Chapter Thirteen: At Sea
Harry Potter awoke early on Monday morning out of necessity. Despite modern conveniences, this world still arose at dawn and slept when the sun went down. In Harry's case he had no choice. A seven-year-old boy (and nine months he would note) was shaking him awake.
"Do you always lie abed, Harry? There is a world to see." Harry looked at him in surprise but Roger added, "Robert tells me this is your first time to Cambridge. Hurry, please. The faster we are ready, the sooner we may go."
Harry glared at him. "I have had a younger brother for less than one full day and I am already sick of him."
Roger laughed and ran out of the room.
Harry walked out to the main sitting room where most everyone was. Roger, who was now Lord London because they were no longer in private, was drinking hot tea with milk while sitting in the corner by the window. Lord Robert de Somerset was sitting with him. He was no longer Lord Robert Cahill because he had been declared dead, and the title of Earl of Cahill, given to him as a courtesy, reverted to the Marquis of London, who was now his younger brother.
Sitting on the couch (although they gave it a different name) with the Duke was the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland. Her husband was Duke, and when he died the title went to his eldest son by a previous marriage. She became the Dowager Duchess, and her step-daughter-in-law became the Duchess. Harry nodded to himself as he remembered who was who in the hierarchy of the room. It helped his confidence none that the Duchess called him over and adjusted his cravat.
"Do I always have to wear this uniform?" Harry asked, then quickly added, "Your Grace."
"We will have you fitted today, so that you will have more than one," The Duke informed him, smiling because he knew that was not what Harry meant.
The Duchess was more condescending. "It is what you are, Harry. It gives you a place. I have already told you how important that is."
"Yes, Your Grace," Harry said.
"Harry," The Duke said sternly but not with anger. "I know this is new to you but please always remember who you are." He grinned slightly as he began his next line. "I know you have the lowest rank possible, but you are still an officer in His Royal Majesty's Navy. It is a position you should not take lightly."
"I understand, Your Grace." Harry had a strange feeling of warmth come over him. Something in the Duke's manner told him that he now held a position of respect and responsibility, and he would be given these if he proved himself worthy. It was a great deal to read into a few words but he was sure he understood correctly.
"If I may ask, Your Grace, Lord London told me that we were going someplace today. May I ask where?"
"After breakfast we will be returning to King's College. First we will attend the Institute, where a number of people will want to ask both you and Lord Robert every question imaginable. Afterward, time permitting, Lord London and Lord Robert will be visiting Saint Cathal's Academy. It will be a reunion of friends for Lord Robert."
Harry understood these words as well. He would not be going. It would not be proper. Harry was surprised that he was not more upset, but he did understand. There would be a time when he would fit in.
The butler entered the room. "Your Grace, breakfast is ready to be served at your leisure."
Harry followed everyone to the dining room and sat in his appointed spot, next to Lord London (with Lord Robert Somerset on the other side). Having had practice after yesterday's Mass, he felt like he knew what to do. The servant would ask each person, according to rank. When he asked Harry, Harry would say yes or no. The servant would pour his juice, or set out his eggs or bacon or whatever. Once they were done, everyone was permitted to eat. Harry learned quickly to expect his food to be warm but rarely hot.
Harry spent the most boring morning of his life. He sat in a room with a small group of people who asked him all sorts of questions, many of which seemed trivial. One thing he did discover is that he had not been born yet according to the calender in the Anglo-French Empire. For some reason, the difference in the dating system was fourteen years. This was first noted when Harry was asked when the Battle of Hastings took place and he did not answer 1052 A.D.
After three hours, he was given something to eat, then escorted back to the room, to see a new person there.
"You are out of uniform, Mister Potter, Or is this a new uniform for a new world?"
Harry grinned to see Professor Dumbledore standing there. "Sir, it is good to see you. Are you staying?"
"For a while, Harry. It seems the governors of the school were less than enthusiastic about the attacks. They felt they needed to do something." Harry understood and expressed his surprise but Dumbledore calmed him quickly. "Professor McGonagall is more than capable of handling the job, and she can contact me almost at any time if need be. I would be upset but now I have the chance to take a small vacation."
"I don't, do not," Harry admitted. "They decided to put me in the Navy, and tomorrow I have to go to a Naval Academy to see if I . . . will fit in."
"That should be interesting. To visit a different school." Dumbledore smiled but Harry did not appreciate the remark. "Don't worry, Harry, you can always say no if you don't like it."
