Dewey Lambdin - A King`s Commander

Dear Christ, what else? Lewrie quavered.

"You told me last year 'bout being off Ushant, at the Glorious First of June battle, Lewrie." Nelson posed, solemn again. "As another example of England's supposed perfidy… the flyers allege you and your ship… mentioned both by name… entered combat flying false colors, that you engaged a French frigate under their flag. May we, at least, be able to successfully refute that, sir? And in so doing, cast doubt 'pon the whole?"

"Uhm…" Lewrie squirmed, innards icing up in fear. "Well… not exactly, sir."

"What?" Nelson bellowed. "Goddamn you for a cod's-head, sir!"

Oh, Christ, I'm in the quag for certain, now, Alan thought!

"To my best recollection, sir," he began to explain, again most carefully, "we hoisted French colors as we neared the lee side of the French line of battle, so their seventy-four's at the hind-end, which we had to tack around, wouldn't riddle us, sir. I hoped it might fool the frigate that had been pursuing us since daybreak, but he wasn't taken in. He opened 'pon us, sir, first. We put the ship about to shave the end of their line, and had to return fire if we wished to escape. We opened fire under their tricolor, sir, which fact my first pointed out to me, at which time their flag was lowered, and the Red Ensign hoisted. We began under French colors, but concluded several broadsides properly declared. Just after tacking, sir, but not yet flaked down or belayed. And that quickly done, sir."

And that's the truth… isn't it? he asked himself. Where had that come from, of a sudden? And, does he believe me?

Nelson glared at him, silent, his fine sense of honor outraged beyond all temperance, breathing high and shallow off the tops of his lungs, his lip beginning to curl in disdain.

"I wrote a report of it, sir." Lewrie explained further. "Gave it to Admiral Howe's captain of the fleet to be sent to the Admiralty. I've received no reference to the event, since."

That, he was certain was a true statement. But then, after such a glorious victory, who'd mar its odor with even a hint of a sanction, or sully the Navy's worldwide good opinion by even mentioning it?

Christ, one tiny slip, a quarter-minute's inattention, out of a fifteen-year career, and I'm to be ruined? he gasped to himself. Court-martialed and cashiered as dishonorable, in shame? A lucky ship, hey, a lucky captain, mine arse! And where's bloody Lir when you need that bastard? Mine arse on a bandbox!

"I promised all my captains I'd uphold them, Lewrie," Captain Nelson muttered more softly, though aflame with righteous anger. "As long as they did their duty, as best they saw it. You, however, make that vow rather more than difficult to fulfill. Damn you, sir! Whether you were half sunk, on your beam-ends, in the middle of a hurricane or pissed as a newt, honor was breached, sir! No matter how briefly, no matter how momentary your hair-splitting explanation may excuse it. Of all the blockheaded, slipshod things you ever thought of doing! Accident or design, it doesn't signify. It casts the foulest asperions on Navy, King, and Country. And, at a time when I, indeed England and what is left of the Coalition can least afford it. Made our task here even harder. And at the worst possible time. Do you see that, Lewrie?"

"Aye, sir," Alan groaned, sure he was a goner.

"Perhaps it's of no matter." Nelson sighed heavily. "I cannot print flyers of mine own to counter any of these charges, without giving them greater circulation. To deign to notice them is to show fear, which gives them even further veracity. And, sir… I cannot stoop to rebut this compounded slur in good conscience. That would be creating lies, to counter lies. To then be caught lying, later…"

"That's what Mister Silberberg is paid to do, sir," Alan said with a miserable shrug, but a touch of gallows humor in spite of all.

"The Admiralty took no notice of it?" Nelson inquired, with a very small sound of hopefulness.

"No, sir. Not a word."

"Nor have the French complained," Nelson glowered, sitting at his desk, at last. "Now it's public knowledge here, though, there is a chance Paris might find it useful against us, throughout Europe. As soon as this Choundas person, or his superiors, gloat over what they've gained by local exposure. Good God Almighty," he brooded, lowering his head and massaging his injured brow. "Admiral Hotham must be told, do you see, Lewrie. Loath as I am to communicate it to him, this is a matter we cannot sweep under the rug. He may assemble a court at San Fiorenzo."

"I see that, sir." Lewrie sighed, just as morosely.

"Thought better of you, I did, sir," Nelson declared softly. "Turk's Island, the way you spoke so movingly in your captain's behalf when he was wounded… way he spoke so well of you. Toulon. Taking Jester just after, saving all those refugees. Knew you were reputed to be a trifle rakehellish, one who'd tiptoe right to the edge. The Hamiltons in Naples spoke well of you, too. Lady Emma, especially. I have found her to be a shrewd judge of character, in the main."

Lewrie bit on a knuckle, diplomatically, wondering what Nelson'd think, if he knew he'd got the leg over Lady Emma back in '93?

"Trouble is, though, Lewrie, you're slipshod, slapdash. More so than a proper captain ought be," Nelson accused. "Given your previous good repute, though, I am given to believe your explanation. Your actions at Bordighera were honorable. Give me copies of all officers' journals, log entries, and such, concerning Ushant, so I may satisfy myself, one way or the other, before I communicate it to Admiral Hotham. There is always the possibility that he will deem it unworthy of note. Or, given the circumstances that obtain of late… he may consider it inexpedient to notice, do you follow, sir?"

