Dewey Lambdin - THE GUN KETCH

• Название: THE GUN KETCH
• Автор: Dewey Lambdin
• Жанр: Морские приключения

It's 1786 and Alan Lewrie has his own ship at last, the Alacrity. Small but deadly, the Alacrity prowls the waters of the Caribbean, protecting British merchants from pirates. But Lewrie is still the same old rakehell he always was. Scandal sets tongues wagging in the Bahamas as the young captain thumbs his nose at propriety and makes a few well-planned conquests on land before sailing off to take on Calico Jack Finney, the boldest pirate in the Caribbean.

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Yet he was a good sailor, and a married one!

Ballard should have resented Lewrie's rapid rise in the Service. Six years from gentleman volunteer to not only Commission Officer, but a captaincy in foreign waters! While it had taken young Arthur Ballard long nights of study, years of quiet observation to develop his skills with a stubbornly silent will to equal or best his contemporaries, and gain this first coveted slot as a first officer. Eleven years to his commission, to Lewrie's six! Why, he should have despised him for a whip-jack sham, a well-connected idler!

Oddly, he did not. Lewrie was too much of a puzzle to envy or despise. Trust? Ah, that might come as they progressed together. He already felt he might come to trust him. But it was early days.

The one thing that genuinely irked was the lovely Caroline who adored the fellow so enthusiastically, the sort of young woman Ballard had always most desired, but never seemed to find. And Lewrie had found her so effortlessly!

"Caroline," he whispered, testing her name on his lips.

"Say somethin', Mister Ballard, sir?" Neill the quartermaster inquired.

"Steady as you go, Mister Neill," Ballard said, shrugging deep into his soggy grogram boat-cloak.

Caroline was asleep on the transom settee's pad, curled up hard against the stern timbers by an open sash window overlooking the wake, hugging her knees. Alan took the painted coverlet from the hanging-cot and folded it about her to ward off the chill of the stiff winds.

"Oh, you're back!" she groaned, weary as death, spent from all her wracking heavings. She reached out for him, weak as a kitten, as he got a damp cloth to wipe her face. She didn't sound accusatory, he noted with relief!

"I'm so sorry, Caroline, but that's a ship for you," Alan lied. "It took forever. A tug here, a pull there. Are you feeling perhaps the tiniest bit better, darling?"

"A bit," she allowed. "Now you're here. Just hold me, Alan."

"Miss me?" he teased, easing down on the edge of the settee by her side as she rolled to him and embraced him.

"My love, I was much too… busy, to miss you," Caroline sighed, amazingly able to jest even then. "The fresh air helped best. Once I got the window open, and made my final offering to Neptune, I was dead to the world."

"You should get into bed. Sleep's the thing for you now. The bedbox doesn't pitch or roll. Would you care for some brandy?"

"I do not trust myself," she said after one quick peek at their hanging-cot, which swayed impressively. She rinsed her mouth with the brandy, but spit it out over the stern, not trusting her stomach with any fresh contents, either.

"You are so good to me," she crooned sleepily, stroking his face as he came back to her side. "I'm so sorry to be a burden, when I promised just this morning I'd not be."

"You're no burden, love," Alan smiled. "Every sailor has to find his sea legs. You sleep, now. And you'll feel better in the morning."

He reclined with her, stroking her hair until her breathing went slow and regular. Only then did he close his own eyes and nod off, his head pressed against hard oak, lulled and hobbyhorsed to sleep by the ship's motion.There was a rapping at the door.

"Unnh?" he groaned, starting awake from treacly sleep.

"Midshipman Parham, sir. The sailing master's respects, and he wishes to shake out the second reef in the main course and inner jib, Captain, sir."

"Very well, Mister Parham," Alan replied, reeling with weariness. "I'll be on deck directly."

Chapter 5

Once out of the Channel and around Ushant, Alacrity became a much happier, and tauter, ship. Seasickness abated, and the hands, back on their feet, were then brought to competence with drills and hard work.

Fire drills, boat launchings and recoveries, procedures for man-overboard rescues and working the ship became the day's chores. They tacked, they wore ship, spread or brailed up the tops'ls and royals, struck or hoisted the topmasts; they replaced entire suits of canvas. Cables for towing were laid out, then recovered, boarding nets were strung along the sides and hoisted from the yardarms, then lowered and stowed away. For the complete neophytes, and the newest midshipmen, the bosun and his mate conducted classes in knots and in long- and short-splicing, with the next day's exercises applying those newly won skills in practical uses. There was practice at musketry, at pistol shooting at towed targets, cutlass and pike drill under the first officer or the ship's corporal, a heavily scarred bruiser named Warwick. They learned to serve the great guns, the ship's ten iron six-pounders, two-pounder boat-guns, and swivels.

