“At ease.”
At each end of the line, but not the middle, shoulders were lowered.
“Welcome to HMS Ariadne. We are a 32 gun frigate, a 6th rate, and such as we are spend most of our time at sea, but returning to port quite often. You will be allocated into what we call Watches, Starboard or Larboard, then into what we call the Afterguard or the waisters. It is there that you will learn the skills that you will need to help us work the ship. There we can assess you. Perhaps you have it in you to become a topman, which will raise you up, both actually, you climb the masts, and also in status, it gains you higher pay.”
What humour registered showed only on the faces of the volunteers. Argent paused.
“Perhaps you’ve heard of Ariadne. We’ve had our triumphs and always try to do our duty. This ship has a good name, which is something that many of you cannot claim for yourselves. This is your chance to change your lives, but I deduce you probably think it has been changed anyway. This is a ship that fights, she fights to keep the French from our shores. It matters not what you were before, what matters now is what you become, from now, from this moment. I urge you all to make yourselves into a seaman and become a valued and respected member of this crew.”
Argent nodded at Fraser, then walked towards his quarterdeck to descend the companionway to his cabin. Fraser stood before the parade, with his Mates at his back. His Captain was leaving.
“Attention!”
The sight of Fraser caused all to become more upright. Fraser gave them time to look at him.
“My name is Boatswain Fraser. These behind me are my Mates. Boatswain’s Mates. My job is to look after the ship. She’s my mother, my wife, and my sickly sister, which makes her a damn sight more important to me than any of you. You don’t want to know me. You think of the nastiest, most ill-tempered, double foul bastard you’ve ever known, then double it and treble it, then you’ll get somewhere close to me. You fail this ship and you fail me. You fail this ship and your lubber’s work could send us all to the bottom. Your shipmates acts like right seamen because it keeps them alive and you too. So listen to what you’re told, get it right and look lively. Then you’ll not feel a touch of this.”
Fraser held up his “starter”, a short, thick, length of rope, with a knot on the end and he smacked it three or four times into his palm. He replaced it behind his back, then paused further and looked towards the quarterdeck. The sole Officer was Midshipman Bright.
“You won’t be thinkin’ this. You’ll be thinkin’ your world’s come to an end, but I’ll tell you this. You could be a damn sight worse off elsewhere, on some other barky than this one, what’s called Ariadne. There’s plenty as would transfer onto this deck, given the choice.”
He paused to allow that to sink in.
“Now, we’n goin’ to take you down to the gundeck, and decide wher’ you’n best placed, like Captain Argent said.”
He paused.
“Stand easy.”
They all relaxed for Marines to then lead the way and some Marines to follow behind, shepherding the men forward with their muskets. Down on the gundeck each was assessed. Most would be waisters, the most unskilled, but some, most likely those pressed out of merchantmen, would be made immediately into the higher status Afterguard.
In his cabin, Argent busied himself with the letters and lists that had built up in his absence and from them he learned that his ship was to leave the dry dock tomorrow. He had just finished, when Ramsey’s replacement arrived at Noon, Marine Captain Alloysius Breakspeare. Argent had studied his papers and marked him as one of the older Marine Captains, but very experienced with a string of ships and a list of land actions. Breakspeare knocked before being called in and stood to attention with his shako under his right arm, his left hand on his sword hilt. Argent stood to greet him and came around the desk to shake his hand. The shako was smartly transferred.
“Captain Brakespeare, welcome to the ship. My name is Reuben Argent.”
“Alloysius Brakespeare, Sir. Thank you, I’m most happy to be joining the company.”
Brakespeare was slightly shorter than Argent, but broader. There was a scar across his left eye, and part of his left ear was missing. Argent immediately assessed him as a solid, capable, and experienced Officer. Nothing more need be said.
“We’re happy to have you. Did you know Captain Ramsey?”
“Yes Sir. His sister is married to my brother.”
