Chapter Eighteen: The Perseus
Robert and Harry were sitting by the lake. It was June 15, and the last day of school. Neither was looking forward to leaving. There would be too many goodbyes to say.
"Ernie is going with us," Robert said suddenly. "He said his parents were excited to hear the news."
"I guessed as much." Harry looked at his brother. "I saw him talking to Father Maurice."
Robert nodded. "He told me his father wanted to know about some things, about what to expect." He paused. "Here he comes now."
Ernie walked up and asked to join them. As he sat down, he mentioned that his parents were in Hogsmeade. He smirked when Harry and Robert began grinning. "Dad thinks we should check out the barony. He's been talking with everybody, making arrangements and all."
"Ernie? Does your father know that the average trip across the Atlantic is seven to ten days?" Robert eyed his friend, waiting for an answer.
"I didn't," Ernie admitted, "but I guess my dad does. He said we would spend the holiday there, in the Empire. I guess that means that we'll be coming back together."
Harry and Robert looked at each other. Harry nodded and Robert explained. "We are not coming back."
"But Dumbledore and Father Maurice were discussing it. Father Maurice is going to be made the student counselor so he has a valid reason to be here."
"That is strange," Harry and Robert said as one.
Ernie smirked again. "It's weird when you two do that."
"It is weird," Harry admitted. "Robert, do you understand what is going on?"
"We will have to ask, but I have a feeling that we will not receive a straight answer."
It was Father Maurice the boys ended up talking to. "I thought you had been informed of the decision. I was also given the impression that the two of you agreed." He looked at Harry. "I should have understood my error by the fact that you continue to wear your uniform."
"I am required to do so," Harry pointed out. "I am a naval officer."
"You need only resign your commission," Father Maurice pointed out. "It is not that great a matter. Then you can continue to go to Hogwarts to study magic."
Harry paused. It was something he had not considered at all. He could have the best of both worlds. He could still have a family, and he could still have his friends. Then Father Maurice said something that he did not hear.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, would you like me to forward your resignation?"
The sound of a man's body falling into the water echoed in Harry's head. "NO."
Robert looked at Harry in surprise. "But then you cannot return to school."
Harry stared back at his brother. "I have my duty, Robert. I do not know the words, but I feel that I need to do this. I agreed to do this. I accepted this. I have a duty."
Father Maurice nodded. "I will pass the information on to the headmaster. Robert, do you wish to remain at Hogwarts."
"I did."
"There is time enough to decide. There is no cause to make any rash decisions." Father Maurice smiled. "Regardless of what happens you must still prepare to go home tomorrow."
Harry said his goodbyes to Ron and Hermione. He would not take the Hogwarts Express to London with them. He also said goodbye to Hedwig. He could not keep her, but Hagrid promised to take good care of the owl until Harry returned.
Harry gathered the rest of his school things into his trunk to be put in storage, and carried his travel bag to the Great Hall where a fair sized crowd was waiting. Robert was there as was Father Maurice and Professor Quirrell. Ernie was also there with his parents and his brother and sister, all of whom were dressed accordingly. When everyone was ready, the transfer was made, and Harry took a deep breath.
Captain Sheffield was waiting for them. "My Lord Somerset, My Lord Lieutenant, if you will follow me. The coach is waiting for you."
Robert thanked him, and turned to Ernie to say goodbye. He saw his family standing there, slightly nervous, and couldn't stop himself. He bowed politely. "Lord MontClaire, good luck to you. And if you chance to be in London, please call."
Ernie smiled weakly in return. Robert had reminded him of his position and he felt embarrassed, as though it was a joke. Then he understood that it was Lord Robert de Somerset who had addressed him. That was because Lord Robert had just addressed his father as Goodman MacMillan. He paused until his friend was done with his courtesies, then asked, "Um, Lord Robert. How do my parents address me?"
"In public, as My Lord MontClaire. In private, it would depend on what you had done. You will get used to it, My Lord."
It was Saturday afternoon. Everyone who was invited, including the Duke of Cambridge and the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland, were gathered in the family chapel. They were waiting.
