PotC fic -- Gem of the Ocean
A while ago I did a fic called Forty Years in which James "Flipper" Turner meets Will as the Captain of the Flying Dutchman in 1803, fighting for the Republic of the Dry Tortugas. So here's another future, with his American Revolution series alter ego, James Swann.
The American Revolution series is here: At the Sign of the Green Dragon, Teach's Hole, Den of Iniquity, Tea, Roast Goose and Revolution, A Pirate's Life For Me, The Wind From Lexington, Approaching Thunder, Crossing Lines, The Storm Breaks, The Tiger's Cub and Tiger by the Tail.
This one's for the_dala who loves the Chesapeake!
The First Day of May, in the Year 1800
A Ceremonie to Celebrate the Launch of the
Frigate of War Columbia
A Warfhip of 28 Gunnes
From the Berth Where She Haf Been Building These Fourteen Monthf
In the Porte of Annapolis in the State of Maryland
Captain James Swann put down the printed bill and looked out over the water at the perfect day. The steep brick streets of Annapolis still shone from last night's rain, but the sun had come out of flying clouds. Out on the bay, a few white caps kicked up in the brisk wind. At her dock, Columbia gleamed. The fresh gold paint on the lettering at her stern glittered. He glittered too, from the gold braid on his dark blue coat to his dark hair neatly trimmed in a Brutus cut, his sideburns barbered to perfection, to the braid on his bicorn.
So too did the musicians of the military band setting up in the park nearby gleam, polishing their trumpets with felt and wiping every speck of dust from their shoes. Jamie made one last look around Columbia, but there was nothing to do. Even the deck was impossibly clean.
The first officer, Lieutenant Merriweather, glanced nervously about. "All in order, sir?"
"All in order," Jamie said.
There was a clatter in the narrow streets of Annapolis, and from a distance came the sounds of cheers.
"They're here, I expect," Merriweather said unnecessarily.
"Yes," Jamie said.
The entire population of Annapolis seemed to have turned out, cheering and shouting at the inevitable bustle that accompanied the arrival of the First Lady and the Secretary of War. The band hustled into position, sparkling white gloves against brass. As the carriages pulled up along the harbor, Jamie stood stiffly at attention. Secretary McHenry jumped down and rushed back to the second carriage. A stout man, there was something a bit comical about his hurry, but no one cracked a smile. He opened the carriage door.
Just as one foot in a gray half boot descended, the band crashed into the opening bars of Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean with a vast flourish of drums. Abigail Adams took McHenry's hand and stepped out. Behind her, a young aide carried a package.
Jamie stood at strict attention as they approached, with all the gentlemen who owned the naval yard, et cetera, et cetera in attendance.
He bowed profoundly over her hand. "Madam, the honor is great."
When he glanced up she was smiling. "Not near so great as the pleasure, Captain Swann. It is a pleasure I have selfishly reserved for myself, christening Columbia and seeing you on your way." She gestured to the aide, who put the package into his hands. "My husband has gladly sacrificed his best in your cause."
Jamie unwrapped it swiftly, his eyebrows rising at the label on the bottle. "But surely this is the champagne recently sent by the First Consul?"
"My husband thought we should spare a bottle of it for Columbia, and the First Consul is likely to approve of its martial use."
"I am overwhelmed," Jamie said, handing the bottle off carefully to Merriweather. "Lieutenant, make sure that is the bottle that Mrs. Adams uses when she christens the ship."
Abigail Adams took his arm. "Now while we wait for all to be in readiness, walk with me, Captain, and show me your ship."
"With a good will, ma'am," he said.
He showed her the main deck forward, the anchor chains now mired in the mud of the Chesapeake, and at last came aft to the quarterdeck. "As you can see, it's a perfect day."
Abigail Adams tilted her head back, a few strands of graying hair visible beneath her bonnet, and seemed to soak in the sun. "A beautiful day, Captain Swann. And what a long, strange road we have walked, since we waited out the battle at Bunker's Hill together!" She blinked into the light. "I was a farm wife, and you a prentice boy."
"And now you are the First Lady of the United States, and I am your captain," Jamie said.
"You sound as though I were the Virgin Queen," Abigail said, smiling.
