Cut and Run: The Fourth Book in the Fighting Sail Series (4 page)

      
“Right then, line up and pay some respect.” Ward was forming six ordinary seamen up into a welcoming party and, as the captain's hat appeared above the entry port, the squeal of a bosun's pipe shattered the silence of the dark afternoon. Manning and Kate drew forward in anticipation, but King stayed right where he was. The man was in full view now, and glared down the line, appearing to find fault in all that he saw. His gaze swept round to the officers, softening slightly and pausing to take in the young woman appreciatively. Then, it rested on King, and a hint of evil humour appeared. He smirked, and nodded his head very slightly.

      
“Mr King, what a joy it is to see you once more.”

      
King's mouth was dry; a store of seemingly forgotten memories flooded into his mind, bringing back the very atmosphere of the officers' quarters in
Vigilant
. It had all happened several years ago, but the recollections were fresh and not in the least pleasant. And here was the cause, the man himself, standing in front of him, and wearing the uniform of an East India Company captain.
His
captain,
his
superior officer, and for the whole of the commission.

      
“Rogers!” he said. The word came out involuntarily, but he was alert enough to bite back those that were keen to follow.
 

      
“Indeed it is, Mr King,” the man said coldly. “And I am not insensible to the fact that the pleasure appears to be entirely mine.”

Chapter Two

      
King pulled himself together and attempted to wipe the expression of horror and disgust from his face.

      
“I'm sorry, sir. I just didn't expect…” His voice trailed away.

      
“Apparently so, and yet you applied for a position in my ship, and I was good enough to accept you.”

      
Still, King's mind refused to function. Yes, it was a Captain Rogers he had written to, and the signature had been clear enough on the letter of acceptance. Yet never in his most troubled nightmares had King connected a senior naval officer in a respected merchant service with the incompetent buffoon standing in front of him now. Rogers was second lieutenant in
Vigilant
, where his bullying ways caused no end of friction, both in the wardroom, and throughout the ship. The man had proved to be impossible to work with, and yet here he was, not only in front of King, but apparently his commanding officer.

      
Captain Rogers turned to the two men who now joined him on the gangboard. “Mr King here was an officer in
Vigilant
; I have told you of my time with her, I believe?”

      
“Indeed,” the first spoke. He was probably mid-twenties, short, with greasy black hair and sallow skin that was pockmarked with old chickenpox scars. “A gallant action, sir.”

      
“Willis, my chief officer,” Rogers gave an offhand nod to the

man who stepped forward to shake King's hand. “Mr King has joined us as midshipman,” the captain continued.

      
King's jaw dropped. “Sir, I have passed my board; I was made lieutenant in my last ship.”

      
Rogers showed little surprise or emotion. “Indeed? Then, I wish you joy of your commission, but you will be rated as midshipman aboard
Pevensey Castle
.”

      
“That was not the agreement, sir.” The last word was added hurriedly, and there was a noticeable stiffening from the two at Rogers’s side as King continued. “I was at East India House, I have been sworn in, as…as an officer of the Company.”

      
“I do not doubt it.” The captain studied him for a while, as if wishing to remember the moment for always. “And the agreement, sir,” he continued with emphasis, “was for you to join as an officer of this ship; that is what you committed to, that is what I accepted. No mention was made of actual rank, however.”

      
King knew that his face was glowing red, but Rogers left him no room to speak.

      
“If your work meets my exacting standards you might act as sixth mate, but midshipman is your station, and be glad of it. You will find it a slightly different role to that of the Navy; but then many things are, aboard an Indiaman.” He glanced at the two officers and received knowing, worldly looks in return. “Besides, I could not appoint you as mate, with so little knowledge of the service.” King wondered how much experience Rogers claimed. “It would be wrong, and totally contrary to Company rules.”

      
“How so?” It was Kate's voice. She had been watching with interest and now stared hard at Rogers who looked appraisingly back at her.

      
“Beg pardon, madam; I do not believe we have been introduced.”

      
“Katharine Manning,” King began, but she continued for him.

      
“I am to assist the purser.”

      
“Then, as your captain, you will address me as sir!” Rogers’s roar was powerful, although the only reaction it elicited from Kate was to bring a slight reddening to her cheeks.

      
“I said, I was appointed, sir,” she spoke clearly. “But I fear it is not to be. From this brief exposure, I can say that I should rather serve as a lily white in hell than stay a moment longer in a ship where you have command.”

      
“Is that so?” he looked from one to the other. “Well, ain't that a fine welcome to a captain?”

      
King's eyes fell momentarily.

      
“Fine indeed; I comes aboard to greet my new officers, and this is the respect I am given. You see here?” he indicated Kate and King. “One has not been aboard more than a watch, and he's demanding promotion, an' the other swears she won't serve with me, though we have never before met, and I have yet to even read myself in!”

      
The two officers nodded sycophantically while considering the utterly deplorable creatures before them.

      
“Let me tell you this, Mr Midshipman King.” Rogers’s words were close clipped and carefully chosen. “A mate is a respected and senior position. You are unable to serve in anything other than an acting capacity aboard a Company ship until you have accrued sufficient sea time. That is not time with the Navy, it is with this service, learning our ways and the proper procedures aboard an Indiaman. And that ain't my ruling; you may take it up with those at East India House if you have any dispute.” He gave a brief nod towards the men next to him. “Mr Willis here has made three India trips, and Mr Seagrove two.” It was a point well made, and King felt suitably humbled. Then, Rogers’s eyes fell to Kate.

      
“And madam; be in no doubt that you may leave this ship whenever you choose.” She raised her head slightly as he continued, “but to undertake a responsibility only to decline when a ship is about to sail is not the act of an honourable person. I will see to it that anyone who has dealings with merchant shipping is well aware, before they deem it right to employ you in the future. I will also require your two months' advance payment returned this instant. The same will apply to you, Mr King, 'though in your case I shall have no hesitation in speaking with Earl Spencer. He is a personal friend of my father.”
 

      
King swallowed. He had forgotten about Rogers’s family connections.

      
“I am sure he will wish to learn of any officer who is not inclined to abide by his word, be they humble midshipmen or lofty lieutenants. And, as First Lord of the Admiralty, he is in an excellent position to see that they are suitably remembered, should they be foolish enough to apply for employment in the future.”

      
The silence lasted all of thirty-seconds, before Rogers’s gaze finally switched to Manning. “And you, sir; we have met before, I recall; remind me of your name and position, assuming, of course, that you intend to take one up?”

      
Willis and Seagrove simpered as Manning searched for words. “Robert Manning, sir,” he said, finally. “I called on you some weeks ago. You posted me as assistant to the surgeon. I have since satisfied the Company’s medical board who agreed to the appointment.”

      
“Very good, Mr Manning.” Rogers indicated Kate. “And this is your wife, your sister, or perhaps your mother?”

      
“M-my wife, sir. We are just married.”

      
“Indeed.” A lewd smirk was not very far away, but Rogers continued, “Well, I trust you will learn to keep your rib under better restraint in future.”

      
Kate flushed, but said nothing.

      
“And so, Mr Manning, are you to honour your commitments, or do you also threaten to desert?”

      
“I will stay, sir,” Manning said quietly; he was aware of having no other option.

      
“And I am glad of it. Welcome aboard; I hope your time is pleasant. Now, if you will excuse me I have important matters to discuss with my senior officers.” Rogers walked smartly towards the quarterdeck with Willis and Seagrove who paused only to deliver further contemptuous looks, before hurrying away. Ward touched his hat and dismissed the seamen, all of whom were witnesses to what had been said, leaving Kate, Manning and King alone by the entry port.

      
“Well,” said the woman. “That might have fared better.”

      
“Do you think he means what he says?” Manning asked. “About his influence? Could he really break us—and even if he could, would he?”

      
“Oh yes,” King was positive. “I'm afraid I know Mr Rogers of old. And believe me, he would like nothing better.”

* * *

      
“Aha!” Ward said, finding Johnston settling for the night. “Secured yourself the best berth, then?” The forecastle accommodation was intended for senior hands and petty officers but with so few aboard and little order, Johnston felt justified in slinging his hammock there.

      
“You don't mind?”

      
“Na.” Ward slumped down at a nearby mess table. “Finer perch than in steerage; better still when the galley stove's properly alight. And we got the heads close at hand.” He reached for the chunk of dark yellow cheese that was left over from supper and cut a generous slice with his knife. “Takin' on fresh hands tomorrow; upwards of fifty, so you can expect it to be a bit more tight. But, you may as well stay there for now, if you've a mind.”

      
“Fifty? That's a lot to magic up in one go. Are they Lascars?”

      
Ward shook his head. “No, most'll be British, come down from the old
Boreham
so I believes. Young Seagrove told us not ten minutes ago. An' they got a load more officers; should make a difference—might even get this barkey back into order. Mind, we made a good start today.” He bit into his cheese and chewed meditatively. “That new bloke, King; he's a live one, right enough. Thought he were a mate, the way 'e was behavin', but now it seems he's naught but a middie. Still, a few more like 'im, and this could turn into a decent berth again.”

      
“I knows him,” Johnston said quietly.

      
“Do you now?” Ward looked across with interest. “Good as he seems, is he?”

      
“As an officer yes, there'd be few to beat him; but my worry is just how keen. We was in a previous ship, see. An' I didn't stay to see me wages.”

      
The boatswain's mate took in the information without comment.

      
“So, do you think I got to worry?” Johnston said, after a while. Ward turned round on the bench and faced him.

      
“Well, maybe you 'ave, an' maybe you 'aven't; I couldn't rightly say, but you won't be the first to run from 'is Majesty, that's for sure. An' those that do usually wind up here, or hereabouts.”

      
“But if he peaches on me…”

      
“If he does you'll be handed back; but he'd be a fool, and he don't come over that way. It were a different ship, an' a different navy,” his eyes twinkled in the half-light, “an' I'll bet a different name.”

      
Johnston nodded, “I was known as Simpson.”

      
“Chances are he won't remember or, if he does, won't say nowt. Can't be certain, mind, but that's one of the 'azzards of runnin'.”

      
Johnston lay back in his hammock and sighed. Of course, he didn't have to take the risk at all. He could go now, this very minute. A simple trip to the heads would hardly attract suspicion; he could be over the side and half way to the shore by the time anyone missed him. And even then, it was doubtful they would do anything about it. He had no real possessions, no ties, and this particular ship didn't seem destined to have a happy cruise.
 

      
Yes, it was probably the best option, and he half raised himself up in his hammock when Ward began to speak again.