when you attain your Lieutenancy, my old hanger will be yours, too.'

'Your Napoleon hanger?' Hugh gasped. 'No, Daddy… sir. Not that one. I'll not wear a sword that… murderer touched.'

'This'un, then,' Lewrie offered, patting the hanger that hung at his left side. 'When the time comes.'

Hugh looked relieved and nodded his beaming acceptance.

'Well then… might not've said it often enough, but you must remember that I love you, Hugh,' Lewrie told him, wishing he could put his arms round the lad, kneel down, and give him a good squeeze. 'And I am so proud of you I could bust. My regards to Thomas Charlton, and my thanks for taking you into his ship. S'pose it's time, though,' he said, pulling out his watch to check the time. 'Might take half an hour t'reach Pegasus on this wind, and it's best did you report just at Eight Bells, and the change of watch.'

'Good-bye, Da… father. Sir.' Hugh manfully said, sticking out his hand for an adult shake, though his eyes had suddenly gone a bit tearful. They shook, and, to shun the grief, Lewrie pulled him in to give him that last, brief hug, after all, and thump him on his back. 'Remember all the pranks were played on me when I first joined. The molasses in the hammock… come hear the dog-fish bark? Gather dilberries from the main-top, and for God's sake, never go cryin' for a Marine Private Cheeks, and absolutely refuse if they play 'Building a Galley'!'

'I'll remember, sir,' Hugh said with a shaky laugh as he stepped back, settled the fit of his coat, and doffed his hat in a salute, which Lewrie returned in equally grave manner. 'Write me, often as you can. I'll write, as well.'

'Good-bye, Hugh. Make us proud.'

Then Hugh was down the slippery, green-coated stairs and into his boat. She shoved off, the lugsail raised as soon as the last of her dock lines was free. Lewrie stood with his hat aloft for another long minute, and Hugh gaily waved back at him with his, 'til the boat was fully under way, already shrunk to a toy. Another minute or so and it was almost lost in the early morning boat traffic.

And that was the end of a major part of Lewrie's life, his care for his children, his role of a father. Now what he had was a ship.

And a war.

BOOK V

Let the die be cast.

Begin the war and try your mettle.

Yet my case is already won-

With so many brave around me.

GAIUS PETRONIUS,

THE ROAD TO CROTУN, 268-271

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Never seen the like, sir!' Lt. Westcott marvelled again as a fresh boatload of real, actual willing volunteers came aboard direct from the rendezvous tavern. 'We've almost all our necessary hands rated Able, lack but a dozen Ordinary Seamen, and so awash in Landsmen and boys that the Surgeon, Mister Mainwaring, is rejecting people for piles and lack of teeth!'

'I told you I was notorious, Mister Westcott,' Lewrie drawled as he enjoyed a morning cup of coffee on the quarterdeck. 'A bit of fame… good or bad, deserved or otherwise… goes a long way. My sort, well… I've dined out on it for years!'

Wonder of wonders, people in Portsmouth had flocked to his recruiting 'rondy.' Free Black sailors from the West Indies who knew him as 'Saint Alan the Liberator' (a sobriquet he detested) because he had stolen a dozen plantation slaves on Jamaica and made them free to crew HMS Proteus back in '97. There were Irish and West Country men who'd heard that he had a lucky geas upon him, good cess. The lure of prize-money and adventure had brought some eager young lads, that and the fact that frigates had more elbow-room per hand than other ships.

Will Cony had come through with his offer of local lads from Anglesgreen, two hay waggons of them, for a total of twenty-one. They would be Landsmen, of course, totally ignorant and unable to hand, reef, or steer, but they could learn, and they could man the guns, haul the lines, and fight. 'God A'mighty, lads, but for tuppence, I'd gladly sail with ya all!' Will had declared when he'd come out to the ship with them, and assured Lewrie that he'd sternly told them what they'd be in for, so every Man Jack of 'em was there willingly, despite what shipboard life would be like.