Dewey Lambdin - The King`s Commission

Damme, how could I have been so abysmally bloody stupid! he thought. If it was just Claghorne and Parrot, I could have found some way to prove my worth to the dirty bastard. Why did I have to say that? In for the penny, in for the pound, indeed! Why, why do I have to think I'm so bloody clever, when I just dig my grave deeper every time I do so?

He fetched up somewhere on the fo'c'sle and pretended to study the angle of the anchor cable and the chafe-gear on the hawse, as he found his breath and tried to still the rising panic in his heart. Where was salvation? Should he go to Railsford immediately and tell him what he had seen? There was a good chance Railsford would not believe him, or Kenyon would have a good excuse for his actions in that coach. He and Sir Richard had been childhood friends, and what was more natural than a goodbye kiss between old friends? It could be painted a lot more innocent than what Alan had seen. And he was sure of that, wasn't he?

Should he parley his new fame into a transfer? He would have to state reasons, and would be back to the same contretemps. Should he simply cash out and escape? Damned if he would!

You and your mouth, Lewrie! he castigated himself. You and your bloody, stupid temper! I've tossed the dice this time, damme if I haven't!

Desperate spent another week swinging at her anchorage in the inner harbor, as Hood's presence forced the dockyard officials to pay attention to her final repairs, and Alan Lewrie spent that week staying as far forward or aft of the first lieutenant as one could in so restricted a world as a 6th Rate frigate. When forced by duty into immediate vicinity he sweated buckets trying to shrink into his coat and hat to be as anonymous as possible. Oddly, once Kenyon had gone through the ship with a fine-tooth-comb with the warrants and department heads, he had ducked aft into the wardroom as officers did in harbor and stood no watches. And when forced to converse with him, Kenyon showed absolutely no malice or any signs that they had ever had a cross word with each other, which possibly made Lewrie even more nervous than anything else Kenyon could have done.

He'll wait till we're at sea where he can really bugger me, Alan concluded to himself, almost writhing in dread anticipation of how many ways he could be caught out at his duties by an alert and vengeful first officer. With grudge enough, the bloody wooden figurehead could be found derelict and flogged, he realized.

"Passin' the word fer Mister Sedge an' Mister Lewrie!" Alan was torn from his frightful imaginings and summoned aft to Railsford's quarters, which brought even more dread to his already tortured soul. He could not remember one good thing ever happening in the great cabins, even if Treghues was no longer there as their occupant.

Railsford had seemed to expand since his promotion to command. He lolled in a leather-padded dining chair behind a new desk in the day cabin. The furnishings were not as fine as Treghues' had been, much of the dining table and chairs bought used from a shore chandlery, or put together by the carpenter's crew out of such limited selection of lumber as could be found in English Harbor or across the island at St. John's.

Railsford seemed merry enough as they removed their hats and tucked them under their arms. He had one leg flung across a chair arm, his shirt open and his stock removed to savor the balmy breeze that blew in through the transom windows and the open skylight and ventilator chute.

"Admiral Hood informs us he's to seat an examining board day after tomorrow," Railsford began, stuffing tobacco into a clay church-warden, while Freeling puttered about striking flint and tinder to get a light for him. "I thought you two might be interested in it. Mister Sedge, what say you?"

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but I'd not be interested."

"The devil you say!" Railsford gawked. "You'd pass easy."

"Aye, sir, I might," Sedge agreed with a small smile. "I've been at sea since I was nine on family ships, sir. But I intend a career in merchant service 'stead of the Navy."

"But still-" Railsford shrugged, his pipe now lit.

"The Navy don't pay, sir, and my family needs money to get back on their feet after what the Rebels looted from us," Sedge concluded in a sigh. "The Navy's only been temp'rary. Sailin' master's high enough for me, and more suited to my future employment, sir."

"Hmm, if you are sure, I don't suppose anything I say could convince you," Railsford acquiesced. "I wish you joy of your career. But after the war, there'll be a glut of qualified officers once the Fleet's been reduced. Passing may give you the leg up."

"Aye, sir, but my uncle and my dad still have two ships, and I'd be at least a mate come hell'r high water," Sedge told him smugly.

"Thank you, Mister Sedge, that'll be all, then. Well, Mister Lewrie, what about you?" Railsford asked as Sedge left.

"Yes, sir!" Alan answered with alacrity, sensing escape from his problems. "But only… I don't have six years on ship's books, sir."

"Oh, the devil with that, there's a war on, and no one gives a tinker's damn about piddling details, not on a foreign station."

"Really, sir?" Alan brightened, wondering if he could stand on firmer ground as a passed midshipman, if he wasn't immediately made a lieutenant. Please, dear God, I promise I'll keep my mouth shut! Please!

"If your records are in order, and you may answer their questions sensibly, they'd have no reason to refuse you, Mister Lewrie," Railsford told him, now puffing a wreath of smoke around his head.

"Then I would like to try, sir," Alan agreed quickly.

"You're fortunate that I can give you a good report, as well as Captain Treghues over in Capricieuse, all in harbor at the same time. And the former second officer and your old commander in your first two ships as well, just in case you didn't keep your professional bona fides in order," Railsford maundered on lazily.