Discipline was brought to full naval standards gradually, once the hands gained some knowledge/Defaulters were allowed a chance to make honest mistakes with light punishment; stoppage of tobacco or the precious rum issue. Stiffened rope "starters" used as horsewhips on the slow and clumsy were at first discouraged-Lewrie did not feel the sting of a starter in (he hands of a mate on some poor inexperienced landsman much of a goad to learning.

Later, the starters could be plied more freely, if a man was truly shirking. Later, insubordination and the usual sins-drunk or asleep on watch-were awarded days of bread and water, along with a touch of the "cat"; one dozen lashes for a first penalty, two dozen for the second. Back-talkers, mostly the landsmen who insisted on their God-given right as Englishmen to complain at brusque usage, were "marlin-spiked" into silence, with a heavy iron marlin-spike bound between their teeth for a day. And the midshipmen suffered being bent over a gun barrel to "kiss the gunner's daughter," to be whipped on boyish bottoms rather than fully male backs, or suffered to be "mastheaded," consigned to the cross-trees aloft without food or water in all weathers and told to remain there, shivering and puking at the exaggerated motion of the ship, until Lewrie saw fit to relent. In a harsh age, Ballard and the warrants at first thought their new captain a little too mild, until they saw him administer captain's justice fair-handedly, and issue lashes with the cat-o' -nine-tails in the forenoon watches on those few truly recalcitrant or shifty.

They were fortunate in Alacrity-and Lewrie and Ballard thanked God for that good fortune-to have at least half the crew made up of seasoned people, to have had the men "pressed" for them reasonably intelligent and healthy, that a fair portion of those pressed were volunteers. Times were hard ashore, what with Enclosure Acts, unemployment and low wages, so Navy pay was steadier and surer than day-laboring. And the Ј 14 12s. 6d. net pay for a raw landsman was half again as much as he could make as a civilian. Even figured at a parsimonious lunar month instead of the calendar month, with deductions of sixpence for Greenwich Hospital and one shilling for the Chatham Chest monthly, plus the purser's subtractions for tobacco, shoes, slop-clothing, plates, scarves, hats and sundries, it was a decent annual living.

Alacrity settled down to being a somewhat happy ship. Most of her people were young and full of energy, even after a full day's work or drill. In the short dog-watches of late afternoon, when the weather permitted, there were sports and competitions, watch against watch.

And there was music and dancing, with fiddles, fifes and drums, stacks of spoons slapped upon knees if nothing else for meter,English morris dancing, Irish jigs and Scots reels, along with hornpipes or West Indian dancing.

Sometimes, Midshipman Parham on fiddle, Bosun's Mate Odrado on a beribboned guitar of which he was especially proud, the carpenter's mate, a Swede named Bjornsen, on fife, and Caroline with her flute, would play concerts by the quarter-deck rails. The Reverend Townsley made hymn books available for those seamen who could read, and the crewmen would gather aft for a singalong, or stare rapt at drawing-room compositions they'd never heard before, their eyes alight to Bach, Purcell, Handel or other great composers. But then Caroline would insist on rollicking airs familiar from an hundred village greens or taverns, or plaintive ballads, sometimes tunes she'd grown up with among her North Carolina neighbors, and the hands would sing along lustily, all over the scales, but enjoying themselves greatly.

The Townsleys disapproved of some songs-but then, they disapproved of a lot of things. Divine Services could not be conducted on a daily basis, but only on Sundays after Divisions, and after the first one, Lewrie had suggested shorter sermons and more hymns. And when the second droned on long as the first, he'd ordered the bosun to pipe "Clear Decks and Up-Spirits" to issue rum, ending services quite effectively!

The Townsleys sniffed prudishly at breakfasts, when Alan and Caroline emerged from their tiny cabins, flushed with excitement from making love. Once over her seasickness, Caroline began to enjoy voyaging, and both hanging-cot and transom settee provided ecstatic pleasures. The Townsleys, far past their own first remembrances of passion, coyly hinted that too much laughing, giggling and "odd noises" in the night had disturbed their slumbers. Which hints only served to spur Lewrie and his enthusiastic young bride to even greater feats of passion, of an even noisier nature.

And the Townsleys were upset that Lewrie did not wish to break his passage in Vigo, Lisbon, or the Madeiras, but, with Gat-acre and his own sailing master John Fellows to assist, determined upon taking a faster route for the Bahamas, edging more westing to each day's run so that Alacrity was well out to sea and beyond the normal "corner" at which most ships would turn west for the Indies off Cape St. Vincent.

