Dangerous Encounters....
By the end of the night, I knew a capstan from a jib, and exactly which lamp, position where and how, meant what. I had also picked up the book of flags to learn which flag coded what. I couldn't take it away, but I had something to do while Byrne was engaged in berating a seaman that had just smashed something on the deck.
Byrne's quiet anger seemed to fade shortly after I had reached page three, and I looked up to see Byrne and the Captain conversing on the quarter deck, and the sea man guiltily clearing the glass and taking it below. I went on reading, and committing to memory. At page twenty, Byrne returned and began to test me while doing his tasks. While looking up at him for an affirmation of correctness, my attention was grabbed by a light off the starboard bow, of all things.
"Byrne, what's that?" He pivoted quickly and immediately spotted what I had seen, just coming into view. He extended his telescope, and peered through it for a bit, then handed the telescope to me, and went to interrupt the Captain, who was walking the main deck. They spoke briefly, and then returned to where I stood.
"It must be a ship, sir, of at least thirty foot. Perhaps it could be a fishing smack?" Byrne suggested. Wendon shook his head grimly. "Or one of Bonaparte's 24 gun sloops." They seemed torn between decisions that were not obvious to me. "Can we afford to take the chance?" I asked, apparently speaking their thoughts, as both shook their heads in a gesture that demonstrated their closeness in its similarity. "No. Lieutenant Byrne, please call 'All hands on deck'. Westenra, you must stay by my side or go below now."
I knew I should go below. I had much theoretical experience in fighting, and had fought my brothers, but none at all in a real battle. I knew the moves, and could fight another gentleman, but rough, unprincipled fighting to actually kill? No. I was all prepared to go below, when the look on Captain Wendon's face caught the corner of my eye. "I will stay, but sir, I haven't..." He understood what I hadn't time to say. "There's a first time for everything, Jack my lad, a first time for everything. Now go below for my sword and pistols."
It did not seem odd at all that this young man, only five or so years older than me should be able to command such instant obedience. I went, and fetched my sword on the way. It was light but deadly- in the right hands. In mine, it could be disastrous. I ran back to the poop deck to watch the progress. The deck hands were rolling out the guns- 24-pound monsters and long nines for distant shots. Powder boys scuttled too and fro, and the ship was organized chaos. Everyone seemed to know their place in the battle preparations, so I went to find mine, behind Captain Wendon and beside Byrne and Grave, my main friends on the Dominion. I could only hope this came through all right.
"How do we know if it's ours or French?" I whispered to Graves. He muttered about the lines (shape) of the ship, and shape of the sails, and that we might shout a challenge.
The night was black, and the very stars seemed to glimmer brightly in an attempt to light our way. The water lapped against the wooden sides of the Dominion, and as we silently cruised closer, a shark honing in inescapably, a cry echoed across the black depths- 'Ahoy! Name and Captain, if you please!'
Thank the Lord; they were as British as we were. We cautiously exchanged code words, and drew in closer to each other. They were the 'Pride of Dartmouth', under Captain Marshe, returning after two years in the Mediterranean. We ran our guns in, and Captain Marshe took his barge over to ascertain our rights etc, and tell all he could about the Mediterranean to Captain Wendon, as is polite between two Captains in Her Majesty's Navy.
I followed Captain Wendon, trying not to get in the way, and brushed myself down nervously. Marshe was a renowned charmer, and although only a year below my Captain in the List, was arrogant enough to believe he was one of the best Captain's around. Byrne supervised the docking of the barge, with one of the Midshipmen- a boy of 17, called Daniels, then stood back to allow the Captains to greet each other. We all awaited Marshe's arrival on deck nervously.
A blonde head appeared above the rail, hat intact, followed by a very handsome face, almost Adonis-like in its beauty. I resolved henceforth to call him Adonis in my mind, for Adonis was also arrogant.
"Welcome aboard the Dominion, Marshe." "My thanks, Wendon. Beautiful ship, you have."
Captain Wendon's first duty, it seemed, was to introduce the officers, who I noticed, were standing in rank. Where did I fit? Apparently, after the lieutenants.
Marshe studied me longer than he had any of the others, shaking my hand firmly for a long while and looking deeply into my eyes. I became nervous that he was seeing my true identity, but stared him out. He let go, almost reluctantly, and moved on. Once he and the Captain had gone below, Byrne turned to look at me and raise an eyebrow.
"I don't know..." I said, in reply to his look, defensively. As far as I could remember I had never met the man in my life, but I had met so many, and being bored out of my mind half the time at social functions I never paid much attention to any of the brightly dressed young men asking me to dance.
"Come on, let's go back to the poop deck, I can test you on your flags if you like?" Byrne suggested, trying not to laugh.
Byrne's watch was almost over, and I had learned more than I expected. I was fast learning the ways of the ship and social nuances on board, and with my quiet yet fierce reputation building (my temper had flared once or twice) men were learning to respect and like me. Byrne and I were discussing the proportions of gunpowder in relation to distance when a sentry summoned us below to the Captain's cabin.
