Forever Leftenant Rundel (book 5 of 9 of the Rundel Series)

By N. Beetham Stark

Benjamin Rundel is sent as first leftenant aboard the Gadfly which is under the command of the son of an M.P. who has bought his son’s commission as ‘captain.’ But the young man is not interested in the sea, the war or sailing. He is a frustrated actor who is addicted to opium and has no idea of the duties of captain.

Ben must face charges of mutiny in order to safeguard the ship as he assumes the duties of captain. He manages to capture a number of French merchantmen and destroys some frigates in a cutting out exercise. In the end he is exonerated by the court martial.

On the way to Copenhagen adverse winds strand him at Deal. When his boat capsizes, he is rescued by smugglers who row the speedy ‘centipedes’ back and forth to France with contraband. After his daring escape, he takes part in the bloody battle against the Danes at Copenhagen.

He sees the crazy battle at Gibraltar before he is beached without pay when the armistice is being negotiated. Luck brings him a benefactor from a most unsuspected quarter. This is book 5 in the 9 book series about Ben Rundel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: N. Beetham Stark
• Release date: May 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458020901

N. Beetham Stark

Nellie Beetham Stark was born November 20, 1933, in Norwich, Connecticut to Theodore and Dorothy Pendleton Beetham. She attended the Norwich Free Academy and later Connecticut College in New London, CT before graduating with a MA and a Ph.D. degree in Botany (Ecology) from Duke University.Stark worked for the U.S. Forest Service as a botanist for six years and then joined the Desert Research Institute in Reno, Nevada where she worked on desert and forest ecology and later tropical nutrient cycling. She has consulted in many countries, working for some time in Russia, Australia and South America. She developed the theory that explains why tropical white sand soils cannot grow good food crops and described the decline processes of soils. She has also developed a science of surethology, or survival behavior which describes how humans must adapt to their environments if they hope to survive long term. She has 96 professional publications and has published in four languages.Her life long hobby has been English history, with emphasis on naval history. Her family came originally from Tristan Da Cunha in the South Atlantic in the early 1900’s. Her grandfather was a whale ship captain for a time which spurred her interest in naval history. She also paints pictures of sailing ships which she has used as covers for her historical novels. She has built several scale models of sailing ships and does extensive research on ships and naval history, traveling to England once yearly.Stark was awarded the Connecticut Medal by Connecticut College in 1986 and the Distinguished Native Daughter Award for South Eastern Connecticut in 1985. She was named outstanding Forestry Professor three times by the students of the University of Montana, School of Forestry.Today she writes historical novels, mostly set in England. She has published some 21 novels in the past twenty years, mostly on the internet. She lives on a farm in Oregon and raises hay and cows.Stark's two most popular book series are:Early Irish-English History1. The Twins of Torsh, 44 A.D. to 90 A.D.1. Rolf "The Red" MacCanna, 796-8462. An Irishman's Revenge, 1066-11124. Brothers 4, 1180-12165. Edward's Right Hand, 1272-13076. We Three Kings, 1377-1422The Napoleonic Wars at Sea (Benjamin Rundel)1. Humble Launching - A Story of a Little Boy Growing Up at Sea, 17872. Midshipman Rundel - The Wandering Midshipman, 17953. Mediterranean Madness - The Luckless Leftenant Rundel, 17974. The Adventures of Leftenant Rundel, 1797-17995. Forever Leftenant Rundel, 1800-18036. Captain Rundel I – Trafalgar and Beyond, 1803-18067. Captain Rundel II – Give Me a Fair Wind, 1806-18098. Captain Rundel III – Bend Me a Sail, 1810-18139. Admiral Rundel – 1814-1846

Book preview

Forever Leftenant Rundel

An Historical Novel of the Sea

Book 5 of the Rundel Series

by N. Beetham Stark

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Discover other titles by N. Beetham Stark at

Smashwords.com or at NBeethamStark.com.

Forever Leftenant Rundel

Book 5 in the Benjamin Rundel Series

Written by N. Beetham Stark

Copyright 2010 by N. Beetham Stark

Cover art by N. Beetham Stark

Published by Smashwords, Inc.

ISBN 978-1-4580-2090-1

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form

without the written permission of the author or trust agents.

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* * * * *

Dedication: Dedication - This book is dedicated to Tintagon, her followers, Tarsie and Picatso and our mutual friend, P.P.

History is a bridge connecting the past to the future which we dare not burn lest we fall into an abyss of ignorance.