Harry walked in, dressed in white. He even wore white leather shoes. His pants were the standard Navy issue which seemed appropriate but his shirt was a loose rumly thing made of lace left open in the front to reveal most of his upper chest. He walked into the chapel as directed and to the baptismal font where the Archbishop of London was waiting. (You couldn't have the brother of the Marquis de London baptized by an ordinary prelate). As he stood there, Her Grace the Dowager Duchess of Cumberland came up to him and stood by his side. She would be his Godmother. He heard a noise behind him. His Godfather had entered the chapel.
Master Sean O'Lochlainn put his hand on Harry's shoulder and the Archbishop began the ceremony.
"Do you, Henry Somerset, enter freely into this church?"
A firm voice behind him said, "I do freely enter."
Harry stood in silence as the Archbishop asked his several questions, and Master Sean answered all of them. Harry was then anointed with oil on his forehead, his lips and over his heart, which explained why his shirt was left open. A pinch of salt was placed in his mouth, and his head sprinkled with holy water as the Archbishop said the final prayers. As a last act the Archbishop laid both hands on Harry's head to cure any illness that he might have. A slight headache, caused by nerves, instantly disappeared and Harry felt more relaxed.
This was the power of the Church in this world. In the fifteenth century it was a priest who had first discovered the art of healing by magic, the laying on of hands. Over time, it had become the prerogative of the Church because strong faith aided the skills of the talented individual tremendously. (The same held true of Jewish and Turkic religious leaders as well.) The ability to heal became required of all members of the clergy above the rank of Monsignor. That meant all Bishops, Archbishops and Cardinals, as well as the Pope, had this talent. This was why there was no Reformation, although there was a Renaissance of sorts. Who would denounce a church whose main duties where to heal the sick, in the body as well as the soul.
All this was a fleeting thought in Harry's mind as the Archbishop welcomed him into the faith. Harry was led to the Altar and told to kneel for the last part of the ceremony, where he was served the wine and bread of his first Communion. When this was done he rose to his feet and turned around. Everyone stood up and applauded him, except one person. Captain Grissom, standing to one side, saluted him.
"You are in for it tomorrow, Harry," Robert warned him at the celebration afterwards. "All the old matrons will finally want to talk to you, now that you are certified."
Harry paused. "What do you mean by certified?"
Lord Darcy, standing close to them, laughed. "We forget sometimes how little you know, My Lord Nephew. You must be a known member of the church in order to be vested in your rank. Father Maurice gave you a dispensation but that was only because you had asked to be baptized formally."
Harry looked around to make sure no one who did not know his origins was close. No servants were near, and Captain Grissom was across the room taking with the Duke of Cambridge. "My Lord Uncle, I don't," he paused suddenly. In his anxiousness, he had forgotten proper grammar. "I do not know if you are familiar with Robert's housemate, Ernie."
Lord Darcy smiled. "I assume you mean the Baron of MontClaire. The Archbishop mentioned him. He was mildly surprised at the request by his parents until he learned about his relationship with you. He baptized the entire family in a private ceremony. They gave him the impression they were converting Jews."
Lord Darcy smiled at Harry in such a way as to show there was more to the situation than he was letting on, but he said nothing else except, "I did make it a point to see them off as they left for New England. It was convenient as my ship arrived at Dover some hours before their ship left. The parents were gratefully surprised to see a friendly face, and one who knew their son."
"That was a surprising coincidence," Lord Robert said in a flat voice.
"Yes, it was, Nephew." Lord Darcy had answered in the same tone.
Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset stood with his fellow officer-trainees from the Hermes. They were in the audience chamber as their fellow officer, Ben Farley, became Lieutenant Sir Benjamin Farley. Everyone stood patiently by until the King's Messenger entered the chamber and announced the King.
His August Majesty, John IV, entered wearing the uniform of Commander in Chief of the Imperial Army and Navy. As required, all officers present saluted while everyone else bowed lightly. As Lord Darcy had explained in preparing Harry for this meeting, when his Majesty dressed in Uniform he was an officer, although of an exalted rank. He would therefore be treated appropriately. Had he appeared in Royal Robes or even common dress, then everyone, regardless of station, would genuflect, and remain kneeling until ordered to rise.