So what do you think? R&R and I'll love you forever! Luv Es xx
By the end of the night, I knew a capstan from a jib, and exactly which lamp, position where and how, meant what. I had also picked up the book of flags to learn which flag coded what. I couldn't take it away, but I had something to do while Byrne was engaged in berating a seaman that had just smashed something on the deck.
Byrne's quiet anger seemed to fade shortly after I had reached page three, and I looked up to see Byrne and the Captain conversing on the quarter deck, and the sea man guiltily clearing the glass and taking it below. I went on reading, and committing to memory. At page twenty, Byrne returned and began to test me while doing his tasks. While looking up at him for an affirmation of correctness, my attention was grabbed by a light off the starboard bow, of all things.
"Byrne, what's that?" He pivoted quickly and immediately spotted what I had seen, just coming into view. He extended his telescope, and peered through it for a bit, then handed the telescope to me, and went to interrupt the Captain, who was walking the main deck. They spoke briefly, and then returned to where I stood.
"It must be a ship, sir, of at least thirty foot. Perhaps it could be a fishing smack?" Byrne suggested. Wendon shook his head grimly. "Or one of Bonaparte's 24 gun sloops." They seemed torn between decisions that were not obvious to me. "Can we afford to take the chance?" I asked, apparently speaking their thoughts, as both shook their heads in a gesture that demonstrated their closeness in its similarity. "No. Lieutenant Byrne, please call 'All hands on deck'. Westenra, you must stay by my side or go below now."
I knew I should go below. I had much theoretical experience in fighting, and had fought my brothers, but none at all in a real battle. I knew the moves, and could fight another gentleman, but rough, unprincipled fighting to actually kill? No. I was all prepared to go below, when the look on Captain Wendon's face caught the corner of my eye. "I will stay, but sir, I haven't..." He understood what I hadn't time to say. "There's a first time for everything, Jack my lad, a first time for everything. Now go below for my sword and pistols."
It did not seem odd at all that this young man, only five or so years older than me should be able to command such instant obedience. I went, and fetched my sword on the way. It was light but deadly- in the right hands. In mine, it could be disastrous. I ran back to the poop deck to watch the progress. The deck hands were rolling out the guns- 24-pound monsters and long nines for distant shots. Powder boys scuttled too and fro, and the ship was organized chaos. Everyone seemed to know their place in the battle preparations, so I went to find mine, behind Captain Wendon and beside Byrne and Grave, my main friends on the Dominion. I could only hope this came through all right.
"How do we know if it's ours or French?" I whispered to Graves. He muttered about the lines (shape) of the ship, and shape of the sails, and that we might shout a challenge.
The night was black, and the very stars seemed to glimmer brightly in an attempt to light our way. The water lapped against the wooden sides of the Dominion, and as we silently cruised closer, a shark honing in inescapably, a cry echoed across the black depths- 'Ahoy! Name and Captain, if you please!'
Thank the Lord; they were as British as we were. We cautiously exchanged code words, and drew in closer to each other. They were the 'Pride of Dartmouth', under Captain Marshe, returning after two years in the Mediterranean. We ran our guns in, and Captain Marshe took his barge over to ascertain our rights etc, and tell all he could about the Mediterranean to Captain Wendon, as is polite between two Captains in Her Majesty's Navy.
I followed Captain Wendon, trying not to get in the way, and brushed myself down nervously. Marshe was a renowned charmer, and although only a year below my Captain in the List, was arrogant enough to believe he was one of the best Captain's around. Byrne supervised the docking of the barge, with one of the Midshipmen- a boy of 17, called Daniels, then stood back to allow the Captains to greet each other. We all awaited Marshe's arrival on deck nervously.
A blonde head appeared above the rail, hat intact, followed by a very handsome face, almost Adonis-like in its beauty. I resolved henceforth to call him Adonis in my mind, for Adonis was also arrogant.
"Welcome aboard the Dominion, Marshe." "My thanks, Wendon. Beautiful ship, you have."
Captain Wendon's first duty, it seemed, was to introduce the officers, who I noticed, were standing in rank. Where did I fit? Apparently, after the lieutenants.
Marshe studied me longer than he had any of the others, shaking my hand firmly for a long while and looking deeply into my eyes. I became nervous that he was seeing my true identity, but stared him out. He let go, almost reluctantly, and moved on. Once he and the Captain had gone below, Byrne turned to look at me and raise an eyebrow.
"I don't know..." I said, in reply to his look, defensively. As far as I could remember I had never met the man in my life, but I had met so many, and being bored out of my mind half the time at social functions I never paid much attention to any of the brightly dressed young men asking me to dance.
"Come on, let's go back to the poop deck, I can test you on your flags if you like?" Byrne suggested, trying not to laugh.
Byrne's watch was almost over, and I had learned more than I expected. I was fast learning the ways of the ship and social nuances on board, and with my quiet yet fierce reputation building (my temper had flared once or twice) men were learning to respect and like me. Byrne and I were discussing the proportions of gunpowder in relation to distance when a sentry summoned us below to the Captain's cabin.
So what do you think? R&R and I'll love you forever! Luv Es xx