N. Beetham Stark

Acknowledgements

The author is indebted to the Royal Naval Museum, the National Maritime Museum, The Maritime Trust and the Lancaster Maritime Museum for information used in reconstructing the historical events in this novel. Authors such as C.S. Forester, Dudley Pope, Alexander Kent and Patrick O'Brien stirred my interest in stories of naval adventures. Nelson's Captains by Ludovic Kennedy, Nelson by David Walder, The Illustrated Companion to Nelson's Navy by Nicholas Blake and Richard Lawrence, and Nelson's Battles by Nicholas Tracy were all invaluable in providing insights into the life of seamen of the times. Much of my knowledge of Lord Nelson comes from a work by Hattersley, 1974 (Nelson).

The Benjamin Rundel Series by N. Beetham Stark

This is the fifth in a series of nine books centered around the life of an orphan, Benjamin Rundel, a fictitious character who relates history to the reader as he might have experienced it himself. The complete series includes:

Humble Launching - A Story of a Little Boy Growing Up at Sea, 1787

Midshipman Rundel - The Wandering Midshipman, 1795

Mediterranean Madness - The Luckless Leftenant Rundel, 1797

The Adventures of Leftenant Rundel, 1797-1799

Forever Leftenant Rundel, 1800-1803

Captain Rundel I – Trafalgar and Beyond, 1803-1806

Captain Rundel II – Give Me a Fair Wind, 1806-1809

Captain Rundel III – Bend Me a Sail, 1810-1813

Admiral Rundel – 1814-1846

See NBeethamStark.com for information on how to find all of the books in the Rundel series, as well as Stark’s other works.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1 - The Gadfly

Chapter 2 - A Gadfly Catches a Butterfly and Two Fat Merchantmen

Chapter 3 - The Mediterranean Fights Back

Chapter 4 - The Cutting-Out Fiasco

Chapter 5 - Success By Deceit

Chapter 6 - The Court Martial

Chapter 7 - The Centipede

Chapter 8 - The Escape

Chapter 9 - The Battle of Copenhagen

Chapter 10 - Fireworks at Gibraltar

Chapter 11 - Beached

Chapter 12 - Benjamin Boat Wright

About the Author

About the Book

Introduction

Benjamin Rundel rose up through the ranks of the British Navy from a lowly stowaway to a brilliant young leftenant. They were painful years at times, but they were joyful years too for the youngster who longed to belong to someone. It is 1799 and Ben is serving under Admiral Nelson. But Ben is an ambitious man and finds it hard to deal with incompetent officers. Nelson, a most competent leader of men, has become involved with a Lady Emma Hamilton and seems little interested in the dire affairs at Malta and the other problems faced by the British in the vast Mediterranean. Ben is distressed by a chain of events that go against the British war effort. He is ready for a captain’s rank, but it has been withheld from him, in spite of many brilliant naval escapades. The words of his old mentor, Captain Bailey, echo in his ears. No man of lowly birth may aspire to a captain’s post. It’s just not how the Navy operates! You must have family, influence. A little money helps too.

And that was what Ben lacked – Family. He had put away a few thousand pounds from his pay and prize moneys, but he knew no one, had no one. He was a total orphan who had run away from an orphanage near Bristol and had lived on his own for several years. He did not even know his true name or who his mother and father were. Then he stowed away on the Faithful, and his life began to take a turn for the better. His eagerness for knowledge brought many a fine teacher to his rescue. He learned well. He survived many bizarre experiences in the Caribbean, a pirate ship, a slave ship, disease and many problems which he faced as acting surgeon aboard the Hawk.

Then he took the leftenant’s exam for the second time and passed. He fought at Camperdown and was the man who saved his ship when the captain refused to engage in battle. His testimony at the court martial of Captain John Williamson angered this influential family so they had him sent to serve under the worst captain in the British Navy, one Hugh Pigot. When the crew of the Hermione mutinied, he survived and served under protest as captain and navigator and took them to the Spanish Maine. The Hermione story actually happened. He managed to escape and bravely fought his way along the Venezuelan coast until, wracked with fevers and deathly sick, he arrived at a British port to announce the mutiny. The Admiralty sent him back to hospital at Greenwich to recover, still a young but broken man.

