Richard Bolitho – Midshipman

At one end of the ship, aloof and unreachable like some sort of god, was the captain. Above, around and beyond the overcrowded midshipmen's berth were the ship's company. Seamen and marines, volunteers and pressed men alike, packed together between decks, yet at all times separated by status and experience. Harsh discipline was the rule rather than the exception, danger and death from working the ship in all weathers were too commonplace to mention. When landsmen saw a King's ship working clear of the shore, her yards alive with sailors and freshly set sails, when they heard the bang of gun-salutes, the lusty voices of those at the capstan joining in a well-tried shanty, they knew nothing of that other world within the deep hull. Which was probably just as well. 'Anyone sitting here?' Bolitho came out of his thoughts and looked up. Another midshipman, fair-haired and blue-eyed, was smiling at him. The newcomer added, 'Martyn Dancer. I'm joining the Gorgon. The landlord pointed you out to me.' Bolitho introduced himself and moved along the bench. 'Not your first ship.' Dancer smiled sadly. 'Almost. I was in the flagship until she went into dock. Aly experience amounts to three months and two days.' He saw Bolitho's expression. T started late. My father was unwilling to let me go to sea.' He shrugged. 'But I had my way in the end.' Bolitho liked what he saw. Dancer had certainly begun his sea career late. He was about his own age, and had the quiet, cultured voice of a good family. A town family, he decided. Dancer w_as saying, 'I have heard that we are sailing for West Africa. But then…' Bolitho grinned. 'It is as good a rumour as any. I heard it too. It will be better than beating back over for nine years. I'd have thought the French would be at us again by now, if only to get their Canadian possessions back.' Bolitho turned as two crippled seamen approached the landlord who was watching one of his girls ladling stew into pewter pots. No real war for nine years. It was true enough. And yet there were still other conflicts around the world which never stopped. Uprisings and piracy, colonies fighting their new masters, they had claimed as many victims as any line of battle. The landlord said harshly, 'Be off with you! I want no beggars here! " One of the sailors, his right arm amputated almost to the shoulder, retorted angrily, 'I'm no bloody beggar! I was in the old Marlborough, seventyfour, with Rear-Admiral Rodney! ' There was complete silence in the long room, and Bolitho saw that several of the younger midshipmen were staring at the two cripples with something like horror. The second man exclaimed anxiously, 'Leave it be, Ted! The devil will give us nothin'! ' Dancer said, 'Give them all they need.' He dropped his eyes, confused and angry. 'I will pay.' Bolitho looked at him, sharing his concern. His shame. 'That was well said, Martyn.' He touched his sleeve impetuously. 'I am glad we are joining together.' They both looked up as a shadow fell between them and one of the smoky lanterns. The one-armed man was staring at them, his face very grim. He said quietly, 'Thank you, young gentlemen.' He thrust out his hand. 'Good luck go with you. I reckon I'm seeing two captains.' He moved away as one of the serving girls carried two steaming pots of food to a side table, adding for the room's benefit, 'Some of you take heed of this day. A lesson for you.' The landlord thrust his large bulk towards the midshipmen as the buzz of conversation slowly returned. Til take your damn money nowV He glared at Dancer. 'And after that…' Bolitho said calmly, 'After that, landlord, you will bring two glasses of brandy for us.' He watched the man's mounting fury, gauging the moment as he would the fall of a nine-pound shot. 'I would mind your manners if I were you. My friend here is fortunately in good humour. But his father owns most of the land around this point.' The landlord swallowed hard. 'But, God bless you, sir, I was only teasing! I'll bring the brandy at once. The best I have, and I trust you will allow me to pay for it.' He hurried away, his face suddenly worried. Dancer said incredulously, 'But my father is a tea merchant in the City of London! I doubt if he has ever seen Portsmouth Point in his life! ' He shook his head. 'I think I shall have to sharpen my wits if I am to keep pace with you, Richard! ' Bolitho smiled gravely. 