The French Admiral

was a mere formality in such cases, and the Admiralty in faraway London paid no attention to such mundane matters, not like making someone a commissioned officer or giving a young boy command of a ship. If he did not do something completely stupid during the trial period, he would be made a full master's mate within two months or so. And from that very instant, he was a junior watch stander, a deck officer in a shorthanded ship, with better quarters than a hammock, the right to wear a sword instead of a boy's dirk, and two ponds, two shillings a month of real pay (or certificates attesting to it in lieu of coin) instead of being allowed money from his annuity. His rations would be the same, the air below decks would be the same, and the dangers of the sea would be the same for all, but everyone below David in rank would now have to call him 'sir' or Mister Lewrie.

'Miscreant or not, you have earned it,' Treghues said, turning prim once more, as though he had said too much and had let down that rigid guard a captain must keep over his emotions, or had failed to maintain the separation from the ship's people that made his authority absolute. 'That will be all, sir.'

'Aye, aye, sir,' Alan replied crisply. Damme, maybe I can make a commission out of this after all, he told himself once he was on deck and sniffing at the coolness of the air.

'Seen the captain, have you?' Railsford asked, as though he knew what the news was already.

'Aye, sir. He has appointed me master's mate, acting for a time,' Alan related proudly. 'Who would have thought it?'

'Well, if you do not wish to accept the promotion…'

'No, sir, I'll accept gladly,' Alan hastened to assure him.

'Congratulations, then. Now get you below and sort yourself out into your new quarters. Take one of the mates' dog-boxes,' Railsford said kindly. 'But if you fuck off or let this go to your head, I'll kick your arse for you, see if I don't.'

'I'll not let you down, sir,' Alan replied.

'Or the captain,' Railsford whispered, stepping close to him. 'He needs us badly now. No matter how he slurred you in the past, the poor man needs our help. Captains cannot ask, and they cannot be seen to be in need of anything. Were you my younger brother, and you let him down, I'd break you and send you forrard in pusser's slops. It's not just obedience you owe him or the loyalty which is his due, but true loyalty. May I count on you for that, Mister Lewrie? Have you that devotion?'

'Aye, sir,' Alan said. 'I believe I do.'

'No more of your moonshines, no more boyish pranks and japes,' Railsford went on. 'You're in an important job now, and too many people depend on you. I know you fairly well, and I trust you with the well-being of this ship when you have charge of the deck, as you will, shorthanded as we are. The captain has put his utmost trust in you as well. That's something new for you, being trusted, I know.'

'Aye, it is, sir,' Alan had to admit, feeling a surge of pride that people were beginning to put power in his hands and delegate authority to his judgment, something that would never have happened in his former life as a rake-hell back in London. 'Very sobering.'

'Odd choice of words with the reek of the wine-table on your breath.' Railsford grinned suddenly. 'Enough said for now, then. Get.'

Alan went below to the lower deck, then aft to the midshipmen's mess and took hold of his chest to drag it into a vacant dog-box cabin, to Avery's consternation. He had Freeling make up his narrow berth and hung up some spare clothes from the pegs. Like the tiny quarters aboard the schooner Parrot that had been meant for privateer prize masters, the dog-box was made up of thin deal partitions and a canvas door that enclosed a space just large enough for the bed, his chest, a tiny book rack, a mirror and wash stand, and the line of pegs that would be his wardrobe; but it was his, all his, and he could shut the door like a commissioned officer and turn off the sounds of the ship when he was off watch, could even have a lie-down instead of waiting for the evening pipe to call the hands to reclaim their hammocks. There was a small pewter lamp gimbaled on a swinging mount over the headboard of the bed, which he could burn later than others to read in bed, if he felt like it, until nine at night.