During his early years he met and befriended a poor lad from Ireland, Tom Murphy. Tom and Ben shared much in common, but Tom had difficulty with the leftenant’s exam and had not yet been able to pass it. That did not stop the two men from being friends and Ben took Tom in hand, trying to improve his ability to cipher. Also, on his first visit to London, he saw and heard a wonderful young singer named Annie Sutherlin. He was enchanted by her again when he returned to London to recover from his fevers. She sang opera and won her way into Ben’s heart. They both loved beautiful music, and he was convinced that he loved her, even though they had never met formally.

Later he was sent to the Mediterranean and fought with Lord Nelson at Tenerife and Aboukir Bay. While in the Mediterranean, he managed to lose a ship that went aground in a terrible storm and was on its way to pick up some beef. The French captured him and his crew at night as they rode out the last of the fierce storm on the beach. Ben with his lifelong friend Tom Murphy and his 20-man crew were imprisoned in France, but after some months, Ben managed to find a way for them to escape and recaptured his ship. When the smoke of battle had cleared, he ended up at Naples. He became disenchanted with Lord Nelson who by now had taken the wife of the English Ambassador to Naples as his mistress, ignoring his own wife and Emma Hamilton’s aging husband. Captain Thomas Hardy took Ben in hand and helped him over the pain of seeing the Navy that he loved so much head into disorder, dishonour and defeat.

One clear April day, Ben appeared before Lord Nelson, whom he had served as clerk temporarily while they were stationed at Palermo with the Hamilton’s and the Royal Family. Ben received new orders that were to launch him off on a new career, but always as, Leftenant Rundel - Forever Leftenant!

Author’s Note: The chapter on the Centipede is quite authentic. Such boats did exist and were used by smugglers, among whom, the Spit family was well known in Deal and still lives there today.

Stewart Gibbs, Rundel’s former steward, lives with him now and he has volunteered to write down the events of his master’s illustrious life.

"He never had much of a chance as an orphan in the King’s Navy, but he was just the feller to make chances when there were none awaiting around. Some incidents were so close to my master’s heart that he bade me, Stewart Gibbs, his steward, to relate them to you in his own words.

We sit here in his back yard overlooking the English Channel each afternoon and he dictates to me the incidents of his extraordinary life. If you care to come a long on a voyage of adventure spiced with humour, danger, mystery and frustration, welcome aboard."

Chapter 1 - The Gadfly

When they arrived back at Gibraltar, it was to face a new admiral.

Admiral Keith looked up. Mr. Rundel, I have some good news for you. I am ordered to command you to report aboard the Gadfly, a frigate newly out of Portsmouth. Her captain is a newcomer, one whom I do not know. He is Sir Godfrey de Lacey from Berkshire. Ben could see his name there. "You will serve as first leftenant and the captain may be in need of your advice and experience. You will sail immediately. The Gadfly has been awaiting your arrival here in port for four days. Your duty will be to collect intelligence and capture French merchantmen and any frigates that may blunder your way. It is essentially blockade duty, but I suspect that this may call for all of your talents since it could be a troubled command. The best of luck, Mr. Rundel, and I hope that we will serve together again under a more auspicious arrangement." With that he extended his hand and stood up. Ben seized his hand and noted that it felt cold and clammy. The man is in need of some good vigorous exercise and a tour at sea, he thought.

And, Mr. Rundel, I am sending Thomas Murphy with you as fourth leftenant. He may come in handy in a pinch.

Thank you, sir. Ben saluted and left the cabin, not quite certain of his bearings. At least if it was going to be a difficult tour, he would be happier with Tom at his side.

Ben left the Admiral’s cabin with his head spinning. What did he mean, ‘and the captain may need your advice and experience?’ What kind of a captain was this anyway? And then he had said, troubled command?" Why should this be a, ‘troubled command,’ when they were simply to spy and keep the French in port? Ben headed back to the Culloden to collect Tom. Tom had already received his orders and his commission had come through. He had recovered from the trauma of the leftenant’s exam by now and there was a broad Irish grin on his face, displaying his picket fence white teeth. Tom was already packed and on deck, and that left Ben only a few minutes to collect his things and jump aboard the boat that was about to shove off for the Gadfly. In his haste, he had fumbled his tie and he looked bedraggled. He felt even worse. He was like the mouse that was about to enter a trap and yet had that terrible premonition that something was going to happen, but what could it be? He hated to leave the Mariner. It has been his home for a month now and he was just getting to know the crew. Ben felt uncomfortable having to make new acquaintances continually and missed the camaraderie of the Band of Brothers, now disbanded forever. The Navy was changing rapidly and it would never be as it had once been, never be quite so grand or so strong. And what the Admiral had said was troubling to his mind, most disturbing indeed.