Jamie shrugged. "I am your servant, ma'am."
"A beautiful day," she said. "It is a shame your parents cannot be here."
Jamie blinked, and looked out across the water. "They drowned in a hurricane two years ago, lost at sea. I do not regret it. It is what they would have wished, all together with no one left to mourn."
Abigail put her hand on his arm. "I am sorry," she said. "My dear boy, I did not mean to cause you pain."
"I am thirty seven," he said, "And it is no pain. Better, I think, than decline into ill health and senility."
"I did not know him well," she said, "But it seemed to me that Captain Swann should have hated that, so vital a man was he. A kind I do not know if we shall have again in this world."
"We shall, madam," Jamie said. "All and more. We stand at the enterprise's beginning, not its ending. The world stretches before us, and there are so many things in it."
"And you are the man to bring it to us," Abigail said, smiling, her hand tight on his forearm.
There were long speeches, and Jamie stood in the sun which had turned warm, Merriweather at his side, while McHenry went on and on about this proud ship and her mission. At last, the First Lady swung the champagne against her side, the spray of wine arching in a hundred droplets in the air. The crowd roared.
"Haul anchor!" Jamie cried, and the crew bent to the capstan. The anchors rose from the harbor floor. He nodded to Merriweather.
"Cast off! Prepare to make sail!"
The ropes swung free. For the first time, Columbia put off from the dock, her reefed sails granting barely enough leeway to turn out into the channel. Jamie put the wheel over, and the crowd rotated behind him, Abigail Adams in her gray bonnet, the band playing Yankee Doodle.
"Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni," the bosun hummed as he went forward, the old song about some yokel who thought he was as good as any man.
Now Annapolis was behind, and ahead stretched the broad Chesapeake. One more turn out of the channel and into the blue waters. The sun made a path of light across the waves, lighting the road south, to Portsmouth and the wide Atlantic. The wheel played lightly in Jamie's hands, his lady, freed from land at last.
At the orders, Columbia's sails stretched, picking up the following wind.
"What did you say, sir?" Merriweather asked.
Jamie smiled. "I said, Mr. Merriweather, bring me that horizon."
Her sails caught full, and Columbia leaped forward down the path of the sun, her wake white in the water behind her.
The American Revolution series is here: At the Sign of the Green Dragon, Teach's Hole, Den of Iniquity, Tea, Roast Goose and Revolution, A Pirate's Life For Me, The Wind From Lexington, Approaching Thunder, Crossing Lines, The Storm Breaks, The Tiger's Cub and Tiger by the Tail.
This one's for the_dala who loves the Chesapeake!
The First Day of May, in the Year 1800
A Ceremonie to Celebrate the Launch of the
Frigate of War Columbia
A Warfhip of 28 Gunnes
From the Berth Where She Haf Been Building These Fourteen Monthf
In the Porte of Annapolis in the State of Maryland
Captain James Swann put down the printed bill and looked out over the water at the perfect day. The steep brick streets of Annapolis still shone from last night's rain, but the sun had come out of flying clouds. Out on the bay, a few white caps kicked up in the brisk wind. At her dock, Columbia gleamed. The fresh gold paint on the lettering at her stern glittered. He glittered too, from the gold braid on his dark blue coat to his dark hair neatly trimmed in a Brutus cut, his sideburns barbered to perfection, to the braid on his bicorn.
So too did the musicians of the military band setting up in the park nearby gleam, polishing their trumpets with felt and wiping every speck of dust from their shoes. Jamie made one last look around Columbia, but there was nothing to do. Even the deck was impossibly clean.
The first officer, Lieutenant Merriweather, glanced nervously about. "All in order, sir?"
"All in order," Jamie said.
There was a clatter in the narrow streets of Annapolis, and from a distance came the sounds of cheers.
"They're here, I expect," Merriweather said unnecessarily.
"Yes," Jamie said.
The entire population of Annapolis seemed to have turned out, cheering and shouting at the inevitable bustle that accompanied the arrival of the First Lady and the Secretary of War. The band hustled into position, sparkling white gloves against brass. As the carriages pulled up along the harbor, Jamie stood stiffly at attention. Secretary McHenry jumped down and rushed back to the second carriage. A stout man, there was something a bit comical about his hurry, but no one cracked a smile. He opened the carriage door.
Just as one foot in a gray half boot descended, the band crashed into the opening bars of Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean with a vast flourish of drums. Abigail Adams took McHenry's hand and stepped out. Behind her, a young aide carried a package.
Jamie stood at strict attention as they approached, with all the gentlemen who owned the naval yard, et cetera, et cetera in attendance.
He bowed profoundly over her hand. "Madam, the honor is great."
When he glanced up she was smiling. "Not near so great as the pleasure, Captain Swann. It is a pleasure I have selfishly reserved for myself, christening Columbia and seeing you on your way." She gestured to the aide, who put the package into his hands. "My husband has gladly sacrificed his best in your cause."
Jamie unwrapped it swiftly, his eyebrows rising at the label on the bottle. "But surely this is the champagne recently sent by the First Consul?"
"My husband thought we should spare a bottle of it for Columbia, and the First Consul is likely to approve of its martial use."
"I am overwhelmed," Jamie said, handing the bottle off carefully to Merriweather. "Lieutenant, make sure that is the bottle that Mrs. Adams uses when she christens the ship."
Abigail Adams took his arm. "Now while we wait for all to be in readiness, walk with me, Captain, and show me your ship."
"With a good will, ma'am," he said.
He showed her the main deck forward, the anchor chains now mired in the mud of the Chesapeake, and at last came aft to the quarterdeck. "As you can see, it's a perfect day."
Abigail Adams tilted her head back, a few strands of graying hair visible beneath her bonnet, and seemed to soak in the sun. "A beautiful day, Captain Swann. And what a long, strange road we have walked, since we waited out the battle at Bunker's Hill together!" She blinked into the light. "I was a farm wife, and you a prentice boy."
"And now you are the First Lady of the United States, and I am your captain," Jamie said.
"You sound as though I were the Virgin Queen," Abigail said, smiling.
Jamie shrugged. "I am your servant, ma'am."
"A beautiful day," she said. "It is a shame your parents cannot be here."
Jamie blinked, and looked out across the water. "They drowned in a hurricane two years ago, lost at sea. I do not regret it. It is what they would have wished, all together with no one left to mourn."
Abigail put her hand on his arm. "I am sorry," she said. "My dear boy, I did not mean to cause you pain."
"I am thirty seven," he said, "And it is no pain. Better, I think, than decline into ill health and senility."
"I did not know him well," she said, "But it seemed to me that Captain Swann should have hated that, so vital a man was he. A kind I do not know if we shall have again in this world."
"We shall, madam," Jamie said. "All and more. We stand at the enterprise's beginning, not its ending. The world stretches before us, and there are so many things in it."
"And you are the man to bring it to us," Abigail said, smiling, her hand tight on his forearm.
There were long speeches, and Jamie stood in the sun which had turned warm, Merriweather at his side, while McHenry went on and on about this proud ship and her mission. At last, the First Lady swung the champagne against her side, the spray of wine arching in a hundred droplets in the air. The crowd roared.
"Haul anchor!" Jamie cried, and the crew bent to the capstan. The anchors rose from the harbor floor. He nodded to Merriweather.
"Cast off! Prepare to make sail!"
The ropes swung free. For the first time, Columbia put off from the dock, her reefed sails granting barely enough leeway to turn out into the channel. Jamie put the wheel over, and the crowd rotated behind him, Abigail Adams in her gray bonnet, the band playing Yankee Doodle.
"Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni," the bosun hummed as he went forward, the old song about some yokel who thought he was as good as any man.
Now Annapolis was behind, and ahead stretched the broad Chesapeake. One more turn out of the channel and into the blue waters. The sun made a path of light across the waves, lighting the road south, to Portsmouth and the wide Atlantic. The wheel played lightly in Jamie's hands, his lady, freed from land at last.
At the orders, Columbia's sails stretched, picking up the following wind.
"What did you say, sir?" Merriweather asked.
Jamie smiled. "I said, Mr. Merriweather, bring me that horizon."
Her sails caught full, and Columbia leaped forward down the path of the sun, her wake white in the water behind her.