The Biter, although small, was not flush-decked, and they stood now at the poop-break, by a door. From around it light was leaking that boded not well for the cabin in a seaway and to his surprise William heard the piping of a flute, played lively but with several slurs, as if the man behind it had taken a glass or two too much. Before Holt raised his fist to knock, the tune was ended, and they heard applause, not many hands, and female laughter.
"Here goes," said Samuel, and he knocked. Looking rueful, he added: "That old sot was likely right, I guess. They won't be pleased."
Behind the door was silence for a moment, then a strong, loud voice roared, "Who is that knocking?" Then, "Come you in!" The two men stood there, though, a thought too long. There were loud steps, the catch-ring rattled, and the timber door jerked open. "Ah!" said the voice. "Tis you!"
Sam was tall, but the denizen of the cabin was a greater bulk. He was dressed in sea boots wide trousers and an open shirt, and his stomach had a dew of sweat on it. As he moved backwards, the light revealed his face as fringed in curls, as if a wig had never graced his head. His mouth was red, lips full, teeth shining in among the wetness. In one hand was a metal tavern-cup, the other one was empty. Not the fluter then, William inconsequentially thought.
"Mr. Gunning," said Holt, half formally. "I am reporting back as ordered by Lieutenant Kaye. I expected to find him here; in his cabin."
If offence was intended or implied it washed right over Gunning. He had stepped back farther, and flung wide his empty hand. On a long settle at the transom, softened by many cushions, sat a young woman with a recorder, her features flushed. Her hair was disarranged, her handkerchief displaced, with fine full bosoms thus amply exposed. Beside her sat a young man with a black glass bottle, held by the neck, dressed something like a clerk or secretary, also red of face. By the cabin's outer wall, the topside of the Biter's stern, sat another young woman, dressed gaudily and rouged. There was rouge on Gunning's face as well; his mouth was smeared with it.
"My friends," said Gunning, "let me make the introductions. This fair young man is first lieutenant here, or would be if their lordships so ordained. First officer, then, although a midshipman, right hand of Captain Kaye, I've told you of. This young man is..." He shook his head, as if astonished, but it was only masquerade. "Good God, sir, do I know you? No, I don't!"
The women enjoyed the show immensely, as did the clerky-fellow. They laughed uproariously as Gunning made a bow. William was flustered by it, but Samuel took it all in part.
"Step forward, William," he said, courteously. "Mr. Gunning -and honoured guests may I present you Mr. Bentley, our new second officer? But Mr. Gunning, you must forgive us, please. We have travelled very far today and we are weary. We rouse early in the morning which is today and we must rest. Ladies. Sir. Your humble servants."
But it was not to be. Gunning, not drunk -aggressive but with clear intent, took up a bottle and advanced towards them.
"Nay, sirs, but I insist. We know your names, you must know ours. Sal get the gentlemen a glass apiece. Gentlemen Miss Sally Marlor, a spinster of this parish. Her father is churchwarden at St. Mark's."
More gales of laughter, and the rouged young woman tripped forward with two glasses. When she had given one to William, and before Gunning had filled it, she reached for his cheek and pinched it, not ungently.
"Ooh Jack," she said, to Gunning. "This one is a peach. Can we have him in our bed tonight?"
"Hush Sal! It is a respectable young fellow, a virgin surely! Whatever next!"
This from the flushed maid on the settle. But she stood also, and came up to Will and Sam. She poked Sam's belly with the recorder.
"I am a married woman, sir," she said. "Pray don't look at me with them hot eyes."
"Mistress Ellen Cash," said Gunning. "She is with Master Edward Campbell there although he is not the husband she's cuckolding. Master Campbell is a Navy clerk, sirs. Play fair with him and you might one day get a berth upon a rater, who knows!"
Taking his cue from Holt, William retained a smile, but only just. A pleasantry, a jest, an insult what mattered was that Sam did not care to retaliate, whatever. Will could see that Gunning, drunk, could exercise his power cruelly, but of Campbell he was not so sure. However, if the man did work at the Office ... well, perhaps he should be borne in silence, likewise.
"Good wine," said Samuel, tasting it. "Now, Mr. Gunning, tell me please, where is Lieutenant Kaye? Has there been a change of orders, or is the plan to sail today? Where are the people, ditto?"
Gunning was not that drunk. He looked at Sam quite coolly, as if deciding whether he should mock or hold a conversation. Then he gestured round the cabin.
"Does this strike you as a state of readiness?" he asked. "Did you not observe the deck? The shipwrights and the carpenters have made non-progress the world's new wonder of the day. This dockyard is disgraceful."
Campbell interjected: "I am here to put some vim in 'em. Sent by the Secretary himself. Tomorrow there will be such ructions, you'd not believe it!"
For all his inexperience, Will decided he did not, already. He took in the state of the captain's cabin for the first time, properly. It was a mass of uncompleted work. Such work, though, as he had never seen before. The alcove which contained the cot appeared to have the makings of a double bed, damn near four-poster size, its bare, unfinished wood festooned in blankets and soft coverings. Maybe they planned an orgy in reality. He did not intend to be the rouged maid's peach!
"Where are the people?" repeated Holt. "Is work afoot in town? Lieutenant Kaye is at the rendezvous, perhaps?"
Gunning laughed shortly.
"Perhaps. I doubt it though, don't you? The men have liberty, some will end up at the Lamb no doubt, too drunk or idle to get their arse downriver. I am in charge meanwhile, I am looking after everything." Infinitesimal pause; a glint of humour, directed slyly at Will Bentley's face. "I am looking to what is my own, amn't I? To keep it safe."
Sal Marlor was on her feet again, intent on plying Will with more wine, which was red and heavy. Despite of himself he had drained the first glass, tired and thirsty as he was, and had felt it rising headily from his empty stomach. She, however, was quite blatant in her movements, which Gunning did not care about at all. William covered his glass rather feebly, then with more firmness when she persisted. Sam backed him up.
"No more, mistress, nay, no more! Mr. Gunning, we must bid you all goodnight. Ladies. Mr. Campbell. Till some other time."
Sal's disappointment did not last her long, for as the door closed behind them she was chattering and laughing with the rest. The air outside struck damp and fresh in contrast, but very welcome. Will was ready for a bed, although his head was full of questions, to be sure. They stood and looked across the river, sprinkled with starlight now the cloud was almost broken. The smell up here was mainly fair, clean water and wet fields.
"Well," he said. "What sort of ship is this you've brought me to? I'll say this: she is not like any one I've knew before."
Holt opened his mouth for an answer, but a mighty yawn broke through. It was some moments before he conquered it.
"I said we should have gone to Dr. Marigold's. Though had you laid your hand down right I think you would have shared the captain's bed with Mistress Redlips. Do you imagine Gunning had a pile of us in mind? Six in a bed, and devil take the hindmost! By God though, he is daring. Our Richard loves his cabin, and his bed, which the carpenters are building to his instructions as you saw. Gunning is an insolent, a dog, a bloody interloper!"