The ceremony was simple. Each man to be honored would be called forward. His Majesty would personally give him a ring, placing it on his finger, to mark his rank as a Knight in the Order of the Chevalier. Then each man would step back into place. There were only four men presented to the King at this time, and Ben was the youngest of them. He was also the only one treated differently. After giving Ben the ring, His Majesty then placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and congratulated him. In less than a half hour, the entire ceremony was over, and His Majesty departed.
As Harry made his way from the chamber to where he was supposed to meet Sir Benjamin, he was stopped by one of the Royal Guards. "Lieutenant, I must ask you to wait here." It was phrased politely but it was obviously an order. Harry looked over to Nathan Brennan, who gave him a curious look and a wry smile. Harry nodded, to let him know he would join them as soon as he could.
Harry waited until the hall was empty. Even the guards had left. Then the door His Majesty had used to exit the room opened once more. The King's Messenger appeared. "Lieutenant Somerset, you will attend the King." He stepped to one side to show that Harry was supposed to go through the door.
"Your Majesty," Harry said as politely as he could, giving a proper salute.
"We will have none of that," His Majesty said, and ordered Harry to the one empty chair at the round table He was sitting at. Harry briefly glanced around at the other six people and only recognized two of them. The Lord High Admiral and Lord Darcy.
"Harry Potter," His Majesty said with contempt. "We do not like that name. You are never to use it in our presence, in any correspondence or in any way. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Do you understand why?"
"Because you wish it, Your Majesty?" Harry knew he gave the wrong answer.
"You are forgiven such an answer only once. Do you understand why?"
Harry paused, knowing from the look he was given that saying no would also be unacceptable. "I would venture, Your Majesty, that using my former name would remind others of my past and that I once led a different life."
"That was a better answer, and close enough. You are a creation. We have spent a great deal of energy in a very short period of time to accommodate you in our world. We thought we would have need for you as a link to your old world. And we are correct."
John IV looked down at the boy sitting at the table and smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. "Why do you wish to stay here and leave your friends?"
"To be with my brothers." Harry's answer was simple and honest.
The Lord High Admiral spoke. "If you wish to be close to your family, then why have you retained your commission? Remaining in the service will take you away from your brothers and your friends."
"Never grow up," Captain Grissom said clearly into Harry's ear, even though Harry knew he was not in the room. Harry also heard the sound of a body hitting the water.
Harry looked up at the Admiral with a firmness in his eyes. "The paramount duty of any officer is to obey all orders given to him without question. He may think for himself only when given permission. In all cases . . ."
The Admiral held his hand up to stop him. "I know all the rhetoric of the training manual. That does not answer the question, Boy. You are not here for amusement. You are here because we must know how you think."
"We may have already made one mistake in dealing with your world," another man said. "It was upon my advice that Lord Robert's friend was given a title out of courtesy, and now he has run off with his family as though being a Lord of the Realm were a great game. We need to understand you, so that we do not make any further errors. You have been told already that this situation is delicate."
Harry understood something. He had been given the clues and suddenly his mind reached the obvious conclusion. He looked at his uncle, Lord Darcy, who smiled at him as to say that he was correct.
"Ernie isn't going back," Harry said, then realized he had spoken out loud. He saw a rebuke coming for his lack of decorum, but His Majesty raised his hand slightly and the man sat back and said nothing.
"We would like to know, Lieutenant. Why isn't Ernie going back?"
"It's his dad. Ernie told me how he reacted to everything. And when I met Mister MacMillan he seemed anxious. He was worried about something. I think he was worried about what had happened at the school. About who was involved."
"You are referring to Voldemort. The man who gave you that scar."
Harry instinctively touched his forehead. His Majesty clearly knew more about Harry's life and his world than he cared to admit. Harry nodded.