"But I . . ."
"But you are in the Navy, and you can always resign. If this is not what you want, you do not have to do it."
"Yes, Sir," Harry said, mollified. "I think I should, Sir, go through with it. I do not fancy the idea, but I should learn what is expected of me before I decide."
"Good thinking, Harry. Never say no, or yes, until you know what you are dealing with. Now, I was wondering. Your brothers have gone off to visit old friends. Would you care to join me for a tour one of the other schools here at Kings College?"
Harry agreed, and found himself touring the School of Sorcery. Master Sorcerer Sean O'Lochlainn joined them and explained the various classes and lectures that the apprentices attended. They even sat in on a lecture on the Laws of Magic. After five minutes, Harry couldn't help thinking that Hermione would love this.
"Master Sean," Harry asked after the lecture. "Why do they spend so much time studying magical theory as apprentices? Shouldn't that be for the advanced classes?"
"Harry, we use magic differently here. We do not have the power you have in your world, so we compromise. By making subtle changes in the casting of a spell we can make them more powerful that you would expect. I understand that Lord Robert demonstrated the protective spell I helped him set. It had such a powerful effect when it was used because it could use the power of the spell it was repelling. Even in the most difficult situations that spell can be cast with no effort at all."
Monday night was spent in travel, and Harry slept as fitfully as he could. In the early morning before dawn, a Naval courier whose name he never knew, led him to His Majesty's Docks at Dover. Harry looked up as they walked the full length of a dreadnought, the HRMS Brisbane. He was to learn later that the dreadnaught was the backbone of the Naval fleet. It used no sails, but ensorcelled engines turned large propellers on their shafts and impelled the ships through the water regardless of wind. They were limited on how far they could travel only if a trained sorcerer was not on board. These were the most powerful machines of the modern age and, with refinements, had been so for the past sixty years.
As they reached the end of the pier, the courier stopped him, and pointed to the other side of the dock. He gave Harry an envelope and told him to walk forward. Harry stared briefly before he started moving. The ship he was pointed to was not a dreadnaught. It was dwarfed by comparison although still a good size in its own right. What caught Harry's attention was the fact that it had three full masts of sail. It was as though history had another collision with itself, with the seventeenth century leaping directly into the twentieth century without passing through the intervening years.
As he neared the gangplank he remembered his instructions on how to act. He saluted the nearest person and asked loudly, "Sub-Lieutenant Harry Potter reporting for duty. Permission to come aboard, Sir."
"Yer, what, one week old?" the man asked.
"I do not understand, Sir," Harry said.
"Ye did it again." This time the man laughed. "Do ye see the blue jacket I'm wearing?"
"You are wearing a white jacket."
"That's right. That makes me a Seaman. What you want to do is order me to call the officer on deck."
"Yes, Sir, sorry."
"I love the new ones," the man said to the air. "You call me Seaman, not Sir, and you never apologize to anyone below your rank, Do ye understand?"
"Yes, Seaman."
"Now, order me."
"Um, Seaman, call the officer on deck."
"Yes, Sir," the Seaman called out. "CAPTAIN GRISSOM, SIR," he barked.
"I'm right here, Davers," a slightly annoyed voice said, just out of sight of Harry. He came into view and Harry saluted. "Permission to come aboard, Sir."
"And you are?"
"Sub-Lieutenant Harry Potter, Sir, Reporting for duty."
The Captain stared at him, examining every detail about the boy, while Harry stood there. Captain Peter Grissom did not look as old as Harry expected. If he was forty, it would be a surprise. He had long brown hair, tied off in the back, and steely grey eyes. At Six foot Two, he was to be taller than most men on the ship, and his barrel chest and thick arms made him look like he was the strongest as well. Then he smiled down at Harry as though he was a joke.
"Come on up, lad. If we wait for you to get it right, we shall miss the tide."
"Yes Sir," Harry said as he almost ran up the plank. He handed his envelope with his orders to the Captain. Grissom put them in his pocket, unopened. Then he pointed to where a half dozen other boys stood, and Harry joined them.
"Is that it," The Captain asked Seaman Davers.
"One more, Sir. The last minute addition."
The Captain cast a glance at Harry.
"No Sir," Davers replied to the glance. "That one was the last minute replacement."
The Captain smiled. "For the one with the bad eyesight?"
