Dewey Lambdin - King`s Captain
Thankfully, it was only a minor functionary this time, Lewrie saw, a common seaman bearing a note. He'd barely gained the gangway and handed the note over to Bales, shared a quiet word with him, then he was off once more, back over the side and into the boat.
"Bosun, pipe 'All Hands'!" Bales shouted. "Don't stand there with yer mouth agape, Mister Pendarves. Don't look to Captain Lewrie when I give you an order, damn yer eyes, he's not in charge here. I'm in temporary command. Pipe 'All Hands,' then 'Hands to Stations For Getting Underway!' "
Sounds like an officer, Alan thought; where'd he learn that?
Pendarves was looking up from the waist to the quarterdeck, in a quandary as to what to do. Sitting and waiting for the mutiny to be settled was one thing; getting up the anchors and making sail sounded like a dangerous escalation of this crisis!
" 'Vast, there, Mister Pendarves!" Lewrie barked. "Bales! You will not endanger my ship by getting sail on her. That's beyond your brief. By God, sir… explain yourself and be quick about it!"
"Aye, I'll explain myself, sir," Bales shot back, stung to the quick for a rare once; his smirky, superior demeanour pierced. "The ship is ordered to shift her anchorage into the Great Nore."
"Not by any authority I recognize, Bales," Lewrie hooted. "She stays where she is."
"Damn you, Pendarves… pipe 'All Hands On Deck!' " Bales roared, as he and his minions stalked from the gangway to the quarterdeck.
"That's Mister Pendarves, Seaman Bales," Lewrie corrected, with a great deal of glee for an opportunity to gall the man. "I do believe your Fleet Delegates ordered you to show respect to superiors. Surely, you're capable of following a simple directive…?"
"Mister Pendarves, pipe 'All Hands,' " Bales was forced to amend, reddening with anger, "and my pardons to you."
"Sir?" Pendarves said, looking to Lewrie still.
"Proceed, Mister Pendarves," Lewrie allowed lightly.
The more witnesses, the merrier, he silently smirked; t 'see this shitten louse get taken down a peg'r two. I've got to him at last, in public! Stung him so deep, he might make another error?
The Bosun dutifully sounded the call, and the hands below, with their hung-over "wives," came shambling up into the fresh air, looking as if sunlight and a fresh breeze didn't much agree with them.
"Lads, the Fleet Delegates've sent us a message!" Bales cried.
And Lewrie was pleased to note how much they lacked enthusiasm for that news this early in the morning! Too many special messages, he hoped, too many excuses for ranting speeches, stirring orations, or declarations already?
"Ahem…'… to temporary "Captain" Bales, in command of HMS Proteus.. . you are required and directed to shift your anchorage from Garrison Point to a position among the Nore Fleet, exercising all due care and caution in the selection of your anchorage •••,'" Bales read aloud.
"Dangerous ground, Bales," Lewrie loudly sneered, "your Fleet Delegates parroting real orders… they've no power to 'require or direct.' Nor do you. Pretending to be Admiralty or government will cost 'em dear… cost you dear, and any man who pretends to obey such…!"
"We'll take that risk!" Bales snarled back at him, just as loudly. "Fleet Delegates wish us to shift to the Great Nore; then that is where we go… sir! Beyond the reach of the fortress guns and such!"
"Out where men who disagree with you and your floating 'Parliament' can't desert, you mean!" Lewrie shot back.
"Go below, Captain." Bales flushed once more, striving to keep his temper. "You've no say in this, no vote."
"You'd shift this ship without putting it to a vote!" Lewrie retorted with a tongue-in-cheek twinkle. "What say you, lads? Do you want to be that far from shore, on his mere say-so?… Fire on civilians ashore later? Sail to bloody France later, just 'cause he… !"
"Enough, damn you!" Bales screeched, prodded into fury at last and instantly regretting it, for the low murmur of shock that arose on deck from the waiting hands. "Mister Handcocks," Bales said, calming, "men to the quarterdeck to see the Captain below! And see he remains there 'til I give him leave!"
"Here now, Bales," Pendarves called up from the waist, "ya lay hands on a Commission Officer, and everyone's doomed t'hang alongside ya. Ya swore this'd be peaceful, respectful…"
"And it is, Mister Pendarves!" Bales countered. "But for this… but for the Captain's objections. It's my responsibility. I take it on myself. We're peaceable, so far. I ask you, though… who among us is the one trying to stir us up, turn us 'gainst each other, except for the Captain? Any dispute amongst us 'tis his doing! Now, Brother Seamen! We'll go to stations… get the anchors up, make sail!"
