Текст книги "Hostile Shores"
Автор книги: Dewey Lambdin
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CHAPTER FIVE
“Let fall the main course and get the ship drivin’, Mister Westcott!” Lewrie called as soon as he got upon his own quarterdeck. “Get us into port before one o’ those new-comes take our anchorage!”
“Drive it will be, sir,” Lt. Westcott agreed. “Bosun, set all to the royals! Topmen aloft! Trice up and lay out to make sail! Sheet home the main course and shake out all reefs!”
“Not that it will do much good, sir,” Mr. Caldwell the Sailing Master laconically said. “Our hull is as weeded as the New Forest.”
“What is Commodore McNaughton like, sir?” Westcott asked, once the crew was at their tasks and sail was spreading.
“Dead as mutton, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie said with a wry moue. “His replacement is Captain Henry Grierson.” A twitch of a corner of his mouth spoke volumes to his First Lieutenant. “Does anyone know of him?”
“The Griersons, sir?” Midshipman The Honourable Entwhistle spoke up. “I know something of the family.”
“Do tell then, Mister Entwhistle,” Lewrie bade him.
Entwhistle’s father was a Baron, so all of his brothers and sisters (’til the girls married, of course) were entitled to be called “Honourable” except for the eldest brother, who would inherit all and become the umpteenth Baron Entwhistle. Of course he and his family would know a bit about almost everybody. Entwhistle had entered HMS Reliant in April of 1803 a rangy eighteen-year-old, but was now a man grown, and an experienced senior Mid looking forward to standing for the oral examinations before a board of Post-Captains to gain promotion to Lieutenant.
“They are related to Sir Henry Dundas, sir, now Lord Melville,” Entwhistle told him, “and I do believe that the Admiral commanding at Antigua is some sort of in-law to the Griersons.”
“Damn! Dundas! That murderous fool!” Lewrie groaned.
When the war with France broke out in February of 1793, Sir Henry Dundas had been Prime Minister William Pitt’s Secretary of State at War, and Dundas had been brim-full of schemes to fight the French, most of which involving invasions and expeditions to the East Indies to expel France from her last slim grip in India and in the China Trade. In the West Indies, the scheme was to conquer all French colonies that rivalled Great Britain in the lucrative exports from the Sugar Islands, monopolising sugar, molasses, and rum. Both of the Indies were deadly for Europeans, who had to endure Malaria or Yellow Fever during the hot seasons, along with Cholera and Dysentery and God only knew what else the rest of the year. All those hopeful expeditions had resulted in the deaths of over sixty thousand soldiers and sailors who had perished of disease, not battle or glorious conquests.
Dundas had become Henry, Viscount Melville, and had been named First Lord of the Admiralty in 1804, replacing stalwart and honest-to-his-bones Admiral John, Earl Saint Vincent, “Old Jarvy”, who had waged a gallant but failed attempt to clean out the greed, venality, corruption, and speculating of Navy suppliers, contractors, the dockyards themselves, and even the Navy Board. Viscount Melville, though, who had been Treasurer of the Navy twice in his political career, knew where the side-profits were, and had come to be sneered at as “Lord Business As Usual” almost from the moment he took office.
Now, even though Viscount Melville’s peculations and profits on the sly, and his turning of the blind eye to his fellow plunderers, had finally drawn official notice, resulting in his impeachment and replacement by Admiral Charles, Lord Barham, in this past May, there were too many who continued to hold high offices to sever Melville’s influence. Indeed, there were many who wished that the promised trial in the House of Lords might result in an acquittal, and his glorious return!
“Place, patronage, and ‘petti-coat’ interest,” Lewrie commented with a weary, jaded shake of his head. “All damned fine, so long as you’re the recipient, of course. Even with Melville impeached, not a thing’s changed. Investigators will be reportin’ corruption and writin’ reform policies ’til the turn of the next century!”
