Hostile Shores

“I think you might have just made yourself an enemy, sir,” Lt. Westcott took a brief moment from his harrying duties to mutter.

“I have the feeling that I had, no matter what I did, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie told him, chuckling. “Even did I yield him the entrance first, there’s some people there’s no living with.”

*   *   *

Reliant was anchored by bow and stern, her squares’ls harbour-gasketed and all fore-and-aft canvas handed and stowed, and the Bosun Mr. Sprague and his Mate, Mr. Wheeler, had rowed round the ship to see the yards squared to mathematical perfection before Athenian groped a slow way into port behind her frigates.

The Reliant’s musicians were playing “The Bowld Soldier Boy” as the gilt-trimmed red rum cask was fetched on deck for a delayed issue. The hands waiting for their grog raised a cheer as the two 64s rounded up to drop anchor. On the quarterdeck, Lewrie was sprawled in his collapsible wood and canvas deck chair, with both of his cats in his lap, and the ship’s mascot, Bisquit, dancing on his hind legs and barking a welcome of his own.

Lewrie tipped Athenian his cocked hat in salute.

It’s the least I can do, Lewrie thought; and the least is what I intend t’do! Along with gettin’ my report on Grierson’s wee “joke” to Admiralty, first!

CHAPTER SIX

Lewrie had to wait two days before Commodore Grierson thought to summon him for that promised face-to-face meeting to brief the new-come upon the Bahamas, and the vessels and captains Grierson would inherit. The hoist of Reliant’s number and “Captain Repair On Board” caught Lewrie in casual clothing, again, in slop-trousers and buckled shoes, a plain coat, and his shirtsleeves as he, the Bosun, the Carpenter, and other petty officers made an inspection of the ship belowdecks. The summons also came after the islands’ Governor-General’s invitation to a welcoming ball ashore. Grierson had said that they would meet “once the social niceties had been held”, so he was obviously wishing to get an onerous chore over with before shining at a grand supper dance, at which he hoped to be regaled.

*   *   *

“Welcome aboard, sir,” Athenian’s First Officer, Lt. Hayes, said at the entry-port, once the salutes had been rendered.

“Good morning Lieutenant … ah?” Lewrie responded cheerily; he would not take out his sour mood over meeting with Grierson to extend to others. “I did not get your name, last time I was aboard.”

“Hayes, sir,” the fellow said, “and may I say that it is an honour to make even your slightest acquaintance, Captain Lewrie.”

“I can’t imagine why, but thankee, anyway, Mister Hayes,” Lewrie replied with a dis-arming grin and a laugh. “It was kindly said.”

“Why, your repute in the Navy, sir!” Hayes exclaimed. “Your successes.”

“Oh, those,” Lewrie shrugged off. “Uhm, may I ask why you are turned out in your best-dress? And, why does a Commission Officer be on deck in harbour?”

“Oh, that, sir,” Lt. Hayes said, plucking at the snowy lapels of his uniform coat. “It is the Commodore’s standing orders that we be dressed properly, else the hands might get Frenchified egalitarian ideas and breach the difference in class and station, sir. As for being on deck at all, the Commodore sent for me soon after his order was sent to you … so it would not be a mere Midshipman to meet you.”

“Rather hard on the purse, wearin’ yer best kit all the time, and what would ye have left for shore calls? The supper ball tonight, for instance. Ye wear yer best even at sea in gale weather?”

“The Commodore will allow us to dress down, are tarpaulins needed, sir,” Hayes admitted sheepishly. “And, aye, it is hard for some of us to maintain proper appearances, all the time. The wardroom servants are busy, trying to put us right, and repair smudges and stains for the ball.”

“Then I will see you there, Mister Hayes,” Lewrie promised. “I must get aft, I suppose. If you will lead the way?”

Athenian, like all 64-gun two-deckers, provided ample room aft for a captain’s great-cabins, and more than enough space to accommodate a squadron commodore … if the flag-captain didn’t mind being turfed out and relegated to smaller quarters. Grierson’s great-cabins were as large as Lewrie expected, right under the poop deck, and, without the presence of any upper-deck guns, looked large enough for an indoor te

The door to the stern gallery was open, as were all the transom windows, to catch a morning breeze. Grierson needed one, for he was tricked out in his usual best, right down to silk stockings and soft slipper-type shoes. This morning, Grierson had at least unbuttoned his expensively gold-laced coat against the heat and humidity.

“Thank you, Hayes, you may go,” Grierson said in an idle, languid voice. He had been standing in the open doorway to the stern gallery, a wine glass in one hand, and the other tucked in the small of his back as if posing, but turned and raised a brow when he saw Lewrie.

“Prompt, I must say, Sir Alan,” Grierson said with a brief hint of a smile as he crossed to his desk and sat himself down in a leather-covered chair. He gestured to another in front of the desk for Lewrie. “Though I do note that you do not think much of dressing properly.”

“I was in the cable tiers, the orlop stowage, and the carpenters’ walks on an inspection when you signalled, sir,” Lewrie told him. “No need for fancy dress there.”

“A glass of something, sir?” Grierson offered. “Some Rhenish?”

“Tea for me, sir,” Lewrie requested, turning to spot one of the cabin servants. “In a tall glass, with lemon and sugar, and let it set to cool, first, if ye will.”

Commodore Grierson gave out a scoffing harumph at that request.

“It’s my custom t’have a half-gallon brewed up each day and let cool, sir,” Lewrie explained. “It’s very refreshing in the tropics on warm-ish days. Even better with a sliver of Yankee Doodle ice, when it’s available from an ice-house ashore.”

“What an odd thing to do with tea,” Grierson said, gri

“Of course, sir,” Lewrie said. “Though I must admit that some of the smaller sloops, cutters, and luggers are unfamiliar to me. I’ve never clapped eyes on ’em, nor met their captains, since I’ve spent so little time in port, and a great many of them are off far down the island chain, as far as the Turks and Caicos.”

“Indeed,” Grierson drawled with a dis-believing expression, as if to question his diligence during his temporary command of the Bahamas.

“You may not see many of them ’til they return to Nassau for wood and water, either, sir,” Lewrie explained. “I can vouch for those I’ve worked with, but beyond them…?” he ended with a shrug.

The brig-sloops Delight and Fulmar and their captains he could recommend, as well as the single-master cutter Squirrel. And of course, the three others of his original squadron he could praise highly. The rest of the vessels were simply names on a list.

“They stay quite busy, down-islands, sir,” Lewrie told Grierson. “I do not know if Captain Forrester put much effort into the enforcement of the Navigation Acts, since there are so many American merchant ships who come to trade. American goods are much prized here, and the town merchants’d be upset did the trade be curtailed. Their goods are just as well made as British, and cheaper, so…” That required one more puzzled shrug. “That will be up to your discretion, sir.”