“All right, Mr. Carr. But why?”
“After you left my cabin I got to thinking. At first I wanted to join because I was so angry. I had to show you.”
He must have seen my expression. “I said, at first, sir. I haven’t finished. When I got over my anger I realized that it was no reason to enlist. Five years cooped in a ship, because someone jeered at me? No. But what would I do for those years, otherwise? The plantation manager won’t want me around, and he controls the trusts. Until they terminate, I’ll be sent off on a tiny allowance, still a minor, having to ask permission for anything I want to do.”
He paused to marshal his thoughts. “Maybe the Service isn’t any better. I’ll still have to go where I’m sent, do what I’m told. But I’d have my majority. And at least I’ll have done it by my own decision.”
“That’s all?” I wasn’t that impressed by his motives.
“No, that’s not all. I mean, no, sir. Sorry. I thought about some of the officers I’ve met on board. Lieutenant Cousins, he was a--well, I apologize, I shouldn’t be saying that. But Mr. Malstrom, we sat at table with him a month. He was a gentleman, like my father. If a man like him could make a career in the Service, so could I.”
“Is that what you want, Mr. Carr? A career in the service?”
“No, Captain Seafort. Probably not. But at least I’d get to see places. Learn things. Live on a ship.”
“Is this”--I waved my hand with disdain--”what you call living?”
He stared at me a long moment before he remembered.
Then his ears turned red. He looked at the deck. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said quietly. “I really am sorry for saying that.”
“You said a lot you should be sorry for.” I was pushing, but if he couldn’t handle it, he certainly couldn’t take what my first middy would come up with.
“I suppose I have. Sir.” Now his cheeks were red too.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in six months.”
“I’m only a year older than you.”
“I know. That’s one reason it’s hard to call you ‘sir’.”
“Yet I’m Captain of Hibernia,and you’d be a cadet, at the bottom of the chain of command. The very bottom.”
“Yes, sir, I know that.”
“I wonder. Do you understand the difference between a cadet and a midshipman?”
“A cadet is a trainee, isn’t he? A midshipman is an officer.”“A cadet has special status, Mr. Carr. He is, literally, a ward of his commanding officer. The commander has the rights his parents had. He’s not an adult until he makes midshipman. He has no rights at all, and can be punished in any way his commander sees fit.”
I examined his face; I hadn’t yet dissuaded him. I tried harder. “A cadet has no recourse no matter what he’s asked to do. It’s a brutal life. There’s a reason for it: he has to learn that he can stand up to adversity. After cadet training, shipboard life will seem easy. He’s already been through far worse. And he’s already learned that a Captain’s power, like his cadet commander’s, is absolute.”
Derek was reflective. “I understand.”
“Most cadets enter Academy at thirteen, some at fourteen.
A very few at fifteen. By the time we’re your age, it’s usually too late; we resent authority as rigid and arbitrary as cadets endure. You’re too old for it, Derek.”
“Not if I decide to take it, sir.” His voice was firm.
I was patient; he’d earned it. “You think calling me ‘Sir’ is discipline? In your whole life, have you ever been shouted at by a person you didn’t like?”
“No, sir.” He squirmed with discomfort.
“Tell me, have you ever slept in a room with other people?”
He swallowed. “No. Except in the cabin with my father.”
“How’d you like it?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He colored. “I had pills. Dozeoff, and stronger ones. They helped.”
I let the silence stretch awhile. He said, “I know; it won’t be easy. But once I decide to, I can do it.”
“Derek... “ I shook my head, frustrated. “You really don’t understand, do you? Have you ever used the head when another person was present?”
“God, no!” he blurted. I’d assumed not.
“Has an outsider ever seen you without clothes on?”
“No.” He blushed red at the thought.
“Still, you want to be a midshipman?”
“Yes, sir.” His tone was determined.
“Take your pants off.”
“What?” Astonishment gave way to wariness, then dismay. He gulped, realizing his predicament; he had to show me he could take it, or give up his plan. Staring fixedly at the bulkhead he slowly unbuckled and stepped out of his pants.
Not knowing what to do with them, he hesitated, then bent awkwardly and dropped them on the deck.
I said nothing, letting him wait in his undershorts. After a while he made a visible effort; his fists unclenched. I let the silence drag. He looked about, remembered that he was on the bridge of the ship, blushed crimson. But he didn’t move.
“Derek, are you still sure you can take it?”
“Yes,” he gritted. “I can take whatever you give out, damn it!”
I wasn’t offended, but it was time to turn up the pressure.
Better he broke now, than after taking the oath. “Apologize!”
He swallowed. He battled deep inside himself, his eyes distant. After a moment he said in an entirely different tone, “Captain Seafort, sir, please pardon my rudeness.”
“Apologize abjectly!” This was nothing compared to wardroom hazing.
“Sir! I’m sorry I spoke to you the way I did. It’s a sign of my immaturity. I’m very sorry I can’t control myself. I meant no disrespect to you, sir, and I won’t do it again!”
I looked up. His eyes were wet. I eased up. “I hear you’ve been doing exercises.”
“Yes, sir. With Vax Holser.”
“Mr. Holser, to you.”
“I apologize, sir. With Mr. Holser, to get ready.”
“As part of your campaign?”
“Yes, sir. I started with my letter to you.”
I sighed. He could probably survive. Barely. On the other hand, he was educated and could apply himself to a goal.
And I needed midshipmen.
“This is how it works, Derek. You take the oath, and enlist for five years. There’s no way to change your mind. The only exit is dishonorable discharge, and you won’t get that without time in the brig first. You know what a dishonorable does?”
“Not entirely, sir.”
“You can never vote, hold elective office, or be appointed to any government agency. You forfeit all pay and military benefits. It’s utter disgrace.”
“I understand, sir.”
“You join as a cadet. You’re not an officer. In theory, you could remain a cadet for five years. You stay a cadet until your C.O. decides to make you a midshipman. You have no say in the matter. You owe the Navy obedience and service regardless of your status.”
“Yes, sir.” He looked at me attentively, waiting for the permission that must be coming.
“Derek, I’ll give you one warning. Do you think I’ve been hazing you?”
“Yes, sir. Some.”
“I haven’t. You’re very sensitive; it gets much, much worse. You should reconsider.”
He surprised me. “I have, sir, while I’ve had to stand here like this.”
“And?”
“I want to join the Naval Service, sir.”
“I’ll think about it. Wait in the corridor until I call. Don’t bother to dress.”
“What?” Fury and betrayal flashed across his face.
“You--I trusted you!” He reached down, swept up his pants.
I said nothing.
He flicked dust off his pants and turned to step into them, his face white with anger. He lifted his foot. Then he froze.
For a long while he stared at the pants. Finally, contemptuously, he lifted them high. Holding them between two fingers he extended his arm. His fingers opened. The pants dropped to the deck. He walked to the hatch and out into the corridor.