“Well, part of the family then, or was.”
“Yes Sir. He was a good man, Sir.”
Argent nodded.
“Right, I’ll let you get on, to settle in. The Marine sentry will show you to your cabin.”
Argent shook his hand again. Brakespeare, took one pace back, saluted and turned. Argent thought to himself, “a bit stiff, but he’ll fit in”. He felt confident, then with Brakespeare’s departure, Argent returned to his papers, to soon be disturbed by another knock on the door. The sentry entered to announce another new arrival.
“Lieutenant Wentworth, Sir.”
Argent stood again.
“Show him in.”
What came in was an odd and narrow apparition, made stranger by the fact that he was so tall that he had to hold his head at an angle to avoid the deckbeams above. Seeing this, Argent was anxious that Wentworth quickly take a seat. Again, he came around the desk.
“Welcome to the ship, Lieutenant. Please take a seat.”
Wentworth sat down and arranged his four long limbs into various angles of comfort. Argent repeated his greeting.
“Welcome to the ship.”
“Th-th thank you, S-S-S-Sir.”
Argent smiled and nodded, hoping that the stutter was the product of nerves caused by his boarding his first ship. Argent returned to his place.
“You’ve just passed out?”
Wentworth nodded, which Argent found unacceptable.
“Just passed out?”
“S-Sir.”
“And with high marks, and commendations, so I have read. Well, with your arrival, I now have three Lieutenants, My First, Henry Fentiman, My Second, Jonathan Sanders, and you. My Sailing Master is Mr. Leviticus McArdle, a very religious man, you need to know. All three are very experienced and have faced the French. Talk to them, they’ll help you to settle in.”
Argent suddenly felt anxious at what he had said, as though he had hit upon a problem.
“You will find all to be a fund of knowledge and experience, from which you will benefit, if you take the trouble. Now, have you met Lieutenant Fentiman?”
“No, Sir.”
Argent felt better.
“Sentry!”
The sentry arrived.
“Take Lieutenant Wentworth to the First.”
The Marine held the door open and Wentworth unwound himself from the chair. Argent stood and leaned across the desk, extending his hand.
“Do your best, Benjamin. We’re pleased to have you.”
“Tha-th-thank you, S-Sir.”
Argent felt worse. How the Hell did he get through his Board? Desperation on the part of the Admiralty, must be.
The hammering continued throughout the day, but Argent’s days away had seen the end of the fixing of the new copper. Frederick Baines and his mates had spent the day making a careful check, adding extra copper nails as they thought fit and that also was now finished. Tomorrow the dock would be flooded and Ariadne returned to her natural element, then she would be towed out to a quayside, to complete her state of readiness. With the sun glowing orange, then red, through his stern windows, he took himself onto the quarterdeck. His crew were still busy, but most were now cleaning, ridding the ship of the evidence of longshore contamination. Ariadne was looking more like her old self, albeit with several patches of new decking and planking. Soon he would be going to Broke for orders, or receiving them by courier, more likely.
The next day, in the forenoon, saw the last of the new arrivals and it was a memorable entrance. A huge, closed, gleaming coa
ch progressed down the dockside, with two liveried coachmen at the rear and another beside the driver. Argent was at the dockside bulwark and leaned on the rail to observe. The coach halted at the gangplank, before the sentry, and one of the coachmen ran forward to open the door. The door opened and out came a young man of mid teens, clad in an immaculately tailored Midshipman’s uniform. He stood at the door of the coach for some time, until finally a highly elaborated female kissed him and an equally immaculate man descended from the coach. The adult immediately gave orders and the standing coachman went to the rear and produced two large chests, each being picked up by himself and the other coachman. The young man shook hands with his Father, who motioned the coachmen towards the gangplank. They both began to ascend to the deck, followed by the youngster.
Argent didn’t like what he was seeing, on two counts. He walked along the gangway and stood at the top of the gangplank.
“Halt. Go back.”