"Ah, the first lieutenant, sir." Alan turned a touch gloomy at the thought of Lieutenant Kenyon, and the very idea of having to depend on him to put in a good word for him now.

"I'll ask of him for you," Railsford offered. "Now, there's not much time to study, so you'd best be about it. Dine with me this evening and I shall fill you in on procedure and what the likely questions are to be. Go through your Falconer 's and especially your navigation texts. Mister Sedge would be a good tutor."

"Aye, sir," Alan nodded. God, what if I'm passed for lieutenant? he speculated once on deck again. There must be openings for dozens of officers in all these ships, else they'd never seat the bloody board! Well, maybe a dozen in all. And how many midshipmen to examine? A hundred? In one day, two days? They can't spend more than half an hour on any of them, could they? Maybe even a quarter hour. I'm not stupid, and I have learned a lot. And there must be plenty of idiots who'll stand no chance before a board. I could be one of those dozen who pass and receive a posting into a new ship. Even if I don't get an immediate posting, I could become prize-master the next time we take a foe, and be away from Kenyon again, free as the birds. Or, he concluded grimly, God help me, I could fail and be stuck here.

"Well turned out, I see," Railsford commented on Lewrie's uniform as he was announced into the after cabins. "I trust you're saving your best for the board."

"Aye, sir," Alan replied, feeling on tenter-hooks at the sight of Lieutenant Kenyon seated aft on the transom settee with a glass of wine in his hand.

"Take a seat, Mister Lewrie," Railsford directed, meaning to put him at his ease. "Address yourself to that decanter of claret in front of you. Just in from home on the packet, though I fear it did not travel at all well. Still…"

"Thankee, sir," Alan replied, clawing a stemmed glass from the towel and pouring it almost full.

"I must tell you that when I informed Captain Treghues of your intent to attend the examining board, he was delighted at the idea," Railsford related, seating himself at the dining table. "Mister Kenyon, do come join us for a companionable drink before supper is served."

"Aye, sir," Kenyon said. When he sat down, Alan was pleased to note that, though the night was relatively cool, the first officer wore a sheen of sweat on his brow and his upper lip, and beads of moisture trickled down his cheeks.

"Little did you realize. Mister Kenyon, that our prodigy here would be presenting himself for the chance at a commission in your lifetime, hey?" Railsford began with a small jest.

"Indeed not, sir," Kenyon chuckled with a superior little drawl, like a gambler whose hole-cards will take the game as soon as he shows them. "I'd have expected more like another year or two of seasoning. Spent five years a younker before I stood a board."

"The full six for me," Railsford reminisced.

"Two years and a bit, though." Kenyon frowned, warming to his theme. "Well, that's cutting it a bit fine, even in wartime."

"But we were callow little cullies of twelve or thirteen." The captain laughed, which made Alan dart a thankful glance at him. "Mister Lewrie was more mature when he first put on King's coat, and a cut above the average midshipman in intelligence to begin with."

"Seasick in Portsmouth, and adrift in old Ariadne . In harbor," Kenyon added with relish. "Took an hour to report to our first officer after he stepped below."

"Still, he learned quickly," Railsford said, chuckling at the image of Lewrie "casting his accounts" over the side of a ship safely moored in Portsmouth. "Some learn faster than others. I've no qualms about his prospects, if you don't."

"Did I not learn, sir?" Alan interrupted, directing his gaze to Kenyon. "So many things. About the Navy. And people ."

Damned if he was going to sit there being discussed like a thing , and damned if he was going to let Kenyon lay doubts about him. Kenyon almost choked on a sip of wine at the last comment.

"Enough to stand before a board, I'll warrant," Railsford went on, oblivious to Alan's little verbal shot. "Captain Treghues sent me a packet for you, Lewrie. Letter of recommendation, and a list of some questions you'll likely be challenged with. Ah, here's the one about outfitting a ship from truck to keel. And some other posers he's heard about over his years."

"I'm most grateful for any aid from him, sir."

"Didn't exactly love you when you first joined Desperate, did he?" Railsford shrugged. "Our late captain did not hold with dueling, and our Alan here had just put some Army bastard's lights out."

"Yes, I heard about that," Kenyon said. "Even if the girl was your admiral's niece, I'd not have approved, either."

"Well, I can say it now he's got his new command and is gone from us," Railsford stated. "Captain Treghues played the most devilish favorites, sometimes for the worst people. It was feast or famine for everyone, and no sense to it, no way of knowing how one may have offended."

"His cater-cousin, Midshipman Forrester, sir." Alan grimaced.

"Thank God we left the surly turd at Yorktown," Railsford said with a laugh. "Yet, prejudiced as he was in the beginning, he came 'round to appreciate Mister Lewrie, so his praise is doubly blessed."

"To everything there is a season, so to speak, sir," Kenyon replied. "Approbation or shame. But did your captain shun the worthy and praise the unworthy by seasons, sir? Then perhaps… well, if he had learned of young Alan's past, and if he was, as I've heard, a perfect Tartar on religion and proper behavior, who's to know why Captain Treghues would recommend him now so highly. Or is it more of the same?"