"He's trying to come back. A lot of people, like Ernie's parents, remember how it was the last time. I think Mister MacMillan is scared. When you made Ernie a Baron, it gave him a way out."
"You mean his father is running away?"
Harry didn't want to say it but that seemed to be what was happening. "You have to understand. He was Ernie's age when the troubles began last time. Things were still going badly when Ernie was born. He . . ."
"With all due respect, your Majesty." Lord Darcy's smile had faded from his lips. "Goodman MacMillan is trying to protect his family. He fears what the future may bring in his own world. So much so that he is willing to give up the life that he has known so that his children may have some kind of future. He may be afraid, but it is not for himself."
His Majesty nodded and turned to the man on his right. "Send Professor Quirrell's request as an offer, for Goodman MacMillan's eyes only." He turned back to Harry. "Are you running away, Lieutenant? Your situation is similar, but you have no family to protect."
Harry involuntarily made a quick but complicated hand movement. It was obvious to everyone that he did not even realize what he had done. John IV gave a nod of his head.
Protocol required that no one may leave the room until the King has left. John IV stood up and walked out by a side door. Everyone else then walked out the door to the audience chamber. Then His Majesty reentered the room, empty except for Harry. He sat down next to the boy, and put his own hand on the hand that Harry had used to make the gesture.
"Master Sean O'Lochlainn is an excellent teacher, Harry."
Harry startled at the use of his name. "Your Majesty?"
"We are alone, Harry. You may call me Uncle?" The look his Majesty received caused him to laugh. "It is a courtesy, Nephew, because of my age. Did you not know? I am related to you in much the same way as Lord Darcy."
"How?" was all Harry could ask.
John IV laughed again. "I will order Lord Bontriomphe to sit you down and give you a complete genealogy of your family. Do you know anything about your lineage?"
"I was told, Your Majesty . . ."
"Uncle."
"I was told, Uncle, how I was related to the Duke of Cambridge."
"Well, his brother, your grandfather, married my aunt Caroline."
Harry stared in surprise. "We're actually related?"
"We are." His Majesty smiled. "I see you did not know how high your family reached. If you are curious, your Great Grandfather was my Grandfather, Henry VIII. Your name is a common one in our family. And the blood of the oldest ruling family in Europe runs through your veins. That is why I have done so much for you, Harry. And that is why I need to understand who you are."
In that one second, Harry was bought back to the subject in question. Why did he want to stay an officer? But he wasn't being asked by a council of lords, he was being asked by . . . an uncle. His hand began to make the gesture again, but the King's hand stopped him, and Harry realized what he had done.
"It was Tom Riddle. I knew I could defeat him if he attacked me. I provoked him. And having made him defenseless, I killed him."
John IV nodded. "It was what you had to do. You had to kill him or else he would have killed your friend's sister. You do understand that?"
Harry nodded. "Dumbledore told me the same thing."
"But that does not solve the problem, does it? You still have to live with the fact that you deliberately took another life. Without remorse and without hope for redemption. Does that describe how you feel?"
Harry gave an ironic smile. "It is close. I have never had much hope for redemption."
The uncle and nephew both laughed at the jest.
"Harry, that is why you want to remain an officer. It justifies what you did." His Majesty gave Harry a look of understanding. "You acted exactly as an officer is expected to act." Harry was watching him closely. "There are times when you must make a choice." John IV had an unfocused look in his eyes as he reflected on a memory. "There are times when you must choose how you will be damned by God."
John IV held Harry in a hug as though it was the most natural thing in the world. For Harry, it was the first time he could remember anyone holding him. But he understood. The euphemisms he had heard so many times now had meaning: Damned if you do, damned if you don't; The lesser of two evils; Devil take the hindmost.
"Thank you, Uncle," Harry said, as he was released. The spoken words had no real effect on him, but the tone of those words did. His uncle did understand what Harry was feeling, and he let Harry know he was not alone. That was more valuable than a hundred speeches.
"Harry," His Majesty said softly, "you have another appointment, and I have kept you from it. I must now give you an excuse to give to your friends, but first I must tell you something."
