Seaflower

Blinking in concentration, Cole listened.

'Yez waggles yer fingers, like so. An' then yer waits, f'r it's the proper thing fer masons to then pr'tend ter be in a rage — just so's nobody c'n accuse 'em of being partial to their own kind.' Doggo paused to allow it to be digested. 'An' then — mark me well, if y' please — yer waits fer the show ter blow over, an' that's when y' makes yer salute, both hands, all yer fingers at once.'

Later in the watch, Cole had his chance.

'Where's that idle jackanapes?' roared the boatswain, from the group of men aft preparing to send up a fair-weather topgallant sail. ‘Lay aft this instant, y' lubberly sod.'

Cole sauntered aft with a confident smile. Merrick drew breath for a terrible blast — but Cole boldly looked him in the eye and made the first sign.

The boatswain staggered as if struck. 'God rot m' bones — you bloody dog! Damn your impertinence! So help me, I.. .' Merrick paused for control, the enormity of it all robbing him of breath.

In the appalled silence the seamen looked at each other with horror and mirth in equal proportion. Cole saw that this was time for the salute, and bravely brought up both hands and waggled smartly. The boatswain's eyes bulged and his hands clawed the empty air. When the explosion came it was very terrible.

 

Jarman looked at Kydd speculatively. His cabin was tiny, there was not really room for two people, but there was nowhere else to speak in private.

'Kydd,' he said, and paused, as if reluctant to go on. Kydd waited patiently. 'Kydd, I'm the sailing master 'n' you're m' quartermaster.' This did not need an answer. Jarman levelled his gaze. 'What I'm a-sayin' is not f'r other ears. D'ye know what I mean?'

Kydd shifted uncomfortably. If Jarman was sounding him out over some spat with another, he wanted no part of it.

Seeming to sense his unease Jarman hastened to explain: 'Jus' a precaution, y' understands, nothin' t' worry of,' he said. 'No harm keepin' an eye t' weather, like.' Kydd maintained a wary silence.

The master picked up a book of navigation tables. 'I been to sea since I was a kitling, an' ended up mate in an Indiaman. I know the sea, ye unnerstands — t' get to be master o' Seaflower I has to be examined by th' Brothers of Trinity House f'r this rate o' vessel, a tough haul.'

Kydd wondered where it was all leading. He had no problem with the master's competence, but then remembered the reserve between him and the Captain. Was he feeling insecure, needing Kydd's approval? Surely not.

Jarman's voice dropped. Kydd strained to hear against the hiss of sea against the outside of the hull. 'It's like this — an' please hear me out. Th' Cap'n — an' please t' know I mean no disrespect - is a young man, an' did all his time in a vessel o' size, never in a small 'un. Y' knows that in a big ship ye can make all the blunders y' like an' there's always someone to bring y' up with a round turn, but a small hooker . . .'

Kydd kept his face blank. This might be the first step on the way to a court-martial for mutiny.

'As I said, you're my quartermaster, an' directly responsible t' me.'

This looked grave: was Jarman trying to secure loyalty to himself?

'Consider, if y’ please. The Cap'n an' me are the only ones aboard that c'n figure our position, th' bo'sun never learned. Now, I could say as how I'm a mort disturbed about we bein' carried off b' the fever, but I'd be lying. See, this is m' first ship as master, an' anything goes awry, then it'll be me t' blame — I don't see as how I should give best if it comes t' an argyment over the workings.'

Farrell, as captain, had a duty to seek the sailing master's advice only, and could entirely overrule him. Jarman wanted a witness — but what possible use was Kydd?