Coming of Age

by Lee Henschel

  Two bells in the middle watch. Mr. Lau and I sat on top Haditha’s covered stall watching marines forming in the waist. Sergeant Archalatta issued his commands low. There was no slamming of butts or stomping of boots this time. All were most quiet, for the platoon wished to decamp sly and in the cover of night. When they were assembled Captain Cedric came on deck and conferred with Archalatta. After the captain gave a final nod the sergeant led his marines off Eleanor. We’d see them again late this evening when Eleanor fetched them from the dock in Nagua. The captain watched them fade into the dark, then came to speak with Mr. Lau.

  “Good evening, Mr. Lau.”

  “Good evening, sir.”

  “We’re done provisioning for Amunia, and now you must enlighten me to the particulars of Amunia’s coastline, if you will.”

  “That I will, sir. Amunia is a bay, sir. It’s known locally as El-Gharam. The coordinates for the mouth of the bay are thirty-one degrees twenty minutes north by twenty-seven degrees thirteen minutes east. The bay runs east and west and is shaped long and narrow. Two miles long and a thousand yards wide. Amunia is separated from the Mediterranean by a narrow spit and the entrance opens directly to the sea from the east but it’s too shallow for Eleanor to enter. The coast along there, from Port Faud to Al Bayda, was last charted by Finch in June of ’96. It’s shoaling beach all up and down that coast. The bottom is mostly sand, but there are several rocky outcrops, all extending from shore. They’re well marked, though. And there’s one formation called Cleopatra Rock. The holding ground is good there. Nine fathoms at low tide, which comes at four in the afternoon this time of year. If we anchor off Amunia I suggest we do so there.”

  “I see. And how far from Nagua to Amunia?”

  “About twelve hundred miles, sir, in dead reckoning. The prevailing winds are westerly, and the currents are weak, but favorable for an eastward passage. I believe we can hold a steady enough course.”

  “Then it should take about two weeks to raise Amunia. Give or take.”

  “Aye, sir. That sounds a reasonable estimate. And if I may, sir, I have a bit more.”

  “I knew you would, Mr. Lau. Let me hear it.”

  “Well sir, when you asked me to serve with you aboard Eleanor I took it upon myself to review the logs of sailing masters serving on ships most recently deployed in the Levant.”

  “Do you mean to say, Mr. Lau, that you knew before me that we would be sent into the Mediterranean?”

  “No, sir. But there was speculation in the Log Office that a fleet might soon deploy for Egypt.”

  “I see. Go on.”

  “Aye, sir. In my perusing I came across demotic information concerning Amunia. Marginalia, actually, entered by Finch’s masters mate, Mr. Ollier.”

  “Do you put much stock in marginalia, Mr. Lau?”

  “Not often, sir, but Ollier’s a former student of mine. A sharp one. And I thought it curious he would mention a trader doing business in Amunia. A fellow named Phan Thiét.”

  “Thiét? Sounds Chinese.”

  “Indochine, I think. Either way, it seems Mr. Thiét speaks passable English. For a price. And it appears we shall be in need of an interpreter once we reach Amunia, now that Gottlieb has been killed.”

  “How much does the man charge?”

  “Ollier reported hiring Thiét for a total of seven Gibraltar Reals. A week’s service.”

  “We may have need of the man. Remind me, if you will, when the time comes.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Now, Mr. Lau, I must ask you to dig even deeper. Do you know much about a cashiered French captain . . . Théophile Oignon?”

  “Ah! The Onion. I believe he commands Marat, sir.”

  “Aye. Admiral Dauntin has briefed me concerning the frigate but his information on Oignon is incomplete. It seems you’re familiar with him, though, or at least with his name.”

  “I am, sir.”

  “I need to know about the man.”

  “I shall review my ledgers, sir.”

  “I would appreciate it, Mr. Lau.” The captain turned to me. “You are looking better, Harriet.”

  “Aye sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “The horse. I hear it is . . .”

  This was the first I’d known Captain Cedric to hesitate ever. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing, for a ship’s boys does not interrupt his captain.