Harry knew he was referring to the celebration party. He was more than politely late. But His Majesty The King was still talking to him, even under the social term of Uncle.
John IV made sure he had Harry's attention. "It is important to Us that you return to the Hogwarts School when the next term begins. We have placed people in that world to help you as need be. You have until the end of this month to decide if you will retain your commission. If you choose to do so, every effort will be made to accommodate your situation, but you will have little free time as a result. Also, when you return to the school, you will not wear your uniform unless specifically told to do so."
Harry stood up. "I understand, Your Majesty, and I will obey your orders." He saluted.
His Majesty smiled at his seriousness. "Harry, I should tell you. This may be the only time I can ever talk to you on such a personal level. You need to understand that, while you have the duties that you have agreed to, I also have mine. Above all else, I must first be King."
Harry nodded. "Duty defines us." His uncle nodded in return. Harry had the right of it. Then John IV opened the door he had entered by and sent a call for the Prince of Britain. Shortly a blond boy, at sixteen a younger version of his father, walked into the room.
"Arthur, you have your wish. This is Harry."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Cousin," the Prince said as he bowed politely.
Harry returned the bow. "The pleasure is mine, Your . . ." John IV wagged his finger. ". . . Cousin."
Arthur put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "My duty is to escort you to a celebration, and perhaps linger?" His father nodded. "But I must insist that you tell me of your adventures aboard the Hermes."
A real smile came to Harry's lips. Partly because of the interest the Prince was expressing, but also because the dread visions he usually had did not come. "I am a poor story teller, and I will leave too much out. If you were to ask Lieutenant Brennan he would do it better justice. He had me enthralled when I heard him tell about it."
"Then you must introduce us, Harry." And the prince escorted him from the room. They stopped briefly in the audience chamber to inform the men there that they could reenter the conference room.
Nathan Brennan, wearing the uniform of a Bosun's Mate, had improved on his story, adding to it from what others had told him. That Prince Arthur of Britain was listening was an added stress and yet a compliment to his abilities. He blushed appropriately at the applause he received when he was finished.
The Prince of Britain was open and friendly to the half dozen youngsters, making it obvious that he was there because of his cousin. Then he laughed when he overheard Harry's remark to the newly knighted Ben Farley.
"Harry," the Prince said. "His Majesty did not give Sir Benjamin any special consideration. The ceremony today was exactly that. And it was performed exactly as it was supposed to be."
"But then why did he congratulate Ben, Sir Benjamin, but none of the others?"
"If you will forgive me, Your Highness," Sir Benjamin said. "Harry has the habit of not knowing the most common things but being very familiar with the obtuse." He turned to Harry. "Both my father and Grandfather earned the rank of Knight of the Chevalier. I am the third generation in a row to achieve that rank. Do you see?"
Harry said no, and received a combination of laughter and groans. The Prince of Britain took over the explanation. "It is simple, Cousin. A Knighthood as a rule is not hereditary."
"I know that."
"Yes, but if three succeeding generations achieve that rank, it is a Proof of Blood. The title does become hereditary. Sir Benjamin's sons will also be called Sir." When Harry nodded in understanding, Prince Arthur added to the explanation. "There is another important factor here. Sir Benjamin's name is now on what is known as the Title List. It happens that a title will fall vacant and His Majesty will need to appoint someone to take it up. If there is no convenient relative someone from the list is chosen. At worst, Sir Benjamin can expect his grandson to be a Lord. At best . . ."
"That's wonderful," Harry said, then frowned. He had shown poor grammar to the Prince. "Sorry."
"No apologies, Harry" Sir Benjamin said. "I am glad you are happy for me, even if you are on the list ahead of me. You are the younger son of a Lord, and you have shown promise."
Harry was curious. He turned to the Prince. "Cousin, is Robert on the list."
"He is not, Cousin. Being the son of a Lord is not enough to be put on the list. However, he is named heir to his Great Uncle, the Duke of Cambridge. He was notified this morning by the King's Messenger."