As they approached the Gadfly, Ben noted that the yards were anything but square. Port gaskets were not in place and some of the gun ports were open, some closed. The signal halyard was obviously frayed and no signals could be sent up the spliced rope. There were ports for 18 guns, so she must be a 36. Her paint looked dull too, even though she was newly made, only two years out of the dockyard.

There had been no chance for Ben and Tom to discuss this sudden change in their lives, but Ben knew that they would talk long into the night. They exchanged knowing glances in the boat as they were rowed to the Gadfly. Gadfly, isn’t that an annoying type of fly that gathers around cattle leaving small sore welts? Is that what they were intended to do to the French cows?

Ben was aroused from his reverie as the oars flew up on command of the coxswain and the boat bumped gently against the hull of the ship. Ben reached up for the ropes and began to climb. Two sailors were preparing to hoist his gear aboard, his laika, (balalaika) sea chest and a bag of food stores that he had bought earlier. He felt Tom’s breath hot behind him as he climbed aboard. A second leftenant stood there awaiting his salute, but he did not have his glass under his arm.

I am Michael Whitlock, second leftenant. I assume that you’re Leftenant Rundel?

Yes, replied Ben, and this is Mr. Thomas Murphy, fourth leftenant. Where is the captain?

He is in his cabin, sir. He will not appear until we get ready to sail. He rarely comes on deck, except late at night.

My gear is coming aboard just there. Will you have one of the sailors bring it to my cabin, Mr. Whitlock.

Aye, sir and here comes Mr. Maurice Freeman. We call him ‘Dean.’ He is the third leftenant. The lad was surprisingly young, as was Whitlock. Freeman still did not look as if he shaved regularly. There was a short blond fuzz on his round, smiling face. He had light brown hair that clung to his scalp and a most pleasing, smiling face. One got the impression that he was heavier than he really was, but he tended towards a stout build. He might have been the son of the local baker. Whitlock, on the other hand, was slender, had dark wavy hair and a hawk nose that seemed to lead him about the deck. His uniform fitted his slender figure to perfection and he moved smoothly, like a cat. When all had been introduced, Ben asked to be shown to his cabin so he could stow his gear.

Ben came quickly back on deck and was headed for the captain’s cabin. He was anxious to see this captain who was master of a troubled command. But the sergeant of marines who stood outside his door indicated that the captain had already gone on deck and they were about to get under weigh.

Ben raced to the deck and saw before him poised on the quarter deck as if he were about to take a bow, a most amazing young fellow dressed in a captain’s coat with only one epaulet, indicating that he was a post captain of fewer than three years service. But instead of the usual trousers, he wore bright red tights which accentuated every line of his slender body. He had an unruly shock of dirty light brown hair that was desperate to flee from his head. His complexion told the whole story. He practically never appeared on deck in this Mediterranean climate because his skin was a pale white, almost like a girl’s. He had pale grey-blue eyes with lids that flickered constantly, as if he had a nervous disorder. Ben stood as if nailed to the deck for a few seconds. Ben was not ready to condemn the fellow just because he looked to be no older than himself and certainly not because he seemed to have trouble standing up on the gently heaving deck. The captain pitched this way and that, not quite certain of his footing, his arms often seeking some support.

Ben moved forward. Leftenant Benjamin Rundel reporting for duty sir. He saluted smartly and then stepped back. There would be time for questions later.

Carry on, Mr. Rundel.

The captain barely acknowledged his presence with a curt nod and began to shout a string of commands. Man the tops’ls, courses, royals, topgallants there, mains’ls, if you please. Port your helm. Man the lifts and braces. Down the helm.

Ben stood there totally confused. These were all good commands, but not in that sequence and not in port. He had not even mentioned that they should man the capstan and up anchor. And what about, Shake out the heads’ls, that should come early on in getting under weigh. If the men followed his orders, they would be in irons in nothing flat and the ship would drag her anchor. It is hard to winch in an anchor that has caught on the bottom, especially with the big mains’ls and courses pulling tons of air and the ship trying to move forward. The man would have the royals, topgallants, topsails and courses set before he even tried to budge the anchor!