  He cleared his throat and went on brusque. “I hear the mare’s with foal.”

  “Aye, sir. I think she is.”

  “That animal will be aboard my ship for at least two weeks. Do you think it will happen during that time?”

  “I don’t know, sir. A mare carries for eleven months before she throws. But I don’t know how long she’s carried.”

  “You will keep a close watch. It’s your first duty. And we all must hope this horse holds off.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “I see you’re about to begin a stellar observation.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Well Mr. Lau is the very best to learn from. His abilities are God-given. Hopefully yours are, too.”

  He studied the night sky for a moment, then went below.

  “What did he mean sir? That your abilities are God-given?”

  “Captain Cedric pays me high compliment, lad, but overstates. I admit only to a facility with navigation facts. If I see or write a navigational fact I can recall it instantly . . . or know where to find it.”

  “A gift, sir.”

  “No, lad. It is you who has a gift. You say the numbers just tumble out, to live lives of their own. I’ve not seen that before. But, before we begin our observations, I want you to make note of what Captain Cedric and I just discussed.”

  “Aye, sir. Mr. Thiét. He’s a trader.”

  “Not that. What I want you to remember is that I had information available for Captain Cedric before he asked for it—before he even knew to ask for it. So, if you wish to serve your captain well then you must anticipate his questions in advance. But enough! The moon glides and the stars go around. We must begin.”

  For an hour we tracked the moon’s arc sliding through Eleanor’s rigging and then above the rooftops of Mahon until it passed behind the nave of Sant Jaume.

  “The stars now, lad. We shall start with that one to starboard, just off the main royal yard. What is it?”

  “I think that’s the North Star, sir.”

  “Correct. That is Polaris. And how do you find Polaris?”

  “You must look north, sir.”

  “But if you don’t know north . . . how then?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Then you must use another reference . . . in this case an asterism.”

  “Asterism, sir?”

  “A pattern of stars. And to find Polaris you have a distinct pattern to make use of. In the Colonies they call it the Big Dipper.”

  “Oh! The Plough! I know that one, sir.”

  “Point to it.”

  I did.

  “Yes. And so now you’ve pointed to Ursa Major, as well.”

  “Ursa Major, sir?”

  “Yes. It’s a constellation. It’s also known as the Great Bear. The Plough resides in the Great Bear but the Plough’s more distinct and much easier to find. And when you find the Plough then you may use it to locate Polaris.”

  “And then you will know north.”

  “Yes.”

  “I can see the dipper, sir. But the Great Bear . . . it doesn’t look like a bear. Not at all.”

  “You are right. It does not.”

  “Oh! I thought it was just me . . . that my eye was gone bad.”

  “Your eye is fine. It sees what’s there and, just as importantly, does not see what isn’t there. If truth be told, Harriet, no constellation looks like anything but a random gathering of stars . . . surely not bears, or hunters and such. Those are just imaginary lines traced in the night sky. Remnants of myth and legend.”

  “Like Orion, sir?”


  “Aye. Who really believes Orion resembles the Greek hunter?”

  “I don’t, sir. Not even a skinny one.”

  “You are correct. And so now you begin to perceive the Grand Deception.”

  “Sir?”

  “Our world, lad, or at least our understanding of it . . . much of it is an illusion. That’s the Grand Deception. Lies and half-truths. Some lies are writ large, but most are small and mundane. Yet added all together they result in the Grand Deception. The warp of reality. And a lie.”

  “I didn’t know, sir, that the world’s a lie. Are you most sure of it?”

  “Not entirely. Because for every lie there may be a truth that resides within it.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “Well, think you on this . . . some say that at thirteen minutes before noon on September fifth, 1793, the world turned dark . . . because that was the very day the Reign of Terror began in France. To be sure the Terror did begin on that day, but that day turned dark not because of the Terror, but because of a solar eclipse. So there lies a truth within a lie . . . don’t you see.

  “Now . . . fix you once more on Orion. Surely it doesn’t resemble the hunter, or anything at all, but its brightest stars are Rigel and Betelgeuse, and they may be seen when other stars are diminished. So even though Orion is make-believe . . . still we use the stars within it to navigate, and to make our way.”

  We sat quiet then, listening to Eleanor creak and groan and feeling her shudder when she snubbed the hawser. Haditha thumped in her stall. She’d been sleeping, I think. I spoke her name, and told her she was a good horse, and she went still again.

  “I must tell you a thing.”

  “What, sir.”

  “Rigel and Betelgeuse . . . they are the only stars I see in Orion. The others have gone dim, nearly to extinction. My eyes were never so keen, and are getting worse.”

  “But mine, sir, they’re still most good. At least one.”

  “Well let’s hope the other one comes along.”

  We sat for a while longer, gazing at the stars.

  “Ghoti, sir . . . it’s also the Great Deception, I think.”

  “How so, lad?”

  “G and H, sir, they don’t really say F, but we pretend they do.”

  “Very true, Harriet.”

  “And sometimes we don’t say the g and the h at all. Such as the Plough.”

  Mr. Lau smiled. “Correct. Now you must try for some sleep. We depart Mahon in a few hours.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  One bell in the morning watch, four-thirty. Both watches poured into the waist, calling lively as they formed divisions. Soon Captain Cedric came on deck to inspect the ranks and stand before them.

  “Eleanors! This land breeze is favorable to sail off the quay directly. It’s a demanding task. Each evolution must be methodical, and timed to the second. So you must perform as a well-trained crew. But your officers have drilled you well and you’re ready for the challenge.” He looked east, to the pre-dawn light. “It’s early yet. But there’s light enough for all eyes aboard Foudroyant to be watching, to see if we might fail. But know you this, what the Foudroyants will see this day is an exercise conducted smartly. Not looking extraordinary or even difficult . . . but as routine business for the Eleanors.”

  He paused for a moment, then went on.

  “Now then. Before you man your stations I want you to bestir Admiral Dauntin.” He pointed his thumb toward Illa del Rei. “He’s over there. So face him now, and let him hear you.” He filled his lungs deep.

  “What ship!”

  “Eleanor!”

  “What ship!!”

  “Eleanor!!”

  “What ship!!!”

  “Eleanor!!!”

  Their huzzah was most vigorous and overloud, and certain the admiral heard it.

  It required but half an hour to make ready all, to unbend the mooring lines and sail Eleanor off the quay direct. Once under way Captain Cedric gave a nod to strike the Blue Peter and we ghosted past Foudroyant in light airs, exchanging harbour salutes. After rounding Punta Prima the wind came fresh and we carried top gallants only. Mr. Lau set a course for Nagua and when Eleanor wore ship we drove on, plunging steep through the swells. Our bows shipped the sea near green, washing along the spar deck and running through Haditha’s stall. She slipped and lost her footing, neighing and trying to kick her way free. I hopped over the stall and sat her back. She calmed then, but only some, for she was most terrified.

  We came about soon enough though, and with the wind on our best quarter the pounding eased and we showed our heels to Port Mahon. The sun rose crimson and as Eleanor’s shadow ran before us I leaned in her motion, coming once more under her spell. The wind blew free and carried the smell of oceans. The sea was emerald. Diamonds glinted in our bow spray. The sky was sapphire and strewn with high clouds glowing white and buff-pink.

  We boomed steadfast along the coast for an hour, until we saw thick columns of smoke rising black. Distant yet, but certain it was Nagua, and soon McFarren hailed the quarterdeck.

  “Deck there! It’s Nagua. The whole waterfront’s been fired.”

  Captain Cedric wasted no time, ordering Eleanor to clear for action, bawling his commands to be heard above the din. First to Towerlight on the gun deck, “You will load your long guns with shot and your carronades with canister. Kindly inform me when we are within carronade range of Nagua.” And then aloft, “Do you see the marines, McFarren?”

  “I see red tunics on the beach, sir.”

  The captain turned to Rainey. “You will extract those men. Prepare the barge and a cutter. Send Mr. Hoyer in the cutter along with blue jackets armed with musket and cutlass. Lower both boats immediately and be prepared to bear away as soon as we’re in range.”

  The Eleanors beat to quarters, then waited quiet as the ship came about and stood into Nagua bay. The wind dropped and the captain turned to the deck officer. “Lieutenant Lockhart, take a telescope and go aloft. See if there’s any activity in Nagua.”

  Lockhart scurried up the main shrouds and perched on the top gallant crosstrees.

  The captain spoke to Hudson. “Fetch Ajax.”

  But Ajax already stood waiting on the quarterdeck, bearing the captain’s Prélat.

  “Say the time, Ajax.”

  “Eleven fifty-seven, sir.”

  “Good. I shall fire the noon gun myself.”

  He addressed Mr. Lau, standing at the binnacle. “No need for the noon sighting today, Mr. Lau, I don’t think.”

  “No, sir.”

  “But sound the bottom if you will, and take core samples as well.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The captain fired his pistol off the taffrail and when eight bells rang he hailed the crosstrees. “Lieutenant Lockhart! We’ve not got all day.”

  “No activity, sir. But there’s a structure standing on the pier. A gallows, sir.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Aye, sir. A body’s hanging from it.”

  My new station was to mind Haditha, and I’d been sitting on her all this time, stroking her while observing Captain Cedric and the officers on his quarterdeck. But . . . a body hanging on a gallows? That stood me quick on Haditha’s rump to look inshore. My wounded eye throbbed and my good eye watered in the bright sun, but I stared on regardless. And intent, fearing it might be Kyle hanging there. Hanged for me, to redeem a trifling cabin boy. I knew it was forbidden, but I made my way to the quarterdeck to know better what might happen next. I stood with Mr. Lau, who frowned at me, yet said nothing.

  “Fetch Mr. Starling,” the captain told Hudson. Then to the Mr. Botherall. “Mr. Botherall, you will prepare the launch. When I give the order you will proceed to that pier, cut down that body, and bring it to the ship. Go.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  We saw the waterfront clear now. The captain glassed it studious, and when Mr. Starling arrived he offered his telescope.

  “Mr. Starling, can you identify
that body hanging from the gallows on the pier?”

  He took a long look. “No, sir. Still too distant.”

  “It’s Lieutenant Kyle, sir,” I said without forethought, then shut my mouth before I said more and was ordered off the quarterdeck.

  But instead of ordering me off the captain agreed. “The lad may be right.”

  Mr. Starling nodded. “Then I shall join Mr. Botherall and go cut him down. Perhaps he’s still alive.”

  Opp came running. “Lieutenant Towerlight’s compliments, sir, and he wishes to inform you we are within carronade range.”

  The captain leaned over the rails and bellowed at Mr. Botherall waiting in the launch. “Mr. Botherall! Mr. Starling will join you directly and you will proceed to the pier.”

  He turned to Mr. Lau. “Prepare to haul you wind, Mr. Lau.”

  When the men stood to their stations the captain hailed Rainey and Hoyer. “Boats away, Lieutenant. Make straight for the marines.” And then back to Mr. Lau. “Now then, sir, bring us into the wind.”

  Eleanor lost her way, closing to within three hundred yards of the pier, and Mr. Starling glassed the gallows once more before joining Mr. Botherall.

  “Oh, dear! That’s not Kyle, sir. It’s a girl.”

  “Yadra!” I screamed.

  The captain spun around and stared at me sharp.

  “She’s the girl I said about . . . and Lieutenant Kyle, he guessed the jefe might hang her if . . .”

  “Ajax! Get the boy off my quarterdeck.”

  Ajax marched me to Haditha’s stall and I stood there, clutching the slats and pressing my face hard against them. She watched me curious, then came to nuzzle me, and I spoke to her. Not to be heard though, just in my head. Haditha . . . the jefe caught Yadra with that mirror. I know it! And now he’s hung her for a thief. Or a spy.

  I sobbed, the tears scalding my eye.

  Yadra . . . it should have been me, or Kyle. It was us that made the signals, not you. You were only poor, and wanted a looking glass. You gave me your warm body to stop my shiver. You saved me. I’m certain of it. But I never thanked you. You saved me, too, Haditha. Thank you.