MAES 2: A Change in the Wind
A Change in the Wind
Tom Pullings quickly herded the two giggling young ladies down into the sailroom. With a new captain due to come aboard in, literally, moments, there was not a minute to spare in rowing them ashore. Indeed, Marshall had reported the boat carrying the sloop’s new commander putting off from the wharf only moments ago, and Tom was as busy as anyone else aboard in preparing for the man’s arrival.
Captain Allen had left the sloop for the last time only days before, and since that hour every warrant officer, commissioned officer and seaman aboard had been anxious about the man who would replace him. Captain Allen had been a good man, kind if a little lax in certain respects, and there was a present, if unspoken fear that the man who stepped into his place would be a wicked scoundrel; a flogging captain; a blue-light who would insist on strictest morality; a scrub.
The first sight of the newly-made Captain Aubrey seemed to confirm these fears, for the man wore a stern, almost terrible look as he stepped onto the sloop. Tom quickly removed his hat, as did the others, and inspected him closely.
Aubrey was an unusually tall man, and far younger than Allen; Tom doubted there would be ten whole years between his own age and Aubrey’s,* but it did not lessen the feeling of uneasy fear in Tom’s heart as Aubrey ran his gaze over Tom, Mowett and the other mids. Aubrey’s eyes met Tom’s briefly, staring deep as though the captain was attempting to judge his merit on the spot, and Tom resisted the urge to gulp nervously.
Aubrey looked to the master, said “Mr. Marshall, name the officers to me, if you please.” His voice was a deep bass, steady and emotionless. When Tom’s turn came, Aubrey gave him that piercing glance again, and Tom felt his knees tremble a little as he straightened from his bow. In his mind, he found it hard to believe that only a few days ago, this man had been a lieutenant, only one rank away from Tom’s own. Yet if one were to judge from the way the man carried himself, the ease with which he went through the ceremonies that followed, he might have been a captain these five years and more.
0~0
Much later that day, after Aubrey had returned from a mysterious errand on shore, the feeling that Aubrey was already an experienced captain seemed quite confirmed when he interviewed the warrant officers and immediately roasted the purser on the matter of his son’s rating. Mr. Ricketts had never been a bad sort, for a purser, but the whole crew was aware of any number of little, mostly harmless frauds the man had practiced, and these had only increased when Allen had never checked him for his dishonesty. Clearly, the new captain would not be as easygoing as the old.
Tom had been at sea long enough to read the general mood of a crew quite accurately, and he knew they were all feeling the same thing he was; a certain tension that had begun when Aubrey had first stepped aboard, and that had grown immeasurably stronger over the last few hours. Some men seemed excited, saying that such a man might be the sort to get them a fine prize at last; others seemed glum, and muttered dire predictions as to the many disagreeable ways Aubrey might “shake things up.”
“A change in the wind, it is,” Tom remarked to Babbington, standing at the rail and looking at the evening lights of Mahon. “Though for better or worse, who can say? Still, Aubrey’s not like Allen; no, not at all. A different sort of man entirely.”
“Aye, that he is,” replied Babbington in a squeak, “but I was asking around the crew earlier, if any of them had served with him, and there’s a cove who was shipmates with him in Resolution, and he says Aubrey was once disrated when he were a mid, for keeping a girl in the cable tier. So maybe he won’t mind your little miss, eh?”
Tom blushed and frowned. “Stow that Babbington. I’m not willing to risk it this early on, in any case. I sent her ashore while Aubrey was gone this afternoon, and I’d appreciate it if you’d not mention it to the captain.”
Babbington snorted. “I ain’t no carrytale, Tom, though I doubt he’d make you kiss the gunner’s daughter for it. It’s rumored he’s no friend of the cat, for all he looked ready to flog us all if we so much as sneezed this afternoon.”
Tom felt a little relieved at hearing this. It had been some time since a captain had bent him over a gun and punished him with a rope’s end, but he knew as well as anyone that there were a wide variety of views on proper discipline. An offense that would be kindly ignored by one captain may rate a dozen lashes on the bare breach from another, and although Aubrey may not be a friend of flogging, Tom felt certain the man would flog, if pressed to do so.
“I don’t intend to play the fool with him, in any case,” Tom said lightly. “What do you make of him?” He was not asking because he wanted to gossip; he was sincerely curious as to the impression Babbington had received of their new commander.
Babbington seemed to realize this. He did not answer right away, and when he did speak, his words were unusually serious. “Well, it’s clear he ain’t as light-handed as Allen was, which may be good. I’ve often wished old Allen taught us more, paid more attention to what we was all learning, and showing us how to be good officers, and seamen, too. I want to be a good captain someday, if I ever get promoted, and I don’t think Allen ever showed us how, not proper leastways.”
Tom nodded at this. He’d often felt the same; Allen may have been a good seaman, and an unexceptionable commander, but Tom knew that if he ever wanted to don a captain’s uniform himself, he’d need more distinction than Babbington, who came from a far more influential family. And the only way for him to gain distinction at this point in his naval career would be to serve under an exceptional captain, one who would teach him well, and give him all the opportunity possible to gain a name for himself, specifically in the article of naval battle. And though Allen had been a sound captain, he had never been what one would call a fire-eater.
When Tom had first noticed the Nile medal in Aubrey’s buttonhole, he had felt an irrational hope sprout in his heart. Clearly, his new captain had some real experience in naval warfare. Might he be lucky enough to gain similar experience under Aubrey’s command? Aubrey’s penetrating blue gaze had been wholly unlike Allen’s habitually bored and weary expression. Tom could not say why, but he had felt certain that here was a man who would not shrink from battle, if it offered.
Babbington’s thoughts seemed to be running on similar lines, for he said quietly, “I wonder if he’s ever killed a man, in battle that is. It wouldn’t surprise me. When I first saw him I thought ‘I’d hate to be on the end of his sword, it sure looks like he knows how to use it.’” Babbington shook his head, and repeated, “Nothing at all like Allen; not a bit.”
Tom nodded. It confirmed his own judgment of Aubrey, and he smiled. “Like you said, mate, it may be for good. At least things can’t possibly get duller than they were under Allen, and who knows? Maybe this captain can find us a nice little prize; some rich little merchantman with a crew who won’t give it up easy.”
Babbington grinned. “Aye, that’d suit me fine. Especially since Aubrey seems like just the type who’d be eager to capture ‘em all anyway.” He shuddered suddenly. “I’m just glad he ain’t a bosun. Can you imagine a man that big wielding a rope’s end on punishment days?”
Tom grimaced. “Like I said, William, I have no intention of playing the fool with him, at all events.”
0~0
Meanwhile, in his cabin below decks, William Marshall was resting in his hammock. His own assessment of Aubrey had been quite different than that of the two young men, and as he drifted off to sleep, he smiled at the memory of brilliant blue eyes in a tanned face, and thick golden hair, mirroring the blue and gold of a captain’s uniform, a single epaulette resting on one strong shoulder, and a deep, stirring voice that echoed through his dreams.
0~0
*Tom is mentioned as ‘rising nineteen’ in the first book, and Jack can’t be quite thirty yet.
A few more of my fics are written from Tom’s perspective; since he’s undoubtedly one of Jack’s favored protégés, his eyes are good ones to see through.