lubberly, but excitin'.'

'So sorry, sir,' Westcott said, suddenly downcast.

'Not your fault, Mister Westcott,' Lewrie assured him. 'With a crew as raw as ours, and with so little time allowed for workin' 'em to competence, I'm just relieved we got out without killin' anybody in the process, or bein' trampled by a two-decker. Now we're out at sea, though, we can continue drillin' 'em proper, to pur mutual satisfaction of readiness.'

'Thank you, sir,' Westcott said with a nod of his head.

'Damn my eyes, it's a nice morning, ain't it?' Lewrie said as he looked up at the commissioning pendant streaming towards the bows, at the wind-ful sails and set of the yards' bracing; at the clouds and the patches of blue sky. 'A merry May morning.'

'Indeed, sir,' Westcott agreed. 'And the sea's moderate.'

'We'll give the hands one hour in which to gawk and get used to her motion,' Lewrie decided. 'And some music'd suit. Desmond?' Capt. Lewrie called out. 'Your lap-pipes and the other musicians, and give us some cheer!'

'Right away, sor!' his Cox'n shouted back.

Liam Desmond and his uilleann pipes, the young Marine drummer and two fifers, a couple of older hands who produced their fiddles, and one fellow with a shallow Irish drum, even the cook's assistant with a set of spoons beaten on his thigh, all joined together amidships in the waist atop a hatch grating. Farewell airs like 'Portsmouth Lass' and 'Over the Hills and Far Away'; spritelier tunes such as 'The Parson Among the Peas' and 'One Misty, Moisty Morning'; drinking songs like 'I'll Fathom the Bowl' and 'He That Would an Alehouse Keep'-an item mentioned in the recruiting flyers strewn about Portsmouth had promised 'music and dancing nightly'-went down well with all hands, prompting some experienced tars to teach the 'lubbers' how to dance a horn-pipe.

''It was pleas-ant and delightful, on a midsummer's morn, when the green fields and the mea-dows were buried in corn…,'' the sailors began to sing, bringing a touch of a smile on Lewrie's face for the first time.

''… and the larks they sang melodious, and the larks they sang melodious, and the larks they sang melo-dious, at the dawning of the day,'' Lewrie joined in under his breath, though his right hand beat the measure in the air, feeling a swell of unwanted emotion, the sort best hidden aft and below in the great-cabins.

… said the sailor to his true love,

I'm bound far away.

I'm bound for the Indies,

where the loud cannons roar,

and I'm going to leave my Nancy…

He turned away to face out-board, to larboard, pacing down to the lee rails, squinting with suddenly damp eyes. He reached into his coat for a handkerchief.

… and if ever I return again,

and if ev-er I return again,

and if ev-er I return again,

I would ma-ake you my bride!

'Damned nonsense,' he muttered, blowing his nose, yet… the last verse! oh-oh, no my love, farewell. Saying may I go along with you… saying may I go along with you… say-ing may I go along with you… oh-oh, no, my love… fare-well.''

'A fresh cup of coffee, sir?' his cabin steward, Pettus, asked, arriving on the quarterdeck with Lewrie's old black-iron pot.

'Uhm? Aye, Pettus, that'd be welcome,' Lewrie told him, taking one last embarrassed swipe at his face. He wandered back up the slight cant of the deck to his proper place at the windward bulwarks, his and his alone as captain. 'Coffee, Mister Westcott?'

'Aye, sir, thank you,' Westcott eagerly replied, accepting a cup from Pettus, but waving off goat milk or sugar, preferring it 'noir.'

'Is our wardroom musical, sir?' Lewrie asked as Desmond led the musicians into 'The Jolly Thresher.'

'One or two decent voices, sir, but no instrumental talents that I've been able to discover,' Lt. Westcott told him. 'I believe, however, that the Midshipmen's mess is where you'll find fiddlers and tootlers on recorders, flutes, and such… perhaps a guitar?'

'And you, Mister Westcott?' Lewrie further enquired.

'I clap and beat time marvellously well, sir,' Westcott said, a brief chuckle of self-deprecating humour punctuating his claim. 'May I ask if you are musical, sir?'

'I've a penny-whistle,' Lewrie allowed with a modest shrug. 'An host of people have begged me to toss it, but…' He took a sip from his battered old pewter mug, chuckling himself, unable to remember if he had packed it in his sea-chests or had left it with his furnishings that had been carted over to his father's house.

No matter, for the winds seemed to increase a bit, and Reliant heeled loo'rd a degree or so more. Sunlight breaking through the thin clouds dappled the deck and straining sails, and glinted diamond-like on the sea before the bows. Desmond and his band were now giving the crew a rendition of a minuet, one unfamiliar to Lewrie, and its pacing seemed to synchronise with the frigate's stately motion. She rolled a bit to loo'rd, then rose up horizontal; she snuffled her bows into the sea and came gliding a bit bows-up, with the jib- boom and bow sprit an orchestra leader's baton. Even the chop of the Channel that could make a passage feel as rough as an un-sprung waggon on a rocky road felt as smooth as a chalked dance hall floor, over which Reliant swanned with the grace of an elegant young woman.

'Pleasant and delightful, indeed,' Lewrie muttered, taking more than a little joy in the feel of a ship under him once more, savouring the sunshine, the moderate and pacific seas, the wind, and… the far horizon beyond the thrusting jib-boom. What lay there, well… that was up to Fate, but… didn't they say that the getting there was the most fun?

CHAPTER FORTY

0nce Modestes squadron was alone on the Atlantic, free and able to manoeuvre, without being flanked by those other columns of warships, Captain Blanding began to act more like a Rear-Admiral. Even as they made their way to a point mid-way 'twixt Ushant, the northwestern most tip of France, and the Scilly Isles and Land's End, he worked his four ships like one of those massive columns.

They wore in succession off the wind, they tacked in succession to windward; he signalled for them all to tack to form a line-abreast, then come about as one to form a line of battle. They sailed Nor'west to the Scillys in-line- ahead, then reversed course by wearing in succession at one instance, or wore or tacked together to re-form line on the reciprocal heading.

For the most part, Captain Blanding preferred that HMS Reliant be the lead ship in- column, with his flagship, HMS Modeste, the second, and the lighter frigates, Cockerel and Pylades, astern of him, obviously planning for the wished-for combat to come and placing the heaviest weight of metal, and the largest artillery, at the forefront where his initial broadsides would do the most damage, cause the most consternation. He would, though, alter their order to give Captains Parham and Stroud experience at leading.

He also worked the signalmen half to death. Blanding had gotten copies of Adm. Home Popham's revised signals book of 1803 for all ships and was so delighted with how many thousands of words, how many phrases and orders could be expressed by one-to-four numeral flags, that Mids and men of the Afterguards aboard all four

Вы читаете King, Ship, and Sword
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату