MAES 11: Loyalty is a Fine Thing
“How do you come to be here, Pullings, in all your glory?” “Why sir, I could not get a ship and they would not confirm me in my rank. “No white lapels for you, Pullings, old cock,’ they said. “We got too many coves like you, by half.’”
“What a damned shame," cried Jack, who had seen Pullings in action and who knew that the Navy did not and indeed could not possibly have too many coves like him.
- Post Captain, pg. 126, Norton Press paperback
Pullings was much as he had always been, a thin, amiable, loose-limbed youth, delighted to be a lieutenant (his highest ambition), delighted to be in the same ship as Captain Aubrey: how did he manage to remain so tubular, eating with the thoughtless avidity of a wolf?
- HMS Surprise, pg. 130, Norton Press paperback
He also observed that Pullings, who loved Jack Aubrey, was watching him with anxiety.
-The Letter of Marque, pg. 43, Norton Press paperback
Not only the hands but the officers took the parting hard. Pullings was devoted to Jack…
-The Thirteen-Gun Salute, pg. 95 Norton, Press paperback
Loyalty is a Fine Thing
“…Now as to officers and followers, I shall be glad to fall in with your wishes as far as possible. Your first lieutenant is already appointed: Mr. Parker, recommended by the Duke of Clarence.”
Jack scarcely needed to pause and consider. Of his three former midshipmen, Pullings was the only one who had ever passed for lieutenant. Mowett had tried once, but failed, and even if he had passed since Jack had last seen him, he had no idea where the young man was. As for Babbington, even if he was eligible to pass, Jack using what little influence he had for that boy’s advancement would be like giving tuppence to the wealthy: Babbington would never need his help as far as influence went.
“I should be happy to have my surgeon and Thomas Pullings, my lord, master’s mate in the Sophie: he passed for lieutenant in ’01.”
“You wish him to be made?”
“If you please, my lord.”
Jack had of course waited while his orders where writing out, and he requested the honor of sending Pulling’s commission to him personally, to “save the Crown the cost of the stamp,” and so that he could include a private letter.
Later that same night, after Stephen had given him the money he had managed to obtain, and while Stephen explained what he had learned from Scriven about debt laws, Jack wrote busily. He knew that Pullings, being returned to England with Jack and Stephen after their rescue, would likely have gone back to his father’s place on the edge of the New Forest to finish recuperating from the grapeshot in his leg and to see his family. The arrival of the official admiralty letter would be opened first, for no sailor would ever let a message from such a source remain unmolested for long, and so wrote his letter with the assumption that Pullings would have just received the glorious news.
Dear Tom,
I give you joy by the bushel! You are hereby required and directed to proceed to Portsmouth as quick as ever you can run. We have a ship, Polychrest, and must get to sea immediately. You will be second, since the first is already appointed (not by me) and glad I shall be to have you. It was a near-run thing, too: Melville might just as easily have told me to bugger off when I requested that you be made, but perhaps he was doing it as a way of making amends, for by all accounts the Polychrest is no sort of a plum, as you may have heard. Here is a guinea toward your white lapels if you need it, to be repaid out of our first prize money, should we be so fortunate.
In haste,
John Aubrey
He folded the letter around the guinea, (for he knew Pullings’ money had been taken from him when the Indiaman had been captured and likely never returned) sealed it, and tied it neatly to the beautiful commission, to be sent by the next mail coach.
0~0
Tom was indeed recuperating, or as much as was possible on an active little farm. His father did have some sympathy for his stiff leg, but it did not excuse Tom from lighter duties: slopping the pigs among them.
He poured the bucket of kitchen leavings into their trough, and the fat porkers came grunting eagerly over, the sucklings squealing shrilly. Tasty little things, if only one had the right occasion to celebrate. He looked up to see the scruffy postman’s son approaching the gate. The postman was a rare visitor to his father’s house, and rarer still since the arthritis had worsened, requiring his undersized son to stagger along with the official mailbag.
“Morning, Jerry,” called Tom, for the lad was friendly enough, though unsuited for his father’s work. “What brings you here?”
“A letter for you, Tom, or perhaps I should say two letters, though tied in a bundle.” Jerry reached into his bag and withdrew Tom’s mail, holding it out to him upside down. Tom recognized Captain Aubrey’s hand on one cover, and on the other-
Tom’s heart nearly stopped. The Admiralty seal could mean only one thing for a man in his position. With trembling hands, he opened the letter.
By the Right Honorouble Lord Melville, Viscount, First Lord of the Admiralty…
Sentence by beautiful sentence, Tom read the commission appointing and promoting him to the rank of Lieutenant. He had dreamed of this since ever he went to sea. Lieutenant had seemed the highest rank a man of his low birth could reasonably strive for; further advancement required more influence than he could ever imagine having.
For that matter, why was this happening now? He had passed, but as month followed month and no commission came, he had settled his mind to the possibility of a long wait, with perhaps failure at the last. Why was this happening now? Had word of his part in this last battle aboard the Indiaman reached the Admiralty’s ears? No, surely not. Even if the First Lord had heard of it, a scuffle aboard an Indiamen that he had, in fact, lost, would not win him any promotion.
Then he remembered the other letter. Aubrey must have heard of this and sent to offer his congratulations. He opened the second letter and nearly dropped the coin it contained into the pigs’ midden. Wondering why on earth Aubrey would send him money, he tucked the guinea into his pocket and read his former Captain’s letter.
It explained everything. His promotion had been brought about at Aubrey’s request, and no doubt his good word, too. Tom read the brief message over and over again, wondering what it was he could possibly have done that would make Jack Aubrey support his promotion to the First Lord himself. He had always liked Jack, ever since the Sophie. He had felt certain his captain had liked him too, but there was a world of difference between mere ‘liking’ and the much stronger sort of approval that Aubrey must have felt to do this. It was one thing to think a man was a competent seaman; it was quite another to think he was the sort of seaman who should become an officer. More, who was worthy of becoming an officer, for if there was one thing Tom knew about Aubrey it was that he would never promote the interests of a man he thought unfit to take on the duties and responsibilities of a higher rank. Jack despised men who had great personal interest and no seamanlike skill more than any captain Tom had ever known.
This commission was far more than his longed-for promotion. It was a solid testament to Aubrey’s opinion of him. The guinea was another sort of gift, and though it would certainly be useful (he was flat broke, and would have to beg his father for the remainder of his new coat’s cost, for few naval tailors sold on credit) it paled in comparison to the other gift Aubrey had given him; the gift of his good opinion, and the other marks of his trust, for not only had Jack brought this about, he had also found them both a ship, and he wished for Tom to join him aboard, as second lieutenant.
A commission and a ship, all in one glorious day. Tom felt the stiffness in his leg almost disappear as he raced into the house, yelling for his parents, shouting the good news at the top of his voice. His mother, on learning to whom she owed her son’s good fortune, immediately set about with plans for a feast in Captain Aubrey’s honor, “and yours too, of course, my dear. We shall have the sucking pigs.” While Tom’s father shook his hand firmly and gruffly congratulated his son.
Tom set out that very afternoon. He was heading not for Portsmouth, but for the nearest naval outfitters that he knew of. He’d waited a long time for those white lapels, and was determined to arrive in a manner that should confer honor on his new ship, and of course his captain.
As he whistled ‘Heart of Oak’ to keep time with his steps, his thoughts returned to Jack Aubrey. The first night after Jack had joined the Sophie , he had compared the man’s arrival to ‘a change in the wind’ and said to Babbington that he could not tell if it would be for better or for worse.
If he had only known then, Tom reflected as he strode on. If he had any idea what Aubrey would do for him one day, he might have kissed the man’s boots the instant he stepped onto the sloop’s deck.