Both men grinned. "Aye, that one, Sir."
"Oy," a voice called from the pier that Harry had recently left.
Seaman Davers looked over the side of the ship. "What ye want, Lad. Ye lost?"
"Not likely, wi' this 'un guidin' me," the voice called out. "Am yer new sailor, if ye let me up on that thing."
"Do ye know how to ask to come on board."
"If ye have a special way, I donna ken, but me Mam says ye can tell me three times
an' I donna learn, then toss me off, an don' bother lookin' fer land first."
"Captain?" Davers said. "He's ignorant and proud of it."
"Is he wearing a jacket?"
"It's as blue as yer eyes are grey, Captain."
Davers looked down at the boy, again. "I need to know yer name."
"Jamie Tarr," the boy called out.
"Right enough, Jamie, now give us your name with your rank if you know it, and ask to speak to the officer on deck."
"Yeah, Me Dad told me that. I'm Lieutenant Jamie Tarr, Jamison Tarr," the boy corrected. "Is the Captain about?"
"How do ye know the Captain is on deck?" Davers asked.
"He better be. It's his ship," Jamie answered.
Only Harry and the other Sub-Lieutenants were not laughing into their coats, but they couldn't help grinning as well.
"I'm here, Lieutenant," the Captain called out. "Come up here at once." The boy ran up the gangplank and stopped when he spied the Captain. The boy wore his uniform perfectly, and saluted in what was obviously a well-practiced manner. The Captain had to ask. "Who taught you that?"
"Me Dad, Captain Sir."
"Navy?"
"Army, Sir."
"Get with the others, boy. It is time to cast off."
"Aye, Sir. An thank ye fer havin' me."
Jamie stood next to Harry as they watched everyone around them running about. He was grateful for the circumstances that gave him this chance. The Inn and the farm were nice but Jamie had heard too many stories from his father to be happy at home. His father had traveled and he wanted to as well. He would miss his family but he would have a full life. There was a humor in the situation that no one would know about for a long time. Jamie was standing next to the person who was responsible for his good fortune, even to the point of receiving the exemption that gave him the right to be trained as an officer.
Harry, for his part, would have been surprised to find out that Jamie's father owned the Three Broomsticks, which also existed in this world.
"Each of you," the Captain said, "holds the rank of Sub-Lieutenant. What that means is that we assume that you know nothing." He looked at Jamie. "In some cases this is not an assumption." His serious grimace flickered with a smirk when Jamie grinned at the remark. "How many of you have ever been on a ship before?"
Jamie obviously did not raise his hand, nor did Harry. It was the first thing they found that they had in common.
"You," the Captain pointed to a tall blond boy. "What ship have you been on?"
"The Portsmouth, Captain, by grace of my father. He is Commander."
"Commander Farley is a good officer. You have a great deal to live up to."
The Captain went down the line, asking each boy in turn. Five of the other Six had family members in the Navy. The other was from a diplomatic family, a younger son. That left Harry and Jamie, and everyone already knew about Jamie. The Captain turned on Harry. "And why are you here?"
"I was told to come here, Captain." It was all Harry could think to say. "I took the King's Shilling."
The Captain smiled, and turned to the others. "All of you claim that you are here because of family or friends, but this one had the right of it. You are HERE because you have been ordered to be here. While you are here, you will do what you are ordered to do. If you can learn to do what you are told, you will be permitted to stay. And because all of you are OFFICERS, if you stay we will then teach you why you are doing what you are told. Look to the aft. Do all of you see the coast? DO YOU?"
"Yes, Captain," Eight voices shouted.
"Good. The coast is over there and the ship is here. This Barque is His Royal Majesty's Ship, the Hermes, 18 guns, 86 men and officers on board including eight boys who are dry behind the ears. As Captain of the Hermes, I am in complete control. You will obey every order without hesitation. You will give full attention to every instruction. And lastly. You will try to learn as much about this ship as is possible in three days time. This is a training vessel. And it has one specific purpose. At the end of three days, I will be the one to determine if any or all of you have the right to wear a Naval uniform. How many of you brought civilian clothes, just in case?"
Almost everyone again raised their hands. The only exception was Harry. The Captain made note of the fact then continued.
"Each of you is to be assigned to a Lieutenant or midshipman. He will be your instructor. He will answer all of your questions and tell you what you need to know. As a rule, all of you will dine together and take certain lessons together after meals, but those are the exceptions, and there are exceptions to those. Otherwise, you have the same schedule as your officer-instructor."