Ben looked at the sailors. They stood, a confused look on their faces. The bosun’s whistles screamed, and everyone was running somewhere, but it was like a Chinese fire drill! Nothing was getting done. Surely the men knew what should be done. Some sailors lay on the capstan bars, but the men were hesitant to do more, even though their training told them that they should up anchor in great haste. Ben prayed that the Admiral was not watching their port leaving. He would never forget this day and the great distress that welled up inside him. As first leftenant, it was his duty to convey the captain’s orders exactly as they were given. Not to do so could be judged as insubordination and failure to execute an order given by a superior officer. The penalty was court martial and could even be death if his actions were judged to be mutinous. But the ship was beginning to spin in a circle, tugging at her anchor cable. Ben had to act. I’ll explain my actions later.

Belay the courses, topgallants and royals. Set the foretops’l and shake out the headsails. Man the capstan and stand by to up anchor. That did it for a few seconds at least. The ship ceased to turn and the pressure was off the anchor cable. The sailors had known instinctively to furl the sails that they had begun to unfurl. The anchor cable spurted water from it as it was raised out of the water. There apparently had been no anchor buoy. He would have to see to that the next time they made port. The deck crew now went to work on the dripping anchor. Then Ben turned around and shouted orders to get sail on her and get her out of the harbour. All this time he had not dared to look at the captain. He should be steaming, ready to have Ben flogged for not carrying through with his orders. But he lounged against the quarterdeck rail and seemed lost in some dream. Ben went ahead. He had no idea of their immediate destination, so he gave the helmsman orders that would bring them out of the harbour. Hard to port, which was the captain’s order, would have landed them on the beach!

After an hour or so, Ben approached the captain as if nothing had happened. What is our destination? What course should we follow sir?

I have given the destination to the sailing master. He will take over now. See him if you wish.

Ben had another question. Sir, I would like to see a copy of the ‘Captain’s Orders,’ if you please.

What captain’s orders? There are no orders unless I give them. At that he tossed his head and his hair flew in all directions, covering his face. Ben had never seen anything like it.

But sir, all ships’ captains have a list of requirement that help the officers sail the ship. Some like to be called on deck if there is need to alter sails, or if another ship is sighted. Surely you have such a document?

The young captain turned cold, pale grey-blue eyes toward Ben, a confused look on his face, and then shuffled off to his cabin. Ben shook his head in disbelief. He had been aboard many ships but none like this.

Ben went to the sailing master, one Cyril Masterson. It was an appropriate name, Ben thought. The sailing master was an old man, perhaps in his sixties. His shoulders were rounded and his white hair stuck out from beneath his cap like so much straw. His face was brown like leather and lined from many a day at sea and too many nights worrying about some ship or other. He spit a chaw over the side as Ben approached him.

I am Benjamin Rundel, first leftenant. Captain de Lacey asked me to get our destination from you, sir.

The old man simply said, Aye, and pointed a stubby finger toward a chart.

We be headed for the waters off Cartagena in the eastern Mediterranean. I do most of the navagatin’ so if you want to know where we are headed, you best stay on my good side, yonker.

That I will, sir. I assume that the captain gives you the course and you send it on to the helmsman? This was dangerous business, especially with a stranger, but Ben was on a fishing trip for information. He was fast becoming suspicious that the captain did little to run the ship.

No, he just tells me where to go an’ I lay the course and keep track of the ship’s sailin’ and record direction, winds an’ speed.

What happened to the former first leftenant?

That was a bold question, but one that had to be asked. All Ben knew at this point was that Mr. Hendricks had left the ship and resigned his commission in some great hurry.

Guess ‘e couldn’t handle the pressure, was all that Ben could get from the old man.

The rest of the day went reasonably well. The sailors were careless and Ben noted many things wrong with the ship, chalk dust from the marine’s belts on the deck, deck not swabbed or holystoned, sailors unshaven, dirty, the brass was dull. The guns were showing spots of rust and there was rust on the racked cannon balls. The standing rigging needed to be tarred and the blocks squeaked and needed greasing. Some of the tampions were not in place and some guns had no covers over the flints. The marines stood around on deck like a gaggle of geese, talking loudly and no one stood at attention. The barrels of their guns were unpolished and the stocks had not been oiled for months. As first leftenant, he could see a great deal of work for him to do to get this frigate into fighting form. She had come directly from the Channel Fleet and that, under Admiral Bridport, was in a poor state indeed, if this ship was an example.

