“On what grounds, sir?” Alan asked, mild as possible.
“Don’t play the sea lawyer with me, boy. I do not want you in my command any more than the Navy should have wanted you. And at the first opportunity I shall make it my God-fearing duty to make sure that both Desperate, and the Sea Service, shall be a much cleaner place, without your foul presence. Until that time I shall want to see only the most obedient and circumspect behavior from you, or I shall make you sorry that you were ever born. Now get out of my sight.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
I was your pride and joy, you priggish bastard, as long as you thought you were making Sir Onsley happy, Alan thought miserably. But now you have a new master, you’ll cut your cloth to suit Sir George.
Alan stumbled out the entryway and up to the quarterdeck to the taffrail, as far away from everyone as possible. There was a fair wind that morning, and English Harbor sparkled.
The breeze that came to him was full of good smells, of green and luscious growing things from shore, the tang of salt and iodine and tidal odors from the strand, raw wood from the dockyard, and the scent of pitch and hot pine-tar as some ship was repaired to windward. It should have been a delightful day in which to be alive, but it was most definitely not.
That was one of the drawbacks of a man-of-war; the lack of privacy when you had to let go and drop to the deck and weep, not only weep but thrash, curse, scream and pound your fists on something at the unfairness of life until you were spent. But no one was going to walk around you until you were through and then ask if you felt better for doing it.
So Alan stared at the shore and gripped the intricately carved taffrail until his hands were white. There was nothing he could say or do in the face of Treghues’ moralizing that would make a difference. He was going to become a leper. Treghues had made it clear that he wanted him gone as soon as the Navy could let him, and would also hound him from the Fleet. A captain set the tone for his ship. How long would it be, Alan wondered, before Treghues’ open dislike spread to Mister Monk, Railsford, Peck, Dorne, Cheatham and the rest? Perhaps even David and little Carey would start walking wide to avoid him.
Well, he had not planned to make the Navy a career, anyway. He had hoped to make Lucy Beauman, and her father’s money, a career, but even being so close to that was no balm for his shattered spirits. Much as he at times hated the Navy, he did not relish being thrown out of it.
If he were to leave the Navy it would be at his own time, and with his pride and his prize money intact, not as a rejected midshipman but at least as a half-pay lieutenant, which would allow him to hold up his head in public.
And there was his perverse streak to consider—loathe the life of a sailor as much as he wanted to, curse the demands of the Navy and the deprivations one had to suffer, it was the only thing that he was good at! He could roister and romp with the ladies, play buck of the first head in a company of fellow-cocks, dance, drink, wench, run wild in the streets and spend money with the best of them, but that was not a career without a peer’s purse. He could navigate as well as any—even with a sextant, one hundred miles out of your reckoning was considered fairly accurate—he could stand a deck watch, could hand, reef and steer, handle a small boat, could handle all the paperwork, much as he despised it, had learned enough to make a good sailor and a fair midshipman, and he was very good with weapons. Where else was he going to be able to do all that? After the Navy, clerking for some firm would be damned dull. No one in his right mind would go for a soldier, and he couldn’t afford to buy someone’s commission. There was nothing suitable for a gentleman that he could do, or hope to undertake at eighteen years old, with no civilian connections.
He would have to accomplish something, soon, something that he could point to that even Treghues could not demean, that would gain him so much favorable comment that he would be safe in the Navy.
God Almighty, listen to what I’m saying … I’m beginning to sound like I want to stay in and be made “post” …
Even if that was his goal, and he seriously doubted his own sanity if it was, he still had four and a half years as a young gentleman in training before he could stand for a lieutenancy. The rules called for six years on ship’s books, two of those years as a midshipman or a master’s mate, and proof of age no less than twenty. In another ship he might be chosen as a master’s mate, which had a salary to it and would lead quicker to a commission, but would not Treghues’ opinion of him follow him in his records? He had seen other midshipmen of twenty, thirty, had heard of men in their forties still midshipmen—too good seamen to be cast out but unable to pass the exam, or having passed, had no luck or interest working for them to obtain a berth as an officer.
Damme, but this is a hard life, he thought miserably. But why should I expect it to be fair? I’m not stupid. Would it be better for me to fight back by being cruel and unfair myself, more than I am now, at any rate? Is that the way to succeed?
Chapter 14
Desperate was at sea, reaching north with a soldier’s wind on her starboard beam. For once she had company as she followed the thirty-two-gun frigate Amphion, and was in turn trailed by two sloops of war, Commander Ozzard’s Vixen, and another sloop of war named Roebuck. They had sailed north from English Harbor after making their offing, destined for Anegada, a low sand-and-coral island at the eastern end of the British Virgins. Once there, they had to be careful to avoid the Horseshoe Reefs, where hundreds of ships had come to grief over the years. Commander Treghues had sealed orders, which he had not shared with anyone as of yet, but the presence of four cruising-type warships in company bespoke a major effort of some kind, and rumors were rife in every compartment.
Rumors were also flying about what Treghues had said to Lewrie in his cabins. The captain’s clerk and steward were silent about the matter, mercifully, and Treghues was also tight-lipped, but it did not stop the wildest speculations.
People were indeed curious, and expanded on the slightest hints. Treghues behaved as if Lewrie were not there. He paid not the slightest attention to him during the course of his duties, had absolutely no comment about his navigation work when he inspected the midshipmen’s slates at noon sights, indeed barely glanced at Lewrie’s, and as Amphion led them around Horseshoe Reefs into the lee of Anegada at dawn of their third day at sea it was Carey who had charge of the leadsmen in the foremast chains, Forrester who had charge of the cutter that probed ahead of them, and Avery by the wheel, leaving Alan to bide his time restlessly aft by the taffrail with a signalman.
Once safely in deeper waters all four ships hove to, cocked up to windward and gently making leeway on the tide to the west, while all captains were summoned to the temporary flag frigate. The conference lasted two hours, at which time Treghues came back aboard and went below with Mr. Monk, leaving Railsford to get the ship underway again. During the course of the day the squadron reached north and south behind Anegada, not straying too far north, nor coming too far south so that they could be seen from Virgin Gorda.
It was dusk before a conference was held aft, a conference in a hot and stuffy cabin with the transom windows covered, in a ship that burned no lights except for the binnacle lanterns. Treghues had included the midshipmen, master’s mates, master, Marine officer and Railsford. Lewrie sat far back from the glossy desk, where a chart was spread out. Treghues gave him a single darting glance of malice before opening the meeting.