Wilson wondered briefly to whom Pendexter referred, as England had not been at war for over a decade.
"Now, I am a fair man, but I will tolerate no slackness in my command, do you hear? I am no lover of the cat, but by God I am not afraid to use it either!" He paused, looking over the men, then began again. "But I trust that you will all do your duty and we shall have no trouble. Bosun, carry on."
"Three cheers for Captain Pendexter!" cried McDuff, and the Icaruses, anxious to make a good first impression, gave lusty cheers for their new beaming captain. Wilson joined them, hoping at the same time that these men would still be cheering as loud in a year's time. A good officer would develop a sense for firm but just discipline during his first command. A bad officer might become a tyrant, and a weak officer might be manipulated by a man such as McDuff. Wilson wondered when Dibdin would be back on board.
The Icarus, formerly the Bordeaux and the pride of the French naval shipyard at Brest, was as fine a brig as was ever launched. Even Pendexter, with his limited knowledge of naval vessels, could appreciate the workmanship that had gone into the brig. He looked fore and aft at the backs of the retreating ship's company, and a smile began to spread across his face. Then he remembered that as a captain he should look stern, and he scowled again.
Pendexter stepped down the two steps that led from the quarterdeck to the waist, then stepped around to the scuttle in the break of the quarterdeck. He pushed the door open and stepped through, feeling with his foot for the steps that led down to the deck below. He was anxious to look over the little ship. Most important, he wished to see his great cabin.
The lower deck was utterly black after the bright daylight above, and Pendexter stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust. He reached a cautious hand above his head to feel for the deck beams. He was surprised to find that he could almost stand upright, then realized that the raised quarterdeck would give more headroom below.
"God love the Frenchies," he muttered to himself.
As his sight returned, Pendexter saw a long table in front of him and small cabins to starboard and larboard.
This must be the wardroom, he thought. The gunroom, I should say, he corrected himself, remembering that a brig would have only a gunroom, and that would be on the same deck as the great cabin. This was unlike a ship of the line, whose great cabin was on the main deck with a wardroom for commissioned officers a deck below and a gunroom for warrant officers elsewhere. On the Icarus Pendexter would have to endure having his officers live and eat just outside his own cabin. "Damned nuisance," he said out loud, hoping that it would not be long before he had a larger command.
Pendexter stepped around the table and walked aft to the great cabin door. He flung the door open and surveyed his private domain. He was disappointed, though not surprised, by what he saw. The cabin had the same headroom as the gunroom, not quite enough to stand upright, and it extended from the bulkhead about ten feet aft to the transom. The space was brilliantly lit by the windows that ran the full length of the transom and the light that came in from the small quarter galleries on either side. The deck was covered with the traditional black-and-white-checked canvas, and though it appeared to be freshly painted, it showed signs of age.
Bleakney had left most of his furniture behind, no doubt thinking he was doing the next captain a favor. Pendexter laughed at the thought of it. The furnishing consisted of a rough table and chair that occupied most of the cabin as well as a sideboard of heavy oak and painted with the same buff paint used for the Icarus's hull. The furniture had probably been built by ship's carpenter, and Pendexter did not consider it fit for a servant's quarter.
He had just begun to consider the placement of his wine rack when Smeaton knocked on the doorframe.
"Come," said Pendexter, never moving his eyes from the bulkhead.
Smeaton stepped into the cabin. "The hands are employed about the ship, sir."
"Very well."
"James, I am dreadfully sorry about not being ready for you. I know it is inexcusable, but I was so distracted with preparing the ship for sea. I'd a world of things on my mind—"
"Damn it all, man!" shouted Pendexter. It was a damned embarrassment, that,s what! How in God's name am I supposed to command the respect of a bunch of Billinsgate villains when I do not receive it from my own first officer?"
"You are right, of course," said Smeaton, avoiding Pendexter's gaze. "I can do no more than apologize."
Pendexter stared at the lieutenant, and at last Smeaton met his gaze. There was a cold silence, and then Pendexter grinned and shook his head, unable to remain angry in the presence of his old friend.
"It's done now, John, so let's put it behind us. Besides, I flatter myself that my little speech struck a chord with the men. I believe that we're starting out on as fine a foot as we could hope."
"Indeed we are, James! And I've not had the opportunity to congratulate you on your promotion, so please let me do so now."
"I thank you. And as you see, I'm not one to forget old friends as I move up."
"I can't adequately express my gratitude for your recommending me to this position. I don't believe I could have tolerated one more cruise aboard that damned Asia. The captain was a philistine; not a gentleman to be found abroad. We were more civilized in our first year at Eton than the whole damn wardroom is now."
"Well, we'll not have that problem aboard the Icarus." Pendexter held out his arms and looked around the great cabin. "She is mine, John! Just as we've always imagined. And with me as captain we'll have no one telling us what we shall and shall not do aboard her!"
"She'll be our own version of the king's yacht."
Pendexter sat on the small table that took up most of the cabin. "Give me your impression of the brig's company."
"The men seem the usual sort. Leftovers from the last war, no doubt once the dregs of Newgate, but now tolerably good seamen. Some are quite new for the navy, running from debts or some pathetic love affair I should imagine, but they can be trained, you know. This Appleby is as useless as midshipmen are wont to be. The gunner, Hickman, and the carpenter seems up to their duties, as does the purser, who's ashore at the moment. I am not so certain about this Dibdin, the master."
"What's wrong with him?"
"Damn morose man. Complains about bloody everything. The men seem to like him, though."
"I am always suspicious of an officer who's too well liked by the crew. It could well mean that he's pandering to them. What of the boatswain?"
"Ah, Mr McDuff! He's a man worthy of his warrant. Takes no guff from the men, and by God he does keep them hopping. He knows his business, and I have been quite satisfied in leaving him to oversee the men's efforts. His mate seems competent as well, though he lacks experience."
"Good. We seem to be reasonably well manned, and those that are not up to snuff we'll bring up to our standards or we'll leave them on the beach. Now, the first order of business is to turn this deplorable den into something fit for a gentleman. If you trust this McDuff to handle affairs, let us, you and I, take the launch ashore and select some furnishing. Perhaps a trip to the wine merchant might be in order as well."
"Excellent, James. But, if I might be so bold..."
"By all means, what?"
"We are going to the West Indies. Barbados."
"Barbados! Why, that's capital! The weather is warm there, and the girls are quite starved for companionship! I know the governor, and his daughter, and the admiral and his daughter as well."