“Your pardons, sir,” Midshipman Entwhistle said with an adult’s firm grasp of reality, “but Old Jarvy’s mistake was thinking that refined and educated gentlemen who hold high office are as honest as he is. As if corruption is a high tide that only goes up so far.”
“Well said, Mister Entwhistle, damned well said,” Lewrie agreed. Turning aft, he called to Midshipman Munsell. “D’ye still have your copy of Steele’s, young sir?”
“Aye, sir, though it is at least two months out of date,” the lad piped up. “Shall I look someone up for you, sir?”
“Aye.”
A moment later, Munsell was reading an entry aloud. “‘Captain Henry Grierson … made Post in June of 1795, Captain of the Oxford, seventy-four, May of 1803’.”
“A neat trade,” Lewrie groused. “Give up a seventy-four-gunned ship of the line for a lesser ship, but a broad pendant!”
He’s, what, no older than his mid or late thirties? Lewrie wondered: That’s awfully young t’get a two-decker, ’less he’s had a lot o’ help up the ladder. Without makin’ a name for himself that any of us ever heard of? Hmmm. There’s another reason for me t’dislike him!
“Ehm, Athenian is making a hoist, sir,” Midshipman Munsell said as he put the old copy of Steele’s back in the flag locker and took notice out-board. “It is … ‘General’ to all ships, and ‘Make More Sail’,” he deduced after a squint with a telescope and a quick referral to the signals book.
“It appears it’ll be a race, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie said.
“One we may lose, sir, given the foul condition of our ‘quick-work’,” Lt. Westcott told him. “Do you wish the stuns’ls rigged?”
Sailing off the wind as Reliant was, studding booms could be extended from the course and tops’l yardarms to bare more sail to the following wind, which might gain them a knot or more over the warships of Grierson’s squadron, but …
“It’s not that far to Hog Island and the main channel, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie decided, shaking his head No. “We’d barely get ’em rigged and spread before we’d have t’take ’em in for entering port. I’d admire did you remove the larboard hawse buckler and bend a cable to the best bower, instead. Mister Caldwell? How close may we shave inshore of Hog Island?” he asked puckishly. “Closer to the entrance channel than those bastards?”
“Oh, I see what you wish, sir,” Caldwell replied, spreading a grin on his usually stern face. “Do we alter course a point to larboard now, we should have more than sufficient depth.”
Lewrie glanced at the chart which Caldwell showed him, then got his telescope from the binnacle cabinet rack and peered forward. He could see Firefly, Lt. Lovett’s little 8-gunned sloop, abeam of the wind as she stood in to the entrance channel. Over the trees of Hog Island, he could make out the peaks of Thorn’s and Lizard’s masts, for they were already in port and rounding up into the wind to ghost to a stop, drop anchors, and pay off sufficient scope as their crews handed the last scraps of sail.
He did not need the glass to look over towards Grierson’s leading frigates; they were a cable apart in line-ahead, all driving hard with white mustachios under their forefeet and cutwaters, and creamy wakes curling down their sides. But, the leading frigate was abaft of abeam to Reliant, and the second and third were off her starboard quarer. Most importantly, they were now at least two cables or better to seaward of his frigate!
Lewrie went to the starboard bulwarks and leaned far out for a look overside. He had to shake his head over the thickness and length of the weed strands that fouled Reliant’s bottom and waterline. Some broke off as he watched and swirled astern into the wide bridal train of wake, where sea birds by the hundreds swirled and mewed and dove to snag themselves a bite, or scoop up some of the green slime that flaked off in tasty wee morsels.
“Mister Westcott, when we’re near the entrance channel, I wish the ship scandalised … Spanish reefs and Irish pendants … to take the speed off her. Topmen aloft as we do, to take in courses, royals and t’gallants. Prepare a cable to the kedge anchor, as well. We’ll stand in somewhere near our old anchorage, bear up into the wind, then let her fall off Northerly before droppin’ the kedge, then ghost on ’til the kedge bites. We’ll let go the best bower then, and be abeam to the prevailin’ breezes, and won’t swing to impede Commodore Grierson’s squadron when they enter port.”
