"One last thing," Melville added as they began to break up. "I want to invite all the officers for dinner tomorrow evening in my cabin. I fear that McAndrews, my steward, has demonstrated himself to be an uninspired cook. Does anyone have someone they'd recommend as a chef? Whoever it is will have to try to find a way to prepare our Guldur provisions into a pleasant meal. A significant challenge for any cook, I dare say."
"Yes, Captain," answered Lady Elphinstone immediately. "My lob-lolly girl, Mrs. Vodi, is an excellent chef. She seems to excel at making exotic meals. The men in our hospital have certainly been enjoying what she has prepared."
"Excellent!" replied Melville. "Do you feel like you could release her from her duties for this task?"
Elphinstone nodded agreeably. "Yes Captain, I can."
"Good, please be so kind as to ask her to report to me at her earliest convenience."
The morning flew by as the midshipman's board selected four individuals to serve in the wardroom. Melville was pleased that he, Fielder, and Petreckski seemed to work well together, making their decisions with relative harmony. Between these three, no one could question the judgment of his promotions. A captain could make such selections by himself, but his decisions would ultimately have to be approved by the Admiralty. It was always best to follow proper procedures whenever there was time.
During the proceedings Melville also came to know his clerk, Archibald Hargis. He was a large, introverted man of great intellect. Hargis was a veteran of many such boards, and his assistance was of significant value. Throughout the process he seemed to be distant, dreamy, and not completely present. But the report that he produced was deemed first rate by all three board members.
In the end, they selected two ship's boys and two young crewmen to be promoted. The board was looking mostly for demonstrated bravery and brains. Not only did they interview the candidates, but they interviewed the petty officers who supervised the candidates, to see how each individual fought in the recent battle and how they performed their duties during the long months on the Kestrel. Given the raw ingredients of native courage and intelligence, plus a record that was clean of lying and theft, the navy could give a young midshipman everything he needed to be a suitable officer. Many such young men existed on every ship, but promotion opportunities such as this, "opportunities" created by the deaths of so many superior officers, were rare in peacetime.
One of the ship's boys and both of the crewmen came from the sailing master's crew. This wasn't unusual, since the brightest and most ambitious crewmen were usually drawn to prove themselves high up in the rigging. If a man didn't work out there he was quickly moved to another section.
One of the two crewmen they selected was Hezikiah Jubal, an able seaman and topman who served with distinction in Hans' party in the upper rigging during the boarding action. The other was Lao Tung, an ordinary seaman who had proven himself to be a ferocious fighter in the battle line. He was also remarkably well read.
The two ship's boys were Kande Ngobe and Ellis Palmer. Ngobe was a boy, second class, and Palmer was a boy, first class. Both of them had proven themselves to be quick-witted, with above average intelligence, and they endeared themselves to the hearts of the crew by scampering among their legs during the boarding action. Working down beside the dogs, they'd killed ticks, while hamstringing and "neutering" the curs with their razor-sharp knives. Palmer had been working for the sailing master. Ngobe had been assigned to the ship's carpenter, where he showed great promise in his understanding of the Ship and her inner workings.
Westerness was colonized by the men of Old Earth over four hundred years prior, in the Earth year 2210, almost a century after Mankind's first, disastrous entry into Flatland in 2119. The computers on board that first foray into two-space brought back the Elder King's Gift, a devastating, two-dimensional virus that caused a complete and irrecoverable collapse of the world-wide Info-Net. Within two hundred years of its colonization, Westerness grew to become the dominant force in Mankind's activities in Flatland. By 2420, Westerness assumed control over the worlds of Man. For the last two centuries the Kingdom of Westerness ruled peacefully over the far-flung realm of Man.