Harry sat back in his chair, amazed at what he had learned. This was an active feudal system. Even a common man could make his fortune and success was rewarded. Families would die out but new blood was always there to take the place of old, to help support the Empire. And that was the crux of the matter. That is why the Empire survived. Not because of what the King did, but what everyone else did. The Empire existed not because of what John IV could do, but what he could inspire his people to do.
The first day of July found two brothers saying goodbye at Dover. Robert walked with his escort down the long pier that Harry had traversed two months earlier. He stopped at the gangwalk leading to the HRMS Hermes.
"Seaman, call the officer on deck."
Davers looked down in surprise and called Captain Grissom, who looked down at the boy standing below.
"Sub-Lieutenant Lord Robert Somerset reporting for duty, Captain. I request permission to come aboard."
"Permission granted," Grissom called back and turned to a group out of Robert's line of sight. "That is how to do it properly."
As Robert boarded the ship, he was stopped and the Seaman, Davers, reached over and brushed the hair from his forehead. Robert grinned and announced. "I do get that a great deal. I am the one who takes better care of himself."
Harry stood on the deck of the HRMS Perseus, a mixed mast and engine Cutter used principally as a patrol ship. The Captain, Carlisle, was frowning at him.
"You have a reputation, Lord Henry Somerset, but I will use you as I see fit. You are assigned as Third Mate. You will assist the Third Lieutenant in his duties. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," Harry said, and followed the Seaman who escorted him to his quarters, a slate bed in a three-tiered rack in a room small enough that two men would have difficulty standing up in at the same time. Here he would sleep, and that would be all. He stored his belongings in his cabinet and returned to the deck to find the Third Lieutenant.
"Third Mate Somerset, reporting, Sir." Harry saluted his immediate superior.
"They send me a babe," The Third Lieutenant, Neavly, sneered. "Why do I always get the new ones?" Neavly was only five foot five, although he was almost thirty. Harry's first impression was that, with his attitude, the Lieutenant could have fit very well into Slytherin. "What good are you?"
"Excuse me, Sir?"
"What do you know?"
Harry assumed that Neavly had heard about him, and was trying to downplay the hero status Harry had received from the newspapers. "I know the sextant, and the charts. I am familiar with the various parts of a ship, and with the basics of piloting."
"You have only had your training voyage?" Neavly was enjoying Harry's discomfort and the fact that he had a small audience. "Did you learn anything useful about sailing?"
"No, Sir," Harry answered with a grin, "but the Captain did show us how to take a prize without the benefit of weapons. Is that useful?"
Lieutenant Neavly bristled at the smart remark, but several of the Seaman listening to the exchange grinned their approval. Harry quickly realized that he would have a difficult time on board this ship, but he had learned to stand up for himself. Captain Grissom had taken the pains to teach him well and Harry tried to add honey to the vinegar.
"I fear you have the right of it, Sir. I had a turn of luck, and it has been taken for skill. I know very little of how to run a ship."
"Then you had better learn. I don't have time for ignorant whelps." The Lieutenant deliberately walked off without giving instructions. Harry understood that he could have said anything and it would not matter. He also knew that he was now standing without orders and with no idea of what to do.
"Do ye think that new mate will order us about," one of the seamen said too loudly.
"You mean having us tell him our duties?" another one replied.
Harry smiled as the men appeared to ignore him. "Seaman, what are your duties aboard this ship."
A man in his fifties turned to Harry and saluted. "Permission to speak, Sir."
"Granted," Harry said too quickly.
"You should start with young Compton, Sir. He is under the Second Mate."
Harry turned to the man in question. "Seaman Compton, I need to know your duties and how they are performed."
"Then you must come this way, Sir." Compton led him to the fore of the ship. "My duties are to maintain the sails when the engines are in use. That mostly entails the use of the Jib and Flying Jib which can be used to aid the rudder in turning should the wind be favourable . . ."