Handcocks had summoned half-a-dozen hands, the hardest, meanest, and most dedicated to the Cause. Lewrie contemplated further resistance, of taking a cuff or two, perhaps a full beating from them, to spur his crew to mutiny against the mutineers, if that's what it took!
"You'll need the officers," Lewrie suggested slyly, yielding not a single inch, "if you're determined to move this ship."
"Nossir, we do not!" Bales snapped. "We've senior mates aboard, experienced sailors. I've served as Quartermaster and Master's Mate before. I think we're perfectly capable of sailing two miles and taking a new anchorage… without the help of you or your officers! Now, pipe 'Hands to Stations,' Mister Pendarves! Jump to it, lads! Sir… Captain Lewrie, sir, I'll thank you to leave the quarterdeck. Else whatever befalls you will be your own fault," he added, much softer.
"And none o' yours, of course, Seaman Bales!" Lewrie sneered, secretly gloating that he'd finessed this nigh to the crucial confrontation that would break the back of the crew's apathy, put steel into the spines of those wavering… "Well, if you and the rest of your mutineers are so damn' capable, why don't you put us ashore before you guarantee the noose around your bloody neck!" he hissed with pleasure.
Bales did the very worst thing then, to Lewrie's lights. That subtle bastard regained his composure, stepped so close that Lewrie could smell the reek of his unwashed shirt, and smiled quite malevolently.
"So that's what you wish, is it, Captain?" he whispered. "Well, you'll not get it. Oh no, not you, most of all. I've plans for you, I have! No matter how the mutiny falls out. Now, would you be so good as to get your arse off my quarterdeck? Out of the way of sailors who know what they're about? Mister Handcocks, see 'im below. Be gentle with 'im, but not too gentle, hey?"
Of all the low lifes they could have clasped hands with, there was Haslip with Handcocks's party of enforcers, with his hand upon the hilt of his (so-far) sheathed clasp knife, with an expression of pure hatred and revenge on his phyz for his ravaged back.
Taking a cuff or two, getting his eyes blacked, or spouting claret from a smashed nose, well… that was one thing. Getting his gizzards spilled by a mutineer's knife was quite another! For one, there'd be no opportunity to savour his testimony, or the joy of watching these people go for the high jump from the gallows! For the first time, he felt a frisson of pure fear! This mutiny could end a lot bloodier than anyone intended or expected. His blood, in point of fact!
"Will ya go below, Cap'um, sir?" Mr. Handcocks asked, seeming about as shaken as Lewrie was that he was offering a threat of violence to an officer. " 'Fore, uhm…" he gulped, shifty-eyed.
"For now, Mister Handcocks," Lewrie allowed after glaring hot (and taking several temporising, restoring deep breaths). "For you, sir. You've done nothing worthy of hanging for… yet," Lewrie lied.
"Aye, sir. Thankee, sir," Handcocks muttered, sounding almost grateful. "We should go, sir," he prompted, as Pendarves and Towpenny reluctantly piped the call which Bales had bade them, amidst the scamper and thunder of feet heading for the capstan, the messenger cables, the nippers, and the shrouds which led aloft to the yards.
They paced aft to that companionway ladder near the taffrails once more, in silence as the afterguard trudged to the kedge anchor cable, to the jears and halliards for the mizzen tops'l and spanker.
"I don't know what led you to take part in mutiny, Mister Handcocks," Lewrie said in a low voice, "what grievances you had that stirred you to rise up 'gainst lawful authority, or take such a prominent part in it. How long you helped its planning…"
Handcocks merely breathed hard, his gaze fixed shoreward.
"But I warn you now, Mister Handcocks," Lewrie whispered, "it is getting out of hand. It's grown a life of its own, and you have no control over it. Do you have any real say in the ship's committee, it might be best did you speak out for temperance. Threatening a captain will lead to blood, sooner or later. First we move out of gun-range. Next time, will it be the Texel? A French port? Out to fight Channel Fleet… now they're restored to duty?"
"Sure I don't know, sir." Handcocks groaned, sounding strangled.
"Maybe we're being shifted 'cause Parker, Bales, and their lot're afraid of sensible hands taking the Spithead offer," Lewrie suggested. "So they don't lose control…'cause that's not what their paymasters want… a settlement. Their foreign paymasters, Mr. Handcocks."
"Sir, if ya pleasel" Handcocks begged as they got to the top of the companionway, all but wringing his hands in abject misery.