But operating without a set of captain’s orders would make the job almost impossible. He would never know what to do to please the captain and he could see himself sailing into shallow water without a lead. He was just beginning to get a hint of what the admiral had meant by troubled command. He spoke with Whitlock and Freeman for a short time. Each denied that there was a, Captain’s Orders.

So how do you know when to call the captain and what behavior is acceptable to him?

We don’t. We just play it by ear. Usually, he doesn’t care what goes on on the ship as long as we don’t trouble him none. That was part of what got to Mr. Hendricks, our former first leftenant. He couldn’t handle the job of second guessing the captain and doing most of his work as well.

So that was it. de Lacey was negligent of his duty and Hendricks got tired of covering up for him. Why would Admiral Keith ever wish such a job on me? thought Ben.

Ben thanked the two fellows and went about his work. Mentally he was laying out many tasks for the near future, things like gun practice. He bet that the crews had not been at those guns for over a month. From what he had heard, he could see to the running of the ship any way that he wished, as long as it did not inconvenience the captain.

That night after supper, Ben and Tom met together on the quarter deck. The captain was below and one man stood watch some twenty feet away.

So what do you make of this here captain? said Tom softly.

I think that we are in for a trying and difficult time, perhaps the worst in our careers. I will need you Tom, not only for advice, but if the captain does not take an active part in sailing the ship, I will need you to act almost like a first leftenant on my off-watch. Someone needs to be in charge who knows how to sail a ship, and surely you do. But I have reservation about those two, young Whitlock and Freeman. Neither has had much experience in ship handling and neither seems to have spent much time at sea.

Whitlock went to sea four months ago. Come aboard as a midshipman and lucked out on the leftenant’s exam. Freeman took a little longer on the exam, two years, if I remember right, but he has only actually been at sea for a little over a month. Spent most of his time idling in port on a training vessel.

I knew I can depend on you, Tom, to have ferreted out the essential information. It looks like you and I are the only two experienced seamen among the officers. No wonder the crew stands around looking confused. You saw what I did today?

Aye, sir, and I am surprised that ye are not stretching your neck from a yard arm by now.

Don’t think I wasn’t worried about the same thing, lad! But you could see what was about to happen. We would drag our anchor a ways, then pull free and the full sails would drive us right onto shore. I didn’t have a choice. But I am surprised that the captain had nothing to say to me about my taking over and revising his commands. He may lower the boom on me tomorrow. I hate living in suspense. Do you know that the captain does not even have a set of ‘Captain’s Orders?’

"I dare say we don’t have us a bona fide captain here. I heard a little at the scuttlebutt to the effect that he is a frustrated actor and is here against his will. He is only pretending to be a seaman and this is his first cruise ever!"

How could that be, Tom? Although his behaviour would lead one to believe that it’s true. Keep your eyes and ears open. We need to know more about this captain, Tom.

That I will, lad. That I will.

You know, if this continues, I will put myself in jeopardy of being considered a mutineer, faced with insubordination if I refuse to forward the captain’s orders when they make no sense. And who would there be to say that I did what I had to do? The two other leftenants have too little experience to even know when the ship is in danger. You’re all that I have, Tom, to keep this ship together. I will start cleaning her up and exercising the guns tomorrow. But I am tired for tonight. I‘ll turn in now. It’s your watch?

Aye, sir, I guess, but there ain’t no list of duties posted in the chart house for the sailors or officers either.

The next morning, there was no sign of the captain on deck. Ben asked if he had appeared and no one had seen him. Ben called for the divisions to form on deck for inspection. Apparently the predawn inspection had not been done for some time and now the sailors were grumbling about being called out for inspection before dawn. Tradition was to check out the horizon for sight of an enemy sail just at sunrise. This was a Saturday and all was clear. Ben inspected the men. The port division looked poor, but he would begin reforms to correct that. He had already commented audibly on dirty shirts, unshaven faces and sloppy queues. When he got to the starboard division, he came to a halt. There standing before him in the first row was a man that he would recognize almost anywhere. It was Ticknor, the leader of the Fearsome Four, who had terrorized the Faithful when he was but a lad. Ticknor had grown to be taller than most, thin, with a wicked grin and a habit of rubbing his whiskered chin. If anyone can make this cruise a nightmare, it would be old Ticknor! He has all of the talents that come naturally to a trouble maker, thought Ben.