Harry quickly became used to the routine. He found he could sleep during the day because he was tired enough, and he was learning how a ship moved at night. His greatest happiness was that he had stayed awake during his astronomy lessons at Hogwarts, and that he thought to bring his book of star charts with him. Once Neavly realized he had enough knowledge to read the stars, it became his task to call off the bells. Despite an age where watches were becoming common, the Navy still marked time by the heavens. Noon was whenever the sun was highest, wherever the ship was, regardless of what time it was on a London clock.
Harry also learned about the ship. He had become, in effect, the Seamen's pet project. Although no one said anything, Harry understood that Lieutenant Neavly was as far from being the best liked officer on the ship as was possible. It was an insult to him every time that Harry showed he had learned something new. The biggest insult was when the Captain caught Harry, his shirt and jacket off, helping to raise the Mainsail. The Captain stormed towards him once he had returned to the deck and demanding an explanation, and Harry had already been coached in his answer.
"I am following my orders, Captain. Lieutenant Neavly instructed me to learn as much about this ship as possible. I have found that there are some things I can only learn by doing."
The Captain's anger lessened but his face did not soften. "And so you parade around half naked to be ordered by common seaman?"
"I ordered them to instruct me, Sir, with the full knowledge that their failure to teach me properly would be regretted by those who would serve under me in later years."
The Captain grinned and Harry let out a sigh of relief. "And what did you learn, Somerset?"
"I learned, Captain, exactly how difficult it is to raise a sail."
The Captain saluted Harry. "Carry on, Somerset. I will commend you to your superior."
As he walked away, one of the seamen commented. "I wonder if the third mate will want to learn how difficult it is to drink a flagon of rum?"
Harry's education was coming slowly. He knew the names of everything and could recite their uses but he still had very little practical skill. He had used his free time to learn as much as he could, but he knew it would take longer than this two month voyage to learn everything he needed to know. Still, he picked up the basics fast enough. He also ended his career aboard the Perseus much faster than he intended.
They were docked at a port along the French Mediterranean. All Harry knew was that it was not Marseilles. Harry was now two weeks into his thirteenth year, and he was once again on the night watch, as he had been every night. Neavly had command of the ship as the Captain and the senior officers had been called into town for a formal party. It was a standard affair and the Captain would return the following afternoon when the ship was to be resupplied.
Neavly turned to Harry with his usual sneer. "Somerset, do you think you can handle things for a FEW minutes."
"If need be, Sir."
"Good. You are officer on deck until I return." Harry saluted as his superior left. Neavly would return when he felt like it.
It was an hour later when four bells sounded from the dockmaster's station. In turn, the other three ships in dock also sounded four bells. "Sir," a seaman called, "should I sound the bell?"
Harry was puzzled. He had his sextant angling on the proper stars to determine the proper time. He checked his instrument then raised the sextant again. Mars had risen but was not where it was supposed to be. Saturn was also shy of its appointed spot.
"Should I sound the bell, Sir?" the seaman asked again.
"What?" Harry said, then recovered himself. "No, it is not yet time."
The seaman arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Harry was getting nervous but every time he checked he came up with the same answer. The dockmaster had sounded his bell early. He reviewed everything he knew about the stars, their position this time of year, where the planets would be and their declinations at which times. After fifteen minutes he raised his sextant again. He felt like he was about to become the fool when he gave the order.
The call went out from the Perseus. Four Bells.
Twenty minutes later, someone called from the darkness of the dock for the officer on deck. When Harry appeared, the man repeated his request, while his two companions waited silently. Harry noted that one of them seemed very familiar.
"I am the officer on deck," Harry replied. "I must demand you announce yourself."
"Commodore Spinnet," the man said, no longer in a good mood. "I am here with the Dockmaster and your Captain." He marched up the gangwalk, and stood before Harry, who stepped back with no little fear and saluted. "Where is Lieutenant Neavly? I was told that he was in command."
Captain Carlisle was also livid. He turned to the nearest seaman. "Find Neavly and bring him here at once." He then turned to Harry. "Who ordered the sounding of the bell?"
"I did, Captain. Lieutenant Neavly had appointed me officer on deck and had not yet returned."
The Dockmaster paled when the Captain asked the next question. "You delayed in sounding the bell. Why?"