"Aye, sir." Lewrie nodded hopefully. Hotham had trouble with recalling what he had for breakfast, his bloody hat size; or dither so long in making up what passed for his mind, he'd soon forget it.

"In the meantime, I may perfectly justify sending you away, then. Though I am already badly in need of reinforcement," Nelson stated.

"Sent away, sir. I see," Lewrie stammered.

"Your ship took damage, sir," Nelson said, brightening a trifle. "I believe you've been eighteen months without a rent, as well. Leghorn is the place for you, Lewrie. With Jester away… out of sight, out of mind?… the rabble-rousers who spread these filthy lies will have to cut new ones from whole cloth to inflame Italian resentments. You will perform such limited repairs as you may here at Vado Bay, then go to Leghorn to complete them, and do a proper refit. Take your time, there. No need to rush back. Once back, I may find you useful again. Perhaps well offshore, still out of sight. And operating under a set of orders and cautions, which I pray will spare us the risk of future embarrassments."

"I see, sir," Lewrie said, even more gloomily. "Well, I'd best be about it, then. Was that all, sir? You said three…?"

"Ah." Nelson frowned sternly again, getting to his feet, with his hands in the small of his back. "Yes. There was."

God what bloody else, Alan sagged; adultery?

"It is Captain Cockburn's complaint, sir… that you impeded his pursuit of Choundas's vessel… an enemy then flying… by the placement of your ship, by not obeying his flag signals to give him way seaward. Further, that your replies were preemptory and unsuitable for a junior to send to a senior officer."

"Well, damme…" Lewrie muttered, quite nonplussed.

"A close-run thing already, I warn you, sir," Nelson rejoined.

"He asked 'Do You Require Assistance?' sir," Lewrie explained, feeling like he'd been doing so his entire bloody life! "My signals midshipman Mister Hyde's deck log will show that, sir. To which I sent 'Affirmative,' taking it to mean did I need rescuing from Choundas.. and I most heartily did, sir!"

He laid out his crippled state, barely under control and unable to steer clear, barely underway and almost dead in the water. How he had sent "Submit," meaning that Cockburn should cut inshore, cutting a corner off the pursuit.

"We did manage to claw about northerly, sir, when he ordered us to haul our wind. I had no intent to impede him, far from it. I meant no disrespect, or wished to 'serve him sauce,' either, sir. Were he to catch Choundas up and murder the bastard, I'd be the first one to sport him a royal fireworks, and a concert! That man needs killing more than anyone ever I did see, sir, and if Captain Cockburn got the credit for it, then I'd be the last man on earth to complain. Had he cut inshore, well… he broke off his pursuit not an hour later, so…"

Nelson cut off his blathering with a chop of his hand.

"I've already sensed animosity between you before, sir. And did I not warn you both that I wished my captains to work together? Did I not make that plain enough, sir?" Nelson intoned harshly. "I cannot tolerate officers under me who can't put aside personal grudges so the greater good is achieved. With due deference, and mutual respect."

"But I was trying to communicate to him how best my situation, and his desire for a fight, might coincide, sir."

"He may be young, to your lights, Lewrie," Nelson pointed out. "May have attained a great deal, perhaps an unseemly great deal in so short a time. But I find him to be one of the ablest, most honest and courageous officers it has ever been my pleasure to meet. Intelligent, with steel in his hand, and aggressive, with a burning desire to close with, and destroy the foe."

"Well, of course, sir," Alan wriggled.

"How many battles has England lost, sir?" Nelson sighed, gazing off in the middle distance, half turned away from him. "How many opportunities have we let slip, because of bickering and rancor, when they might have resulted in stupendous, crushing victories? All due to the spite and jealousy of our leaders, I tell you. You were at the Battle of the Chesapeake in eighty-one, I believe, sir?" Nelson snapped, turning to face him again. "Hood and Graves, sir, confusing signals? I doubt it. There was lingering animosity 'tween them, and Hood disgusted that his superior allowed de Grasse to stand out and exit the capes in good order, so he held his division back from engaging, and Graves left unable to prevail, unsupported. Hard as it pains me to say about our mutual patron, and as fine a sailor, a gentleman, and officer as we may ever know, he is not free of human failings. There must be trust, respect, and cooperation between us, sir!" Nelson cried, a messianic glint in his eye. "We must allow nothing to get in the way of Duty. Nothing! Mankind will never be free of spite, never become so contented with their lot, or with one another, that they march in lockstep, like some wind-up, clock-work toys. I cannot hope, nor order, that my officers love one another, Lewrie. But it is not too much to wish that they are respectful of one another, and the others' individual talents. Like a houseful of good-natured brothers and cousins might deal among themselves. Chaffer at home, with no vindictiveness, but ready to spring to the defense of each individual with as much alacrity as they would for their family's good name. I will not tolerate an officer who cannot work cheerfully with his fellows, Lewrie. Nor one who would play the serpent in the Garden of Eden behind the others' backs."

"Aye, sir," Lewrie replied, cowed by the vehemence with which Nelson spoke, his stubborn enthusiasm.

"You will write Cockburn and make amends to him," Nelson told him; ordered him. "Explain yourself, and your signals, and the spirit in which they were intended. You might also thank him, even though you have already done so, for rescuing you at your weakest moment. Quarter-hour more, and you'd have been forced to strike, no matter how doughty a defense you presented, isn't that what you wrote in your report? It would not hurt to tell Cockburn that."