Ben eyed him carefully. The tables were turned now and he had to be careful not to be vengeful but the little bastard had caused him a great deal of agony when he was a child. Why, he had almost killed his cat, Tintagon, when he tried to keel haul her. He had egged Ben into a fight that could have cost him the friendship of the captain, had the old gent not been an understanding fellow. The only satisfaction was that he was now a first leftenant and Ticknor was but a common seaman, still an apprentice.

You need a shave, Mr. Ticknor and your shirt and trousers are filthy. See to them by tomorrow’s inspection. Sailors would normally have two days a week to shave, usually Thursday and Sunday, but many sported bristles that had taken over a week to grow. Ben did not want to rile the fellow, so he went lightly on him. There was much more to which he might object.

Ben set the men to cleaning the ship in the morning watch and then worked them at the guns in the afternoon. His hunch was right. Most of them had been out of gun training so long that they needed a full four minutes to load and shoot. That was unacceptable. Ben was heard to say, Even the French can do better than that! Many of the men had come from press gangs on shore and had never served a gun before. Apparently no effort had been made to train them on the trip out from Portsmouth. Ben took over, walking from gun to gun, explaining the fine points of loading and firing accurately. The men listened carefully and appeared to want to learn. Always fire on the up roll of the ship. If you fire on the down roll, the shot may sink or sometimes it skitters across the water and damages the enemy hull. There are times when that is unwise.

They were short of ship’s boys to deliver powder cartridges for the guns. It was better to know that now than when they were engaged in battle. Ben assigned some of the lubbers the duties of ship’s boys. They were not good for much else. Then he made out a proper duty roster for the entire crew, one of the important jobs for the captain or his first as soon as he came aboard ship. Ben had to take each division, question each man concerning his experience and then assign him to the proper duty for action, sail handling, port making, man over board, fire and so on. It took most of his first two days to get the duty roster posted and tell the men what they were to do. He wondered how they had ever made it from Portsmouth to Gibraltar. He set up a group of idlers to carry the wounded below, and he saw that all of the guns had tampions and flint covers. They polished the guns the next day, removing rust and covering the spots with a mixture of lamp black and linseed.

Then too, the men were poorly prepared when the calls, Pipe to quarters, clear for action and all hands to the guns, came. They did not rig the pumps and only a few remembered to bring buckets of both fresh and salt water. No one put the ship’s boats in the water on tow, so he had to assign that duty to a group of idlers. The sanding crews were slow in completing their work. And the ship’s boys lagged behind, bringing powder cartridges to the guns only after they were pushed along. Ben as beside himself with frustration.

He met with the other officers after their first gun drill and laid out the procedures for them. Regardless of what the captain wanted, the crew had to be trained to defend the ship adequately, or all was lost. It was Ben’s job to see that they were trained, and he would exercise the men at the guns every day until they could clear for action in five minutes and reload and fire every minute and a half.

When they were not at the guns, Ben had them aloft repairing rigging, tarring the standing rigging and greasing the blocks. The deck was swabbed and holystoned regularly, which was something that had been neglected before. Ben could hardly fault Freeman and Whitlock. They were too green yet to know how things should be done. But what about the captain? Ben almost never saw him on deck.

The real surprises came when he ordered rifle drill for the marines late in the afternoon. The fellows all bright in their lobster coats had been lounging about and were noisy all day long. Ben decided to have the sergeant of marines put them through their paces. They had not been expecting anything like this and so, were ill prepared. The first barrels put out on the choppy sea escaped without a scratch. True, it had turned cold. Since the captain had not shown himself above deck all day, Ben took it upon himself to address the sergeant of marines in stern terms.

Sir, if we ever have to board or carry out a landing assignment, I expect your men to be better prepared and better drilled than they are now. I will speak further with you later. But meanwhile, see that they keep their chatter down. They sound like a gaggle of geese.

That did the trick. The marines were a proud lot and only the fact that they were in the minority on board kept them from constantly picking fights with the sailors. Ben noticed that the sergeant was hard at work exercising his men, drilling and frequently requested marksman practice where the ship must come to temporary sea anchor. The next time that he examined the marines, it was as if they had left the former platoon somewhere else and picked up a group of highly professional marksmen.

When Sunday appeared with a new sun on the horizon, Ben carried out inspection as usual and the captain appeared on deck for a fifteen minute stroll. The men had breakfast and then, in deference to Ben’s orders concerning their persons, began to shave and clean up. Some set to washing and scrubbing, some to mending. By four bells or 10 a.m., Ben expected the captain to appear and order services. But there was no captain, no services and no reading of the Articles of