Title: Misery In Leadership
Summary: A short, SHORT piece; Barrett Bonden's point of view after the Leopard is deserted by at least a third of the already undermanned crew. During 'Desolation Island'.
Note: oo; I just really, REALLY needed to write something for the M&C section, which I have been notoriously neglecting. I went on vacation, and while on the plane home, began writing this. I was right at the end of 'Desolation Island' for the umpteenth time, and this just sort of popped into my head... xD For Thig, as I made Bonden the main character just for j00.
I had seldom felt such a clash of opposing feeling – to be sure, I was glad to be rid of that bugger; Grant, when the Cap had his back turned about, was a miserable excuse for a whoreson sod, and a tyrant when he wished. But it was hard to see the rest of them go. Lord knows it was cruel hard on the Captain.
'Leastways the Jonah's gone,' said Doudle.
I frowned. I liked to think I was the most sensible of the lot – aside that, someone had to be the one to keep the less than tact with his mouth shut. Even if I believed it, and felt it, just as much as they.
'None of that, Faster Doudle,' I replied, heaving against the pump as I did so. The watches were set to the pumps, day and night, lest the barky sink on us, due to the waterlogged hull. Ever since that bloody Dutch bugger...
'You're glad, and you know it, Barrett Bonden,' Doudle responded, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with his sleeve. 'Bad enough, being on an unlucky ship.'
That remark brought a few low murmurs from the others. Doudle shook his head disapprovingly. 'That ghost's still down there, I'll wager,' he added, referring to the phantom that hung about the bowsprit nettings.
Daniel Allan, the bosun's mate, shook his head and grimaced. 'You heard Bonden, Doudle,' he said. Faster scowled and continued at his pump.
I wasn't any less wary of the unnatural than the others, least of all Faster Doudle – I knew just as much as the next Jack Tar. The Leopard, no matter how it's redone and made pretty, was unlucky, and unlucky it would stay. Fifty guns or no, it had an unlucky name, and the women that were stashed in the hold did nothing to help.
Nor did the ship's master, who was right crazed – the Jonah, as Faster said. T'was he, Mr Larkin, as slew Mr Howard, one of the Marines, and nearly killed another fellow. No one was fond of Grant, the first lieutenant – a fine seaman, to be sure, but not a seaman-like fellow himself. I couldn't help but dislike the entire situation – whatever the Cap might say, it was all a mess.
The Leopard had had problems right from the start – gaol-fever put the doctor (bless him) to hard work, and the ship was undermanned at that point. Then Grant had to lead a right Pied Piper's jig, carrying off more of the men in the jolly boats, convincing them as that the barky were as good as sunk. A right mess, indeed.
The doctor and captain, themselves, came with some other officers – Babbington, God rest the lad, among them – to relieve the watch's duty. I nodded my head respectfully towards Captain Aubrey as he moved towards me, to take my place at the pump. There was a sadness in his eyes, so clear, that my heart wrenched. T'was a mess, to be sure, but none knew so well as the captain.
Summary: A short, SHORT piece; Barrett Bonden's point of view after the Leopard is deserted by at least a third of the already undermanned crew. During 'Desolation Island'.
Note: oo; I just really, REALLY needed to write something for the M&C section, which I have been notoriously neglecting. I went on vacation, and while on the plane home, began writing this. I was right at the end of 'Desolation Island' for the umpteenth time, and this just sort of popped into my head... xD For Thig, as I made Bonden the main character just for j00.
I had seldom felt such a clash of opposing feeling – to be sure, I was glad to be rid of that bugger; Grant, when the Cap had his back turned about, was a miserable excuse for a whoreson sod, and a tyrant when he wished. But it was hard to see the rest of them go. Lord knows it was cruel hard on the Captain.
'Leastways the Jonah's gone,' said Doudle.
I frowned. I liked to think I was the most sensible of the lot – aside that, someone had to be the one to keep the less than tact with his mouth shut. Even if I believed it, and felt it, just as much as they.
'None of that, Faster Doudle,' I replied, heaving against the pump as I did so. The watches were set to the pumps, day and night, lest the barky sink on us, due to the waterlogged hull. Ever since that bloody Dutch bugger...
'You're glad, and you know it, Barrett Bonden,' Doudle responded, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with his sleeve. 'Bad enough, being on an unlucky ship.'
That remark brought a few low murmurs from the others. Doudle shook his head disapprovingly. 'That ghost's still down there, I'll wager,' he added, referring to the phantom that hung about the bowsprit nettings.
Daniel Allan, the bosun's mate, shook his head and grimaced. 'You heard Bonden, Doudle,' he said. Faster scowled and continued at his pump.
I wasn't any less wary of the unnatural than the others, least of all Faster Doudle – I knew just as much as the next Jack Tar. The Leopard, no matter how it's redone and made pretty, was unlucky, and unlucky it would stay. Fifty guns or no, it had an unlucky name, and the women that were stashed in the hold did nothing to help.
Nor did the ship's master, who was right crazed – the Jonah, as Faster said. T'was he, Mr Larkin, as slew Mr Howard, one of the Marines, and nearly killed another fellow. No one was fond of Grant, the first lieutenant – a fine seaman, to be sure, but not a seaman-like fellow himself. I couldn't help but dislike the entire situation – whatever the Cap might say, it was all a mess.
The Leopard had had problems right from the start – gaol-fever put the doctor (bless him) to hard work, and the ship was undermanned at that point. Then Grant had to lead a right Pied Piper's jig, carrying off more of the men in the jolly boats, convincing them as that the barky were as good as sunk. A right mess, indeed.
The doctor and captain, themselves, came with some other officers – Babbington, God rest the lad, among them – to relieve the watch's duty. I nodded my head respectfully towards Captain Aubrey as he moved towards me, to take my place at the pump. There was a sadness in his eyes, so clear, that my heart wrenched. T'was a mess, to be sure, but none knew so well as the captain.