“Sheet home the mizen t’gallant once more, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie ordered. “Let’s keep steerage way on her.” The Quartermaster’s Mates on the helm were making large swings of the wheel to keep her on course. After the mizen t’gallant gained them a bit more wind, he looked at them again. “Better now, Cottle, Malin?”
“Aye, sir, ’at helped,” Cottle replied.
“Lord, he’ll miss the channel!” Midshipman Munsell crowed from right aft. Lewrie turned to watch, gloating to see the lead frigate match his tactic of scandalising his ship, but the second and third in line astern of her were forced to alter course to seawards to avoid a collision! They would miss the entrance channel altogether, and have to tack about under reduced sail to regain the entrance! Over the top of the low-lying spur of Hog Island, Lewrie could see Athenian and her consort, the other two-decker 64, altering course Northerly in succession to avoid being stacked up atop the three frigates!
“I think you might have just made yourself an enemy, sir,” Lt. Westcott took a brief moment from his harrying duties to mutter.
“I have the feeling that I had, no matter what I did, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie told him, chuckling. “Even did I yield him the entrance first, there’s some people there’s no living with.”
* * *
Reliant was anchored by bow and stern, her squares’ls harbour-gasketed and all fore-and-aft canvas handed and stowed, and the Bosun Mr. Sprague and his Mate, Mr. Wheeler, had rowed round the ship to see the yards squared to mathematical perfection before Athenian groped a slow way into port behind her frigates.
The Reliant’s musicians were playing “The Bowld Soldier Boy” as the gilt-trimmed red rum cask was fetched on deck for a delayed issue. The hands waiting for their grog raised a cheer as the two 64s rounded up to drop anchor. On the quarterdeck, Lewrie was sprawled in his collapsible wood and canvas deck chair, with both of his cats in his lap, and the ship’s mascot, Bisquit, dancing on his hind legs and barking a welcome of his own.
Lewrie tipped Athenian his cocked hat in salute.
It’s the least I can do, Lewrie thought; and the least is what I intend t’do! Along with gettin’ my report on Grierson’s wee “joke” to Admiralty, first!
CHAPTER SIX
Lewrie had to wait two days before Commodore Grierson thought to summon him for that promised face-to-face meeting to brief the new-come upon the Bahamas, and the vessels and captains Grierson would inherit. The hoist of Reliant’s number and “Captain Repair On Board” caught Lewrie in casual clothing, again, in slop-trousers and buckled shoes, a plain coat, and his shirtsleeves as he, the Bosun, the Carpenter, and other petty officers made an inspection of the ship belowdecks. The summons also came after the islands’ Governor-General’s invitation to a welcoming ball ashore. Grierson had said that they would meet “once the social niceties had been held”, so he was obviously wishing to get an onerous chore over with before shining at a grand supper dance, at which he hoped to be regaled.
* * *
“Welcome aboard, sir,” Athenian’s First Officer, Lt. Hayes, said at the entry-port, once the salutes had been rendered.
“Good morning Lieutenant … ah?” Lewrie responded cheerily; he would not take out his sour mood over meeting with Grierson to extend to others. “I did not get your name, last time I was aboard.”
“Hayes, sir,” the fellow said, “and may I say that it is an honour to make even your slightest acquaintance, Captain Lewrie.”
“I can’t imagine why, but thankee, anyway, Mister Hayes,” Lewrie replied with a dis-arming grin and a laugh. “It was kindly said.”
“Why, your repute in the Navy, sir!” Hayes exclaimed. “Your successes.”
“Oh, those,” Lewrie shrugged off. “Uhm, may I ask why you are turned out in your best-dress? And, why does a Commission Officer be on deck in harbour?”
“Oh, that, sir,” Lt. Hayes said, plucking at the snowy lapels of his uniform coat. “It is the Commodore’s standing orders that we be dressed properly, else the hands might get Frenchified egalitarian ideas and breach the difference in class and station, sir. As for being on deck at all, the Commodore sent for me soon after his order was sent to you … so it would not be a mere Midshipman to meet you.”
“Rather hard on the purse, wearin’ yer best kit all the time, and what would ye have left for shore calls? The supper ball tonight, for instance. Ye wear yer best even at sea in gale weather?”
“The Commodore will allow us to dress down, are tarpaulins needed, sir,” Hayes admitted sheepishly. “And, aye, it is hard for some of us to maintain proper appearances, all the time. The wardroom servants are busy, trying to put us right, and repair smudges and stains for the ball.”
“Then I will see you there, Mister Hayes,” Lewrie promised. “I must get aft, I suppose. If you will lead the way?”
Athenian, like all 64-gun two-deckers, provided ample room aft for a captain’s great-cabins, and more than enough space to accommodate a squadron commodore … if the flag-captain didn’t mind being turfed out and relegated to smaller quarters. Grierson’s great-cabins were as large as Lewrie expected, right under the poop deck, and, without the presence of any upper-deck guns, looked large enough for an indoor tennis court. Not only did Grierson have a lot of “interest” in the Navy; it was obvious that he and his family had a substantial fortune, too, for the dining table would seat twelve round that gleaming cherry wood expanse, and the sideboard groaned under the weight of a palace’s worth of sterling silver services. The same went for the day-cabin, which featured a substantial desk, wine cabinet, and seating arrangements, and none of the articles of furniture the usual collapsible and easily stowable type, either.
The door to the stern gallery was open, as were all the transom windows, to catch a morning breeze. Grierson needed one, for he was tricked out in his usual best, right down to silk stockings and soft slipper-type shoes. This morning, Grierson had at least unbuttoned his expensively gold-laced coat against the heat and humidity.
“Thank you, Hayes, you may go,” Grierson said in an idle, languid voice. He had been standing in the open doorway to the stern gallery, a wine glass in one hand, and the other tucked in the small of his back as if posing, but turned and raised a brow when he saw Lewrie.
“Prompt, I must say, Sir Alan,” Grierson said with a brief hint of a smile as he crossed to his desk and sat himself down in a leather-covered chair. He gestured to another in front of the desk for Lewrie. “Though I do note that you do not think much of dressing properly.”
“I was in the cable tiers, the orlop stowage, and the carpenters’ walks on an inspection when you signalled, sir,” Lewrie told him. “No need for fancy dress there.”
“A glass of something, sir?” Grierson offered. “Some Rhenish?”
“Tea for me, sir,” Lewrie requested, turning to spot one of the cabin servants. “In a tall glass, with lemon and sugar, and let it set to cool, first, if ye will.”
Commodore Grierson gave out a scoffing harumph at that request.
“It’s my custom t’have a half-gallon brewed up each day and let cool, sir,” Lewrie explained. “It’s very refreshing in the tropics on warm-ish days. Even better with a sliver of Yankee Doodle ice, when it’s available from an ice-house ashore.”
“What an odd thing to do with tea,” Grierson said, grinning. “Anyway, I suppose that you brought me the outline of the strength of my new squadron, Sir Alan?”
“Of course, sir,” Lewrie said. “Though I must admit that some of the smaller sloops, cutters, and luggers are unfamiliar to me. I’ve never clapped eyes on ’em, nor met their captains, since I’ve spent so little time in port, and a great many of them are off far down the island chain, as far as the Turks and Caicos.”