He did it admittedly to save his fast-dwindling supply of wine and brandy, for the good reverend made more than free with the bottle at meals, and raided the wine cabinet in the narrow passageway every night. At least he did until Cony placed a bottle of undiluted Navy rum mixed with sea-water in the brandy's squat decanter, and beyond a startled splutter or two, and a fit of retching, no more was heard of Reverend Townsley after Lights Out for the rest of the voyage.

And so the weeks passed, from brisk Westerlies in the Bay of Biscay to tops'l breezes standing into spectacular tropic sunsets on the Atlantic crossing. From the gray green of the Channel to cobalt blue of Biscay, to bright blue waters of the Americas. From shivering with cold to the need for a hand fan in the daylight hours as Alacrity reeled off 200 miles from one noon to the next, until she rode a river of air, the Nor'east Trades, into the Providence Channel.

Their last sunset together was a beauty, beginning just at the end of the second dog-watch. From the deepest rose to palest saffron, it flamed across the whole of the western horizon, heightened by the darker clouds. The sea glittered on the glade of sunset, turned gold and amber ahead of Alacrity's course, fading to a deep blue gray to either beam, and almost black astern. The first stars were out, and a gibbous moon, brushed more gold than silver, rode low on the evening's horizon. The wind was steady but gentle, pressing Alacrity forward with a starboard quarter-wind that filled her winged out gaff courses, and the reduced tops'Is. The heat of the day, which had not been particularly fierce that early in the year, had faded, and the evening air was fresh, clean, and most temperate.

"Well, gentlemen, it is about time for Mister Gatacre to give you one last lesson in taking the height of the evening stars," Alan told the crowd of midshipmen. "And time for me to dine. Show heel-taps on your glasses, and be about your duties."

With his cabins crowded so, it had been impossible to dine any of his officers and warrants in on the voyage, as a captain usually did to get to know them better, so he had been reduced to a nightly "court" on deck once the weather had moderated as they neared their tropical destination, with wine served out to be sociable.

"Ahem," Midshipman Mayhew coughed, rising. "Uhm, sir… and Mrs. Lewrie? We… uhm… we should like to propose a toast to your lady, sir. I think I speak for all of us, for all the ship's people forrud as well…"

"You'd better, Mayhew, we deputed you, remember?" Midshipman Parham teased and the boys laughed nervously.

"Well, sir, and Mrs. Lewrie…" Mayhew began again, turning somewhat sunset-hued himself. "For those whose first voyage mis is among us, and for those of us who've sailed before, I have to state that we shall remember forever how pleasant this passage has been, because of our captain's lady. For her kind words, for her musical accomplishments. For her grace, and niceness of condescension to all hands. And for moderating a taut-handed captain's wrath upon us," he concluded with a jape. "To Mistress Lewrie, might it be possible for her to sail with Alacrity forever!"

"Hear, hear!" the others chimed in, "To Mistress Lewrie!"

"I thank you all, young gentlemen," Caroline blushed prettily. "May you have joy of your future careers. And my affection and gratitude for an exceedingly pleasant voyage to you, as well."

"Thankee, ma'am," they shambled, "thankee," as they set down their empty glasses and wandered off forward to the sailing master.

"That was so sweet of them!" Caroline sighed, touching an eye to control tears.

"There's no one like you in their experience," Alan said as he took her hand. "Nor in mine." They sat down together on the signal-flag lockers by the taffrail in the very stern. "Nor any voyage like this for them again, most like. It ain't the usual Navy experience. The lads in the draft, God knows what sort of captain they'll have next, if they get a ship at all."

"It was sweet, all the same," she insisted, dreaming on the horizon. "And a heavenly voyage for me. Our honeymoon. A lovely month at sea."

"Seasickness notwithstanding?" he japed.

"The Townsleys notwithstanding," Caroline whispered, leaning close to laugh with him. The cabin skylight was open to catch air, and their words could be heard below-decks by their "passengers" as they dressed for supper. "You will go easy on Parham and Mayhew, I trust, dearest? I know they're incorrigible imps, bad as my brothers when they were that age, but they're good lads at bottom."

"When they deserve it, I assure you I will, love."

"So much to do on the morrow," Caroline sighed, leaning close to him again, shoulder to shoulder. "Get ashore. Find lodgings and furnish them… I shall miss this. God, to sleep without you will be dreadful!"

"And I you, Caroline."

"How long do you stay in port, do you think?"

"A day to unload, another to replace firewood and water, some more rations… three days at the least, ten at the most, I suspect."

He scowled, putting an arm about her shoulders. "Small ships spend less time at sea than most, and Alacrity's about as small as one may get in the Fleet. And it's not as if I have to perform war patrols, cruising until the salt-meat runs out. Half a month could be spent swinging at anchor in Nassau Harbor."

"I'd care very much for that," she said, snuggling into him. "Oh, look. The last of the sunset. Let's watch, do! My last with you, for awhile." She sniffed a little.