“And if his lead frigates out-foot us, sir?” Westcott asked with a smirk on his face.
“Then they’ll put on a pretty show for the good folk o’ Nassau,” Lewrie told him. “The main thing about racin’ the other fellow is to know when to slow down! We’ll have the centre of the channel and will be the vessel with the right of way.”
“Very well, sir,” Lt. Westcott agreed, chuckling in anticipation. “All will be ready when you order us to alter course.”
Reliant stood on under full sail, slowly losing the race to the entrance channel to the lead frigate of Grierson’s long column of warships. She was two cables abeam of Lewrie’s frigate as Hog Island receded and the channel began to spread out alee, revealing the town of Nassau. Almost dead-level and still showed no sign that she would reduce sail! Lewrie could see her captain looking aloft, at the channel as it neared, then astern to the flagship, which had yet to signal any change.
“Enough depth for us to alter course, Mister Caldwell?” Lewrie asked.
“Another minute more would suit, sir,” Caldwell told him, busy with his sextant to measure the height of Fort Fincastle and some other prominent sea-marks to judge the distance. “There is nearly the end of Hog Island to larboard, and the channel ’twixt Arawak Cay and Long Cay … ah! I would round up now, sir!”
“Mister Westcott, alter course to larboard!” Lewrie snapped.
Round Reliant went, her jib-boom and bowsprit sweeping cross the cays and the town in a thunder of canvas as her courses, main and mizen tops’ls, and t’gallants and royals were reduced of a sudden, drawn up in their centres to leave the outer parts bagged and unable to draw the wind in untidy bat wings, leaving the fore tops’l, jibs, spanker, and stays’ls, the fore-and-aft sails, still standing to keep a way on her as she came about, rapidly shedding speed.
The channel led East-Sou’east, close to the prevailing winds before trending Sutherly into the main harbour inside the shelter of the various cays.
“Sheet home the mizen t’gallant once more, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie ordered. “Let’s keep steerage way on her.” The Quartermaster’s Mates on the helm were making large swings of the wheel to keep her on course. After the mizen t’gallant gained them a bit more wind, he looked at them again. “Better now, Cottle, Malin?”
“Aye, sir, ’at helped,” Cottle replied.
“Lord, he’ll miss the channel!” Midshipman Munsell crowed from right aft. Lewrie turned to watch, gloating to see the lead frigate match his tactic of scandalising his ship, but the second and third in line astern of her were forced to alter course to seawards to avoid a collision! They would miss the entrance channel altogether, and have to tack about under reduced sail to regain the entrance! Over the top of the low-lying spur of Hog Island, Lewrie could see Athenian and her consort, the other two-decker 64, altering course Northerly in succession to avoid being stacked up atop the three frigates!
“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 tennis court. Not only did Grierson have a lot of “interest” in the Navy; it was obvious that he and his family had a substantial fortune, too, for the dining table would seat twelve round that gleaming cherry wood expanse, and the sideboard groaned under the weight of a palace’s worth of sterling silver services. The same went for the day-cabin, which featured a substantial desk, wine cabinet, and seating arrangements, and none of the articles of furniture the usual collapsible and easily stowable type, either.
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, grinning. “Anyway, I suppose that you brought me the outline of the strength of my new squadron, Sir Alan?”
“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.”
“Quite right it is,” Grierson agreed, very sternly.
“And, one must keep an eye out for the wreckers and salvagers, too, sir,” Lewrie went on. “Perhaps, with at least two more of your brig-sloops and thirty-two-gun frigates on station, they might be able to back up the authority of your sloops and cutters, down-islands.”
“Wreckers and salvagers?” Grierson asked.