The coachmen looked astonished and surprised. They halted, but did not retreat; instead they looked back at their Master. Argent advanced down the gangplank.
“Go back. Go back, I say.”
Seeing a uniform coming down at them, this time they did return to the stone of the quayside. They stood aside to allow their Master to walk forward to meet the oncoming Argent, who did not extend his hand, for the “Master” was stood hands behind his back, beginning to look angry.
“Good morning. My name is Captain Argent”.
Argent placed himself at the end of the gangplank.
“Two things. Firstly, two chests is one too many. The Midshipman’s Berth would seem to you, if you saw it, to be no more than a large cupboard, and it already contains two incumbents. Secondly, only my crew come aboard my ship, they are, after all, the crew. Others only with my permission. Therefore, the midshipman here, carries aboard his own dunnage, that being one chest.”
He paused to await some reaction from the Master. None came, perhaps from surprise that someone had prevented him and his minions from carrying out his fixed intentions. Argent continued.
“I must ask, therefore, that you reduce the Midshipman’s belongings to a single chest, in whichever way you choose, before he comes aboard.”
A female expression of great impatience appeared at the window of the coach door. The Father, a block of a man and as finely tailored as his son, only with more embellishments, placed himself squarely before Argent, setting himself for the imminent confrontation.
“Do you know who I am?”
Argent returned a blank stare.
“I assume you to be Mr. Trenchard, Father to Midshipman Trenchard here, but what is more important is that you know what I know. As the Captain of this ship, I have to decide what happens and in what way. No one takes up more room than he is entitled to. No one, including me. Your son is entitled to only so much space in his berth and we find that to be adequately described by one sea chest. If you find that to be unacceptable, then, well, I already have two Midshipmen, I can get by with that number. If you understand me? So, well, the choice is yours.”
Argent paused to find himself viewing a look of blank astonishment, but nothing spoken.
“So, I’ll leave you to your deliberations. Good day.”
Argent turned, then stopped to face them again.
“Your pardon. One thing I should have said. If you so choose that he does join our crew, I would strongly advise that you include any instruments that you may have provided for him, especially his sextant. And writing and drawing materials.”
Argent then turned again and ascended the gangplank. At the entry port he instructed the sentry.
“Only the Midshipman is to come aboard, carrying his own chest, just one.”
The sentry grinned and flexed his hand around his musket, it with bayonet fixed.
“Yes Sir. Well understood, Sir.”
“And if he does come aboard, he leaves his chest here, within your care, and you ask a seaman to conduct him to my cabin.”
The sentry shouldered his musket, came to the attention and saluted.
“Sir.”
Argent walked back along the gangway and gave himself the luxury of a look down over to the coach. One chest was still on the quayside; the other was being pushed into the coach by a coachman. Of Father, Mother, or Midshipman, there was nothing to be seen. He continued back to the taffrail and took a satisfied look over, at the mighty gates that held back the waters of The Sound, soon to be opened, but both gates were of such thorough and precise construction that but a trickle of water edged down between the two and a little also at each side. He returned to his cabin and idled away the time, sat at his desk toying with a letter opener and soon came seven bells of the forenoon watch, half an hour before dinner. The minutes idled away and he was considering returning to the deck when there came a knock on the door. It opened to admit a seaman and behind him stood the youngster.
“Midshipman Trenchard, Sir.”
The seaman held open the door for Trenchard to enter. This he did and he took himself straight to a chair and sat, without removing his hat. He seemed to have not a care in the world. Argent nodded to the seaman, who left, closing the door.
“Midshipman. We are going to try that again. Stand up, and take yourself back to the door. There, you come to the attention, salute, wait for me to return it, and then remove your hat. Do that now.”
Argent saw the same astonishment as he had seen on the quayside, but Trenchard stood up and did as he was bid. His salute was a wide circle that came down from above the top of his head. He then removed his hat.
Argent began his instruction.