It was no surprise when the Commander chose the boy, Farley. The First Lieutenant chose Jamie, impressed by his brashness and apparent willingness to learn. Each officer made their choice for whatever reason, until Harry, the ignorant boy with glasses, was standing by himself.
"We did have an extra, Captain," Davers said. "He'd make a good Seaman."
"Mister Davers," Captain Grissom said quietly. "We are away from the docks and you have finished playing your role. You are dismissed."
"Yes, Captain," Seaman Davers said, and saluted as he left.
The Captain looked at Harry with amusement. "Do you know why no one picked you?"
"No, Captain."
"It is because you are the unknown quantity. Everyone else had cause to be here. The officers know they will try. But not you. You are here because you were told to come here. If someone had said go someplace else, you would have. Am I right?"
"Yes, Captain," Harry answered sullenly, but saw that the Captain expected more. "I can not say more, Sir."
"Best remain an unknown quantity then? Do you know what a Sub-Lieutenant is?"
"No, Captain."
Captain Grissom nodded. "There are the general officers: Myself, Commander Tanner and the Lieutenants. We outrank you. Do you understand so far?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Then we have the midshipmen. These are the Chief Petty officer, the Ship's Chirurgen, the Quartermaster and so on. They outrank you as well. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, Captain."
"You are an officer in the smallest sense of the word. You can remain an officer, or you can leave. It all depends on how you do. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, Captain."
"What can you do?"
"I don't understand, Captain? I do not understand, Captain?"
"That's right, Harry. Don't use contractions. Poor breeding and all that." The Captain smiled for the first time. "I will teach you myself. I have not done that in a long time. We will see what you have inside of you. Take your boots off."
Harry started to ask why but he saw the Captain taking his boots off, and his stockings. Harry quickly followed suit, and a minute later they both stood barefoot on the deck. The Captain smiled at his own private joke.
"First, you need an overview of the ship. Follow me."
The Captain walked over to the rigging tied to the main mast, pulled himself up and started climbing. Harry tried to follow but did so slowly, trying to adjust for the movement of the ship. When he finally reached the topgallant, where the rigging met the highest spar of the mast, the Captain pointed down and began to recite names of the various parts of the deck below them and of the sails around them. Then he told Harry to repeat them. Harry tried, and was corrected when he was wrong. For over an hour, they stayed up there, until both Harry and the Captain were sure he could name the proper parts of the ship. As a compliment the Captain told Harry, "The one thing I can not stand is sending someone to the quarterdeck and then being asked where it is. You do not know yet what to do when you get there, lad, but at least you know where you are going. We'll go down now."
The Captain grabbed the shroud (a rope hanging down the side of the mast) and began to lower himself down hand over hand. Harry started to follow but paused as he understood something. The Captain was not showing off. This was part of his job. He has to know everything about the ship and to be able to do as much of it as possible. With this thought in mind, he followed the Captain with a determination that surprised even himself. He climbed down the shroud faster and easier than he thought possible, and when he reached the bottom a Seaman handed him his boots.
"Where to now, Sir?" Harry asked.
"Below decks, then the noon meal," Grissom answered.
Lunch was mostly bread and meat with water to drink. Enough to fill you up and hold you for the rest of the day. Then all eight boys were brought to the aft deck and each given a sextant, a compass, a scope and other personal items that an officer might need. The First Mate gave the instructions. At Four Bells, the class was dismissed and Harry went below decks to report back to the Captain.
"Do you remember everything from this morning?"
"I remember where the Quarterdeck is, Captain."
"Good enough. Did you notice that the last Seaman you passed did not salute you?"
Harry's look gave the answer. The Captain made no further comment. It was deliberately done to see how the new officers would react.
"Report to the Pilot for instruction. You are free at eight bells."
Harry saluted and left to go to the designated station. As he walked out, he spied the seaman the Captain commented about. The man was grinning from ear to ear as he raised his hand to salute an officer.
Harry went down to the quarters for the trainees, happy to be off of his feet for a few minutes. He noticed one boy sleeping and looked questioningly. The boy Farley answered.
"He was picked by the third mate. He has to do everything we do, but at night."
"At least he won' be burned," Jamie Tarr said, turning a red face to the rest of them.
"I need to wash up," Harry answered, to change the subject.