The original colonizers of Westerness came from all corners of the Earth, but the majority of them hailed from Britain and North America. Over the centuries it became increasingly rare for anyone to carry distinctive racial characteristics. Thus Mr. Barlet's gunmetal black skin was fairly unusual, as was Lieutenant Archer's red beard. If Midshipman Ngobe was coffee colored, it was coffee with lots of cream, while Midshipman Tung had only faint traces of his oriental ancestry. What was important to the navy was not their appearance, or their ethnic background, but that they were brave and smart. With luck, brains, and lots of hard work these four young men might become commissioned officers in the Westerness Navy.
After the proceedings were closed, the board congratulated the new middies, and put them immediately to work. All of them would have four hours of schooling from Petreckski each morning, starting tomorrow. As the first mate, Fielder would also assign them on a rotating basis to the day and night shifts, with one midshipman assigned to each quarterdeck at all times except for school. Formal recognition among the officers would occur tomorrow evening, at the captain's dinner. At Sunday afternoon formation they would be formally presented to the whole crew. For now there was little more than a handshake and a pat on the back, as they moved to assume their new duties.
After they completed the board proceedings Melville, Fielder and Petreckski stepped out onto the deck. Melville noticed Lady Elphinstone's lob-lolly girl waiting patiently. "Mrs. Vodi! Thank you for coming. I've been informed that you're a prime chef. The men of the sick bay all speak very highly of your efforts. They say you've done wonders with the stock of Guldur and Goblan food here on the ship. So I wonder if you'd do us the honor of preparing a meal for my officers and myself tomorrow evening."
Mrs. Vodi had left her spit cup behind to come speak with the captain, but she still kept a chaw in her cheek. "Yes, Captain. I'd be glad to."
"Good! I do sincerely thank you. My steward, and any other resources you may need, are at your disposal. Is there any other way that I can assist you?"
"Yes, Captain, there is. I need a Guldur to assist me. Right now I don't have a clue what I'm working with. I test all the food items on myself first, but some of it might actually be poisonous. A native guide would be very useful. I understand several of them can speak English, and I'd like your permission to release one to be my assistant."
"Of course. I'm on my way to our little brig to check up on the prisoners. Would you like to come with me?"
"Certainly, Captain."
"Good. Brother Theo, would you come with us? I understand that you speak their language?"
"Yes, sir," responded his purser. "But it really wasn't necessary for me to tap into my limited Guldish. I found a translator early on, and used my limited skills to be sure that he was translating faithfully. Their officers all died in battle and they've been very cooperative."
Down in the lower hold they found the Guldur, sitting disconsolately, truly hangdog in their appearance, guarded by two marines. Melville moved among them. At first he found his heart pounding as he remembered the battle and their despicable ambush of the Kestrel.
When first I saw you in the curious street
Like some platoon of soldier ghosts in gray,
My mad impulse was all to smite and slay,
To spit upon you—tread you 'neath my feet.
Then he looked again, and the mental process he went through was one that might have been as old as warfare itself. It made him think of Lee's "German Prisoners."
But when I saw how each sad soul did greet
My gaze with no sign of defiant frown,
How from tired eyes looked spirits broken down,
How each face showed the pale flag of defeat,
And doubt, despair, and disillusionment,
And how were grievous wounds
on many a head,
And on your garb red-faced was other red:
And how you stooped as men whose strength was spent,
I knew that we had suffered each other,
And could have grasped your hand and cried,
"My brother!"
Very quickly Vodi, with Petreckski's assistance, picked her assistant. He was a buff-colored Guldur who had been a purser's mate. He claimed to be familiar with the ship's comestibles, where they were stored, and how they should be prepared.
It was sad to see how eager they were to be selected for any duty that would take them away from their current, depressing conditions. All of them were willing to give their parole and serve as trustees among the ship's crew, apparently undisturbed by any sense of loyalty to their old masters. Their lives had been harsh, and they seemed truly doglike in their willingness to give their loyalty to anyone who would offer kindness, structure, and meaning to their lives.
Mrs. Vodi went to work exploring the foodstuffs that were stored all over the ship. She, the captain's steward, and their Guldur guide poked into every corner of the ship. Her usual entourage of cats kept their distance, looking with dismay and distrust at the Guldur. She was particularly intrigued by barrels of brains that were stored in a brine solution. "Well, Fido, what do we have here?"