“The island soils, and the acreage available, don’t support the highest-paying crops, sir,” Lewrie further explained, warming to the subject. “There’s ‘red lands’ that seem fertile, the first season or two, but play out without fertiliser, and the Bahamas don’t have room for pastures, cattle and sheep, and their dung. The ‘white lands’ are sandy, and are in need of fertiliser, too, d’ye see. Now, some get by the Red Indian way, using small fish planted the same time as the seed, but again, that doesn’t support payin’ crops, mostly just subsistence farmin’, so the down-islanders need food imports, and the best way to pay for such is to … take advantage of the odd shipwreck. Many of ’em had kin in the old pirate days, and they will fall back upon the old ways, when needful.
“When I was here ’tween the wars in the old Alacrity, I’d put up beacons and range-marks, and as soon as I’d sailed away, down they came, the timbers got used t’build houses, and when I returned months later, there was no sign they’d ever been there, and no one’d give me the time o’ day as to which of ’em did it,” Lewrie said in sour reminiscence. “You’ll want t’keep a weather eye on that business, too, sir.”
“Good God!” Grierson exclaimed. “Perhaps I should hang one or two, to dissuade their criminal tendencies.”
“Good luck on that, sir,” Lewrie said, chuckling. “The courts hereabouts merely wink at cases like that … if ye can wake ’em up long enough t’present one. Then, there’s still the problem of French and Spanish privateers, and the coast of Spanish Florida. I’ve a mind to keep my squadron together and prowl over that way, t’keep the frogs and the Dons honest. And scare any more Americans from aidin’ them.”
“Well, now I…,” Grierson began, but the cabin servant had come with Lewrie’s tea, now that it had cooled sufficiently.
“Most refreshin’, thankee kindly,” Lewrie told the servant after he had taken a sip. He turned back to Grierson. “We destroyed a rather clever cabal, d’ye see. An American company, the Tybee Roads Trading Company, was supplyin’ the privateers out of Savannah, Georgia, providin’ false registries for their prizes and passage crews t’sail them under American colours to Havana or a French island port, after takin’ off a portion of the cargoes for sale in Savannah, or ship North as far as New York or Boston in their own bottoms, and bring back the profits in Tybee Roads ships to give to the privateers, less a substantial commission, of course.”
“I am not sure that my brief extends quite that far, Sir Alan,” Commodore Grierson said with a shake of his head. “You, as you said, held independent orders to conduct such operations, but mine are to defend and administer the Bahamas, what?”
“Well, you might at least send a frigate to prowl up the coast of Spanish Florida, now and again,” Lewrie suggested, wishing that he could cross the fingers of his right hand for luck that such searches and intimidation might continue. “Just t’keep ’em lookin’ over their shoulders, perhaps send someone to make a port call at Savannah, too, to see if the death of a Mister Edward Treadwell spelled the end of the Tybee Roads Company. Our Consul there, a Mister Hereford, is an ass, but he might know something of it.”
“The man’s dead, do you say?” Grierson asked, sounding bored.
“He was there in the Saint Mary’s River, the morning of our raid, sir,” Lewrie explained. “Caught red-handed, as it were. We were takin’ fire from both sides of the river, the Spanish, and the neutral American … musket-fire, mostly … and he was fleein’ up-river in one of his barges. He took a shot at us with a Pennsylvania rifle and had to stand up to load, and I shot him.”
“You … with a musket?” Grierson spluttered, un-believing. “At what range?”
“About an hundred and fifty yards, sir. With one of Major Patrick Ferguson’s breech-loadin’ rifled muskets,” Lewrie took a secret delight in relating. “A souvenir from the American Revolution that I got from my brothers-in-law who were officers in a Loyalist North Carolina regiment outfitted by their father with Fergusons.
“I hit Treadwell a bit lower than I meant,” Lewrie went on with a grin, “just below the waist-band of his trousers ’stead of in his chest, but good enough for ‘fatal’. He lived long enough t’tell me what he’d done with the passengers and crews off the prizes before he died … horribly.”
“Aha, I see,” Grierson commented, all but goggling at Lewrie.
“With Treadwell out of the business, there’s sure t’be others who might be tempted, sir,” Lewrie continued. “It was too profitable a scheme t’let pass. Even a slow cruise outside the Three Mile Limit but close enough t’show British colours might be enough to daunt any who might revive the scheme.”