Farley smiled. "I noticed. The Captain is taking care of you personally instead of doubling you up."
Harry returned the grin. "It makes the instructor look bad if one of his charges does not pass."
"That is beside the point," another boy, Brennan, told them. "I was listening to what the seamen were saying. Potter, they say Grim Pete likes you."
"Grim Pete?"
"That is their name for him," Brennan said, then paused, and spoke with surprise. "You did not notice? He ran you all over the ship to see how well you would hold up. Even the officers were commenting."
"They are right, Potter," Farley added. "Commander Tanner told me that the Captain picked you. Remember the way he looked at you when you told him why you were here? He was trying to run you off of the ship." Farley paused. "Or perhaps make you run it."
As it was their fortune, not necessarily good, Lieutenants Farley and Potter were required to attend the Captain for dinner because of who their instructors were. They arrived early as directed and the Captain called them to where he stood over the charts. He then spent the next hour making sure both boys knew how to plot positions.
Dinner was anticlimactic. It was a simple meal of roast beef and potatoes with a mix of vegetables. The only difference from their noon meal seemed to be that it was served on nicer plates. It was the discussion that was interesting. Potter and Farley listened as the officers gave their first impressions. Jamie was winning everybody's heart by his enthusiasm and was the clear favorite. Farley blushed slightly as he was praised by more than one officer. Harry sat back, waiting to hear the comments about him. Finally, the Second Lieutenant asked.
"Captain, we were curious about Potter. We have been watching you . . . and him."
"He does what he is told," the Captain said, and left it at that.
"Am I missing something," Harry asked of Ben after they left the Captain's Quarters. After being with him for three hours straight, they finally had a chance to trade first names.
"You are the bright star in the Captain's eye, Harry," Farley told him. "Everyone is talking about you. When you followed him aloft this morning, they were amazed at how you handled yourself."
"What do you mean? I was barely half as fast as the Captain."
"What about that time you almost slipped?"
"I do not remember slipping."
Benjamin Farley grinned. "You did not. Which is the point I am trying to make. When you were climbing, you were shifting your weight to match the roll of the ship. No landsman knows to do that." He stopped walking and turned to Harry. Pointing his finger, he said, "you, Harry Potter, are a natural sailor. All you need to do is learn what to do. That is what the Captain said."
"He said I do what I am told."
"Quite right, Harry. The rest of us merely try."
Hermione Granger, at a later date, would explain everything. Of course he would be good at sailing. He was a natural at flying, which was the same thing as sailing but with two more directions. Harry felt he had to add that flying had only one more direction if you were a poor sailor. He also had to add that there was a great deal more to learn about a ship than a broom.
It was dawn the second day, when Harry walked up on deck. The captain was there already, taking note of how the two boys training under the Third Lieutenant and Third Mate had done. As Harry approached, a voice called out from the topgallant. "Ship to Starboard."
The Captain walked to the Starboard side of the ship and pulled out his lensed scope, extending it fully. He looked at Harry and smiled when Harry went to pull out his scope as well.
"Do you see her?" Captain Grissom asked.
"I can make her out, Sir," Harry admitted. He reviewed what he had learned during his class the day before, noting that the ship seemed to have two masts. "I make her to be a brigantine, Captain."
"And what flag?"
"Sorry, Sir," Harry said as he lowered his scope and put his glasses back on, "I could not see a flag. My eyes, Sir."
"Very good, Potter." The Captain looked around and saw Farley and two other of the trainees. "Do you have your scopes? There is a ship out there. A ration of rum to which of you first spies her flag?"
The three quickly pulled out their scopes, and scanned the horizon as the Captain called all hands to station. Farley spoke first. "There is none, Captain. She has no flag." He turned to the Captain in surprise. "She's a Privateer."
"Very good, Farley,"
"Captain," The second boy cried out. "She spotted us. She's moving."
"Don't worry lad. This is her lucky day. We will report sighting her but my orders are not to pursue."
"Captain, she's moving toward us."
"Davers," Captain Grissom called, and the man came running. "Give the spotter my scope and have him confirm movement."
Commander Tanner walked up. "What do you think, Captain?"
"I think we are facing the most dangerous man in the world, or the biggest fool. A Barque has not been a fighting ship since the first dreadnaught rolled out of the dockyards. We are definitely not a fishing vessel or a merchant ship."
"Do you think he knows who we are? He might be after us for his own ego?"