"Rit's prig brains! Grrood struff!"
"Pig brains. Well, well, well, Rex. Combined with those nuts and that bottled green stuff we found, I do believe we'll treat the captain and his guests to thrice cooked javelina brain with crunchy pecan coating and sweet leek sauce. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof." She was happy to find such an excellent food source, but McAndrews didn't see it that way.
"You call that food? I wouldn't feed that to a hole in the ground!"
Vodi spat in her cup ("spputt") and eyed him at a cross angle: "Aye, that's food and some of the best at that."
"Rats right! Grroood strufff!"
McAndrews took a cautious step back. He was half convinced that the old woman must have been hit on the head in their recent battle, and was inclined to poison them all.
Vodi sneered, "You tell 'im, Spot." Stepping forward and leaning into McAndrews' face she continued with bravado. "When I set it on the board for you to feed to that noisy hole in your face, boy, I expect you to take the first bite because I said so, but the second, oh, I think the second bite you'll take on your own and with many a thought towards how much you can get before it disappears into the other holes seated around the table."
Their meal the next evening was a roaring success, a vital step in the process of bonding them all together as a team and establishing a new routine in their new ship. The thrice cooked javelina brains were a resounding hit, and outside the dining room McAndrews did indeed vie with Vodi's Guldur assistant to sneak in bites whenever he could. Cats also kept slipping in, mewling for tidbits of whatever it was that smelled so good. They all competed with the ever-greedy ship's boys coming in and out on errands, grabbing bites at every opportunity and constantly being whacked by Vodi's wooden spoon. "This shur beets that dam' munky meet," muttered one as he snagged a morsel while ducking a swipe from Vodi.
At the head of the table Melville sat with his monkey on his shoulder. He was dressed, like all the sailors, in his blue jacket over a white cravat and white trousers. To his right, in the place of honor, was Lady Elphinstone, in her normal yellow gown with emeralds in her hair. By tradition that seat should have gone to the first mate, but a beautiful lady of noble lineage was gladly given precedence. Her grace and charm added much to the evening as their dinner wound its pleasant course. Across from her sat Fielder and his monkey. To her right was Archer, and across from him was Crater, both with monkeys perched on their shoulders. Their two brand-new lieutenants were uneasy with their new positions, but the natural goodwill and the freely flowing Guldur beer combined with their youthful cheer to make them good guests.
To Archer's right, and considerably lower even though she sat on a thick book, was Broadax. The last of their commissioned officers, she was a splash of bright marine scarlet that balanced out Elphinstone's yellow amidst the sea of navy blue. For once Broadax left behind the obligatory helmet and omnipresent cigar. Her monkey seemed slightly bewildered as it peered out from amidst the stiff locks that splayed out in disarray from her scalp. Across from her was Hans and his monkey, both with discreet chaws of tobacco in their cheeks. Although he had the least seniority among the warrant officers, his position as sailing master gave him traditional precedence among them.
Broadax and Hans were both uncomfortable at the beginning of their first formal dinner as commissioned officers. They were more accustomed to quaffing their drinks, which they firmly held to be a lot like drinking, except that you were allowed to spill more. But, like Archer and Crater, they too quickly adjusted and, much to their surprise, were able to enjoy themselves.
To Broadax's right was Petreckski in a clean brown robe, then the gunner, followed by the carpenter. The two rangers in soft, beaded buckskins completed the party. These were all old hands at such dinners and they kept the conversation, the alcohol, and the food flowing freely.
Each of them had a servant standing behind them. The table was set with a gleaming sea of Guldur silver service that they'd found on board, all polished to a brilliant luster by Melville's steward, McAndrews, who now stood contentedly behind his captain. The service was only silver plate, of very little real value, but it added significantly to the pleasure of the evening.