Harry looked at the Captain, whose look ordered him to answer. "My readings said that the Dockmaster sounded the bell too early, Sir." Harry stopped. He had just implied the Dockmaster acted incompetently.
"Why did you not consult with your superior officer?"
"He was not here, Sir. He had removed himself from the deck and left me in charge. It was . . ."
Neavly appeared suddenly, and all conversation stopped. The Captain looked at the Seaman and asked a simple question in a threatening tone. "What was his state when you found him?"
Neavly, to his credit, answered the question. "I was asleep, Captain."
"You are confined to quarters until further notice, Lieutenant."
Neavly saluted and left. For the first time since Harry had known the man, Neavly had shown dignity in his actions, but it was the honor of the fallen.
"Captain," the Commodore said, and nodded toward Harry.
"Third Mate," the Captain said forcefully. "You are relived of your duties. You may gather your belongings, and leave with the Commodore."
Harry sat in his room for three days, until the Perseus had departed. It was only then that he was summoned to his hearing. He entered the room to see Commodore Spinnet sitting at the table with another Commodore, and an Admiral between them. Only the Admiral spoke.
"Do not worry too much, Lieutenant Somerset. I do not usually sit on such a tribunal but I happened to be here and I wanted to meet you. Please sit down." Harry sat in the appointed chair. "You are not in trouble as such. The greatest problem was the misunderstanding of your rank. For the record you are a Lieutenant of Rank and therefore you are permitted to take command of the deck even though a superior officer is on board. Your removal from the ship was unjustified and that matter has been corrected." He gave Harry a wry smile. "Sorry about that."
Harry permitted himself to grin in response. "Permission to speak, Sir." The Admiral nodded. "Lieutenant Neavly was obviously aware of my rank. Why was no one else?"
"Goodman Neavly did not know. If he did know, he would still be in His Royal Majesty's Navy instead of His Royal Majesty's Brig. He ignored orders to his own peril. He is no longer a matter before this court. Instead we will discuss the matter of the sounding of the bell. Do you contend that you sounded the bell at the right time?"
"I ordered the bell to be sounded at the time I determined it should be. I do not know if it was in fact the right time."
The Admiral smiled. "You will make an excellent diplomat if you keep talking like that. The point of fact is that you did order the bell to be sounded correctly, causing the Dockmaster to pay the Quartermaster a princely sum of ten shillings, and for both of them to pay this court the princely fine of fifty pounds for failure to follow proper procedures. It seems they had a wager. The bell was deliberately sounded early. You are free to go."
"Um, Where, Sir?"
The Admiral smiled, "Home, I suppose. To await further orders."
Harry was sitting in his bedroom looking out of the window at the skyline of London, a vastly different London from the one he knew. There was a knock on the door, and Roger entered.
"I came to disturb you," Roger said. "You are not the first one in this family to cause a major embarrassment."
"Smirking at me does not make me feel better," Harry said.
Roger walked closer to him. "Father once told me that I needed to know who I was before I knew what I could do. Lord Bontriomphe says that is what you need as well." His tone suddenly became formal. "I need you to attend me."
"I am not in the mood, Roger."
"I want you to come with me," Roger said, and Harry turned away, annoyed. Roger walked up to him and grabbed his hand. "You are required to attend the Marquis of London. It is my decision that you do this."
Harry kept from smirking. Roger may have some idea on how to cheer him up, but it was probably their legal guardian, Lord Bontriomphe, who coached him on what words to use.
Roger led Harry by the hand without saying a word. They walked out of the room down the hall to the main stairway and went down the steps until they were standing in the entrance hall. Roger stopped there but kept holding Harry's hand. He pointed to the large portrait opposite the foyer.
"This is Lord Roger de Somerset, First Marquis of London in the line of Somerset. I was named after him. In the year 1363, he aided His Majesty in winning . . ."
Roger led him to every portrait in the house and told him who that person was, how they were related and what their accomplishments were. The entire time, he held on to Harry's hand. As he talked, Harry began to understand. Roger was holding him in place.