"Damn that man. We are only a training ship as an excuse to sail. Otherwise we would be held back for pretty pageants and such things."
"Captain?"
As Harry knew from the night before, they had been sailing south and turned southeast during the night. They would be east of Grenada, as Spain was known as in this world.
Grissom looked to starboard and cursed. He then turned to the Commander and gave orders. "Full Sail. Keep her to the wind as much as possible. If we can keep full sail, we can outrun her."
Harry was grabbed by the bosun' mate and given the task of helping with the ropes. Everyone quickly took their places and faster than he could have believed, the ship was under sail in a somewhat easterly direction.
"The Dreadnaughts should be out by now," The Chief Purser said over dinner on the fourth day of flight.
"And where do they look?" the Captain asked. "We are off the shipping lanes, and each day the brigantine gains on us. We are faster, but she has engines and can ignore the wind if needs be."
"Captain?" The First Lieutenant asked. "Have you given any thought to why?"
"That is easy. We are a pretty prize and an easy catch. They do not mean to sink us. They mean to take us. The question is where do they want to take us."
"Sir?"
"Potter?"
"How much longer will it be?"
"Until they catch us? I should think noon, the day after tomorrow. If the wind changes again, it will be earlier than that. You have plenty of time to say your prayers."
"It isn't that, Captain. I am supposed to meet my brother on Friday."
"Then you had best write your brother to let him know you will be late."
Amid the laughter, Harry chirped back. "I think he will figure it out, Sir."
The wind held, and the ships were well into the Atlantic when the brigantine finally caught up. A sudden wind change brought the Hermes to, and nothing could be done. It had been a full week since the Hermes left port.
As the other ship closed, Harry felt the seriousness of his situation. The Hermes was going to engage the privateer in combat. If one twelve-year-old boy with glasses was unlucky, his training might come to an end. To add to his anticipation, someone had handed him a revolver.
Harry examined his revolver. It contained seven shots, and it appeared to have no safety. He looked at Farley who was examining his own revolver.
"I don't think this is part of the training," he told Harry.
"You don't think?" Harry asked in surprise.
"Breeding isn't everything." Both boys felt good to laugh.
"HEAVE TO," the Captain shouted. The Privateer had come almost completely along side of them, but without weapons drawn.
"I call the Captain of the Hermes," a man shouted, his voice strange with accent.
"Identify yourself and your purpose," Captain Grissom called.
"I call for your surrender," the captain of the privateer shouted gleefully. "And I have three sorcerers who can enforce my will." He pointed to the armed officers of the Hermes and smiled broadly.
Harry watched in surprise as everyone began dropping their weapons. When he pointed this out to Farley, he noticed that his own revolver had fallen out of his hands without him realizing it. Then he noticed that the Captain was not holding his sword. "It's a spell," Harry thought.
"Ben, how do you fight a magic spell if you are not a wizard?"
"What do you mean?"
"We can not hold our revolvers. I tried but I can not be bothered to pick it up, but when I close my eyes to break free from it . . . The spell returns the instant I open them."
"You have the right of it, Potter," Farley said as he closed his eyes. "I can feel that the spell is gone." He began to bend down to the deck. "Direct me."
From some short distance away, he heard the Third Lieutenant, only four years older than he was, call out softly, "a smart move, lads."
Farley found his revolver and picked it up. As he straightened up, Harry directed him on where to point. He also mentioned that most of the others were following what they were doing.
"Pull back the hammer, Farley." Harry reminded him, and they almost laughed at the seriousness of it all. His eyes tightly shut, Farley was ready on a single order to fire his revolver and hopefully kill a man. And Harry realized he was ready to forward that order if need be, and help to pick out the next target.
All this time the enemy captain was smiling at how easily he had taken control of the situation, and had already set up the boarding ramps. But Captain Grissom had more than one trick up his sleeve. He stomped twice on the deck in an oft used signal. The gun ports opened and nine cannons poked their heads out of the nine ports.
"I have my cannons set to sink you, if you say the word."
Grissom's smile was as cruel as the enemy captain's, but neither man wavered.
"My sorcerer's are strong, Captain."
"But they are men, and your crew will have to fight. They have to come aboard my ship to fight. That means that your sorcerers have to cancel their spells."
Commander Tanner's voice was heard clearly from the fore, "All armed and waiting your command, Captain."