He doubted, though, if he would be using that berth much, not if he wished to shine at his new duties and not let Railsford down after the serious nature of the warning he had given him. He did not know if he really felt that devotion to Treghues that Railsford had asked for; Treghues was too alien to his sybaritic nature, too cold and puritanical, too swept up in morality (which was damned rare in these times), but the gunner, Mister Gwynn, had said once before that Treghues would take a great affection for someone for the oddest reasons and dote on them before turning on them again for reasons unknown. The wheel had come half circle, and he was no longer a Godless sinner in the captain's eyes. He was now in favor, and he did not intend to let anything put a blot on that new reputation, not if he could help it.

He could, however, show true devotion to Railsford, and to Monk and the other senior warrants who had held a good opinion of him even in the worst days of Treghues's displeasure. He could feel a warm stirring in his soul when he thought of Desperate tarred with a dirty brush, and that could sustain him. By devoting himself to earning his advancement he could fulfill everyone's expectations, and backhandedly give Treghues his share in the process.

'It's going to be hard work,' he whispered to himself in the privacy of his little cabin. 'But I've learned enough to handle hard work. I can do this. But damme if I can see how I can have much fun in the next few months.'

Was it unspoken displeasure at Desperate? It was hard to figure out, but, with the passing of the equinox, the Leeward Islands Squadron had to go back to the West Indies, or winter on the American coast, so they sailed. Desperate, however, was left behind, to replace artillery at first, refit and restock provisions, and then be sent off with some lighter ships for Wilmington, North Carolina. Lord Cornwallis had taken most of the good troops in the south up to Yorktown, and they were lost forever. Charleston was still strongly garrisoned but had no men to spare for the minor ports. Wilmington would be evacuated, and Desperate would take part in the evacuation flotilla, the strongest ship in their little gathering. With Monk, Alan spent hours off watch, poring over the Cape Fear charts, for it was the very devil of a place to enter safely.

South of Onslow Bay and a former pirate's lair known as Topsail Island, there was a long peninsula that hooked south like a saber blade, narrowing at the tip to a malarial spit of sand which held Fort Johnston to guard the entrance inlet to the Cape Fear River. There were dozens of low islands and seas of marsh and salt grass gathered around the mouth of the river, and only one safe, deep pass. The lower reaches of the river were pretty desolate, except around Brunswick, a town gradually losing out to Wilmington sixteen miles further upriver, and now almost taken back by the weeds and scrub pine. Wilmington was on the east, or seaward, bank of Cape Fear, hard to get to but a safe harbor in storms and a bustling trading center. For a time it had been Cornwallis's headquarters before he had marched off to disaster in Virginia. Now the garrison that had been left behind, the troops and guns at Fort Johnston, were to be evacuated. Along with them would come the hundreds of Loyalists from the south- eastern portion of the colony, who had already fled the wrath of their cousins up-country.

Alan's prophecy about using his cabin so seldom had come true on the way down from New York. If he was not on the orlop deck supervising the proper stowage of provisions and munitions, then he was standing night watches, fully in command of Desperate as her real officers slept. He kept log entries, saw that the glass was turned on the half hour and the bells were struck; that the course was steered as laid down and that the quartermasters on the wheel stayed awake. He toured below decks when he could to see that all lights were out and the hands were behaving, that the lookouts were attentive, that the night signal book was close at hand, and signal fusees ready for emergencies. He saw that the fire buckets were full, that the bosun of the watch and his hands were trimming the sails for best efficiency, that there was no navigational hazard in their path and no ship on a course for an imminent collision, that the knot log was cast to determine their speed at regular intervals and that in soundings along the coast the leadsmen regularly plumbed the ocean depths.

He also had to keep a weather eye out for privateers or some part of the French fleet, which had not been reported leaving the American coast yet and could still be somewhere nearby.

It was such a quantum leap in duties and responsibility that he almost (but not quite) swore off strong drink, and there was no rest, not for a moment on deck. At first he was too embarrassed to have to summon Railsford, Monk, or the captain at the slightest hint of doubt, and got cobbed for waiting too late. On the other hand, when he summoned them too often, he got cobbed for that, too, and developed a slightly haunted look after one week of his new duties.