Seaflower

'We ain't got none — we'se are all there is,' the man replied carefully. 'Farthing, able seaman . . .'

'Stirk, yer noo gunner's mate. Well, who 'ave we got aboard, then?'

'Ah, we has Merrick, th' boatswain, an' a hard man is he — ashore now. Jarman, the master, a merchant jack, an' - 'oo else, Ralf?' Farthing said, turning to the other man.

'Cole, reefer, first trip an' all—'

'Only one midshipman?' Kydd asked. Equating to a petty officer in authority, a raw midshipman could be a tiresome trial up in the tops in a blow.

'Aye. Oh, yeah, Cuddy Snead as carpenter's mate, 'n' that's it.'

'Yer fergettin' that scowbunkin' cook. Nothin' but a waste o' space, him — couldn't bring a salt horse alongside wi'out it climbs in the pot itself.'

'I see,' growled Stirk. All the men left aboard Seaflower were her standing officers and these two. They were not likely to get to sea very soon.

"E's goin' ter have t' press men,' said Doud gloomily. The press-gang could find men, but they would be resentful, unwilling and poor shipmates.

Doggo shifted his feet restlessly. 'Doesn't 'ave ter be,' he snapped, his grog-roughened voice an impatient rasp.

'How so, mate?' asked Stirk. It was not often that Doggo put in his oar.

'Yer recollects where we are ...' he said mysteriously, tapping the side of his nose.

It was well known that, if anything, it was harder to press men in the Caribbean than it was in England - alert to the wiles of the Press they would be sure to find bolt-holes at the briefest hint of a press-gang ashore. They all stared at Doggo.

'Toby, I needs you 'n' Kydd ter step ashore wi' me.'

'Er - o' course, mate.'

'Then, we sees th' Cap'n an' find out if b' chance he needs a crew o' prime hands.'

Farrell, bewildered by an offer coming from the wicked-looking Doggo to have a full ship's company by midnight, nevertheless agreed, and Seaflower's longboat headed for shore.

'Where we off to, cully?' Stirk asked.

'King's Arms, o' course,' said Doggo, cracking a grin. In just a few salty sentences he told of his plan. Kydd laughed in appreciation.

They entered the warm din of the tavern with a swagger. Stirk's bull roar cut effortlessly above the tumult, 'A gage o' bowse fer the Seaflowers as needs it, y' scrubs!'

A few faces looked their way, then resumed their talk.

'Get it in yer, cuffin,' Stirk told Doggo loudly. 'We sails afore dusk termorrow, an' not back fer a while.'

A big seaman sitting close by in the packed tavern turned and laughed. 'Why, y' lookin' fer some fat scow t' look after, like? An' then orf ter find someone wants ter send a letter somewheres?' He convulsed with drunken mirth.

Another chimed in, 'Seaflower — she lost all 'er hands, an' can't find any t' ship out in her. She ain't a-goin' anywheres!'

'She is now, cock!' Stirk said.

'Oh, yeah, where, then?' said the seaman, intrigued.

'Ah, can't tell yer that,' Stirk said, leaning back. Other faces turned their way. 'Cos' fer this v'y'ge - only this one - we has a hand-picked crew.' He had attention now. 'Tom Kydd here, quartermaster o' the flying Artemis as was — Cape Stiff 'n' all, taut hand-o'-the-watch is he! An' Doggo there — best quarter gunner I seen! An' Ned Doud, cap'n o' the top - we got the best there is, mate!'

'Yer didn't say as t' why!'

There were sailors from all parts watching now, merchant seamen, foreigners and privateersmen. 'Why, if yer has—'

'Don't tell 'em, Toby! It's fer us only!' said Doggo.

An older seaman looked thoughtful, and turned to his friends. 'Yair - come t' think about it, Elias Petit gets turned out o' Diadem an' he's a knowing old sod. Somethin's in the wind, lads!'

Interest was now awakened. A sharp-faced man suddenly became animated. "Ere, Seaflower, that's the barky th't the Admiral's clerk got hisself transferred inter, all of a pelt!'

'Yeah!' said another. 'So what does 'e know that gets him off his arse in Spanish Town 'n' a berth in a squiddy cutter?'

The older man gave a grim smile. 'I reckon there's a reason all right — a thunderin' good one!' He waited until he had all their attention, then said in hushed tones,

'He's yer tie-mate, ain't he, Kydd? An' you has a soft berth in th' dockyard, right? An' both of ye decides to skin out ter sea in a hurry, not fergettin't' tell all yer mates? C'n only be one meanin' — yer has word there's summat at sea that's worth the takin', somethin' that yer knows—'

'Yer too smart fer me b' a long chalk, cully!' Stirk said, in admiration, then grew anxious. 'Now, I didn't say all that, did I? An' ain't that the truth!'

The man sat back, satisfied. 'No, mate, yer. didn't — we worked it out b' ourselves. Now, what we wants t' know is, y' need any hands fer this v'y'ge o' yours?'

Kydd looked discouraging. 'No petty officers, just a few idlers — an' some foremast jacks is all.'

Grins broke out all around. 'I'll have a piece o' that, then!' the sharp-faced man said, eyes gleaming. 'How

'I'll have a word wi' the Cap'n, can't promise ye a berth — but, mark you, not a word to him that y' knows anything, on y'r life.'

The riot that followed was only brought under some sort of order by Stirk setting up in the corner and taking names, for all the world like a farmers' fair. Merchant seamen in hiding from the Press, even privateersmen crowded in, all anxious to take their share of the expected bounty. Well within time Seaflower's longboat brought out a full and excited ship's company, and a sorely puzzled young captain was making plans for sea.

Storing ship for Seaflower was not on the vast scale of a ship-of-the-line with its tens of thousands of pounds' weight of victuals, water and naval stores to last for six months or more at sea. A cutter was not expected to be at sea for more than days at a time.

There was a matter that Kydd felt would make perfect his change of situation. 'Cap'n, sir,' he asked of Farrell, at an appropriate time, 'we now has a prime body o' petty officers, you'll agree?'

Farrell gave a guarded assent.

'An' y'r steward has to make shift f'r the warrant officers too?'

'He does, but what—'

'Then c'd I suggest, sir, we gets a ship's boy t' bear a hand? I have just such a one in mind an', besides, he knows well how t' serve a gun ...'

Farrell considered. 'We sail before dark,' he said.

Kydd knew that, released from temporary service as his servant, Luke was ashore glumly awaiting an unknown assignment. 'He'll be aboard, sir,' Kydd said crisply.

Readied for sea, Seaflower had still one to join her company. When in the late afternoon the windlass was cast loose and hatches secured Doud made his move.

The boatswain touched his hat to Farrell and reported, 'Sir, all aboard save that mumpin' toad of a cook,' he said.

'Still ashore?' Farrell snapped. The cook had been told to return with last-minute cabin stores for him.

'If yer please, sir,' Doud asked humbly, 'I got a mate as is a spankin' good cook, lookin' f'r a berth . . .'

'Get him,' Farrell said. Doud's friend had entertained the old cook for hours until he was dead drunk, and was now waiting with his sea-bag for the signal.

Just as the topmen laid out on the yard to loose sail, the windlass taking up the slack of the cable and Kydd was standing at the tiller, a black face wearing an infectious smile climbed over the bulwarks and the familiar figure of Quashee stepped aboard. He of the Artemis, the legendary star-gazy pie and his 'conweniences' — herbs and spices. With him aboard they would not starve.