The triumphant grin vanished as the captain of the brigantine saw the armed men, standing in pairs. Grissom smiled as the enemy captain realized his blunder. His decisive plan was now nothing more than a bluff. His sorcerers could keep the spell active as long as they wanted and it would not matter. There would be no easy surrender.
Then Grissom spoke again.
"Captain, I will make you an offer. Surrender your ship and I will grant a pardon to all of your men and officers who have no other crimes than this one listed against them in the Empire. All others I will let sail in one of the lifeboats, to take their chances."
The captain nodded thoughtfully, looking at the nine cannons and the score of arms facing him. Certain death or a slim chance at survival. The choice was easy but not for himself. "I will accept under one condition," he said, his tone revealing his defeat. "The seamen on board are conscripts, they mean nothing. I only ask for parole for my officers."
Captain Grissom nodded. "My previous condition must stand. Not if they already have crimes registered against them."
"I accept," the Captain said with finality, "but not for myself. Until now you have not known my name, but if I return home, I will be remembered . . ." He raised his pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.
At once the spell that was holding the crew was gone as the sorcerers panicked, and Farley and the others were told they could open their eyes. Movement began almost immediately. The boarding planks were used to reverse purpose, and the brigantine boarded. Harry, as the Captain's pupil, followed him aboard the enemy ship to make an inspection. He ended up staring at almost everything. The ship had two masts, but it also had an engine to permit it to travel under its own power if need be. The Captain also made it a point to explain to Harry what he was seeing, particularly when they toured the engine room The Hermes was the old style, what all ships once were. The dreadnaughts were the future, when there were enough trained sorcerers. The unnamed privateer was the norm. Sails whenever practicable, with an engine for when the wind died or changed. An occasionally used ensorcelled engine would not have to have its spell renewed as frequently as a constantly used engine.
The junior officers of the captured ship complied easily enough with the instructions, but the several senior officers, and the sorcerers on board, actually demanded the right to stock the lifeboat. Captain Grissom was clear in his intent. By accepting the offer of the lifeboat, these men were admitting they were criminals. They could either get into the boat or be shot on the spot. Twelve men climbed into the boat and were left hundreds of miles from the nearest land, land where the King's Men would be watching for them.
The saddest thing was the crew. Many of them were afraid, because of the stories that had been told. But once they found out about the lifeboat, the crew of the brigantine were willing to do anything to help. Most of them also asked for asylum rather than be returned to their homelands.
As Grissom examined the Captain's log, he pointed to the eagle crest on the cover. "You should know, Potter, this is one of his Slavonic Majesty's ships. It is ironic to think that she managed to run the blockade to fall to our hands."
"Blockade, Sir?" Harry asked before he realized he should not have.
Grissom turned to the young Lieutenant with a glare in his eyes. "How ignorant is it possible for one man to be? Even one at your age? Did you grow up in a cave? Where you shunted into a closet as an embarrassment? Did you . . ."
Grissom stopped when he saw Harry's reaction to the word closet. "Damn and Blast," the Captain cursed as he understood the secret of his young charge. "Lieutenant, from now on I order you to tell me any reference you do not understand. I can tolerate stupidity but not ignorance."
"Yes, Sir."
"I have a book of history, Imperial Naval History, but it will give you the basic facts. You will read it cover to cover."
"Yes, Sir." This time Harry gave an embarrassed smile.
Harry did read the book. That is how he first learned about the nature of the Polish empire.
His Slavonic Majesty, Sigismund III, had been thwarted in his expansion to the east by the formation of the Russian Confederation and could not use his armies effectively, having alienated all of his neighbors and forced them to arm against him. In '39, his attempt to break through the blockade of the Baltic became a fiasco, and his Navy a laughingstock. He turned to the only other method left to him: espionage.
His Slavonic Majesty developed a very efficient intelligence system. The Militia handled internal security, making sure the loyal subjects stayed in line, and the Foreign Office handled external affairs. This consisted of a well-trained group of spies and saboteurs, the Serka. And his main target was his largest enemy, the Anglo-French Empire. His son, Casimir IX, was continuing his father's work.
Privateers were a nuisance for the most part. The Navy would sink or capture them and make no effort to complain, not that it would matter. That this privateer was captured was of little surprise, but that it chased its prey for so long was more than suspect. No one said anything, but Harry had the distinct feeling that it might be because of him.
