Mowett dressed at top speed and went up on deck at once. He looked around nervously, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps Tom was right, and it was all a dream, he thought, but something told him that he was lying to himself. Still, William resolved not to tell anyone about it-at the moment.
It was late afternoon when Lord Northshire arrived in a carriage. The entire crew was out to greet him in their best clothes and neat ranks, the Marines in dress uniform and polished weaponry and the officers sweating under full uniform, which involved a long woolen coat for the winter.
Jack strode to the top of the gangplank to greet the lord, who puffed and waddled his way up it and finally stood in front of the captain. He looked about him at the orderly rows of sailors disdainfully and said, "Good afternoon, Aubrey. Where am I to be staying while I am aboard your-ah-charming little boat?"
Tom saw Jack's face tighten at the use of the word "boat" and stifled a chuckle by pretending that he was coughing. This visit of the lord's was going to turn out interesting.
Northshire's baggage was brought aboard by different servants, all of whom carried two massive bags. As the sixth servant entered Jack's cabin (where Northshire would be staying) Jack said hastily, "Er, you will allow me to point out, Lord Northshire, that not all of your belongings will fit in my cabin? My crew can take a few down to the hold for you, if you wish."
Northshire frowned. "The hold? But surely it is moldy and damp down there. No, I shall keep my things in the cabin. There is that great big room just sitting there that will provide plenty of space."
Fighting to control his temper, Jack replied, "Yes, sir, but that is where you will be dining for the next few nights, and where I plan battles."
"Dining?" said Northshire eagerly. "Yes, of course, very well. You men!" he said, raising his voice and flapping a hand at the nearest seamen, Mr. Hollar and Bonden the coxswain. "Take these below at once."
Mr. Hollar got a very ugly look on his face, the look that tells sailors with half a brain to stay away and keep quiet if you know what's good for you because you did not tell the bosun what to do, but apparently it had no effect on Northshire. Bonden looked at Jack, who nodded and stared meaningfully at Mr. Hollar behind Northshire's back, and the two reluctantly picked up bulging suitcases and slouched below. The bosun shot another glare that could pierce iron Northshire's way, but he was too busy regarding the rest of the hands with a look of pure disgust on his face to notice.
Midshipmen on the quarterdeck writhed with silent laughter when Hollar mouthed, "Bloody pompous bugger," in Northshire's direction and disappeared down the main hatch, but all Mowett had to do was step back a pace onto one of their feet and hiss, "Keep it down!" for them to stop abruptly. You may laugh at the bosun behind his back, but you could never argue with a lieutenant.
Northshire glanced up at the officers and then turned back to Jack. "Could I perhaps have a tour of your boat before we set sail?"
"Of course, sir," Jack replied absently, and gestured to Tom. "Mr. Pullings here will show you around."
Tom eyed Northshire apprehensively and shot William a private look of disgust, but sighed and joined him on the deck. "Please follow me, my lord," he said. "We can start from the stern and work our way up to the bow."
"Bow? Stern?" Northshire said, confused.
"The back and front," Tom replied, wincing at his mutilated choice of words. The back and front? Honestly.
"This is the quarterdeck," Tom announced. "The captain and the officers usually dominate this area, but the coxswain-Mr. Bonden-and any hands summoned here are allowed up here. You, as our honored guest, may also be up here without invitation."
Northshire's flabby face was expressionless as he looked around. "Intriguing," he said in a bored tone. "Show me the rooms downstairs."
Wincing again at Northshire's lack of naval knowledge, Tom interrupted. "We actually call them cabins, sir, and anything belowdecks is referred to as below."
"Well, while I am here I shall refer to them as rooms and downstairs, Mr. Pullings, and I think that you should too if you wish to stay on my good side," snapped the lord. Tom bowed his head respectfully but said nothing. He motioned for Northshire to follow him below.
"Watch your step, milord, the hatches are hard to navigate," Tom instructed from the bottom of the stairs. Assisted by two hands, Northshire was sliding slowly down the hatchway, his prim buckled shoes daintily picking out the steps and taking their owner's weight. At long last, Northshire was at the bottom. The Surprise suddenly rolled in the wake of a passing ship, and Northshire stumbled and grabbed the person nearest to him for support-Mr. Hollar.
Hollar didn't offer any help, merely stood there as Northshire gasped and wobbled and held on to his arm. His tough, tanned face showed intense dislike as he looked down at Northshire, and he seemed to be struggling not to break out with the oaths he was so famous for. At long last, Northshire recovered his balance and followed Tom, not even bothering to apologize to Mr. Hollar.
The bosun looked after him, tall hat casting shadows over his face. After a long moment, well after Tom had led Northshire down a different corridor, Hollar spat expertly and bounded up the ladder. Roars of "Get aloft, you lazy gawpin' idiots" proved that Mr. Hollar disliked Northshire very much if he was taking his anger out on the crew. Very much indeed...but if Mr. Hollar disliked someone, he wouldn't be on the HMS Surprise for long. That was guaranteed.
