"She was ready to weigh, I'll give you that," Lilycrop agreed. "But your choice of timin', and the way you parroted the commands like you'd read 'em out of a book, 'thout understandin' a word you were sayin'…"
"It was the first time I was ever allowed to weigh anchor and take a ship out, sir," Alan said, trying to defend himself.
"God help me, then, what's the Navy thinkin' of, to send me a newly so unprepared," Lilycrop spat, that wry grin now gone. "As for givin' you the deck, how am I to find out what sort of sailor you are if I don't test your abilities? Why the hell are you wearin' the coat of a commission officer if you have to be warned to be ready for any eventuality? You should know to be prepared."
"I don't know, sir," Alan said in a hoarse whisper.
"You come from money?"
"No, sir, not really."
"Got relatives to give you interest an' place?"
"No, sir."
"But you made master's mate, an' then lieutenant, in a little over two years," Lilycrop carped on petulantly. "Done some brave things, by your record, been in some fights, brought up like a hot-house rose on blood an' thunder and not proper shiphandlin'. I know there's a war on, but even so, I'd not like to think that a panel of hard-nosed post-captains would pass a total fool an' then shove you into such a responsible position 'thout they saw somethin' in you worth promotion."
"One would hope they knew what they were doing, sir," Alan said, hanging onto that scrap of legitimacy.
"You're not somebody's favorite protege, are you?"
"Um, I exchange letters with Sir Onsley Matthews, sir, and Lord and Lady Cantner, but no one of note locally."
"So if I tossed you back for the fish to play with, nobody'd have my head for it, would they now?" Lilycrop demanded.
"No, sir," Alan had to admit, his eyes stinging at the thought of being turned out of his first posting as a commission officer within a week as an incompetent. Damme, he thought, I don't love the bloody Navy any more today than I did a month ago, but I'll be damned to hell if I'll suffer that humiliation. At least, God, let me leave this shitten mess with my credit intact, with my pride still attached.
"If it is your intention to ask for a replacement, sir, I shall understand, but damme-" Alan could not go on without breaking down as the sick shame of it overwhelmed him and his stomach fermented.
"Well, I have no intention of doin' so at present," Lilycrop told him. He belched once more, drained his beer and padded in his bare feet to the pantry, where he fetched out a squat, leather-covered bottle of brandy. "You've been prize-master in that frigate your captain took, prize-master in another ship last year, and you managed that well enough, as the records say, 'quite resourcefully.' You've stood in charge of a quarterdeck as master's mate."
"There is that, sir."
Lilycrop sipped from the neck of the brandy bottle as he paced about his day cabin, pausing to pet the odd cat. He peered into Alan's mug of cider and topped off what little was left with a liberal potation of brandy, then sat down behind his desk once more, feet up on the top.
"I come up from powder-monkey," Lilycrop informed him. "Then boy servant, midshipman and master's mate. Spent ten years a passed midshipman an' only made lieutenant after Pondichery under Pocock in '61, an' that was more due the death rate in India. Beyond Navy pay, I've not got the means to even burn good candles 'stead of rush dips. I should despise your fortunate young arse, sir."
"Aye, sir," Alan nodded, looking down and sniffing the brandy fumes, unable to face the man.
"But fifty years in the Fleet has taught me one thing, boy. The Navy don't let politics interfere when it comes to promotin' fools or gettin' rid of 'em. The rest of our society is trash, spendin' and gettin', schemin' and back-stabbin' but by God, sir, the Navy is one of the few institutions the Anglo-Saxon race ever produced that kept its hawse clear of most of that, 'cause if we go under someday an' put the titled gentlemen back in charge with the real sailors on the orlop, then England is gonna end up some Frog king's playground."
"Aye, sir."
"So I'll trust the examinin' board for now an' allow as how they know what they saw in you. You'll stay my first officer until you either improve or you prove that you're a fraud and a sham and I'll have you out of my ship before you can say 'Jack-Ketch.'"
"Thank you, sir," Alan almost gushed in sudden relief.
"Now for starters, you'll not dash about gettin' in what little hair the warrants have left tryin' to tell 'em their jobs. They never'd even have their warrants if they hadn't proved themselves already, and I'd have booted 'em back on the beach if they were frauds, too."
"Aye, sir, I'll not. But-"
"Yes?"
"I mean, as first officer, I have to know if they're ready, or how may I present the ship to you as a going concern? I was taught to check up, sir."
"All you have to do is ask, or order, not go below seein' to every little piddlin' detail like you did yesterday. Hell, boy, there're as many ways to run a ship as there are captains, and most of 'em work. We may look pinch-beck, but we're set up Bristol-fashion and nobody can fault our little ship, nor any man in her. So you do like I say from now on, and trust your warrants and mates. You give 'em trust, they learn to trust you. 'Course, it never hurts, once you got your course steady, to find 'em out in some little somethin', to prove you're on the hop. Stir up one division a week at Divisions or an exercise, an' they'll not let you down when it comes to the major stuff."
"I see. sir."
"And God help me, I'll trust you, long as you don't go off and do somethin' damn-fool lunatick with my ship. As for this mornin'. I'll say no more about it We're at sea now, and you've already proved you can handle that," Lilycrop relented. "My Order Book tells you when I should be called on deck, an' you'll have noted already that I want to be summoned anytime we have to reef, make sail or alter course, so you aren't totally on your own bottom, not yet anyway."
"Aye, sir."
"Good. Now, I'll be wantin' you to shake this crew of buggers up for me, Lewrie. We've spent three weeks in port, an' had four days outa discipline with the doxies aboard, an' that's bad for 'em. They've gone stale on quim an' drink. What's more, the ship's most likely full of shore bugs, an' I can't abide a lousy ship. Just got rid of most of the fleas, an' I don't want the cats to go through another bout of all that scratchin' an' nibblin'."
"Aye, sir," Alan replied, much more forcefully, now that he knew he had been given a second chance. He even ventured to take a sip of his "cider-and" and savor the bite of the brandy. "Smoke and scour in the day watch today, sir?"
"That's my lad," Lilycrop nodded with a bright smile. "An' in the mornin' watch tomorrow, start bringin' 'em to heel an' brightenin' 'em up. Sail drill. We'll need to go close-hauled to make our eastin' for New Providence, so we can practice tackin' 'til 'clear decks 'n' up spirits.'"
"Gun drill in the afternoon, sir," Alan suggested. "So I may discover how good your gunners are."
"Exactly! You'll find Cox is a capable shit-sack, but inclined to be a little lazy. Live firin', if you've a mind. There's a keg or two of powder from the bottom tier that's suspect I wouldn't mind expendin', though we might find some island on passage to serve for a target an' get more practical use from the firin'. I'll leave the rest up to you as to what drill, an' when. Might throw in a night fire drill after 'lights out'; we haven't done that in a month. Take one thing at a time, mind," Lilycrop warned, wagging a finger at him. "Don't over-finesse an' end up confusin' 'em. Nor confusin' yourself."
"I won't, sir," Alan swore. "I suppose I need the practice as much as the crew does."
"Aye, you do, an' I'm hopeful if you may admit it so chearly," Lilycrop rejoined. "What watches you down for?"