“Replace your hat.”
Trenchard did so.
“When we salute in the Navy your hand does not come any higher than your forehead, just above your right eye. Straight up and straight down. The decks are too low for army circles. Like this.”
Argent demonstrated and Trenchard made a passable imitation.
“Now, come and sit down.”
Trenchard did so, his expression now showing some concern.
“That’s how you make an entrance into the company of a superior Officer. Every time. That way.”
Argent paused to let that sink in.
“Now. You are Midshipman Thomas Trenchard.”
“Yes.”
Argent looked up at him, glowering under his eyebrows.
“Incorrect. Try again.”
“Yes Sir.”
Argent continued to study the papers, allowing the silence to build. He spoke as though giving facts, not asking questions.
“This is your first ship.”
“Yes Sir.”
“You are sixteen years old.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Right, then you have a vast amount to learn before you are of any use to me at all, never mind in the future your going before the Board and passing out as an Officer. Two things. Keep your Journal as though an Admiral were due to look at it tomorrow, and, secondly, never be satisfied with your navigation. What you are unsure of, study and become sure of. You will be taught navigation by our Sailing Master, Mr. McArdle, and perhaps the other Officers in addition, but Mr. McArdle is the finest navigator I have ever sailed with. That makes you privileged. You will be given Watch duties, and a place at Quarters, by the First Lieutenant, Mr. Fentiman.
Trenchard looked puzzled.
“Quarters? Sir.”
“Yes, Mr. Trenchard. Where you perform your duties when we come to fight the French.”
Argent saw a slight anxiety come over Trenchard’s face, but he continued.
“You have two other companions in your berth, Mr. Berry and Mr. Bright. Both are progressing well, so you can learn from both. An important point is that you will find the food aboard very different to what you have been used to, of that I’m sure, but there will be plenty of it, at least under normal circumstances. Don’t complain. Berry and Bright have been surviving on it now for over a year.”
Argent th
en sat back and regarded Trenchard sternly.
“One final thing to remember. Everyone on this ship knows more than you. Everyone, right down to the youngest Powder Monkey. If you treat everyone with respect, they will give you the time that will improve you as a sailor, time more than you ask for. “Top it the nob” as the seamen put it, and no one will grant you more than they have to, and your education as a Naval Officer will be that much slower, and poorer. You follow my meaning?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Now, after leaving me, you recover your chest and ask the sentry to find a seaman to take you to the Midshipmen’s Berth. You ask him. Ask him!”
“Yes Sir.”
“That was an order. The correct reply is aye, aye, Sir.”
“Aye aye, Sir.”
“Now go to the door and repeat what you did when you first came in, but salute last.”
Trenchard rose and placed himself at the door. His salute was passable. Argent returned it and watched the door close.
Down on the gundeck other introductions were being made. Henry Ball was escorting a new recruit to the site of number three gun. Ball was even more terse than Fraser.
“Tooley. Out of it. We’n making you a topman. Morris, this is the replacement, calls hisself Landy Main. Good luck to ‘ee with ‘im. “E just tried to do a runner along the quayside.”
Morris looked at Ball with no small annoyance.
“Well, thankee, Bosun’s Mate Ball. We’d just sorted out Tooley an’ now you’n whiskin’ on ‘im away to be a mast monkey!”
“’S right, an’ ‘ere’s the man to fill the hole.”
He pulled Tooley out and thrust Landy forward.
“These is your messmates. Fine gen’lemen all!”
With that he walked off taking Tooley with him. Morris looked at Landy, then at Dedman.
“I knew that bugger Wilmot takin’ off wouldn’t end in satisfaction.”
He looked back at Landy Main. He wasn’t impressed. A ratlike face, bloodied, on a fleshless head above thin shoulders and a sunken chest. Thin, lank hair hung dark around his face. What muscle he had was on his arms and legs, but neither was too conspicuous.
A Question of Duty Page 28