Later that evening, at dinner, Lord Northshire came in late. All the officers were kept waiting, and they stared bad-temperedly at the plates of food that were slowly going cold. Their happy feelings from setting sail had completely evaporated. Killick, standing behind Jack, had a mean, pinched expression on his face that promised trouble.
At long last, Northshire made his appearance. He opened the door, stumbled as the Surprise began tacking westwards and the room tilted in the opposite direction, and managed to sit down at the place reserved for him at the end of the table, facing Jack.
Jack smiled cheerfully. "I'm honored that you could join us, Lord Northshire. What may I get you to eat?"
Northshire glanced at the fare unenthusiastically. His face was pale and sweaty, hinting of seasickness. "Uh, I'll serve myself, thank you. I'm not so hungry at the moment," he said meekly.
Jack put on a look of concern. "Are you feeling quite well, milord? The ship's doctor can attend to you, if you wish-"
Northshire waved him off. "No, no, just a slight stomachache. Besides, I brought my own physician aboard. No offense to your doctor, but I'm sure that he hasn't been trained in the palace, as mine has."
Murmurs of dissent rose from those present. Stephen, who was sitting at Jack's left-hand side, shot Northshire a look of reproach. It was evident that the lord didn't realize his error and had no idea that Stephen was actually sitting a few feet away from him. "Well, if you do need any help, I'm Doctor Maturin," he said with what he hoped was a friendly nod.
Northshire performed the slightest of double takes. "Maturin? The naturalist?"
"Yes, he is, sir," said Mr. Blakeney proudly. "And a fine doctor as well."
"Oh."
The meal commenced, finally. Northshire watched the officers eat ravenously-they'd been on their feet all day-and dragged a plate of stew towards him. He slopped a bit on his plate and began to eat very slowly. A basket of bread was passed his way, and, not to be outdone by common seamen, he took two and began copying Mr. Howard's enthusiastic bites as best he could.
As the officers joked and talked, Northshire ate on in grim silence. Finally, he stood, muttered an excuse, and sprinted for the door. Sounds of retching could be heard from directly above them on the quarterdeck.
Mowett and Tom looked at each other and buried their faces in their cups of wine to keep from roaring with laughter. Jack gave a small, almost triumphant smile, said, "Killick, fetch Higgins for Lord Northshire, please, or his personal physician if he would prefer him," and continued to eat.
A/N-Thought you would like a bit of humor there. Northshire 0, Surprises 1! Haha! Don't try to out-eat sailors when you're seasick-it won't work. Northshire is discovering the true meaning of sailing...and they haven't even hit rough water yet.
No, I'm not trying to be mean to Northshire, I'm just embarrassing him because, though I created him, (and have full rights to him, forgot to mention that. Ah well, I dislike disclaimers anyway) I don't like him. Who can? Trust me though, the score is going to change quite a bit, and Northshire may get ahead by a few points before the end...
About Mr. Hollar-poor dear, he hasn't had a single story as even a minor character! weeps And I need someone who likes to yell. He's an interesting guy, if you think about it, and he's going to come in handy. Be warned!
An-Cat-Gaelige-Will do. I'm really liking how the story's turning out, and I'm going to put my full efforts into it. Glad you liked it too!
Kiramowett-Who can't love Mowett stories? We're all getting caught up in the ever-growing Mowett train...((glares at Flossy, corrupter of innocent minds, lol)) Hope you liked this chapter too. I threw in a few details that are essential to the plotline that are intriguing.
TheMusingFit-Well, it's not as funny as it seems! It took me a long time to decide if it was going to be tree, tree, tree, BUSH! tree, tree, tree or bush, bush, bush, TREE! bush, bush, bush. I decided on tree, tree, tree because...hmm, I don't really know why...I think I ended up doing rock paper scissors online with someone...Glad you liked it.
Miss Flossy-At last, someone else who appreciates the joy of writing about fat pompous gits! Haha! Tom is becoming one of them, the way he's going...
Tom: Hey!
Me: Well, it's true.
Tom: grumbles I needed my sleep. Just because Will was about to get murdered doesn't change that.
Me: ((rolls eyes))
Thanks for the advice on the "pretty words." I sometimes tend to overdo it, and I confess, it's become a bad habit. I put your quote/advice up on my wall...sob. Oh, so poetic! You could take over for Mowett!
Mowett: Oh no she doesn't! Next chapter, we'll see.
Well, you heard the boss, looks like I'll have to wrack my brains for rhyming words. Thanks for reviewing!
Anyone who doesn't review, today's threat is that An-Cat-Gaelige is going to eat Tom because La's worn out and she so nicely volunteered. It seems to be working. ((Watches Tom run by screaming))