'Dick, if you don't mind.' As they were sipping their brandy the street door was flung wide open. This time it did not close. Framed in the entrance was a lieutenant in a streaming tarpaulin coat, his cocked hat sodden from spray and rain. He barked, 'All midshipmen for the Gorgon to muster at the sallyport at once. There is a party of men outside to take your chests to the boat.' He strode to the fire and snatched a goblet of brandy from the landlord. 'It's blowing like hell outside.' He held his reddened hands above the blaze. 'God help us.' As an afterthought he added, 'Who is the senior amongst you?' Bolitho saw the anxious exchange of glances, the way that the snug contentment had given way to something like panic. He said, 'I think I am, sir. Richard Bolitho.' The lieutenant eyed him suspiciously. 'So be it. March 'em to the sallyport and report to the boat's cox'n. I will be along shortly.' He raised his voice. 'And when I get there, I want every mother's son of you ready to leave, see?' The smallest midshipman said desperately, 'I think I'm going to be sick! ' Somebody laughed, but the lieutenant roared, 'You're going to be sick, sirl Say sir when you address an officer, damn you! ' The landlord's wife watched the untidy cluster of midshipmen hurrying towards the rain. 'Yew'm a bit hard on 'em, Mr Hope, sir.' The lieutenant grinned. 'We all had to go through it, m'dear. Anyway, the captain's difficult enough as it is, what with one thing and t'other. If I'm adrift with the new midshipmen then I'll be in for a broadside! ' Outside on the wet cobbles Bolitho watched some seamen loading the black chests into an assortment of barrows. Burly and tanned, they looked like experienced sailors, and he guessed that the captain was taking no chances by allowing less reliable members of his company ashore in case they deserted. In weeks, even days, he would know these men and many more. He would not fall into the old traps as in his other ship. He knew now that trust was something you had to earn, not a gift which went with the uniform. He nodded to the senior hand. 'We will move off directly.' The man grinned at him. 'Not the first time for you then, sir?' Bolitho fell in step beside Dancer. 'Or the last.' At the sallyport they found the boat's coxswain sheltering behind the wall. Beyond it the Solent heaved and broke to endless ranks of cruising wavecrests, and against the leaden sky the few gulls looked like white spindrift. The coxswain touched his hat. 'I suggest you get 'em all aboard, sir. There's quite a tide runnin' an' the first lieutenant wants the boat to do another trip afore the dog watches.' He dropped his voice. ' Ts name is Mr Verling, sir. Be warned. 'E's a mite rough on some young gennlemen. Likes 'em to try their 'ands at everythin' 'e does.' He chuckled un•feelingly. 'Gawd, look at 'em. 'E'll 'ave 'em for breakfast.' Bolitho snapped, 'And I you, if you don't stop gossiping.' Dancer stared at him as the man hurried away. Bolitho said, 'I've met his sort before, Martyn. The next minute he'd be asking permission to go off for a quick tot of rum.' He grinned. 'I think the lieutenant back there would be displeased, never mind the formidable Mr Verling.' The officer in question appeared by the wall, his eyes somewhat glassy. 'Into the boat! Lively there! ' Dancer said quietly, 'I think maybe my father was right! ' Bolitho waited for the others to clamber down the slippery ladder towards the pitching longboat. 'I'm not sorry to go back to sea.' And he was surprised to find that he meant it. The journey from the sallyport-to the anchored two-decker took the best part of an hour. During the trip in the madly leaping longboat the midshipmen who managed to survive being violently sick had plenty of time to study their new home as she grew larger and taller through the relentless rain. Bolitho had made it his business to learn something about his next appointment. Seventy-fours, as these sturdy two-deckers were nicknamed, made up the bulk of the fleet. In any big sea battle they were always predominant in the line where the fighting was hardest. And yet he knew from experience, and what he had heard old sailors say, that each one was as different from the other as salt from molasses. While the oarsmen pulled the boat over each angry crest he kept his attention on the ship, seeing the towering masts and crossed yards, the shining black and buff hull with its lines of closed gunports, the scarlet ensign at her high stern and the jack at her bows making patches of colour against the background of grey sea and sky. The oarsmen were getting tired from their hard efforts, and it took the repeated stroke from the coxswain and several threats from the red-faced lieutenant to keep them working in unison.