It was a large party for so small a cabin, but with the table set athwartships and the two 12-pounders trundled into the captain's office and sleeping cabin, it could be done. To Melville's left were the windows looking out on the vast blue expanse of Flatland with the shimmering galaxies hanging above. On the other three sides were white, Moss-coated bulkheads. Immediately behind Melville the bulkhead was adorned with a star-shaped array of quite utilitarian pistols and swords. At the opposite end was a bookshelf. To his right was the doorway, flanked by a coat rack and a chart locker.
The meal was that odd mixture so common in military life. Elegance mixed with mundane necessity. In this case it was Vodi's gourmet thrice cooked javelina brains, "or-a-reasonable-facsimile-thereof," combined with ancient ship's provisions. The whole affair was enlivened by Vodi's amiable commentary as she brought each dish to table.
"Now, gentlefolk," she said as she brought the soup in, for once without her chaw of tobacco, "I'm not all that much of a reader, but I do read everything I can about food and cooking. Captain Aubrey's biographer once referred to a similar meal. 'This liquid is technically known as soup,' as he put it. May I ladle you out one full medical dose? 'It is pleasant enough to see the remnants of peas so aged and worn that even the weevils scorned them and died at their side, so that now we have both predator and prey to nourish us.' " This was especially humorous since it was a fairly accurate description of the daily fare provided for them by the ship's cook. However, in this case the weevils did appear to have been assiduously separated out and replaced with a most pleasant mélange of spices. "What is pleasanter still, is to see the infamous brew spooned from this gleaming great silver tureen, the gift of the previous residents of our humble abode. We are informed that 'however poor you are—and nobody could be much poorer in reality than sailors in a ship without any stores—what crusts you may scrape together eat with more relish in handsome silver.' " And indeed it was true.
"Next, gentlefolk, we have a truly villainous piece of mystery meat, that has traveled the galaxy in its time, growing steadily more horny and wooden as the years went by. But we shall eat it without concern, for we have all grown and thrived on worse."
Finally came the piéce de résistance, accompanied by Vodi's own family history. "An ancient family recipe tells us the background of this dish. Family tradition has it that one of my ancestors actually included this in a book called The Contented Poacher's Epicurean Odyssey. Great-great, many-times-great-gramma Vodi, maysherestinpeace,
tells the true tale about the hunting of one particular wild pig. A very large and dangerous creature indeed, nicknamed 'Major' who was in the habit of ordering people the hell out of his domain. Apparently, the sacred honor of the Great Apes was in eternal jeopardy if they could be bested by a pig. One fine hot and misty morning five guys and seven dogs set out to bring Major down. But there's many a slip twixt dress and drawers, as Gramma used to say. Some time after the fight started in earnest, the survivors straggled out to tell their story. One man lost his leg, another his life!" Here you could see her mouth twitch as she yearned for a chaw of tobacco to spit for emphasis at this point.
"They had shot him once for each of the dogs he gutted and flung into the bushes and once again for the fella whose leg he ripped to the bone. The guy with the ripped leg and the three other survivors waited in the trees until Major bled to death on the ground. The moral of the story seems to be something along the lines of 'I am not now, nor was I ever that hungry, and if chicken's for dinner I'll take chicken and be glad of it!' Me, I'm glad to have so many excellent javelina brains provided at someone else's expense."
At the end of an excellent meal combined with quality commentary and conversation, the cloth was drawn and the wine bottle made its rounds, along with a plate of ship's biscuits. Melville automatically tapped the biscuit on the table causing a few weevils to race out and hide, peering out from under his plate. For centuries sailors have stoically put up with creatures in their biscuits, and the Ships of Flatland were no different.
Usually the weevils elicited no comment, they were just a part of shipboard life. But in this case Melville brought it to the attention of his purser and surgeon, both of whom were fairly new to navy life. "Doctor, Brother Theo," he began, catching their attention, "have either of you ever been instructed in the naval protocol for the selection of weevils?"
Two Space War Page 19