As they set sail back to port, the prize ship aside them under the command of Captain Tanner, Harry stood on the mizzen and watched the lifeboat fade into the distance. The Captain made it a point to come up behind him. "It looks like a storm is coming up from the west. We should be able to run out of its path."
"They are going to die, Captain."
"We all die in the end, Potter. Sometimes we get to choose our time."
"Their Captain. I never saw a man die before."
"He made a mistake and lost his ship. It is part of life. What we are is always the result of the choices we make, not necessarily what we know. We have to learn to choose wisely."
Harry nodded. "A teacher told me that last year. I thought he was trying to show me how good I was."
Captain Grissom nodded. "Good men and evil use the same tools, Harry. And the Captain, by his standards, was not even an evil man. He did his job, and I did mine. Our paths crossed and I won out."
"You did have the advantage," Harry pointed out. "You had nine cannons ready to fire."
"Nonsense, Harry," Captain Grissom said as he walked away. "This is a training ship. We do not carry powder."
Harry grabbed the rail as he understood what the other captain's blunder was.
It was early in the day when they returned to port. The three full days at sea had lasted fifteen days. Harry stood by as the Captain ordered, awaiting his next instructions. The gangwalk was lowered and Harry noticed two of his classmates leaving the ship. They were not wearing uniforms. He took a deep breath when he understood what this meant. He had passed his initiation.
"We made it," Nathan Brennan said as he walked up to Harry, still in uniform. They were now the only trainees left on board the Hermes. Four of them had transferred to the brigantine.
"I saw the others leave," Harry commented, and Brennan nodded.
"You should not think poorly of them, Potter. I know that, well, you know."
Brennan's manner told Harry more than his words. Both boys who left received more training than they expected. They wanted to leave. Twelve is not a good age to face death, and if Harry had somewhere to go, he might have left as well.
The Captain came up and saluted the two boys, then dismissed them, saying they would receive their instructions, and they were led to the gangwalk. Harry admitted his confusion.
"We were supposed to go home," Brennan said. "And in one week come back for our review. Did they explain anything to you?"
"Nothing," Harry admitted, and both boys had to laugh.
"Lieutenants," The dock master called out as they approached. "Are you from the Hermes?" When both boys nodded, he pointed them to a nearby barracks. "By the Admiral's command, you have use of the facilities. Leave your bags. Your clothes will be cleaned for you."
It took four hours, but Harry was back in a clean uniform, and two weeks of salt and dirt were gone. He and Brennan were not the only ones to be grateful. Every Officer and Seaman, once free of duty, was given the use of a barracks. Being the trainees, they were lucky to be first.
They stepped out of the barracks and Harry was immediately tackled in the stomach by a seven-year-old boy (and nine and a half months he would note).
"Roger," Harry called out in surprise as his fellow trainee took a step back to give them room.
Roger looked up at him, tears in his eyes, then hugged him fiercely. "I thought we lost you. You were gone so long." When he stopped, he kept hold of Harry's hand as though afraid he would disappear again.
"We had the compass backward," Harry said, trying to be casual. "We went to New England by mistake."
Harry looked up and Robert was grinning at him. "New England is nice this time of year."
The tall man next to Robert bowed slightly and introduced himself as Lord Bontriomphe, Legal Guardian of the Somerset family by order of His Majesty. "That includes you, My Lord."
"I should introduce you," Harry said, remembering his companion. "This is Lieutenant Brennan. We served together during our training."
"My Lords," Brennan said stiltedly.
"I assume you are untitled?" Lord Bontriomphe asked as politely as he could, and Brennan nodded. "If what I have heard is true, that will be rectified in time, Lieutenant. Permit me to finish the introductions. This is Lord Robert, the elder twin, and the boy who has latched onto his brother is the Marquis of London, no less. He will let go eventually."
Brennan smiled at that, and Lord Robert took it upon himself to ask the question. "Is it true, Lieutenant, that you captured a prize?"
"The captain helped," he replied.
A/N: I do appreciate the number of people that are reading this story. I have to admit that I wish more of you would review, but that is something that is true of every writer.
I did want to make one comment about this chapter because of the possibility that many readers have seen the movie, "Master and Commander." At the point that this Chapter had been written, the movie had not come out. Also, despite my interest in Napoleonic Warfare, I had manages to never here of Patrick O'Brian. As a result of the movie, and reading the first few books by O'Brian, I had edited the story to try to make sure the characters did not seem too similar. I have probably failed, but I did try.