“I will consider that,” Grierson warily allowed.
“If you do, sir, I cannot recommend Lieutenant Peter Darling of the Thorn brigantine, Lieutenant Tristan Bury of the Lizard sloop, Lieutenant Oliver Lovett of the Firefly sloop highly, enough. All three of ’em are as smart as paint, know the coasts and inlets like the backs of their hands by now, and are as eager t’get at the foe as so many starvin’ tigers. During our service together, they’ve all acquired larger boats for the odd raid into the inlets, and behind the barrier islands. Of course, when we staged our amphibious raids; they had Reliant’s Marines to go with them, but their sailors are very familiar with the work, and can pull them off.”
“Hmmm … I perhaps could spare some smaller vessels, now and again,” Grierson uncomfortably allowed, frowning. He called for his servant to fetch him a fresh glass of wine. “Such duties would be a nice change of pace for some of the sloops and cutters relegated so far to drearier chores, down-island.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Lewrie gently tried to object, “but Darling, Bury, and Lovett are used to working together as a team, and a fine one they are. When I was off on diplomatic port calls, they were perfectly capable of playing merry Hell with the Spanish, taking several prizes on their own. It’d be a shame did you break them up and—”
“Did you teach your grandmother to suck eggs, Captain Lewrie?” Grierson snapped of a sudden, glowering up.
“I only knew the one on my mother’s side, sir, and she was perfectly capable of sucking eggs with no instructions from me, nor anyone else,” Lewrie responded, stung by the sudden change in Commodore Grierson’s demeanour.
By God, I knew he didn’t much care for me, but he don’t much care for advice, either? Lewrie thought; No more “Sir Alan” politeness?
“Sir, you are impertinent!” Grierson gravelled.
“You summoned me to explain the tactical situation and the best use of ships under your command, sir,” Lewrie replied, trying not to take umbrage … openly, at least. “I mean to lend you my experience in the Bahamas, and what I’ve learned in my previous time here, along with what has transpired in the last few months. To ignore the risk to shipping by privateers would be remiss. I would be remiss, rather.”
“You may leave the particulars with me, Lewrie, and I shall take it all under study,” Grierson stiffly said, “but, as we both understand, I am now the senior officer in the Bahamas, and every ship comes under my command. If I deem your recent actions against enemy privateers successful, then your previous orders, and the necessity of your little squadron, are moot, and I will do with them what I may.”
“But of course, sir,” Lewrie said, his face set in stone.
“Which means that you and your frigate come under my command, as well, Captain Lewrie,” Grierson said, shooting to his feet, ending the meeting, and Lewrie had to rise as well, his hat under his arm.
“Very good, sir,” Lewrie said, sketching a wee bow in parting.
“Which means,” Grierson continued with a cold smile, still not making a move to see Lewrie to the doors, “that I may do with you as I will, and you must haul down that inferior broad pendant of yours.”
“I understand that very well, sir,” Lewrie replied with a cock of his head, refusing to lose his temper to this … arse!
“You may consider yourself dismissed, Captain Lewrie. You may go,” Grierson told him in a snooty way, looking down his long nose.
I should’ve known better than t’try humour on a man like him, Lewrie chid himself as he made his goodbye to Lt. Hayes, who was still on the quarterdeck, and who saw him to the entry-port; There’s some people so “tetchy”’bout their bloody honour and prestige that a gay “good morning” will put ’em in a sour mood!
Once in his boat and being rowed back to his frigate, Lewrie wondered whether he should “sing small” round Grierson from then on, or do something that would row him beyond all temperance. He could not abide serving under such an arrogant bastard for long, and he knew himself well enough to realise that his own patience was not everlasting. Sooner or later, there would be a blow-up.
Get him so irked, he’d be glad t’see the back o’ me, and send me very far away? Lewrie pondered; There’ll be lots o’ drink sloshin’ at the ball tonight. Maybe that’s where t’make a start.