"Mister Handcocks, Bales has more in mind than redress of your socalled grievances," Lewrie intimated, striving to sound "matey" and concerned. "Ask yourself what that could be. His dislike of me, however- though I can't recall ever meeting the man before-one would think he held a personal hatred. Whatever it is, Mister Handcocks, don't be too caught up in it. This could gallop out of control in the blink of an eye! The Spithead offer… it's fair. 'Twixt you and me, I'll say it was overdue, aye. But it's all you're going to get. Don't lose your Warrant… or your head… asking for a jot more. Or let things turn violent, hmmm?"
"If you'd go below now, sir, Cap'um, sir," Handcocks replied, wincing and bobbing his head in agony. Lewrie gave him a hearty clap of sympathy on the shoulder to buck him up.
And if that didn 't light a fire under his "nutmegs, " Lewrie told himself, once below and out of sight, / don't know what will. And if he can't take a hint, then to the Devil with him!
"Brandy, Aspinall… brimmin'," Lewrie called.
"Aye, sir… comin' directly."
'Twos a near-run thing I didn't get beaten senseless, Lewrie had to admit to himself; pushed it almost too far, I did. But at least I made Bales an ogre to the hands; gave 'em another think about how dangerous this is. Put caution in Handcocks, a few others…?
Hmmm… this Bales, now… Lewrie thought as his brandy came.
He'd revealed that he'd served as a Quartermaster and Master's Mate at one time; might have aspired to Admiralty Warrant as a Sailing Master too? Lewrie pondered, idly pacing his cabins. Must've blotted his copybook though, or lost his patrons when turned over into a new ship… lost his rate when a new captain had come aboard with his own favourites in tow.
That would explain his grudge against the Navy, Lewrie decided, but… he threatened me, directly! As if I owe him for something from his past? And he'll make me pay, no matter what happens, will he?
"For the life of me, I can't recall…!" Lewrie grumbled.
"Sir?"
"Nothing, Aspinall… just maundering."
Scotching the cries for putting me ashore… as if he's savin' me for something, well… Lewrie scowled in thought; best for him, if he did! Igetunder his skin, row him to rashness… expose his weaknesses or his true motives. Reverse our positions and he'd be ashore, in irons, quick as you could say "Jack Ketch!" After a keehaulin'… or two.
It would be so easy for Bales to hide in the Navy, even was he a Bounty mutineer! There were hundreds of "jumpers" who enlisted over and over gave false names to a ship's first officer, got the Joining Bounty, then scampered, to try it on again. And what would he look like without that full beard of his, Lewrie wondered?
And why, in this particular incarnation, did Bales pass himself off as "Bales"-if former deserter, malefactor, or mutineer, he was? Had he served under the unfortunate old man; had he been aboard hard-luck Ariadne during the Revolution? Bales appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties… old enough to have been a teenaged topman or cabin servant back then. Hmmm… that bore some thinking about.
"Christ!" Lewrie suddenly gasped, coming out of his dark study.
Proteus was underway, her hull timbers beginning to creak as she worked, slightly canted by the wind… underway under the charge of the common seamen! And that bastard Bales, or whomever he was!
Lewrie dashed to his after-companionway ladder, rushed up it, to stick his head above the hatch coaming. There was no sentry to detain him, so he cautiously climbed further, to take stance beside the flag lockers at the taffrail and sternpost, expecting the very worst.
Unfortunately, nothing was out of order.
She was well in-hand, under topsis, spanker and inner and outer jibs, everything Bristol fashion. And Bales stood with his hands in the small of his back, amidships of the quarterdeck, looking upward and outward with the cool professionalism of the saltiest watch-officer.
It seemed that the mates, the common seamen, could sail her… anywhere they wished, Lewrie grudgingly decided: Holland, France, over to Ireland… the Great South Seas if they bloody wished!
"Damme," Lewrie whispered, slinking below before anyone spotted him and hooted in derision at his surprise and disappointment.
BOOK FOUR
Tua nunc terris, tua lumina toto sparge mari;
seu nostra dolos molitor opertos sive externa manus,
primus mihi nuntius esto.
Cast now thine eyes upon the land, upon all the sea;
whether it be men of my own land or strangers
that are planning secret treachery,
be first to bear me news.
– Argonautica, Book V, 246-49
Valerius Flaccus
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
If Proteus had lacked information before, her isolation became even worse once the mutinous fleet had shifted out to the Great Nore. Their "Parliament" had already banned letters to or from shore. Now, 'tween-ship visiting, which was usually allowed, had been cancelled as well. Oh, there was still visiting; but it was done by the representatives from the "Parliament" ship, HMS Sandwich alone, the daily parade of rowing boats filled with cheering leaders and sycophants, accompanied by noisy ships' bands, and a sea of gay flags.
